Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, Monfieur?

Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous vous teniez ́ preft, car ce foldat icy eft difpofée tout a cette heure de couper voftre gorge.

Pift. Owy, cuppelle gorge parmafoy pefant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns: or mangled shalt thou be by this my fword.

Fr. Sol. O je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner, je fuis gentilhomme de bonne maison, garde ma 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 houfe, and for his ranfom 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'ay promettez, il eft content dé vous donner la liberté de franchife.

Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne milles remerciemens, je me eftime heureux que je fuis tombé entre les mains d'un Chevalier, je penfe, le plus brave, valiant, O tres eftimée Signeur d'Angleterre.

Pift. Expound unto me, boy.

Boy. He gives you upon his knees a thousand 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 Signeur of England.

Pift. As I fuck blood, I will some mercy fhew. Follow me, cur.

[Ex. Pift. and Fr. Sol. voice iffue from fo

Boy. Suivez le grand capitain. I did never know fo woful a empty a heart; but the fong is true, The empty veffel makes the greateft found. Bardolph and Nim had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i'th' old play, every one may pair his nails with a wooden dagger: yet they are both hang'd, and

fo

fo would this be if he durft fteal any thing advent'rously. I must stay with the lacqueys 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

XI.

Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin and

Con.

O

perdu.

Diable!

Rambures.

Orl. O Signeur ! le jour eft perdu, toute eft

Dau. Mort de ma vie, all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlafting fhame

Sits mocking in our plumes.

O mefchante fortune, do not run away.

Con. Why all our ranks are broke.

[A short alarm.

Dau. O perdurable fhame, let's ftab our felves: 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! 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 my dog, His fairest daughter is contaminated.

Con. Diforder, that hath fpoil'd us, friend us now; Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

Orl. We are enow yet living in the field To fmother 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

SCENE XII.

Alarum. Enter the King and his train, with prisoners.

K. Henry. W

ELL have we done, thrice valiant

countrymen,

But all's not done, the French yet keep the field.
Exe. The Duke of York commends him to your
Majefty.

K. Henry. Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this

hour

I faw him down; thrice up again, and fighting:
From helmet to the fpur all h bleeding o'er.

Exe. In which array, brave foldier, doth he lye
Larding the plain; and by his bloody fide
(Yoak fellow to his honour owing wounds)
The noble Earl of Suffolk alfo lyes.

Suffolk first dy'd, and York all haggled over
Comes to him where in gore he lay infteep'd,
And takes him by the beard, kiffes the gafhes
That bloodily divawn upon his face,
And cries aloud, tarry my coufin Suffolk,
My fou! fhall thine keep company to heav'n:
Tarry, fweet foul for mine, then fly a-breaft:
As in this glorious and well foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry.

Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up;
He fmil'd me in the face, gave me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe fays, dear my lord,
Commend my fervice to my Soveraign;
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kift his lips,
And fo efpous'd to death, with blood he feal'd
A teftament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and fweet manner of it forc'd

blood he was

Thofe

Those waters from me, which I would have ftop'd,
But I had not fo much of man in me,
But all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.

K. Henry. I blame you not;

[Alarum.

For hearing this I muft preforce compound
With mixtful eyes, or they will iffue too.
But hark, what new alarum is this fame?
The French have re-inforc'd their fcatter'd men:
Then every foldier kill his prifoners.

Give the word through.

SCENE XIII.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

[Exeunt

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage! 'tis exprefly against the law of arms; 'tis as arrant a piece of Knave ry, mark you now, as can be i defir'd in confci. your ence now, is it not?

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rafcals that ran away from the battle ha done this flaughter: befides they have burn'd or carried away all that was in the King's tent, wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd ev'ry foldier to eut his prifoner's throat. O'tis a gallant King!

Flu. I, he was porn at Monmouth, captain Gower; what call you the town's name where Alexander the pig, was born?

Gow. Alexander the great.

Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? the pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous,

i offer'd.

Here in the other editions they begin the fourth Act, ve ry abfurdly, fince both the Place and Time evidently continue, and the words of Fluellen immediately follow thofe of the King just before..

nanimous, are all one reckonings, fave the phrafe is a little variations.

Gow. I think Alexander the great was born in Macedon, his father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

Flu. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn: I tell you captain, if you look in the maps of the orld, I warrant that you fall find in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth that the fituafions, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon there is alfo a river at Monmouth: it is call'd Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other ri ver; but it is all one, 'tis as like as my fingers to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well, for there is figures in all things. Alexander, God knows and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his difpleasures, and his indignations; and alfo being a little intoxicates in his prains, did in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend Clytus.

Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he never kill'd any of his friends.

Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I fpeak but in figures and comparisons of it; as Alexander kill'd his friend Clytus being in his ales and his cups; fo alfo Harry Monmouth being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great belly doublet; he was full of jefts and gypes, and knaveries, and mocks: I have forgot his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaff.

Flu. That is he: I tell you there is good men porn

at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his Majefty.

SCENE