Two chauntries, where the fad and folemn priests
Sing ftill for Richard's foul. More will I do;
Tho' all that I can do, is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after call,
Imploring pardon.

Glou. My Liege.

Enter Gloucefter.

K. Henry. My brother Glo'fter's voice? I know thy errand, I will go with thee:

The day, my friends, and all things ftay for me.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VII.

Changes to the French Camp.

Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and Beaumont.

Orl.

·THE

HE Sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords.

Dau. Montez Cheval: my horfe, valet, lacquay: ha! Orl. O brave fpirit!

Dau. Via! -les eaux & la terre..

Orl. Rien puis! le air & feu.

Dau. Ciel! Coufin Orleans.

Enter Conftable.

Now my lord Conftable !

Con. Hark, how our Steeds for present service neigh. Dau. Mount them, and make incifion in their hides, That their hot blood may fpin in English eyes, And daunt them with fuperfluous courage: ha! Ram. What, will you have them weep our Horfes' blood?

How fhall we then behold their natural tears ?

Enter a Meffenger.

Meff. The English, are embattel'd, you French Peers.

Con.

Con. to horfe! you gallant Princes, ftrait to horse!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair fhew shall fuck away their fouls ;
Leaving them but the fhales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their fickly veins
To give each naked curtle-ax a flain;

That our French gallants fhall to day draw out,
And fheath for lack of fport. Let's but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis pofitive 'gainst all exception, lords,

That our fuperfluous lacqueys and our peafanis,
Who in unnecessary action fwarm

About our fquares of battle, were enow
To purge this field of fuch a hilding foe;
Tho' we, upon.this mountain's bafis by,
Took ftand for idle fpeculation:
But that our honours must not.
A very little, little, let us do;

What's to say?

And all is done. Then let the trumpets found
The tucket-fonuance, and the note to mount :
For our approach fhall fo much dare the field,
That England fhall couch down in fear, and yield.

Enter Grandpree.

Grand. Why do you ftay fo long, my lords of
France?

Yon Ifland carrions, defp'rate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them paffing fcornfully.
Big Mars feems bankrupt in their beggar'd hoft,
And faintly through a rufty bever peeps.
The horsemen fit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-ftaves in their hand; and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hide and hips:
The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes;

N 4

And

And in their pale dull mouths the jymold bitt
Lies foul with chaw'd grass, ftill and motionless :
And their executors, the knavish Crows,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Defcription cannot fuit itself in words,
To demonftrate the life of fuch a battle,
In life fo livelefs as it fhews itself.

Con. They've faid their prayers, and they stay for

death.

Dau. Shall we go fend them dinners and fresh fuits, And give their fafting Horfes provender, And, after, fight with them?

Con. I flay but for my guard: on, to the field; I will the banner from a trumpet take,

And use it for my hafte. Come, come, away!
The fun is high, and we out-wear the day. [Exeunt.

Enter Gloucefler, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all the Hoft; Salisbury and Weftmorland.

Glou.

HERE is the King?

WHE
W Bed. The King himself is rode to view

their battle.

Weft. Of fighting men they have full threefcore thousand.

Exe. There's five to one; befides, they all are fresh. Sal. God's arm ftrike with us, 'tis a fearful odds ! God be wi' you, Princes all; I'll to my charge. If we no more meet till we meet in heav'n, Then joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford, My dear lord Glofter, and my good lord Exeter, And my kind kinfman, warriors all, adieu!

* the jymold bitt] fymold, or rather Gimmald, which signifies a Ring of two Rounds. Gemellus, Skinner.

Mr. Pope.

Bed.

Bed. Farewel, good Salisbury, and good luck go

with thee!

Exe. [to Sal.] Farewel, kind lord; fight valiantly to

day:

And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,

For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.

[Exit Sal. Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness; Princely in both.

Enter King Henry.

Weft. O, that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That do no work to day!

K. Henry. What's he, that wishes fo?
My cousin Westmorland? no, my fair coufin,
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country lofs; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater fhare of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, with not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous of gold;

Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost;
It yerns me not, if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my defires:
But if it be a fin to covet honour,

I am the most offending foul alive.

No, faith, my lord, wish not a man from England :
God's peace, I would not lose fo great an honour,
As one man more, methinks, would share from nie,
For the best hopes I have. Don't with one more:
Rather proclaim it (Wetmorland) through my hoft,
That he, which hath no ftomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his pass-port fhall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feaft of Crifpian:
He that out-lives this day and comes fafe home,

N 5

Will

Will ftand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And roufe him at the name of Crifpian:

*He that out-lives this day, and fees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feaft his neighbours,
And fay, to-morrow is Saint Crifpian:

Then will he ftrip his sleeve, and shew his scars:
Old men forget; yet fhall not all forget,
But they'll remember, with advantages,

What feats they did that day. Then fhall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as houfhold words,
Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glofter,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd..
This ftory fhall the good man teach his fon:
And Crifpin Crifpian fhall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it fhall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers :
For he, to day that fheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er fo vile,
This day fhall gentle his condition.

And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,

Shall think themfelves accurs'd, they were not here; And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon St. Crifpian's day.

Enter Salisbury,

Sal. My fov reign lord, beftow yourself with speed: The French are bravely in their battles fet, And will with all expedience charge on us.

K. Henry. All things are ready, if our minds be fo. Weft. Perish the man, whofe mind is backward now? K. Henry. Thou doft not wish more help from England, coufin?

Weft. God's will, my Liege, would you and I alone Without more help could fight this royal battle? He that fhall live this day, -] The Quarto of 1608 reads better, He that out-lives this day.

K, Henry.