Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee! Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day : 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; Princely in both.

West. O that we now had here

Enter KING HENRY.

[Exit SALISBURY.

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

K. Hen. 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,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more:
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
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 friends,
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'll remember, with advantages,

What feats he did that day: Then shall our names
Familiar in their mouths as household 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;

* Grieves.

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd:

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 abed,

Shall think themselves accursed, they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Enter SALISBURY.

Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The French are bravely in their battles* set,

And will with all expediencet charge on us.

K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so.

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

K. Hen. 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. Hen. 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 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 bodies
Must lie and fester.

K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now?

Mont. The Constable of France.

K. Hen. 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 thus ?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin

While the beast lived, was kill'd with hunting him.
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 dunghills,

They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them,

*Battle array.

+ Remind.

+ Expedition.

§ In brazen plates on our tombs.

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, a bounding 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 gayness, 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 shall 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'll 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 joints:
Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.

Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well:

Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

[Exit.

K. Hen. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for ransom.

Enter the Duke of YORK.

York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg

The leading of the vaward.

K. Hen. Take it, brave York.-Now, soldiers, march away :And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

SCENE IV.-The Field of Battle.

[Exeunt.

Alarums, Excursions. Enter FRENCH SOLDIER, PISTOL,

Pist. Yield, cur.

and Boy.

Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité. Pist. Quality, call you me?-Conster me, art thou a gentleman ? What is thy name? discuss.

Fr. Sol. O Seigneur Dieu!

Pist. O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman :

Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark :-
O sígnieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,t
Except, O signieur, thou do give to me

Egregious ransom.

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde! ayez pitié de moy!

Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys ;* For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat,

In drops of crimson blood.

Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras? Pist. Brass, cur!

Thou damned and luxurious † mountain goat,

Offer'st me brass?

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy!

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys ?Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French, What is his name.

Boy. Escoutez; Comment estes vous appellé ?

Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.

Boy. He says, his name is-master Fer.

Pist. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him: discuss the same in French unto him.

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. Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous prest; car ce soldat icy est disposé tout à cette heure de couper vostre

gorge.

Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant,

Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donneray deux cents escus.

Pist. What are his words?

Boy. He prays you to save his life: he 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; neantmoins, pour les escus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille remerciemens: et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant, et tres distingué seigneur d'Angleterre.

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 (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, cur.

Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine.

* A measure of corn (muids).

[Exit PISTOL.

[Exit FRENCH SOLDIER.

+ Lascivious.

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 Ným, had ten times more valour than this roaring devil is 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 anything 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 of Battle. Alarums. Enter DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, BOURBON, CONSTABLE, RAMBURES, and others.

Con. O diable!

Orl. O seigneur !-le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
Dau. Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!

Reproach and everlasting shame

Sits mocking in our plumes.-O meschante fortune!-
Do not run away.

Con. Why, all our ranks are broke.

[A short alarum.

Dau. O 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?

Bour. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let's 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 pander, hold the chamber door,
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,t
His fairest daughter is contaminate.

Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!

Let us, in heaps go offer up our lives

Unto these English, or else die with fame.

Orl. We are enough, 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 short; else, shame will be too long.

SCENE VI-Another part of the Field.

[Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter KING HENRY and Forces; EXETER, and others.

K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen :

But all's not done, yet keep the French the field.

Exe. The duke of York commends him to your majesty.
K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour,

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,

* Lasting.

+ Having no more gentility.