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Each battle sees the other's umber'd' face:
Steed threatenssteed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow; the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all; admonishing, That we should dress us fairly for our end. Thus may we gather honey from the weed, 5And make a moral of the devil himself. Enter Erpingham.

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Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpinghani:
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France. [better,
10 Erping. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me
Since I may say-now lie I like a king. [sent pains,
K. Henry. 'Tis good for men to love their pre-
Upon example; so the spirit is eased:
And, when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
15 The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move,
With casted slough' aud fresh legerity'.
Lendme thy cloak, Sir Thomas.—Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good morrow to them; and, anon,
Desire them all to my pavilion.

20

Glo. We shall, my liege.

Erping. Shall I attend your grace?

K. Henry. No, my good knight;

25 Go with my brothers to my lords of England:
I and my bosom must debate a while,
And then I would no other company. [Harry!
Erping. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble
K. Henry. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st
cheerfully.
[Excunt.

30

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presented them unto the gazing moon
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold
The royal captain of this ruin'd band,
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry-Praise and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and visits all his host;
Bids them good morrow, with a modest smile;
And calls them-brothers, friends, and countrymen.
Upon his royal face there is no note,
How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night:
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where (O for pity!) we shall much disgrace,-
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill-dispos'd, in brawl ridiculous,-
The name of Agincourt: Yet, sit and see;
Minding' true things by what their mockeries be. 45

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Pist. Qui va la?

Enter Pistol.

K. Henry. A friend. ·

Pist. Discuss unto me: Art thou officer?
35 Or art thou base, common, and popular?
K. Henry. I am a gentleman of a company.
Pist. Trail'st thou the puissant pike?

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K. Hen. Even so: What are you?
Pist. As good a gentleman as the emperor.
K. Hen. Then you are a better than the king.
Pist. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold;
A lad of life, an impʻ of fame;

Of parents good, of fist most valiant : ·

I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name?
K. Henry. Harry le Roy.

[Cornish crew?

Pist. Le Roy a Cornish name: art thou of
K. Henry. No, I am a Welshman.
Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen?

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Umber is a brown colour: the distant visages of the soldiers would certainly appear of this hue when beheld through the light of midnight fires. Mr. Tollet observes that another interpretation of this phrase occurs, expressive of the preparation of both armies for an engagement, in Hamlet, Act III. Mr. Steevens gives the following quotation from Stowe's Chronicle: “Ile brast up his umber three times;" where umber means the vizor of the helmet, as umbriere doth in Spenser, from the French ombre, ombriere, or ombraire, a shadow, an umbrella, or any thing that hides or covers the face. Hence umber'd face may denote a face arm'd with a helmet. i. e. do play them away at dice. To mind is the same as to call to remembrance. 4 Slough is the skin which the serpent annually throws off, and by the change of which he is supposed to regain new vigour and fresh youth. Legerity is lightness, nimbleness. See Note2, p. 500, K. Henry.

*

[Exit.

K. Henry. I thank you: God be with you!
Pist. My name is Pistol call'd.
K. Henry. It sorts' well with your fierceness.
Enter Fluellen, and Gower, severally.
Gow. Captain Fluellen,-

Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will: but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, be could wish himself in the Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all ad5 ventures, so we were quit here.

Flu. So in the name Cheshu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal 'orld, when the true and auncient preroga tifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of 10 Pompey the great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tittle tattle, nor pibble pabble, in Pompey's camp: I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.

Gow. Why, the enemy is loud; you heard him all night.

K. Henry. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king; I think, he would not wish himself any where but where he is.

Bates. Then, 'would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransom'd, and a many poor men's lives sav'd.

K. Henry. I dare say, you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone; howsoever you speak this, to feel other men's minds: Methinks, I 15 could not die any where so contented, as in the king's company; his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable.

Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we 20 should also, look you, be an ass and a fool, and a prating coxcomb; in your own conscience now? Gow. I will speak lower.

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you
will.
[Exeunt. 25
K. Henry. Though it appear a little out of
fashion, there is much care and valour in this
Welshman.

Enter three Soldiers; John Bates, Alexander
Court, and Michael Williams.

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn-
Ing which breaks yonder?

Bates. I think it be: but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day.

Will. That's more than we know.

Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the king's subjects: If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us.

Will. But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs, and arms, and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, and cry all,-We dy'd in such a place; some, swearing; some, crying for a surgeon; some, upon their wives left poor behind them; some, upon the 30 debts they owe; some, upon their children rawly' left. I am afeard there are few die well, that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it; whom to disobey, were against all proportion of subjec tion.

Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day, 35 but, I think, we shall never see the end of it.Who goes there?

K. Henry. A friend.

Will. Under what captain serve you?

K. Henry. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. Will. A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our

estate?

K. Henry. Even as men wreck'd upon the sand, that look to be wash'd off the next tide.

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king?

40

K. Henry. So, if a son, that is by his father sent about merchandize, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or, if a servant, under his master's conimand, transporting a sum of money, be assail'd by robbers, and die in many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may 45 call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation:-But this is not so: the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of permeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now if these man have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can out-strip men, they have no wings to fly from God: war

K. Henry. No; nor it is not meet he should.. For, though I speak it to you, I think, the king is but a man, as I am; the violet smells to him, 50 as it doth to me; the element shews to him, as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions': his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, 55 they stoop with the like wing; therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are: Yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by shewing it, should dishearten his 60

army.

i. e. it agrees. Conditions means qualities.

'i. e. hastily, suddenly.

in their native country: or, such as they are born to if they offend.

That is, punishment

is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that here men are punished, for before-breach of the king's laws, in now the king's quarrel: where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish: Then if 5 they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of their damnation, than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited.-Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every moth out of his conscience: and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was gained; and, in him that escapes, it 15 were not sin to think, that, making God so free an offer, he let him out-live that day to see his greatness, and to teach others how they should pre

pare.

K. Henry. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one, they will beat us; for they bear them on their shoulders: But it is no English treason to cut French crowns; and, to morrow, the king himself will be a clipper.

[Exeun soldiers.
Upon the king' let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and
Our sins, lay on the king; he must bear all.
100 hard condition! twin-born with greatness,
Subjected to the breath of every fool, [ing!
Whose sense no more can feel but his own wring-
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect,
That private men enjoy? and what have kings,
That privates have not too, save ceremony?
Save general ceremony?

Will. 'Tis certain, that every man that dies ill, 20 the ill is upon his own head, the king is not to answer for it.

Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me: and yet I determine to fight lustily for him. K.Henry. I myself heard the king say, he would 25 not be ransom'd.

Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight chearfully: but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser.

K. Henry. If I live to see it, I will never trust 30 his word after.

Will. You pay him then! that's a perilous shot qut of an elder gun', that a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch! you may as well go about to turn the sun to ice, with fanning 35 in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word after! come, 'tis a foolish saying.

K. Henry. Your reproof is something too round: I should be angry with you, if the time were con

venient.

Will. Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.
K. Henry. I embrace it.

Will. How shall I know thee again?

And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of God art thou, that suffer❜st more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
O ceremony, shew me but thy worth!
What is thy soul, O adoration?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd,
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Can'st thou, when thou command'st the beggar's
knee,
[dream,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose,
I am a king, that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the scepter, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
40 The enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The tarsed' title running 'fore the king,

K. Henry. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou45 dar'st acknowledge if, I will make it my quarrel. Will. Here's my glove; give me another of thine.

K. Henry. There.

The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of the world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread,
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follow so the ever-running year
55 With profitable labour, to his grave:

Will. This will I also wear in my cap: if ever 50 thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, This is my glove, by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear.

K. Henry. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.

K. Henry. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the king's company.

Will. Keep thy word: fare thee well.

Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; 60 we have French quarrels enough, if you could could]

tell how to reckon.

1

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,
What watch the king keeps to maintain the pee,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Meaning, it is a great displeasure that an elder gun can do against a cannon. meaning, the tumid puffy titles with which a king's name is always introduced.

M m

- 2

Farsed is stuffed;
Enter

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5

Con. Tohorse, yougallantprinces! straight to horse!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair shew shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins,
To give each naked curtle-ax a stain,

That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on
them,

The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lacqueys,and our peasants,-
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm

15 About our squares of battle,-were enough
To purge this field of such a hilding foe;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by,
Took stand for idle speculation:

Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them!-Not to-day, O
O not to-day, think not upon the fault
[Lord,
My father made in compassing the crown;
I Richard's body have interred new ;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built 20
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do:
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth;
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

Glo. My liege!

Enter Gloster.

K. Henry. My brother Gloster's voice!-Ay;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee:---
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

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[Excunt.

Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, and
Beaumont.

Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my
lords.

Dau. Montez à cheval:-My horse! valet! lacquey! ha!

Orl. O brave spirit!

Dau. Via!-les eaux & la terre.

Orl. Rien plus l'air & le feu.

Duu. Ciel! cousin Orleans!

Enter Constable.

Now, my lord Constable!

Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!

Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their

hides;

That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And daunt them with superfluous courage. Ha!
Ram. What, will you have them weep ou
horses' blood?

How shall we then behold their natural tears?
Enter a Messenger.

Mes. The English are embattled, you French
peers.

5

25

But that our honours must not.-What's to say?
A very little little let us do,

And all is done. Then let the trumpets sonnd
The tucket sonuance' and the note to mount :
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch down in fear, and
yield.

Enter Grandpré.
Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of

France?

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Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.

Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh

suits,

And give their fasting horses provender,

And after fight with them?

Con. I stay but for my guard'; On, to the field: I will the banner from a trumpet take, 55 And use it for my haste. Come, come away! The sun is high, and we out-wear the day. [Exeunt.

Via! is an old hortatory exclamation, as allons! 2 The tucket-sonuance was probably the name of an introductory flourish on the trumpet. 3 Grandpré alludes to the form of the ancient candlesticks, which frequently represented human figures holding the sockets for the lights in their extended hands. * Gimmal is, in the western counties, a ring; a gimmal bit is therefore a bit of which the parts played one within another. It seems, by what follows, that guard in this place means rather something of ornament or of distinction than a body of attendants. The following quotation from Holinshed will best elucidate this passage-"The duke of Brabant, when his standard was not come, caused a banner to be taken from a trumpet and fastened upon a spear, the which he commanded to be borne before him instead of a standard.”

SCENE

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Enter Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all the EnglishHost; Salisbury,andiVestmoreland. 5 Glo. Where is the king?

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle.

West. Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.

[fresh. 10

Exe. There's five to one; besides, they all are Sal. God's arm strike 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 heaven, Then joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford,Mydear lordGloster-and my good lord Exeter,And my kind kinsman,-warriors all, adieu! Bed. Farewel, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But they'll remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day: Then shall our

names,

Familiar in their mouth as houshold words,—
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd:
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
15 Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition2:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accursed, theywere not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon saint Crispin's day.
Enter Salisbury.

Exe. to Sal. Farewell, kind lord! fight valiantly|20| to-day:

And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou are fram'd of the firm truth of valour.
[Exit Salisbury.
Bed. He is as full of valour as of kindness;

Princely in both.

Enter King Henry.

West. O, that we now had here

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

Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with

speed:

4

The French are 'bravely in their battles set, 25 And will with all expedience charge on us. K. Henry. All things are ready, if our minds

30

35

140

K. Henry. What's he, that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland?-No, my fair cousin : If we are mark'd to die, we are enough To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold; Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not, if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires: But, if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour, As one man more, methinks, would share from me, 45 For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more: Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my That he which hath no stomach to this fight, [host,] Let him depart; his passport shall 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.

50

This day is called-the feast of Crispian:1

He, that out-lives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a-tip-toe when this day is nam'd,

55

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He, that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,

And say-To-morrow is saint Crispian:

be so.

West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now!

K. Henry. Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin!

West. God's will, my liege, would you and I alone,

Without more help, might fight this battle out! K. Henry. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men;

Which likes me better, than to wish us one.
You know your places: God be with you all!
Tucket. Enter Montjoy.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king Harry,

If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured over-throw:
For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs inust be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The Constable desires thee-thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire

From off these fields, where (wretches) their poor
bodies
Must lie and fester.

K. Henry. Who hath sent thee now?
Mont. The Constable of France.

K. Henry. I pray thee, bear my former answer

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Then will he strip his sleeve, and shew his scars. 60 While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him,

The battle of Agincourt was fought upon the 25th of October, St. Crispin's day. day shall advance him to the rank of a gentleman.

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