K. Henry. Why, now thou haft unwifh'd five thou fend men : Which likes me better than to wifh us one. Mount. ONCE NCE more I come to know of thee, King If for thy ranfom thou wilt now compound, For, certainly, thou art fo near the gulf, Thou needs must be englutted. Thus, in mercy, Thy followers of repentance; that their fouls [bodies From off thefe fields: where, wretches, their poor Muft lie and fefter. K. Henry. Who hath fent thee now? my bones. K. Henry. I pray thee, bear my former anfwer back. While the beaft liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him. Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me fpeak proudly; tell the Constable, But, by the mafs, our hearts are in the trim: Mount. I fhall, King Harry: and fo fare thee well. Thou never fhalt hear herald any more. [Exit. K. Henry. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for Ranfom. Enter York. York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward. K. Henry. Take it, brave York; now, foldiers, march away. And how thou pleafeft, God, difpofe the day! SCENE X. The Field of Battle. [Exeunt. Alarm, Excurfions. Enter Piftol, French foldier, and boy. IELD, cur. Fr. Sol. Je penfe, que vous étes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité. Pift. * Quality, cality--confture me, art thou a gentleman? what is thy name? discuss. Fr. Sol. O Seigneur Dieu! Pift. O, Signieur Dewe should be a gentleman: Perpend my words, O Signieur Dewe, and mark ; O Signieur Dewe, thou dieft on point of fox, Except, O Signieur, thou do give to me Egregious ranfom. Fr. Sol. 0, prennez mifericorde, ayez pitie de moy. Pift. Moy fhall not ferve, I will have forty moys; tor I will fetch thy ransom out at thy throat, in drops of crimson blood. Fr. Sol. Eft-il impoffible d' efchapper la force de ton bras? Pift. Brafs, cur? Thou damned and luxurious mountain Goat, offer'ft me brafs ? Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy. Pift. Say't thou me fo? is that a ton of moys? Come hither, Boy; ask me this flave in French, What is his name? Boy. Efcoutez, comment étes vous appellé? Fr. Sol. Monfieur le Fer. Boy. He fays, his name is Mr. Fer. Pift. Mr. Fer. I'll fer him, and ferk him, and ferret him difcufs the fame in French unto him. Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and ferk. Pift. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, Monfieur? Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous vous teniez preft; car ce foldat icy eft difpofé tout à cette heure de couper de votre gorge. Quality, calmy, cufture me, art thou a Gentleman?] We should lead this nonsense thus, Quality, Cality----Confture me, art thou a Gentleman?] i. e. tell me, let me understand whether thou be'll a Gentleman. + For I will fetch thy rym] We fhould read, Or I will fetch thy Ranfom out of thy throat. Pift. Owy, cuppelle gorge, parmafoy, pefant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns: or mangled fhalt thou be by this my fword. Fr. Sol. 0, je vous fupplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner; je fuis gentilhomme de bonne maison, gardez má vie, & je vous donneray deux cents efcus. Pift. What are his words? Boy. He prays you to fave his life, he is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns. Pift. Tell him, my fury shall abate, and I the crowns will take. Fr. Sol. Petit Monfieur, que dit-il? Boy. Encore qu'il eft contre fon jurement, de pardonner aucun prifonnier: neantmoins pour les efcus que vous l'avez promettes, il eft content de vous donner la liberté, le franchifement. Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remerciemens, je me estime heureux qui je fuis tombé entre les mains d'un Chevalier, je penfe, le plus brave, valiant, & tres eftimé Signeur d'Angleterre. Pift. Expound unto me, boy. Boy. He gives you upon his knees a thoufaud thanks, and efteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy Signieur of England. Pift. As I fuck blood, I will fome mercy fhew. Follow me, cur. Boy. Suivez le grand capitain. [Ex. Pift. and Fr. Sol. I did never know fo full a voice iffue from fo empty a heart; but the faying is true, The empty veffel makes the greatest found. Bardolph and Nim had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' th' old play; every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger: yet they are both hang'd; and fo would this be, if he durft fteal any thing advent'rously. I muft ftay with the lacqueys, with the luggage of our camp; the French French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it but boys. [Exit. Another part of the Field of Battle. Enter Conftable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Con. Diable! Rambures. Orl. O Signeur le jour eft perdu, tout eft perdu Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame. Sits mocking in our plumes. 0 mefchante fortune! [A short alarm. do not run away. Con. Why, all our ranks are broke. Dau. O perdurable fhame! let's ftab ourselves: Be these the wretches, that we play'd at dice for? Orl. Is this the King we fent to for his ranfom? Bour. Shame,and eternal fhame,nothing but shame! Let us die, inftant: -Once more back again; The man, that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand Like a base pander hold the chamber-door, Whilft by a flave, no gentler than a dog, His faireft daughter is contaminated. Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now! Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. Orl. We are enow, yet living in the field, To smother up the English in our throngs; If any order might be thought upon. Bour. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng; Let life be fhort, elfe fhame will be too long [Exeunt. SCENE |