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, 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 showing it,
should dishearten his army.
Bat. He may show what outward courage he
will ; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could
wish himself in Thames up to the neck ; and so I
would he were, and I by him, at all adventures,
so we were quit here.
King. By my troth, I will speak my conscience
of the king : I think he would not wish himself
any where but where he is.
Bat. Then I would he were here alone ; so
should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many
poor men's lives saved.
King. 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 could not
die any where so contented as in the king's com-
pany; his cause being just and his quarrel
Wil. That 's more than we know.
Bat. 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 obe-
dience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us.
Wil. But if the cause be not good, the king
himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when
all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in
a battle, shall join together at the latter day and
cry all We died at such a place ; some swearing,
some crying for a surgeon, some upon their
wives left poor behind them, some upon the
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
King. So, if a son that is by his father sent
about merchandise 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 command
transporting a sum of money, be assailed by
robbers and die in 'many irreconciled iniquities,
you may 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
premeditated 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 men have
defeated the law and outrun native punishment,
though they can outstrip men, they have no.
wings to fly from God : war is his beadle, war is
his vengeance ; so that here men are punished
for bef ore-breach of the king's laws in now the
king's quarrel : where they feared the death, they
KING HENRY V.
ACT IV., Sc. 1.
have borne life away ; and where they would be
safe, they perish : then if 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 mote
out of his conscience : and dying so, death is to
hjm advantage ; or not dying, the time was
blessedly lost wherein such preparation was
gained : and in him that escapes, it were not sin
to think that, making God so free an offer, He let
him outlive that day to see His greatness and to
teach others how they should prepare.
WiL 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the
ill upon his own head, the king is not to answer it.
Bat. I do not desire he should answer for me ;
and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
King. I myself heard the king say he would
not be ransomed.
WiL Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheer-
fully : but when our throats are cut, he may be
ransomed, and we ne'er the wiser.
King. If I live to see it, I will never trust his
Wil. You pay him then. That's a perilous
shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private
displeasure can do against a monarch ! you may
as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fan-
ning in his face with a peacock's feather. You '11
never trust his word after ! come, 'tis a foolish
King. Your reproof is something too round : I
should be angry with you, if the time were con-
Wil. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
King. I embrace it.
Wil. How shall I know thee again ?
King. Give me any gage of thine, and I will
wear it in my bonnet : then, if ever thou darest
acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.
Wil. Here's my glove: give me another of
Wil. This will I also wear in my cap : if ever
thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, This
in my glove, by this hand, I' will take thee a box
on the ear.
King. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
Wil. Thou darest as well be hanged.
King. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in
the king's company.
Wil. Keep thy word : fare thee well.
Bat. Be friends, you English fools, be friends :
we have French quarrels enow, if you could tell
how to reckon.
King. 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.
Upon the king ! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives,
Our children and our sins lay on the king !
We must bear all. O hard condition,
Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing ! 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 ?
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 ?
ceremony, show me but thy worth !
What is thy soul of 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 great-
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?
Canst thou, when thou command' st the beggar's
Command the health of it? No, thou proud
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose ;
1 am a king that find thee, and I know
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this 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 lackey, 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 follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave :
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 peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your
Seek through your camp to find you.
King. Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent :
I '11 be before thee.
Erp. I shall do 't, my lord. Exit.
King. God of battles ! steel my soldiers'
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, not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown !
ACT IV., Sc. 3.
KING HENRY V.
I Richard's body have interred new ;
And on it ha. e 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
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,
Srhce that my penitence comes after all,
Glo. My liege !
King. My brother Gloucester's voice ? Ay ;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee :
The day, my friends and all things stay for me.
Scene II. The French Camp.
Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and
Orl. The sun doth gild our armour ; up, my
Dau. Montez a cheval ! My horse ! varlet !
laquais ! ha !
Orl. brave spirit !
Dau. Via ! les eaux et la terre.
Orl. Rien puis ? 1'air et le feu.
Dau. Ciel, cousin Orleans.
Now, my lord constable ! .
Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service
Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And dout them with superfluous courage, ha !
Ram. What, will you have them weep our
horses' blood ?
How shall we, then, behold their natural tears ?
Mes. The English are embattled, you French
Con. To horse, you gallant princes ! straight
to horse !
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair show 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-axe a stain,
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheathe for lack of sport : let us but blow
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tla positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants,
Who in unnecessary action swarm
About our squares of battle, were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding foe,
Though we upon this mountain's basis by
Took stand for idle speculation :
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 sound
The tucket sonance and the note to mount ;
For our approach shall so much dare the field
That England shall couch down in fear and yield.
Gra. Why do you stay so long, my lords of
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favouredly become the morning field :
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully :
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps :
The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and
The gum down-roping from their pale -dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless ;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words
To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Con. They have said their prayers, and they
stay for death.
Dau. Shall we go send them dinners and fresh
And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them ?
Con. I stay but for my guidon : to the field !
I will the banner from a trumpet take,
And use it for my haste. Come, come, away !
The sun is high, and we outwear the day.
Scene III. The English Camp.
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham,
with all his host: Salisbury and Westmore-
Glo. Where is the king?
Bed. The king himself is rode to view their
Wes. Of fighting men they have full three score
Exe. There 's five to one ; besides, they all are
Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful
God be wi' you, princes all ; I '11 to my charge :
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu !
Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury ; and good luck
go with thee !
Exe. Farewell, kind lord ; fight valiantly to-
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.
Bed. He is as full of valour as of kindness j
Princely in both.
KING HENRY V.
ACT IV., Sc. 3.
Enter the King.
Wes. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
gi n a n What 's he that wishes so ?
My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin :
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
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
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one
Bather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
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.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian :
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
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 neighbours,
And say To-morrow is Saint Crispian: _
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Old men forget ; yet all shall be forgot,
But he '11 remember with advantages
What feats he did that day ; then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
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
Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin s day.
Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
King. All things are ready, if our minds be so.
Wes. Perish the man whose mind is backward
King. Thou dost not wish more help from
England, coz ?
Wes. God's will ! my liege, would you and I
Without more help, could fight this royal battle !
King. 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.
Mon. Once more I come to know of thee, King
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow :
For certainly thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must 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
Must lie and fester,
King. Who hath sent thee now ?
Mon. The Constable of France.
King. I pray thee, bear my former answer back :
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows
The man that once did sell the lion s skin
While the beast lived, was killed with hunting
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Find native graves ; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work ?
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dung-
They shall be famed ; for there the sun shall greet
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven ;
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark then abounding valour in our English,
That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly : tell the constable
We are but warriors for the working-day ;
Our gay ness and our gilt are all besmirch' d
With rainy marching in the painful field ;
There 's not a piece of feather in our host-
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly
And time hath worn us into slovenry :
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim ;
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night
They '11 be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers heads
And turn them out of service. If they do this,
As, if God please, they shall, my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour ;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald :
They shall have none, I swear, but these my
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.
Mon. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee
well: ,-, .,
Thou never shalt hear herald any more. A an*.
King. I fear thou 'It once more come again tor
ACT IV., Sc. 6.
KING HENRY V.
York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.
King. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers,
march away :
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day !
Scene IF. The Field of Battle.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistol, French
Soldier and Boy.
Pist. Yield, cur !
Fr. Sol. Je pense que vous etes gentilhomme de
Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me ! Art thou a
gentleman ? what is thy name ? discuss.
Fr. Sol. Seigneur Dieu !
Pist. O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman :
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark;
O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,
Except, signieur, thou do give to me
Fr.Sol. O,prenezmiserioorde! ayez pitie de moi !
Pist. Moy shall not serve ; I will have forty
Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat
In drops of crimson blood.
Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d'echapper la force
de ton bras ?
Pist. Brass, cur!
Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat,
Off er'st me brass?
Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moi !
Pist. Say'st thou me so ? is that a ton of moys ?
Come hither, boy : ask me this slave in French
What isjiis name.
Boy. Ecoutez : comment etes-vous appele ?
Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.
Boy. He says his name is Master Fer.
Pist. Master Fer ! I '11 fer him, and firk him,
and ferret him : discuss the same in French unto
Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and
ferret, and firk.
Pist. Bid him prepare : for I will cut his throat.
Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur?
Boy. II me commande de vous dire que vous
faites vous pret ; car ce soldat ici est dispose tout
a cette heure de couper votre gorge.
Pis*. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy,
Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie, pour 1'amour de
Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de
bonne maison : gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai
deux cents ecus.
Pist. What are his words ?
Boy. He prays you to save his life : be is a
gentleman of a good house ; and for his ransom
he will give you two hundred crowns.
Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I
The crowns will take.
Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il ?
Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de
pardonner aucun prisonnier, neanmoins, pour les
ecus que vous 1'avez promis, il est content de
vous donner la liberte, le franchisement.
Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille
remercimens ; et je m'estime heureux que je suis
tombe entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le
plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur
Pist. Expound unto me, boy.
Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand
thanks ; and he esteems himself happy that he
hath fallen into the hands of one, as he thinks,
the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy
signieur of England.
Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.
Follow me !
Boy. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [Exeunt
Pistol and French Soldier. ] I did never know
so full a voice issue from so empty a heart : but
the saying is true, The empty vessel makes the
greatest sound. Bardolph and Nym had ten
times more valour than this roaring devil i' the
old play, that every one may pare his nails with
a wooden dagger ; and they are both hanged ;
and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing
adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys,
with the luggage of our camp : the French might
have a good prey of us, if he knew of it ; for there
is none to guard it but boys. Exit.
Scene V. Another part of the Field.
Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin
Con. diable !
Orl. O seigneur ! le jour est perdu, tout est
Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all !
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes. mechante fortune !
Do not run away. A short alarum.
Con. Why, all our ranks are broke.
Dau. perdurable shame ! let 's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for ?
Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom ?
Bou. Shame and eternal shame, nothing but
Let us die in honour : once more back again ;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base pandar, hold the chamber-door
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.
Con. Disorder, that hath spoil' d us, friend us
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.
Bou. The devil take order now! I'll to the
Let life be short ; else shame will be too long.
Scene VI. Another part of the Field.
Alarums. Enter King Henry and forces, with
prisoners ; Exeter and others.
King. Well have we done, thrice valiant coun-
But all 's not done ; yet keep the French the field.
Exe. The Duke of York commends him to your
KING HENRY V.
ACT IV., Sc. 7.
King. Lives he, good uncle ? thrice within this
I saw him down ; thrice up again, and fighting ;
From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
Exe. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,
Larding the plain ; and by his bloody side,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died : and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face ;
And cries aloud Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk !
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven ;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well fought en field
We kept together in our chivalry !
Upon these words I came and cheer' d hjm up :
He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,