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a man as Mark Antony, and he is a man of no estimation in the world, but I did fee him do gallant services. Gower. What do you call him?

Flu. He is call'd Ancient Pistol.
Gower. I know him not.

Enter Piftol.

Flu. Here is the man.

Pift. Captain, I thee befeech to do me favours: The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.

Flu. I, I praise God, and I have merited fome love at his hands.

Pift. Bardolph, a foldier firm and found of heart, And buxom valour, hath by cruel fate.

And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,

That Goddefs blind that ftands upon the rolling restless ftone

Flu. By your patience, Ancient Piftol: Fortune is painted with a muffler before her eyes, to fignify to you that fortune is plind; and the is painted alfo with a wheel, to fignify to you, which is the moral of it that she is turning and inconftant, and mutabilities and variations; and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a fpherical ftone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles; in good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent defcription of it.: fortune is an excellent moral.

Pift. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; *for he bath ftolen a Pax, and hanged muft a' be; damned death!

Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his wind-pipe fuffocate;
But Exeter hath given the doom of death,
For Pax of little price. Therefore, go fpeak,
The Duke will hear thy voice;'

And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut

for he hath foln a Pax.] This is conformable to Hiftory. A Soldier (Hall tells us, Henry V. year 3. fol. 14.) being hanged at this Time for fuch a Fac,

Nr. Pope.

With edge of penny-cord, and vile reproach.
Speak, Captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
Flu. Ancient Piftol, I do partly understand your
meaning.

Pift. Why then rejoice therefore.

Flu. Certainly, Ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at; for if, look you, he were my brother, I would defire the Duke to use his good pleasure, and put him to executions; for difciplines ought to be used. Pift. Die and be damn'd, and Figo for thy friendship! Flu. It is well.

Pift: The fig of Spain

Flu. Very good.

[Exit Pift.

Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal, I remember him now; a bawd, a cut-purse.

Flu. I'll affure you, he utter'd as prave words at the pridge, as you fhall fee in a fummer's day: but it is very well; what he has fpoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is ferve.

Gower. Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars, to`grace himself at his return into London, under the form of a foldier.

Such

fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names, and they will learn you by rote where fervices were done; at fuch and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was fhot, who difgrac'd, what terms the enemy flood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrafe of war, which they trick with new-turned oaths: And what a beard of the general's cut, and a horrid fuit of the camp, will do among foaming bottles and ale-wafh'd wits, is wonderful to be thought on! But you must learn to know fuch flanders of the age, or else you may be marvelously mistook.

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Flu. I tell you what, captain Gower; I do perceive, he is not the man that he would gladly make fhew to the world he is; if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell

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him my mind; hear you, the King is coming, and I muft fpeak with him from the pridge.

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Drum and Colours. Enter the King, and his poor soldiers. OD pless your Majefty.

Flu. GR.

K. Henry. How now, Fluellen, cam'st thou from the bridge?

Flu. I, fo please your Majefty: the Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most prave paffages; marry, th' athverfary was have poffeffion of the pridge, but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is mafter of the pridge: I can tell your Majefty, the Duke is a prave man.

K. Henry. What men have you lost, Fluellen ?

Flu. The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great, very reasonable great; marry, for my part, I think, the Duke hath loft never a man but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your Majefty know the man: his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire; fometimes plue, and fometimes red; but his nofe is executed, and his fire's out.

K Henry. We would have fuch offenders fo cut off;
And give exprefs charge, that in all our march
There fhall be nothing taken from the villages,
But fhall be paid for; and no French upbraided,
Or yet abused in difdainful language;

When lenity and cruelty play for kingdoms,
The gentler gamefter is the fooneft winner.

Tucket founds. Enter Mountjoy.

Mount. You know me by my habit.

K. Henry. Well then, I know thee; what fhall I

know of thee?

Mount.

Mount. My mafter's mind.

K. Henry. Unfold it.

Mount. Thus fays my King: fay thou to Harry
England,

Although we feemed dead, we did but sleep:
Advantage is a better foldier than rashness.
Tell him, we could at Harfleur have rebuk'd him;
But that we thought not good to bruise an injury,
'Till it were ripe. Now, fpeak we on our cue,
With voice imperial: England shall repent

His folly, fee his weakness, and admire

Our fuff'rance.

Bid him therefore to confider,
What must the ransom be, which must proportion
The loffes we have borne, the fubjects we
Have loft, and the difgrace we have digefted;
To answer which, his pettiness would bow under.
First for our lofs, too poor is his Exchequer; ;
For the effufion of our blood, his army
Too faint a number; and for our disgrace,
Ev'n his own perfon kneeling at our feet
A weak and worthlefs fatisfaction.

To this, defiance add; and for conclufion,
Tell him he hath betray'd his followers,

Whofe condemnation is pronounc'd. So far
My King and mafter; and fo much my office.

K. Henry. What is thy name? I know thy quality,
Mount. Mountjoy.

K. Henry. Thou doft thy office fairly. Turn thee back,

And tell thy King, I do not feek him now;
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment; for to say the sooth,
(Though 'tis no wifdom to confefs fo much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage)
My people are with ficknefs much enfeebled,
My numbers leffen'd; and thofe few I have,
Almost no better than fo many French;

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Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,

I thought, upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchman. Yet, forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus; this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy mafter, here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army but a weak and fickly guard :
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Mountjoy.
Go, bid thy mafter well advise himself:

If we may pafs, we will; if we be hinder'd,
We fhall your tawny ground with your red blood
Difcolour and fo, Mountjoy, fare you well.

:

The fum of all our anfwer is but this;

We would not feek a battle as we are,
Yet, as we are, we fay, we will not shun it:
So tell your master.

Mount. I fhall deliver fo: thanks to your Highness.

Exit.

Glou. I hope, they will not come upon us now.
K. Henry. We are in God's hand, brother, not in

theirs:

March to the bridge; it now draws toward night;
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves;

And on to-morrow bid them march away. [Exeunt.

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The French Camp near Agincourt.

Enter the Conftable of France, the Lord Rambures, Orleans, Dauphin, with others.

Con.

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UT, I have the beft armour of the world.
Would it were day!

Orl. You have an excellent armour; but let my horfe have his due.

Con. It is the best horse of Europe.
Orl. Will it never be morning?

Dau.

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