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Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies

In motion of no less celerity

Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen

The well-appointed king at Hampton pier

Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet

With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:

Play with your fancies, and in them behold

Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;

Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give

To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, (11)

Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,

Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,

Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think

You stand upon the rivage and behold

A city on the inconstant billows dancing;

For so appears this fleet majestical,

Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:

Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,

And leave your England, as dead midnight still,

Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,

Either past or not arrived to pith and puisance;

For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd

With one appearing hair, that will not follow

These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?

Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;

Behold the ordnance on their carriages,

With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.

Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back;

Tells Harry that the king doth offer him

Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, (31)

Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.

The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner

With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, [Alarum, and chambers go off.

And down goes all before them. Still be kind,

And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit.


France. Before Harfleur.
Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders.

K. Hen.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; (10)

Let it pry through the portage of the head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,

Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

To his full height. On, on, you noblest English,

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! (19)

Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:

Dishonor not your mothers; now attest

That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;

For there is none of you so mean and base, (30)

That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:

Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!' [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.


The same.

On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!

Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks
are too hot; and for mine own part, I have
not a case of lives: the humor of it is too hot,
that is the very plain-song of it.

The plain-song is most just; for humors do abound:

Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;

And sword and shield,

In bloody field,

Doth win immortal fame.

Would I were in an alehouse in London!
I would give all my fame for a pot of
ale and safety.

And I:

If wishes would prevail with me,

My purpose should not fail with me,

But thither would I hie.

As duly, but not as truly, (20)

As bird doth sing on bough. Enter FLUELLEN.

Up to the breach, you dogs! avaunt,
you cullions! [Driving them forward.

Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould.

Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage,

Abate thy rage, great duke!

Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!

These be good humors! your honor wins bad humours. [Exeunt all but Boy.

As young as I am, I have observed
these three swashers. I am boy to them all
three: but all they three, though they would
serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed
three such antics do not amount to a man.
For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-
faced; by the means whereof a' faces it out,
but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing
tongue and a quiet sword; by means
whereof a' breaks words, and keeps whole
weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men
of few words are the best men; and therefore
he scorns to say his prayers, lest a' should be
thought a coward: but his few bad words are
matched with as few good deeds; for a' never
broke any man's head but his own, and that
was against a post when he was drunk. They
will steal any thing, and call it a purchase.
Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve
leagues, and sold it for three half pence. Nym
and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching,
and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel: I knew
by that piece of service the men would carry
coals. They would have me as familiar with
men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers:
which makes much against my
manhood, if I should take from another's
pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing
up of wrongs. I must leave them, and
seek some better service: their villany goes
against my weak stomach, and therefore I
must cast it up. [Exit. Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following.

Captain Fluellen, you must come
presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester (60)
would speak with you.

To the mines! tell you the duke, it is
not so good to come to the mines; for, look
you, the mines is not according to the disciplines
of the war: the concavities of it is not
sufficient; for, look you, th' athversary, you
may discuss unto the duke, look you, is digt
himself four yard under the countermines: by
Cheshu, I think a' will plow up all, if there is
not better directions.

The Duke of Gloucester, to whom
the order of the siege is given, is altogether
directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman,
i' faith.

It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?

I think it be.

By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the
world: I will verify as much in his beard: he
has no more directions in the true disciplines
of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines,
than is a puppy-dog. Enter MACMORRIS cnd Captain JAMY.

Here a' comes; and the Scots captain. (80)
Captain Jamy, with him.

Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous
gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition
and knowledge in th' aunchient wars,
upon my particular knowledge of his directions:
by Cheshu, he will maintain his argument
as well as any military man in the
world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars
of the Romans.

I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen. (90)

God-den to your worship, good Captain James.

How now, Captain Macmorris! have
you quit the mines? have the pioners given

By Chrish, la! tish ill done: the
work ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat.
By my hand, I swear, and my father's
soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over:
I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish
save me, la! in an hour: O, tish ill done, (99)
tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done!

Captain Macmorris, I beseech you
now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few
disputations with you, as partly touching or
concerning the disciplines of the war, the
Roman wars, in the way of argument, look
you, and friendly communication; partly to
satisfy my opinion and party for the satisfaction,
look you, of my mind, as touching the
direction of the military discipline; that is the

It sall be very gud, gud feith, gud
captains bath: and I sall quit you with gud
leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I,

It is no time to discourse, so Chrish
save me: the day is hot, and the weather, and
the wars, and the king, and the dukes: it is no
time to discourse. The town is beseeched, and
the trumpet call us to the breach; and we talk,
and, be Chrish, do nothing: 'tis shame for
us all: so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand
still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is
throats to be cut, and works to be done;
and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me,

By the mess, ere theise eyes of
mine take themselves to slomber, ay'll de gud
service, or ay'll lig i' the grund for it; ay, or
go to death; and ay'll pay't as valorously as
I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff
and the long. Marry, I wad full fain hear
some question 'tween you tway.

Captain Macmorris, I think, look you,
under your correction, there is not many of (131)
your nation--

Of my nation! What ish my nation?
Ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and
a rascal--What ish my nation? Who talks
of my nation?

Look you, if you take the matter
otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris,
peradventure I shall think you do not use me
with that affability as in discretion you ought
to use me, look you; being as good a man as
yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in
the derivation of my birth, and in other

I do not know you so good a man as
myself: so Chrish save me, I will cut off
your head.

Gentlemen both, you will mistake
each other.

A! that's a foul fault. [A parley sounded. (149)

The town sounds a parley.

Captain Macmorris, when there is
more better opportunity to be required, look
you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know
the disciplines of war; and there is an end. [Exeunt.


The same. Before the gates. The Governor and some Citizens on the walls; the English forces below.
Enter KING HENRY and his train.

K. Hen.
How yet resolves the governor of the town?

This is the latest parley we will admit:

Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves;

Or like to men proud of destructon

Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,

A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,

If I begin the battery once again,

I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur

Till in her ashes she lie buried. (10)

The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,

And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,

In liberty of bloody hand shall range

With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass

Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants.

What is it then to me, if impious war,

Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends,

Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats

Enlink'd to waste and desolation?

What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause, (20)

If your pure maidens fall into the hand

Of hot and forcing violation?

What rein can hold licentious wickedness

When down the hill he holds his fierce career?

We may as bootless spend our vain command

Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil

As send precepts to the leviathan

To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,

Take pity of your town and of your people,

Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; (30)

Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace

O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds

Of heady murder, spoil and villany.

If not, why, in a moment look to see

The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand

Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;

Your fathers taken by the silver beards,

And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls,

Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,

Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused

Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry (41)

At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.

What say you? will you yield, and thus avoid,

Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?

Our expectation hath this day an end:

The Dauphin, whom of succors we entreated,

Returns us that his powers are yet not ready

To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king,

We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.

Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; (50)

For we no longer are defensible.

K. Hen.
Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter,

Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,

And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French:

Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,

The winter coming on and sickness growing

Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.

To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest;

To-morrow for the march are we addrest. [Flourish. The King and his train enter the town.


The FRENCH KING'S palace.

Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu
parles bien le langage.

Un peu, madame.

Je te prie, m'ensiegnez: il faute que
j'apprenne a parler. Comment appelez-vous
la main en Anglois?

La main? elle est appelee de hand.

De hand. Et les doigts?

Les doigts? ma foi, j'oublie les
doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts?
je pense qu'ils sont appeles de fingres; oui, de

La main, de hand; les doigts, de
fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon ecolier;
j'ai gagne deux mots d'Anglois vitement.
Comment appelez-vous les ongles?

Les ongles? nous les appelons de nails.

De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi, si je
parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails. (20)

C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglois.

Dites-moi l'Anglois pour le bras.

De arm, madame.

Et le coude?

De elbow.

De elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition
de tous les mots que vous m'avez appris
des a present.

Il est trop difficile, madame, comme
je pense.

Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: de
hand, de fingres, de nails, de arma, de bilbow.

De elbow, madame.

O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie!
de elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?

De neck, madame.

De nick. Et le menton?

De chin.

De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, (39)
de sin.

Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite,
vous prononcez let mots aussi droit que les
natifs d'Angleterre.

Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par
la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.

N'avez vous pas deja oublie ce que
je vous ai errseigne?

Non, je reciterai a vous promptement:
de hand, de fingres, de mails,--

De nails, madame. (50)

De nails, de arm, de ilbow.

Sauf votre honneur, de elbow.

Ainsi dis-je; de elbow, de nick, et
de sin. Comment appelez-vous le pied et la

De foot, madame; et de coun.

De foot et de coun! O Seigneur
Dieu! ce sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible,
gros, et impudique, et non pour les
dames d'honneur d'user: je ne voudrais prononcer
ces mots devant les seigneurs de
France pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et
le coun! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre
fois ma lecon ensemble: de hand, de fingres,
de nails, de arm, de elbow, de nick, de sin,
de foot, de coun.

Excellent, madame.

C'est assez pour une fois: allons-
nous a diner. [Exeunt.


The same.

Fr. King.
'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme.

And if he be not fought withal, my lord,

Let us not live in France; let us quit all

And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.

O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,

The emptying of our fathers' luxury,

Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,

Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,

And overlook their grafters? (10)

Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!

Mort de ma vie! if they march along

Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,

To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm

In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.

Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle?

Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull,

On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,

Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,

A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barleybroth,

Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?

And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,

Seem frosty? O, for honor of our land,

Let us not hang like roping icicles

Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people

Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields!

Poor we may call them in their native lords,

By faith and honor,

Our madams mock at us, and plainly say

Our mettle is bred out and they will give (30)

Their bodies to the lust of English youth

To new-store France with bastard warriors.

They bid us to the English dancingschools,

And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos;

Saying our grace is only in our heels,

And that we are most lofty runaways.

Fr. King.
Where is Montjoy the herald? speed him hence:

Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.

Up, princes! and, with spirit of honor edged

More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:

Charles Delabreth, high constable of France;

You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri,

Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;

Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,

Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconberg,

Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;

High dukes, great princes, barons, lords and knights,

For your great seats now quit you of great shames.

Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land

With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur: (50)

Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow

Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat

The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon:

Go down upon him, you have power enough,

And in a captive chariot into Rouen

Bring him our prisoner.

This becomes the great.

Sorry am I his numbers are so few,

His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march,

For I am sure, when he shall see our army,

He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear (60)

And for achievement offer us his ransom.

Fr. King.
Therefore, lord constable, haste on Montjoy,

And let him say to England that we send

To know what willing ransom he will give.

Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.

Not so, I do beseech your majesty.

Fr. King.
Be patient, for you shall remain with us.

Now forth, lord constable and princes all,

And quickly bring us word of England's fall. [Exeunt.


The English camp in Picardy.
Enter GOWER and FLUELLEN, meeting.

How now, Captain Fluellen! come
you from the bridge?

I assure you, there is very excellent
services committed at the bridge.

Is the Duke of Exeter safe?

The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous
as Agamemnon; and a man that I love
and honor with my soul, and my heart, and
my duty, and my life, and my living, and my
uttermost power: he is not--God be praised
and blessed!--any hurt in the world; but keeps
the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There is an aunchient lieutenant there
at the pridge, I think in my very conscience he
is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he
is a man of no estimation in the world; but
I did see him do as gallant service.

What do you call him?

He is called Aunchient Pistol. (20)

I know him not. Enter PISTOL.

Here is the man.

Captain, I do thee beseech to do me favors:

The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.

Ay, I praise God; and I have merited
some love at his hands.

Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,

And of buxom valor, hath, by cruel fate,

And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel,

That goddess blind,

That stands upon the rolling restless stone--

By your patience, Aunchient Pistol.
Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore
her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is
blind; and she is painted also with a wheel,
to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that
she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability,
and variation: and her foot, look you, is fixed
upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls,
and rolls: in good truth, the poet makes a
most excellent description of it: Fortune is an (40)
excellent moral.

Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;

For he hath stolen a pax, and hanged must a' be:

A damned death!

Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free

And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate:

But Exeter hath given the doom of death

For pax of little price.

Therefore, go speak; the duke will hear thy voice:

And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut

With edge of penny cord and vile reproach: (51)

Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.

Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand
your meaning.

Why then, rejoice therefore.

Certainly, aunchient, it is not a thing
to rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my
brother, I would desire the duke to use his
good pleasure, and put him to execution; for
discipline ought to be used. (60)

Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship!

It is well.

The fig of Spain! [Exit.

Very good.

Why, this is an arrant counterfeit
rascal; I remember him now; a bawd, a cut-purse.

I'll assure you, a' uttered as brave
words at the bridge as you shall see in a summer's
day. But it is very well; what he has
spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when (69)
time is serve.

Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that
now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself
at his return into London under the form
of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in
the great commanders' names: and they will
learn you by rote where services were done;
at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at
such a convoy; who came off bravely, who
was shot, who disgraced, what terms the
enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly
in the phrase of war, which they trick up with
new-tuned oaths: and what a beard of the
general's cut and a horrid suit of the camp
will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed
wits, is wonderful to be thought on. But you
must learn to know such slanders of the age,
or else you may be marvellously mistook.

I tell you what Captain Gower; I do
perceive he is not the man that he would gladly
make show to the world he is: if I find a hole
in his coat, I will tell him my mind. [Drum heard.],
Hark you, the king is coming, and I (91)
must speak with him from the pridge. Drum and colors. Enter KING HENRY,GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers.

God pless your majesty!

K. Hen.
How now, Fluellen! camest thou from the bridge?

Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke
of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the
pridge: the French is gone off, look you; and
there is gallant and most prave passages;
marry, th' athversary was have possession of
the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, and
the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge: I
can tell your majesty, the duke is a prave (101)

K. Hen.
What men have you lost, Fluellen?

The perdition of th' athversary hath
been very great, reasonable great: marry, for
my part, I think the duke hath lost never a
man, but one that is like to be executed for
robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your majesty
know the man: his face is all bubukles,
and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire:
and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a
coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes
red; but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.

K. Hen.
We would have all such offenders
so cut off: and we give express charge, that
in our marches through the country, there be
nothing compelled from the villages, nothing
taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided
or abused in disdainful language; for
when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, (120)
the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. Tucket. Enter MONTJOY.

You know me by my habit.

K. Hen.
Well then I know thee: what
shall I know of thee?

My master's mind.

K. Hen.
Unfold it.

Thus says my king: Say thou to
Harry of England: Though we seemed dead,
we did but sleep: advantage is a better soldier
than rashness. Tell him we could have rebuked
him at Harfleur, but that we thought
not good to abuse an injury till it were full
ripe: now we speak upon our cue, and our
voice is imperial: England shall repent his
folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance.
Bid him therefore consider of his
ransom; which must proportion the losses we
have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace
we have digested; which in weight to
re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For
our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the
effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom
too faint a number; and for our disgrace,
his own person, kneeling at our feet, but a
weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add
defiance: and tell him, for conclusion, he hath
betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is
pronounced. So far my king and master; so
much my office.

K. Hen.
What is thy name? I know thy quality.


K. Hen.
Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back,

And tell thy king I do not seek him now; (150)

But could be willing to march on to Calais

Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth,

Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much

Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,

My people are with sickness much enfeebled,

My numbers lessen'd, and those few I have

Almost no better than so many French;

Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,

I thought upon one pair of English legs (159)

Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, God,

That I do brag thus! This your air of France

Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.

Go therefore, tell thy master here I am;

My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk,

My army but a weak and sickly guard;

Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,

Though France himself and such another neighbour

Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.

Go, bid thy master well advise himself:

If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd, (170)

We shall your tawny ground with your red blood

Discolour: and so, Montjoy, fare you well.

The sum of a!l our answer is but this:

We would not seek a battle, as we are;

Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it:

So tell your master.

I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness.

I hope they will not come upon us now.

K. Hen.
We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.

March to the bridge; it now draws toward night: (180)

Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,

And on to-morrow bid them march away.


The French camp, near Agincourt.

Tut! I have the best armour of the
world. Would it were day!

You have an excellent armour; but let
my horse have his due.

It is the best horse of Europe.

Will it never be morning?

My Lord of Orleans, and my lord high
constable, you talk of horse and armour?

You are as well provided of both as (10)
any prince in the world.

What a long night is this! I will
not change my horse with any that treads but
on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from
the earth, as if his entrails were hairs; le
cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez les narines
de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a
hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when
he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is
more musical than the pipe of Hermes. (20)

He's of the colour of the nutmeg.

And of the heat of the ginger. It is a
beast for Perseus: he is pure air and fire; and
the dull elements of earth and water never
appear in him, but only in patient stillness
while his rider mounts him: he is indeed a
horse; and all other jades you may call beasts.

Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute
and excellent horse.

It is the prince of palfreys; his
neigh is like the bidding of a monarch and (31)
his countenance enforces homage.

No more, cousin.

Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot,
from the rising of the lark to the lodging
of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey:
it is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn
the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse
is argument for them all: 'tis a subject for a
sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's
sovereign to ride on; and for the world, familiar
to us and unknown, to lay apart their
particular functions and wonder at him. I once
writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus:
'Wonder of nature,'--

I have heard a sonnet begin so to
one's mistress.

Then did they imitate that which I
composed to my courser, for my horse is my

Your mistress bears well.

Me well; which is the prescript
praise and perfection of a good and particular

Nay, for methought yesterday your
mistress shrewdly shook your back.

So perhaps did yours.

Mine was not bridled.

O then belike she was old and gentle;
and you rode, like a kern of Ireland, your
French hose off, and in your strait strossers.

You have good judgement in

Be warned by me, then: they that
ride so and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs.
I had rather have my horse to my mistress.

I had as lief have my mistress a jade.

I tell thee, constable, my mistress
wears his own hair.

I could make as true a boast as that,
if I had a sow to my mistress.

'Le chien est retourne a son propre
vomissement, et la truie lavee au bourbier:' (70)
thou makest use of any thing.

Yet do I not use my horse for my
mistress, or any such proverb so little kin to
the purpose.

My lord constable, the armour that I
saw in your tent to-night, are those stars or
suns upon it?

Stars, my lord.

Some of them will fall to-morrow, I

And yet my sky shall not want.

That may be, for you bear a many
superfluously, and 'twere more honour some (81)
were away.

Even as your horse bears your
praises; who would trot as well, were some
of your bags dismounted.

Would I were able to load him with
his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot
to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved
with English faces.

I will not say so, for fear I should be
faced out of my way: but I would it were
morning; for I would fain be about the ears
of the English.

Who will go to hazard with me for
twenty prisoners?

You must first go yourself to hazard,
ere you have them.

'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself.

The Dauphin longs for morning.

He longs to eat the English. (100)

I think he will eat all he kills.

By the white hand of my lady, he's a
gallant prince.

Swear by her foot, that she may tread
out the oath.

He is simply the most active gentleman
of France.

Doing is activity; and he will still be

He never did harm, that I heard of.

Nor will do none to-morrow: he will (111)
keep that good name still.

I know him to be valiant.

I was told that by one that knows
him better than you.

What's he?

Marry, he told me so himself; and
he said he cared not who knew it.

He needs not; it is no hidden virtue (119)
in him.

By my faith, sir, but it is; never
any body saw it but his lackey: 'tis a hooded
valor; and when it appears, it will bate.

Ill will never said well.

I will cap that proverb with 'There
is flattery in friendship.'

And I will take up that with 'Give
the devil his due.'

Well placed: there stands your friend
for the devil: have at the very eye of that (130)
proverb with 'A pox of the devil.'

You are the better at proverbs, by
how much 'A fool's bolt is soon shot.'

You have shot over.

'Tis not the first time you were overshot. Enter a Messenger.

My lord high constable, the English
lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents.

Who hath measured the ground?

The Lord Grandpre.

A valiant and most expert gentleman.
Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of
England! he longs not for the dawning as we (141)

What a wretched and peevish fellow
is this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained
followers so far out of his knowledge!

If the English had any apprehension,
they would run away.

That they lack; for if their heads had
any intellectual armor, they could never wear (149)
such heavy head-pieces.

That island of England breeds very
valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable

Foolish curs, that run winking into
the mouth of a Russian bear and have their
heads crushed like rotten apples! You may
as well say, that's a valiant flea that dare eat
his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

Just, just; and the men do sympathize
with the mastiffs in robustious and rough
coming on, leaving their wits with their wives:
and then give them great meals of beef and
iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and
fight like devils.

Ay, but these English are shrewdly
out of beef.

Then shall we find to-morrow they
have only stomachs to eat and none to fight.
Now is it time to arm: come, shall we about

It is now two o'clock: but, let me see, by ten

We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. [Exeunt.

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