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, 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.

117

Bates. He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a night as 't is, 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.

Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.

128

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 company; his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable.

135

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 loose legs and arms and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latters 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

2

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 subjection.1 153 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 irreconcil'd 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 contrived3 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 native1 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 punish'd 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 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 him 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

1 Proportion of subjection, reasonable service.

2 Miscarry upon the sea, be lost at sea.

3 Contrived, preconcerted.

4 Native, in their own country.

5

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Will. 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 fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word after! come, 't is a foolish saying.

King. Your reproof is something too round:7 I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.

Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you

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 sceptre and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
[The intertissu'd robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,] 280
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,

3 Condition, metrically a quadrisyllable.

4 Wringing, suffering.

5 Balm, the anointing oil used at coronations.

& Distressful, laboriously earned.

289

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,1
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 wots2
What watch the king keeps to maintain the
peace,

300

Whose hours the peasant best advantages.3] Enter ERPINGHAM.

Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,

Seek through your camp to find you.
King.
Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.

Erp. I shall do 't, my lord. [Exit. King. [Kneeling] O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;

Possess them not with fear; take from them

now

The sense of reckoning, if th' opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day,

O Lord,

310

O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
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 issu'd forced drops of blood:
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
Towards heaven, to pardon blood; and I have
built

Twochantries, 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, 321
Imploring pardon.

Mess. The English are embattled, you French peers.

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 10 a stain,
[That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,

21

And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on them,

23

The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.]
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys [and our peasants,
Who in unnecessary action swarm
About our squares1 of battle, ] were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding2 foe,
Though we upon this mountain's basis by 30
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 sonance3 and the note to mount; For our approach shall so much dare the field That England shall couch down in fear and yield.

SCENE III. The English camp.

Enter the English host; GLOUCESTER, Bedford, EXETER, SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND. Glo. Where is the king?

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

West. Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.

Exe. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.

Sal. God's arm strike with us! 't is 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,
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord
Exeter,

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