It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as Folger Digital Texts, we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theater.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of the Folger Digital Texts, readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Digital Texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
square bracket
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
square bracket
”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
half-square bracket
blood
half-square bracket
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
Hamlet
: “O farewell, honest
angle bracket
soldier.
angle bracket
Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Digital Texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers, actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment of Shakespeare.
Henry V
begins at the English court, where the young king is persuaded that he has a claim to the throne of France. When the French dauphin, or heir apparent, insults him by sending him tennis balls, Henry launches his military expedition to France.
Before departing, Henry learns that three of his nobles have betrayed him, and he orders their execution. Meanwhile, his old tavern companions grieve over Sir John Falstaff’s death, and then leave for France.
Henry and his army lay siege to the French town of Harfleur, which surrenders. The Princess of France, Katherine, starts to learn English, but the French nobles are sure of success against Henry. Instead, Henry’s forces win a great victory at Agincourt.
After a brief return to England, Henry comes back to France to claim his rights and to set up his marriage to Princess Katherine. The play’s epilogue points out that Henry will die young and that England will as a result lose most of his French territories.
PROLOGUE
Enter
Chorus
as
Prologue
.
O
,
for
a
muse
of
fire
that
would
ascend
The
brightest
heaven
of
invention
!
A
kingdom
for
a
stage
,
princes
to
act
,
And
monarchs
to
behold
the
swelling
scene
!
Then
should
the
warlike
Harry
,
like
himself
,
Assume
the
port
of
Mars
,
and
at
his
heels
,
Leashed
in
like
hounds
,
should
famine
,
sword
,
and
fire
Crouch
for
employment
.
But
pardon
,
gentles
all
,
The
flat
unraisèd
spirits
that
hath
dared
On
this
unworthy
scaffold
to
bring
forth
So
great
an
object
.
Can
this
cockpit
hold
The
vasty
fields
of
France
?
Or
may
we
cram
Within
this
wooden
O
the
very
casques
That
did
affright
the
air
at
Agincourt
?
O
pardon
,
since
a
crookèd
figure
may
Attest
in
little
place
a
million
,
And
let
us
,
ciphers
to
this
great
account
,
On
your
imaginary
forces
work
.
Suppose
within
the
girdle
of
these
walls
Are
now
confined
two
mighty
monarchies
,
Whose
high
uprearèd
and
abutting
fronts
PROLOGUE
The
perilous
narrow
ocean
parts
asunder
.
Piece
out
our
imperfections
with
your
thoughts
.
Into
a
thousand
parts
divide
one
man
,
And
make
imaginary
puissance
.
Think
,
when
we
talk
of
horses
,
that
you
see
them
Printing
their
proud
hoofs
i’
th’
receiving
earth
,
For
’tis
your
thoughts
that
now
must
deck
our
kings
,
Carry
them
here
and
there
,
jumping
o’er
times
,
Turning
th’
accomplishment
of
many
years
Into
an
hourglass
;
for
the
which
supply
,
Admit
me
chorus
to
this
history
,
Who
,
prologue-like
,
your
humble
patience
pray
Gently
to
hear
,
kindly
to
judge
our
play
.
He
exits
.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
the
two
Bishops
of
Canterbury
and
Ely
.
My
lord
,
I’ll
tell
you
that
self
bill
is
urged
Which
in
th’
eleventh
year
of
the
last
king’s
reign
Was
like
,
and
had
indeed
against
us
passed
But
that
the
scambling
and
unquiet
time
Did
push
it
out
of
farther
question
.
But
how
,
my
lord
,
shall
we
resist
it
now
?
It
must
be
thought
on
.
If
it
pass
against
us
,
We
lose
the
better
half
of
our
possession
,
For
all
the
temporal
lands
which
men
devout
By
testament
have
given
to
the
Church
Would
they
strip
from
us
,
being
valued
thus
:
As
much
as
would
maintain
,
to
the
King’s
honor
,
Full
fifteen
earls
and
fifteen
hundred
knights
,
Six
thousand
and
two
hundred
good
esquires
;
And
,
to
relief
of
lazars
and
weak
age
Of
indigent
faint
souls
past
corporal
toil
,
A
hundred
almshouses
right
well
supplied
;
And
to
the
coffers
of
the
King
besides
,
A
thousand
pounds
by
th’
year
.
Thus
runs
the
bill
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
This
would
drink
deep
.
’Twould
drink
the
cup
and
all
.
But
what
prevention
?
The
King
is
full
of
grace
and
fair
regard
.
And
a
true
lover
of
the
holy
Church
.
The
courses
of
his
youth
promised
it
not
.
The
breath
no
sooner
left
his
father’s
body
But
that
his
wildness
,
mortified
in
him
,
Seemed
to
die
too
.
Yea
,
at
that
very
moment
Consideration
like
an
angel
came
And
whipped
th’
offending
Adam
out
of
him
,
Leaving
his
body
as
a
paradise
T’
envelop
and
contain
celestial
spirits
.
Never
was
such
a
sudden
scholar
made
,
Never
came
reformation
in
a
flood
With
such
a
heady
currance
scouring
faults
,
Nor
never
Hydra-headed
willfulness
So
soon
did
lose
his
seat
,
and
all
at
once
,
As
in
this
king
.
We
are
blessèd
in
the
change
.
Hear
him
but
reason
in
divinity
And
,
all-admiring
,
with
an
inward
wish
You
would
desire
the
King
were
made
a
prelate
;
Hear
him
debate
of
commonwealth
affairs
,
You
would
say
it
hath
been
all
in
all
his
study
;
List
his
discourse
of
war
,
and
you
shall
hear
A
fearful
battle
rendered
you
in
music
;
Turn
him
to
any
cause
of
policy
,
The
Gordian
knot
of
it
he
will
unloose
Familiar
as
his
garter
;
that
,
when
he
speaks
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
The
air
,
a
chartered
libertine
,
is
still
,
And
the
mute
wonder
lurketh
in
men’s
ears
To
steal
his
sweet
and
honeyed
sentences
;
So
that
the
art
and
practic
part
of
life
Must
be
the
mistress
to
this
theoric
;
Which
is
a
wonder
how
his
Grace
should
glean
it
,
Since
his
addiction
was
to
courses
vain
,
His
companies
unlettered
,
rude
,
and
shallow
,
His
hours
filled
up
with
riots
,
banquets
,
sports
,
And
never
noted
in
him
any
study
,
Any
retirement
,
any
sequestration
From
open
haunts
and
popularity
.
The
strawberry
grows
underneath
the
nettle
,
And
wholesome
berries
thrive
and
ripen
best
Neighbored
by
fruit
of
baser
quality
;
And
so
the
Prince
obscured
his
contemplation
Under
the
veil
of
wildness
,
which
,
no
doubt
,
Grew
like
the
summer
grass
,
fastest
by
night
,
Unseen
yet
crescive
in
his
faculty
.
It
must
be
so
,
for
miracles
are
ceased
,
And
therefore
we
must
needs
admit
the
means
How
things
are
perfected
.
But
,
my
good
lord
,
How
now
for
mitigation
of
this
bill
Urged
by
the
Commons
?
Doth
his
Majesty
Incline
to
it
or
no
?
He
seems
indifferent
,
Or
rather
swaying
more
upon
our
part
Than
cherishing
th’
exhibitors
against
us
;
For
I
have
made
an
offer
to
his
Majesty
—
Upon
our
spiritual
convocation
And
in
regard
of
causes
now
in
hand
,
Which
I
have
opened
to
his
Grace
at
large
,
As
touching
France
—
to
give
a
greater
sum
ACT 1. SC. 2
Than
ever
at
one
time
the
clergy
yet
Did
to
his
predecessors
part
withal
.
How
did
this
offer
seem
received
,
my
lord
?
With
good
acceptance
of
his
Majesty
—
Save
that
there
was
not
time
enough
to
hear
,
As
I
perceived
his
Grace
would
fain
have
done
,
The
severals
and
unhidden
passages
Of
his
true
titles
to
some
certain
dukedoms
,
And
generally
to
the
crown
and
seat
of
France
,
Derived
from
Edward
,
his
great-grandfather
.
What
was
th’
impediment
that
broke
this
off
?
The
French
ambassador
upon
that
instant
Craved
audience
.
And
the
hour
,
I
think
,
is
come
To
give
him
hearing
.
Is
it
four
o’clock
?
It
is
.
Then
go
we
in
to
know
his
embassy
,
Which
I
could
with
a
ready
guess
declare
Before
the
Frenchman
speak
a
word
of
it
.
I’ll
wait
upon
you
,
and
I
long
to
hear
it
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
the
King
of
England
,
Humphrey
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
Bedford
,
Clarence
,
Warwick
,
Westmoreland
,
and
Exeter
,
with
other
Attendants
.
Where
is
my
gracious
Lord
of
Canterbury
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Not
here
in
presence
.
Send
for
him
,
good
uncle
.
Shall
we
call
in
th’
Ambassador
,
my
liege
?
Not
yet
,
my
cousin
.
We
would
be
resolved
,
Before
we
hear
him
,
of
some
things
of
weight
That
task
our
thoughts
concerning
us
and
France
.
Enter
the
two
Bishops
of
Canterbury
and
Ely
.
God
and
his
angels
guard
your
sacred
throne
And
make
you
long
become
it
.
Sure
we
thank
you
.
My
learnèd
lord
,
we
pray
you
to
proceed
And
justly
and
religiously
unfold
Why
the
law
Salic
that
they
have
in
France
Or
should
or
should
not
bar
us
in
our
claim
.
And
God
forbid
,
my
dear
and
faithful
lord
,
That
you
should
fashion
,
wrest
,
or
bow
your
reading
,
Or
nicely
charge
your
understanding
soul
With
opening
titles
miscreate
,
whose
right
Suits
not
in
native
colors
with
the
truth
;
For
God
doth
know
how
many
now
in
health
Shall
drop
their
blood
in
approbation
Of
what
your
reverence
shall
incite
us
to
.
Therefore
take
heed
how
you
impawn
our
person
,
How
you
awake
our
sleeping
sword
of
war
.
We
charge
you
in
the
name
of
God
,
take
heed
,
For
never
two
such
kingdoms
did
contend
Without
much
fall
of
blood
,
whose
guiltless
drops
Are
every
one
a
woe
,
a
sore
complaint
’Gainst
him
whose
wrongs
gives
edge
unto
the
swords
ACT 1. SC. 2
That
makes
such
waste
in
brief
mortality
.
Under
this
conjuration
,
speak
,
my
lord
,
For
we
will
hear
,
note
,
and
believe
in
heart
That
what
you
speak
is
in
your
conscience
washed
As
pure
as
sin
with
baptism
.
Then
hear
me
,
gracious
sovereign
,
and
you
peers
That
owe
yourselves
,
your
lives
,
and
services
To
this
imperial
throne
.
There
is
no
bar
To
make
against
your
Highness’
claim
to
France
But
this
,
which
they
produce
from
Pharamond
:
In
terram
Salicam
mulieres
ne
succedant
(
No
woman
shall
succeed
in
Salic
land
)
,
Which
Salic
land
the
French
unjustly
gloze
To
be
the
realm
of
France
,
and
Pharamond
The
founder
of
this
law
and
female
bar
.
Yet
their
own
authors
faithfully
affirm
That
the
land
Salic
is
in
Germany
,
Between
the
floods
of
Sala
and
of
Elbe
,
Where
Charles
the
Great
,
having
subdued
the
Saxons
,
There
left
behind
and
settled
certain
French
,
Who
,
holding
in
disdain
the
German
women
For
some
dishonest
manners
of
their
life
,
Established
then
this
law
:
to
wit
,
no
female
Should
be
inheritrix
in
Salic
land
,
Which
Salic
,
as
I
said
,
’twixt
Elbe
and
Sala
Is
at
this
day
in
Germany
called
Meissen
.
Then
doth
it
well
appear
the
Salic
law
Was
not
devisèd
for
the
realm
of
France
,
Nor
did
the
French
possess
the
Salic
land
Until
four
hundred
one
and
twenty
years
After
defunction
of
King
Pharamond
,
Idly
supposed
the
founder
of
this
law
,
Who
died
within
the
year
of
our
redemption
Four
hundred
twenty-six
;
and
Charles
the
Great
ACT 1. SC. 2
Subdued
the
Saxons
and
did
seat
the
French
Beyond
the
river
Sala
in
the
year
Eight
hundred
five
.
Besides
,
their
writers
say
,
King
Pepin
,
which
deposèd
Childeric
,
Did
,
as
heir
general
,
being
descended
Of
Blithild
,
which
was
daughter
to
King
Clothair
,
Make
claim
and
title
to
the
crown
of
France
.
Hugh
Capet
also
,
who
usurped
the
crown
Of
Charles
the
Duke
of
Lorraine
,
sole
heir
male
Of
the
true
line
and
stock
of
Charles
the
Great
,
To
find
his
title
with
some
shows
of
truth
,
Though
in
pure
truth
it
was
corrupt
and
naught
,
Conveyed
himself
as
th’
heir
to
th’
Lady
Lingare
,
Daughter
to
Charlemagne
,
who
was
the
son
To
Lewis
the
Emperor
,
and
Lewis
the
son
Of
Charles
the
Great
.
Also
King
Lewis
the
Tenth
,
Who
was
sole
heir
to
the
usurper
Capet
,
Could
not
keep
quiet
in
his
conscience
,
Wearing
the
crown
of
France
,
till
satisfied
That
fair
Queen
Isabel
,
his
grandmother
,
Was
lineal
of
the
Lady
Ermengare
,
Daughter
to
Charles
the
foresaid
Duke
of
Lorraine
:
By
the
which
marriage
the
line
of
Charles
the
Great
Was
reunited
to
the
crown
of
France
.
So
that
,
as
clear
as
is
the
summer’s
sun
,
King
Pepin’s
title
and
Hugh
Capet’s
claim
,
King
Lewis
his
satisfaction
,
all
appear
To
hold
in
right
and
title
of
the
female
.
So
do
the
kings
of
France
unto
this
day
,
Howbeit
they
would
hold
up
this
Salic
law
To
bar
your
Highness
claiming
from
the
female
,
And
rather
choose
to
hide
them
in
a
net
Than
amply
to
imbar
their
crooked
titles
Usurped
from
you
and
your
progenitors
.
May
I
with
right
and
conscience
make
this
claim
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
The
sin
upon
my
head
,
dread
sovereign
,
For
in
the
Book
of
Numbers
is
it
writ
:
When
the
man
dies
,
let
the
inheritance
Descend
unto
the
daughter
.
Gracious
lord
,
Stand
for
your
own
,
unwind
your
bloody
flag
,
Look
back
into
your
mighty
ancestors
.
Go
,
my
dread
lord
,
to
your
great-grandsire’s
tomb
,
From
whom
you
claim
;
invoke
his
warlike
spirit
And
your
great-uncle’s
,
Edward
the
Black
Prince
,
Who
on
the
French
ground
played
a
tragedy
,
Making
defeat
on
the
full
power
of
France
Whiles
his
most
mighty
father
on
a
hill
Stood
smiling
to
behold
his
lion’s
whelp
Forage
in
blood
of
French
nobility
.
O
noble
English
,
that
could
entertain
With
half
their
forces
the
full
pride
of
France
And
let
another
half
stand
laughing
by
,
All
out
of
work
and
cold
for
action
!
Awake
remembrance
of
these
valiant
dead
And
with
your
puissant
arm
renew
their
feats
.
You
are
their
heir
,
you
sit
upon
their
throne
,
The
blood
and
courage
that
renownèd
them
Runs
in
your
veins
;
and
my
thrice-puissant
liege
Is
in
the
very
May-morn
of
his
youth
,
Ripe
for
exploits
and
mighty
enterprises
.
Your
brother
kings
and
monarchs
of
the
Earth
earth
Do
all
expect
that
you
should
rouse
yourself
As
did
the
former
lions
of
your
blood
.
They
know
your
Grace
hath
cause
and
means
and
might
;
So
hath
your
Highness
.
Never
king
of
England
Had
nobles
richer
,
and
more
loyal
subjects
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
Whose
hearts
have
left
their
bodies
here
in
England
And
lie
pavilioned
in
the
fields
of
France
.
O
,
let
their
bodies
follow
,
my
dear
liege
,
With
blood
and
sword
and
fire
to
win
your
right
,
In
aid
whereof
we
of
the
spiritualty
Will
raise
your
Highness
such
a
mighty
sum
As
never
did
the
clergy
at
one
time
Bring
in
to
any
of
your
ancestors
.
We
must
not
only
arm
t’
invade
the
French
,
But
lay
down
our
proportions
to
defend
Against
the
Scot
,
who
will
make
road
upon
us
With
all
advantages
.
They
of
those
marches
,
gracious
sovereign
,
Shall
be
a
wall
sufficient
to
defend
Our
inland
from
the
pilfering
borderers
.
We
do
not
mean
the
coursing
snatchers
only
,
But
fear
the
main
intendment
of
the
Scot
,
Who
hath
been
still
a
giddy
neighbor
to
us
.
For
you
shall
read
that
my
great-grandfather
Never
went
with
his
forces
into
France
But
that
the
Scot
on
his
unfurnished
kingdom
Came
pouring
like
the
tide
into
a
breach
With
ample
and
brim
fullness
of
his
force
,
Galling
the
gleanèd
land
with
hot
assays
,
Girding
with
grievous
siege
castles
and
towns
,
That
England
,
being
empty
of
defense
,
Hath
shook
and
trembled
at
th’
ill
neighborhood
.
She
hath
been
then
more
feared
than
harmed
,
my
liege
,
For
hear
her
but
exampled
by
herself
:
When
all
her
chivalry
hath
been
in
France
ACT 1. SC. 2
And
she
a
mourning
widow
of
her
nobles
,
She
hath
herself
not
only
well
defended
But
taken
and
impounded
as
a
stray
The
King
of
Scots
,
whom
she
did
send
to
France
To
fill
King
Edward’s
fame
with
prisoner
kings
And
make
her
chronicle
as
rich
with
praise
As
is
the
ooze
and
bottom
of
the
sea
With
sunken
wrack
and
sumless
treasuries
.
But
there’s
a
saying
very
old
and
true
:
If
that
you
will
France
win
,
Then
with
Scotland
first
begin
.
For
once
the
eagle
England
being
in
prey
,
To
her
unguarded
nest
the
weasel
Scot
Comes
sneaking
and
so
sucks
her
princely
eggs
,
Playing
the
mouse
in
absence
of
the
cat
,
To
’tame
and
havoc
more
than
she
can
eat
.
It
follows
,
then
,
the
cat
must
stay
at
home
.
Yet
that
is
but
a
crushed
necessity
,
Since
we
have
locks
to
safeguard
necessaries
And
pretty
traps
to
catch
the
petty
thieves
.
While
that
the
armèd
hand
doth
fight
abroad
,
Th’
advisèd
head
defends
itself
at
home
.
For
government
,
though
high
and
low
and
lower
,
Put
into
parts
,
doth
keep
in
one
consent
,
Congreeing
in
a
full
and
natural
close
,
Like
music
.
Therefore
doth
heaven
divide
The
state
of
man
in
divers
functions
,
Setting
endeavor
in
continual
motion
,
To
which
is
fixèd
as
an
aim
or
butt
Obedience
;
for
so
work
the
honeybees
,
Creatures
that
by
a
rule
in
nature
teach
The
act
of
order
to
a
peopled
kingdom
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
They
have
a
king
and
officers
of
sorts
,
Where
some
like
magistrates
correct
at
home
,
Others
like
merchants
venture
trade
abroad
,
Others
like
soldiers
armèd
in
their
stings
Make
boot
upon
the
summer’s
velvet
buds
,
Which
pillage
they
with
merry
march
bring
home
To
the
tent
royal
of
their
emperor
,
Who
,
busied
in
his
majesty
,
surveys
The
singing
masons
building
roofs
of
gold
,
The
civil
citizens
kneading
up
the
honey
,
The
poor
mechanic
porters
crowding
in
Their
heavy
burdens
at
his
narrow
gate
,
The
sad-eyed
justice
with
his
surly
hum
Delivering
o’er
to
executors
pale
The
lazy
yawning
drone
.
I
this
infer
:
That
many
things
,
having
full
reference
To
one
consent
,
may
work
contrariously
,
As
many
arrows
loosèd
several
ways
Come
to
one
mark
,
as
many
ways
meet
in
one
town
,
As
many
fresh
streams
meet
in
one
salt
sea
,
As
many
lines
close
in
the
dial’s
center
,
So
may
a
thousand
actions
,
once
afoot
,
End
in
one
purpose
and
be
all
well
borne
Without
defeat
.
Therefore
to
France
,
my
liege
!
Divide
your
happy
England
into
four
,
Whereof
take
you
one
quarter
into
France
,
And
you
withal
shall
make
all
Gallia
shake
.
If
we
,
with
thrice
such
powers
left
at
home
,
Cannot
defend
our
own
doors
from
the
dog
,
Let
us
be
worried
,
and
our
nation
lose
The
name
of
hardiness
and
policy
.
Call
in
the
messengers
sent
from
the
Dauphin
.
Attendants
exit
.
Now
are
we
well
resolved
,
and
by
God’s
help
And
yours
,
the
noble
sinews
of
our
power
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
France
being
ours
,
we’ll
bend
it
to
our
awe
Or
break
it
all
to
pieces
.
Or
there
we’ll
sit
,
Ruling
in
large
and
ample
empery
O’er
France
and
all
her
almost
kingly
dukedoms
,
Or
lay
these
bones
in
an
unworthy
urn
,
Tombless
,
with
no
remembrance
over
them
.
Either
our
history
shall
with
full
mouth
Speak
freely
of
our
acts
,
or
else
our
grave
,
Like
Turkish
mute
,
shall
have
a
tongueless
mouth
,
Not
worshiped
with
a
waxen
epitaph
.
Enter
Ambassadors
of
France
,
with
Attendants
.
Now
are
we
well
prepared
to
know
the
pleasure
Of
our
fair
cousin
Dauphin
,
for
we
hear
Your
greeting
is
from
him
,
not
from
the
King
.
May
’t
please
your
Majesty
to
give
us
leave
Freely
to
render
what
we
have
in
charge
,
Or
shall
we
sparingly
show
you
far
off
The
Dauphin’s
meaning
and
our
embassy
?
We
are
no
tyrant
,
but
a
Christian
king
,
Unto
whose
grace
our
passion
is
as
subject
As
is
our
wretches
fettered
in
our
prisons
.
Therefore
with
frank
and
with
uncurbèd
plainness
Tell
us
the
Dauphin’s
mind
.
Thus
,
then
,
in
few
:
Your
Highness
,
lately
sending
into
France
,
Did
claim
some
certain
dukedoms
in
the
right
Of
your
great
predecessor
,
King
Edward
the
Third
;
In
answer
of
which
claim
,
the
Prince
our
master
Says
that
you
savor
too
much
of
your
youth
And
bids
you
be
advised
there’s
naught
in
France
That
can
be
with
a
nimble
galliard
won
;
You
cannot
revel
into
dukedoms
there
.
He
therefore
sends
you
,
meeter
for
your
spirit
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
This
tun
of
treasure
and
,
in
lieu
of
this
,
Desires
you
let
the
dukedoms
that
you
claim
Hear
no
more
of
you
.
This
the
Dauphin
speaks
.
What
treasure
,
uncle
?
Tennis
balls
,
my
liege
.
We
are
glad
the
Dauphin
is
so
pleasant
with
us
.
His
present
and
your
pains
we
thank
you
for
.
When
we
have
matched
our
rackets
to
these
balls
,
We
will
in
France
,
by
God’s
grace
,
play
a
set
Shall
strike
his
father’s
crown
into
the
hazard
.
Tell
him
he
hath
made
a
match
with
such
a
wrangler
That
all
the
courts
of
France
will
be
disturbed
With
chases
.
And
we
understand
him
well
,
How
he
comes
o’er
us
with
our
wilder
days
,
Not
measuring
what
use
we
made
of
them
.
We
never
valued
this
poor
seat
of
England
,
And
therefore
,
living
hence
,
did
give
ourself
To
barbarous
license
,
as
’tis
ever
common
That
men
are
merriest
when
they
are
from
home
.
But
tell
the
Dauphin
I
will
keep
my
state
,
Be
like
a
king
,
and
show
my
sail
of
greatness
When
I
do
rouse
me
in
my
throne
of
France
,
For
that
I
have
laid
by
my
majesty
And
plodded
like
a
man
for
working
days
;
But
I
will
rise
there
with
so
full
a
glory
That
I
will
dazzle
all
the
eyes
of
France
,
Yea
,
strike
the
Dauphin
blind
to
look
on
us
.
And
tell
the
pleasant
prince
this
mock
of
his
Hath
turned
his
balls
to
gun-stones
,
and
his
soul
Shall
stand
sore
chargèd
for
the
wasteful
vengeance
That
shall
fly
with
them
;
for
many
a
thousand
widows
Shall
this
his
mock
mock
out
of
their
dear
husbands
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
Mock
mothers
from
their
sons
,
mock
castles
down
;
And
some
are
yet
ungotten
and
unborn
That
shall
have
cause
to
curse
the
Dauphin’s
scorn
.
But
this
lies
all
within
the
will
of
God
,
To
whom
I
do
appeal
,
and
in
whose
name
Tell
you
the
Dauphin
I
am
coming
on
,
To
venge
me
as
I
may
and
to
put
forth
My
rightful
hand
in
a
well-hallowed
cause
.
So
get
you
hence
in
peace
.
And
tell
the
Dauphin
His
jest
will
savor
but
of
shallow
wit
When
thousands
weep
more
than
did
laugh
at
it
.
—
Convey
them
with
safe
conduct
.
—
Fare
you
well
.
Ambassadors
exit
,
with
Attendants
.
This
was
a
merry
message
.
We
hope
to
make
the
sender
blush
at
it
.
Therefore
,
my
lords
,
omit
no
happy
hour
That
may
give
furth’rance
to
our
expedition
;
For
we
have
now
no
thought
in
us
but
France
,
Save
those
to
God
,
that
run
before
our
business
.
Therefore
let
our
proportions
for
these
wars
Be
soon
collected
,
and
all
things
thought
upon
That
may
with
reasonable
swiftness
add
More
feathers
to
our
wings
.
For
,
God
before
,
We’ll
chide
this
Dauphin
at
his
father’s
door
.
Therefore
let
every
man
now
task
his
thought
,
That
this
fair
action
may
on
foot
be
brought
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
ACT
2
Enter
Chorus
.
Now
all
the
youth
of
England
are
on
fire
,
And
silken
dalliance
in
the
wardrobe
lies
;
Now
thrive
the
armorers
,
and
honor’s
thought
Reigns
solely
in
the
breast
of
every
man
.
They
sell
the
pasture
now
to
buy
the
horse
,
Following
the
mirror
of
all
Christian
kings
With
wingèd
heels
,
as
English
Mercurys
.
For
now
sits
Expectation
in
the
air
And
hides
a
sword
,
from
hilts
unto
the
point
,
With
crowns
imperial
,
crowns
,
and
coronets
Promised
to
Harry
and
his
followers
.
The
French
,
advised
by
good
intelligence
Of
this
most
dreadful
preparation
,
Shake
in
their
fear
,
and
with
pale
policy
Seek
to
divert
the
English
purposes
.
O
England
,
model
to
thy
inward
greatness
,
Like
little
body
with
a
mighty
heart
,
What
might’st
thou
do
,
that
honor
would
thee
do
,
Were
all
thy
children
kind
and
natural
!
But
see
,
thy
fault
France
hath
in
thee
found
out
,
A
nest
of
hollow
bosoms
,
which
he
fills
With
treacherous
crowns
,
and
three
corrupted
men
—
One
,
Richard
,
Earl
of
Cambridge
,
and
the
second
,
ACT 2. SC. 1
Henry
,
Lord
Scroop
of
Masham
,
and
the
third
,
Sir
Thomas
Grey
,
knight
,
of
Northumberland
—
Have
,
for
the
gilt
of
France
(
O
guilt
indeed
!
)
,
Confirmed
conspiracy
with
fearful
France
,
And
by
their
hands
this
grace
of
kings
must
die
,
If
hell
and
treason
hold
their
promises
,
Ere
he
take
ship
for
France
,
and
in
Southampton
.
Linger
your
patience
on
,
and
we’ll
digest
Th’
abuse
of
distance
,
force
a
play
.
The
sum
is
paid
,
the
traitors
are
agreed
,
The
King
is
set
from
London
,
and
the
scene
Is
now
transported
,
gentles
,
to
Southampton
.
There
is
the
playhouse
now
,
there
must
you
sit
,
And
thence
to
France
shall
we
convey
you
safe
And
bring
you
back
,
charming
the
narrow
seas
To
give
you
gentle
pass
;
for
,
if
we
may
,
We’ll
not
offend
one
stomach
with
our
play
.
But
,
till
the
King
come
forth
,
and
not
till
then
,
Unto
Southampton
do
we
shift
our
scene
.
He
exits
.
Scene
1
Enter
Corporal
Nym
and
Lieutenant
Bardolph
.
Well
met
,
Corporal
Nym
.
Good
morrow
,
Lieutenant
Bardolph
.
What
,
are
Ancient
Pistol
and
you
friends
yet
?
For
my
part
,
I
care
not
.
I
say
little
,
but
when
time
shall
serve
,
there
shall
be
smiles
;
but
that
shall
be
as
it
may
.
I
dare
not
fight
,
but
I
will
wink
and
hold
out
mine
iron
.
It
is
a
simple
one
,
but
what
though
?
It
will
toast
cheese
,
and
it
will
endure
cold
as
another
man’s
sword
will
,
and
there’s
an
end
.
I
will
bestow
a
breakfast
to
make
you
ACT 2. SC. 1
friends
,
and
we’ll
be
all
three
sworn
brothers
to
France
.
Let
’t
be
so
,
good
Corporal
Nym
.
Faith
,
I
will
live
so
long
as
I
may
,
that’s
the
certain
of
it
;
and
when
I
cannot
live
any
longer
,
I
will
do
as
I
may
.
That
is
my
rest
,
that
is
the
rendezvous
of
it
.
It
is
certain
,
corporal
,
that
he
is
married
to
Nell
Quickly
,
and
certainly
she
did
you
wrong
,
for
you
were
troth-plight
to
her
.
I
cannot
tell
.
Things
must
be
as
they
may
.
Men
may
sleep
,
and
they
may
have
their
throats
about
them
at
that
time
,
and
some
say
knives
have
edges
.
It
must
be
as
it
may
.
Though
patience
be
a
tired
mare
,
yet
she
will
plod
.
There
must
be
conclusions
.
Well
,
I
cannot
tell
.
Enter
Pistol
and
Hostess
Quickly
.
Here
comes
Ancient
Pistol
and
his
wife
.
Good
corporal
,
be
patient
here
.
—
How
now
,
mine
host
Pistol
?
Base
tyke
,
call’st
thou
me
host
?
Now
,
by
this
hand
,
I
swear
I
scorn
the
term
,
nor
shall
my
Nell
keep
lodgers
.
No
,
by
my
troth
,
not
long
;
for
we
cannot
lodge
and
board
a
dozen
or
fourteen
gentlewomen
that
live
honestly
by
the
prick
of
their
needles
but
it
will
be
thought
we
keep
a
bawdy
house
straight
.
Nym
and
Pistol
draw
their
swords
.
O
well-a-day
,
Lady
!
If
he
be
not
hewn
now
,
we
shall
see
willful
adultery
and
murder
committed
.
Good
lieutenant
,
good
corporal
,
offer
nothing
here
.
Pish
!
Pish
for
thee
,
Iceland
dog
,
thou
prick-eared
cur
of
Iceland
!
ACT 2. SC. 1
Good
Corporal
Nym
,
show
thy
valor
,
and
put
up
your
sword
.
Will
you
shog
off
?
To
Pistol
.
I
would
have
you
solus
.
Solus
,
egregious
dog
?
O
viper
vile
,
the
solus
in
thy
most
marvelous
face
,
the
solus
in
thy
teeth
and
in
thy
throat
and
in
thy
hateful
lungs
,
yea
,
in
thy
maw
,
perdy
,
and
,
which
is
worse
,
within
thy
nasty
mouth
!
I
do
retort
the
solus
in
thy
bowels
,
for
I
can
take
,
and
Pistol’s
cock
is
up
,
and
flashing
fire
will
follow
.
I
am
not
Barbason
,
you
cannot
conjure
me
.
I
have
an
humor
to
knock
you
indifferently
well
.
If
you
grow
foul
with
me
,
Pistol
,
I
will
scour
you
with
my
rapier
,
as
I
may
,
in
fair
terms
.
If
you
would
walk
off
,
I
would
prick
your
guts
a
little
in
good
terms
,
as
I
may
,
and
that’s
the
humor
of
it
.
O
braggart
vile
and
damnèd
furious
wight
,
The
grave
doth
gape
,
and
doting
death
is
near
.
Therefore
exhale
.
Hear
me
,
hear
me
what
I
say
:
he
that
strikes
the
first
stroke
,
I’ll
run
him
up
to
the
hilts
,
as
I
am
a
soldier
.
He
draws
.
An
oath
of
mickle
might
,
and
fury
shall
abate
.
Pistol
and
Nym
and
then
Bardolph
sheathe
their
swords
.
Give
me
thy
fist
,
thy
forefoot
to
me
give
.
Thy
spirits
are
most
tall
.
,
to
Pistol
I
will
cut
thy
throat
one
time
or
other
in
fair
terms
,
that
is
the
humor
of
it
.
Couple
à
gorge
,
that
is
the
word
.
I
defy
thee
again
.
O
hound
of
Crete
,
think’st
thou
my
spouse
to
get
?
No
,
to
the
spital
go
,
and
from
the
powd’ring
tub
of
infamy
fetch
forth
the
lazar
kite
of
Cressid’s
kind
,
Doll
Tearsheet
she
by
name
,
and
her
espouse
.
I
ACT 2. SC. 1
have
,
and
I
will
hold
,
the
quondam
Quickly
for
the
only
she
:
and
pauca
,
there’s
enough
too
!
Go
to
.
Enter
the
Boy
.
Mine
host
Pistol
,
you
must
come
to
my
master
,
and
your
hostess
.
He
is
very
sick
and
would
to
bed
.
—
Good
Bardolph
,
put
thy
face
between
his
sheets
,
and
do
the
office
of
a
warming-pan
.
Faith
,
he’s
very
ill
.
Away
,
you
rogue
!
By
my
troth
,
he’ll
yield
the
crow
a
pudding
one
of
these
days
.
The
King
has
killed
his
heart
.
Good
husband
,
come
home
presently
.
She
exits
with
the
Boy
.
Come
,
shall
I
make
you
two
friends
?
We
must
to
France
together
.
Why
the
devil
should
we
keep
knives
to
cut
one
another’s
throats
?
Let
floods
o’erswell
and
fiends
for
food
howl
on
!
You’ll
pay
me
the
eight
shillings
I
won
of
you
at
betting
?
Base
is
the
slave
that
pays
.
That
now
I
will
have
,
that’s
the
humor
of
it
.
As
manhood
shall
compound
.
Push
home
.
They
draw
.
,
drawing
his
sword
By
this
sword
,
he
that
makes
the
first
thrust
,
I’ll
kill
him
.
By
this
sword
,
I
will
.
,
sheathing
his
sword
Sword
is
an
oath
,
and
oaths
must
have
their
course
.
Corporal
Nym
,
an
thou
wilt
be
friends
,
be
friends
;
an
thou
wilt
not
,
why
then
be
enemies
with
me
too
.
Prithee
,
put
up
.
,
to
Nym
A
noble
shalt
thou
have
,
and
present
pay
,
and
liquor
likewise
will
I
give
to
thee
,
and
ACT 2. SC. 2
friendship
shall
combine
,
and
brotherhood
.
I’ll
live
by
Nym
,
and
Nym
shall
live
by
me
.
Is
not
this
just
?
For
I
shall
sutler
be
unto
the
camp
,
and
profits
will
accrue
.
Give
me
thy
hand
.
I
shall
have
my
noble
?
In
cash
,
most
justly
paid
.
Well
,
then
,
that’s
the
humor
of
’t
.
Nym
and
Bardolph
sheathe
their
swords
.
Enter
Hostess
.
As
ever
you
come
of
women
,
come
in
quickly
to
Sir
John
.
Ah
,
poor
heart
,
he
is
so
shaked
of
a
burning
quotidian-tertian
that
it
is
most
lamentable
to
behold
.
Sweet
men
,
come
to
him
.
The
King
hath
run
bad
humors
on
the
knight
,
that’s
the
even
of
it
.
Nym
,
thou
hast
spoke
the
right
.
His
heart
is
fracted
and
corroborate
.
The
King
is
a
good
king
,
but
it
must
be
as
it
may
;
he
passes
some
humors
and
careers
.
Let
us
condole
the
knight
,
for
,
lambkins
,
we
will
live
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Exeter
,
Bedford
,
and
Westmoreland
.
’Fore
God
,
his
Grace
is
bold
to
trust
these
traitors
.
They
shall
be
apprehended
by
and
by
.
How
smooth
and
even
they
do
bear
themselves
,
As
if
allegiance
in
their
bosoms
sat
Crownèd
with
faith
and
constant
loyalty
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
The
King
hath
note
of
all
that
they
intend
,
By
interception
which
they
dream
not
of
.
Nay
,
but
the
man
that
was
his
bedfellow
,
Whom
he
hath
dulled
and
cloyed
with
gracious
favors
—
That
he
should
,
for
a
foreign
purse
,
so
sell
His
sovereign’s
life
to
death
and
treachery
!
Sound
Trumpets
.
Enter
the
King
of
England
,
Scroop
,
Cambridge
,
and
Grey
,
with
Attendants
.
Now
sits
the
wind
fair
,
and
we
will
aboard
.
—
My
Lord
of
Cambridge
,
and
my
kind
Lord
of
Masham
,
And
you
,
my
gentle
knight
,
give
me
your
thoughts
.
Think
you
not
that
the
powers
we
bear
with
us
Will
cut
their
passage
through
the
force
of
France
,
Doing
the
execution
and
the
act
For
which
we
have
in
head
assembled
them
?
No
doubt
,
my
liege
,
if
each
man
do
his
best
.
I
doubt
not
that
,
since
we
are
well
persuaded
We
carry
not
a
heart
with
us
from
hence
That
grows
not
in
a
fair
consent
with
ours
,
Nor
leave
not
one
behind
that
doth
not
wish
Success
and
conquest
to
attend
on
us
.
Never
was
monarch
better
feared
and
loved
Than
is
your
Majesty
.
There’s
not
,
I
think
,
a
subject
That
sits
in
heart-grief
and
uneasiness
Under
the
sweet
shade
of
your
government
.
True
.
Those
that
were
your
father’s
enemies
ACT 2. SC. 2
Have
steeped
their
galls
in
honey
,
and
do
serve
you
With
hearts
create
of
duty
and
of
zeal
.
We
therefore
have
great
cause
of
thankfulness
,
And
shall
forget
the
office
of
our
hand
Sooner
than
quittance
of
desert
and
merit
According
to
the
weight
and
worthiness
.
So
service
shall
with
steelèd
sinews
toil
,
And
labor
shall
refresh
itself
with
hope
To
do
your
Grace
incessant
services
.
We
judge
no
less
.
—
Uncle
of
Exeter
,
Enlarge
the
man
committed
yesterday
That
railed
against
our
person
.
We
consider
It
was
excess
of
wine
that
set
him
on
,
And
on
his
more
advice
we
pardon
him
.
That’s
mercy
,
but
too
much
security
.
Let
him
be
punished
,
sovereign
,
lest
example
Breed
,
by
his
sufferance
,
more
of
such
a
kind
.
O
,
let
us
yet
be
merciful
.
So
may
your
Highness
,
and
yet
punish
too
.
Sir
,
you
show
great
mercy
if
you
give
him
life
After
the
taste
of
much
correction
.
Alas
,
your
too
much
love
and
care
of
me
Are
heavy
orisons
’gainst
this
poor
wretch
.
If
little
faults
proceeding
on
distemper
Shall
not
be
winked
at
,
how
shall
we
stretch
our
eye
When
capital
crimes
,
chewed
,
swallowed
,
and
digested
,
Appear
before
us
?
We’ll
yet
enlarge
that
man
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
Though
Cambridge
,
Scroop
,
and
Grey
,
in
their
dear
care
And
tender
preservation
of
our
person
,
Would
have
him
punished
.
And
now
to
our
French
causes
.
Who
are
the
late
commissioners
?
I
one
,
my
lord
.
Your
Highness
bade
me
ask
for
it
today
.
So
did
you
me
,
my
liege
.
And
I
,
my
royal
sovereign
.
,
giving
them
papers
Then
Richard
,
Earl
of
Cambridge
,
there
is
yours
—
There
yours
,
Lord
Scroop
of
Masham
.
—
And
,
sir
knight
,
Grey
of
Northumberland
,
this
same
is
yours
.
—
Read
them
,
and
know
I
know
your
worthiness
.
—
My
Lord
of
Westmoreland
and
uncle
Exeter
,
We
will
aboard
tonight
.
—
Why
how
now
,
gentlemen
?
What
see
you
in
those
papers
,
that
you
lose
So
much
complexion
?
—
Look
you
,
how
they
change
.
Their
cheeks
are
paper
.
—
Why
,
what
read
you
there
That
have
so
cowarded
and
chased
your
blood
Out
of
appearance
?
I
do
confess
my
fault
,
And
do
submit
me
to
your
Highness’
mercy
.
To
which
we
all
appeal
.
The
mercy
that
was
quick
in
us
but
late
By
your
own
counsel
is
suppressed
and
killed
.
You
must
not
dare
,
for
shame
,
to
talk
of
mercy
,
For
your
own
reasons
turn
into
your
bosoms
As
dogs
upon
their
masters
,
worrying
you
.
—
See
you
,
my
princes
and
my
noble
peers
,
These
English
monsters
.
My
Lord
of
Cambridge
here
,
You
know
how
apt
our
love
was
to
accord
ACT 2. SC. 2
To
furnish
him
with
all
appurtenants
Belonging
to
his
honor
,
and
this
man
Hath
,
for
a
few
light
crowns
,
lightly
conspired
And
sworn
unto
the
practices
of
France
To
kill
us
here
in
Hampton
;
to
the
which
This
knight
,
no
less
for
bounty
bound
to
us
Than
Cambridge
is
,
hath
likewise
sworn
.
—
But
O
,
What
shall
I
say
to
thee
,
Lord
Scroop
,
thou
cruel
,
Ingrateful
,
savage
,
and
inhuman
creature
?
Thou
that
didst
bear
the
key
of
all
my
counsels
,
That
knew’st
the
very
bottom
of
my
soul
,
That
almost
mightst
have
coined
me
into
gold
,
Wouldst
thou
have
practiced
on
me
for
thy
use
—
May
it
be
possible
that
foreign
hire
Could
out
of
thee
extract
one
spark
of
evil
That
might
annoy
my
finger
?
’Tis
so
strange
That
,
though
the
truth
of
it
stands
off
as
gross
As
black
and
white
,
my
eye
will
scarcely
see
it
.
Treason
and
murder
ever
kept
together
,
As
two
yoke-devils
sworn
to
either’s
purpose
,
Working
so
grossly
in
a
natural
cause
That
admiration
did
not
whoop
at
them
.
But
thou
,
’gainst
all
proportion
,
didst
bring
in
Wonder
to
wait
on
treason
and
on
murder
,
And
whatsoever
cunning
fiend
it
was
That
wrought
upon
thee
so
preposterously
Hath
got
the
voice
in
hell
for
excellence
.
All
other
devils
that
suggest
by
treasons
Do
botch
and
bungle
up
damnation
With
patches
,
colors
,
and
with
forms
being
fetched
From
glist’ring
semblances
of
piety
;
But
he
that
tempered
thee
bade
thee
stand
up
,
Gave
thee
no
instance
why
thou
shouldst
do
treason
,
Unless
to
dub
thee
with
the
name
of
traitor
.
If
that
same
demon
that
hath
gulled
thee
thus
Should
with
his
lion
gait
walk
the
whole
world
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
He
might
return
to
vasty
Tartar
back
And
tell
the
legions
I
can
never
win
A
soul
so
easy
as
that
Englishman’s
.
O
,
how
hast
thou
with
jealousy
infected
The
sweetness
of
affiance
!
Show
men
dutiful
?
Why
,
so
didst
thou
.
Seem
they
grave
and
learnèd
?
Why
,
so
didst
thou
.
Come
they
of
noble
family
?
Why
,
so
didst
thou
.
Seem
they
religious
?
Why
,
so
didst
thou
.
Or
are
they
spare
in
diet
,
Free
from
gross
passion
or
of
mirth
or
anger
,
Constant
in
spirit
,
not
swerving
with
the
blood
,
Garnished
and
decked
in
modest
complement
,
Not
working
with
the
eye
without
the
ear
,
And
but
in
purgèd
judgment
trusting
neither
?
Such
and
so
finely
bolted
didst
thou
seem
.
And
thus
thy
fall
hath
left
a
kind
of
blot
To
mark
the
full-fraught
man
and
best
endued
With
some
suspicion
.
I
will
weep
for
thee
,
For
this
revolt
of
thine
methinks
is
like
Another
fall
of
man
.
—
Their
faults
are
open
.
Arrest
them
to
the
answer
of
the
law
,
And
God
acquit
them
of
their
practices
.
I
arrest
thee
of
high
treason
,
by
the
name
of
Richard
,
Earl
of
Cambridge
.
—
I
arrest
thee
of
high
treason
,
by
the
name
of
Henry
,
Lord
Scroop
of
Masham
.
—
I
arrest
thee
of
high
treason
,
by
the
name
of
Thomas
Grey
,
knight
,
of
Northumberland
.
Our
purposes
God
justly
hath
discovered
,
And
I
repent
my
fault
more
than
my
death
,
Which
I
beseech
your
Highness
to
forgive
,
Although
my
body
pay
the
price
of
it
.
For
me
,
the
gold
of
France
did
not
seduce
,
Although
I
did
admit
it
as
a
motive
The
sooner
to
effect
what
I
intended
;
ACT 2. SC. 2
But
God
be
thankèd
for
prevention
,
Which
I
in
sufferance
heartily
will
rejoice
,
Beseeching
God
and
you
to
pardon
me
.
Never
did
faithful
subject
more
rejoice
At
the
discovery
of
most
dangerous
treason
Than
I
do
at
this
hour
joy
o’er
myself
,
Prevented
from
a
damnèd
enterprise
.
My
fault
,
but
not
my
body
,
pardon
,
sovereign
.
God
quit
you
in
His
mercy
.
Hear
your
sentence
:
You
have
conspired
against
our
royal
person
,
Joined
with
an
enemy
proclaimed
,
and
from
his
coffers
Received
the
golden
earnest
of
our
death
,
Wherein
you
would
have
sold
your
king
to
slaughter
,
His
princes
and
his
peers
to
servitude
,
His
subjects
to
oppression
and
contempt
,
And
his
whole
kingdom
into
desolation
.
Touching
our
person
,
seek
we
no
revenge
,
But
we
our
kingdom’s
safety
must
so
tender
,
Whose
ruin
you
have
sought
,
that
to
her
laws
We
do
deliver
you
.
Get
you
therefore
hence
,
Poor
miserable
wretches
,
to
your
death
,
The
taste
whereof
God
of
His
mercy
give
You
patience
to
endure
,
and
true
repentance
Of
all
your
dear
offenses
.
—
Bear
them
hence
.
They
exit
under
guard
.
Now
,
lords
,
for
France
,
the
enterprise
whereof
Shall
be
to
you
as
us
,
like
glorious
.
We
doubt
not
of
a
fair
and
lucky
war
,
Since
God
so
graciously
hath
brought
to
light
This
dangerous
treason
lurking
in
our
way
To
hinder
our
beginnings
.
We
doubt
not
now
ACT 2. SC. 3
But
every
rub
is
smoothèd
on
our
way
.
Then
forth
,
dear
countrymen
.
Let
us
deliver
Our
puissance
into
the
hand
of
God
,
Putting
it
straight
in
expedition
.
Cheerly
to
sea
.
The
signs
of
war
advance
.
No
king
of
England
if
not
king
of
France
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Pistol
,
Nym
,
Bardolph
,
Boy
,
and
Hostess
.
Prithee
,
honey-sweet
husband
,
let
me
bring
thee
to
Staines
.
No
;
for
my
manly
heart
doth
earn
.
—
Bardolph
,
be
blithe
.
—
Nym
,
rouse
thy
vaunting
veins
.
—
Boy
,
bristle
thy
courage
up
.
For
Falstaff
,
he
is
dead
,
and
we
must
earn
therefore
.
Would
I
were
with
him
,
wheresome’er
he
is
,
either
in
heaven
or
in
hell
.
Nay
,
sure
,
he’s
not
in
hell
!
He’s
in
Arthur’s
bosom
,
if
ever
man
went
to
Arthur’s
bosom
.
He
made
a
finer
end
,
and
went
away
an
it
had
been
any
christom
child
.
He
parted
ev’n
just
between
twelve
and
one
,
ev’n
at
the
turning
o’
th’
tide
;
for
after
I
saw
him
fumble
with
the
sheets
and
play
with
flowers
and
smile
upon
his
finger’s
end
,
I
knew
there
was
but
one
way
,
for
his
nose
was
as
sharp
as
a
pen
and
he
talked
of
green
fields
.
How
now
,
Sir
John
?
quoth
I
.
What
,
man
,
be
o’
good
cheer
!
So
he
cried
out
God
,
God
,
God
!
three
or
four
times
.
Now
I
,
to
comfort
him
,
bid
him
he
should
not
think
of
God
;
I
hoped
there
was
no
need
to
trouble
himself
with
any
such
thoughts
yet
.
So
he
bade
me
lay
more
clothes
on
his
feet
.
I
put
my
hand
into
the
bed
and
felt
them
,
and
they
were
as
cold
as
any
stone
.
Then
I
ACT 2. SC. 3
felt
to
his
knees
,
and
so
upward
and
upward
,
and
all
was
as
cold
as
any
stone
.
They
say
he
cried
out
of
sack
.
Ay
,
that
he
did
.
And
of
women
.
Nay
,
that
he
did
not
.
Yes
,
that
he
did
,
and
said
they
were
devils
incarnate
.
He
could
never
abide
carnation
.
’Twas
a
color
he
never
liked
.
He
said
once
,
the
devil
would
have
him
about
women
.
He
did
in
some
sort
,
indeed
,
handle
women
,
but
then
he
was
rheumatic
and
talked
of
the
Whore
of
Babylon
.
Do
you
not
remember
he
saw
a
flea
stick
upon
Bardolph’s
nose
,
and
he
said
it
was
a
black
soul
burning
in
hell
?
Well
,
the
fuel
is
gone
that
maintained
that
fire
.
That’s
all
the
riches
I
got
in
his
service
.
Shall
we
shog
?
The
King
will
be
gone
from
Southampton
.
Come
,
let’s
away
.
—
My
love
,
give
me
thy
lips
.
They
kiss
.
Look
to
my
chattels
and
my
movables
.
Let
senses
rule
.
The
word
is
Pitch
and
pay
.
Trust
none
,
for
oaths
are
straws
,
men’s
faiths
are
wafer-cakes
,
and
Holdfast
is
the
only
dog
,
my
duck
.
Therefore
,
Caveto
be
thy
counselor
.
Go
,
clear
thy
crystals
.
—
Yoke-fellows
in
arms
,
let
us
to
France
,
like
horse-leeches
,
my
boys
,
to
suck
,
to
suck
,
the
very
blood
to
suck
.
And
that’s
but
unwholesome
food
,
they
say
.
Touch
her
soft
mouth
,
and
march
.
,
kissing
the
Hostess
Farewell
,
hostess
.
I
cannot
kiss
,
that
is
the
humor
of
it
.
But
adieu
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
,
to
the
Hostess
Let
huswifery
appear
.
Keep
close
,
I
thee
command
.
Farewell
.
Adieu
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Flourish
.
Enter
the
French
King
,
the
Dauphin
,
the
Dukes
of
Berri
and
Brittany
,
the
Constable
,
and
others
.
Thus
comes
the
English
with
full
power
upon
us
,
And
more
than
carefully
it
us
concerns
To
answer
royally
in
our
defenses
.
Therefore
the
Dukes
of
Berri
and
of
Brittany
,
Of
Brabant
and
of
Orléans
,
shall
make
forth
,
And
you
,
Prince
Dauphin
,
with
all
swift
dispatch
,
To
line
and
new-repair
our
towns
of
war
With
men
of
courage
and
with
means
defendant
.
For
England
his
approaches
makes
as
fierce
As
waters
to
the
sucking
of
a
gulf
.
It
fits
us
then
to
be
as
provident
As
fear
may
teach
us
out
of
late
examples
Left
by
the
fatal
and
neglected
English
Upon
our
fields
.
My
most
redoubted
father
,
It
is
most
meet
we
arm
us
’gainst
the
foe
,
For
peace
itself
should
not
so
dull
a
kingdom
,
Though
war
nor
no
known
quarrel
were
in
question
But
that
defenses
,
musters
,
preparations
Should
be
maintained
,
assembled
,
and
collected
As
were
a
war
in
expectation
.
Therefore
I
say
’tis
meet
we
all
go
forth
To
view
the
sick
and
feeble
parts
of
France
.
And
let
us
do
it
with
no
show
of
fear
,
No
,
with
no
more
than
if
we
heard
that
England
ACT 2. SC. 4
Were
busied
with
a
Whitsun
morris-dance
.
For
,
my
good
liege
,
she
is
so
idly
kinged
,
Her
scepter
so
fantastically
borne
By
a
vain
,
giddy
,
shallow
,
humorous
youth
,
That
fear
attends
her
not
.
O
peace
,
Prince
Dauphin
!
You
are
too
much
mistaken
in
this
king
.
Question
your
Grace
the
late
ambassadors
With
what
great
state
he
heard
their
embassy
,
How
well
supplied
with
noble
councillors
,
How
modest
in
exception
,
and
withal
How
terrible
in
constant
resolution
,
And
you
shall
find
his
vanities
forespent
Were
but
the
outside
of
the
Roman
Brutus
,
Covering
discretion
with
a
coat
of
folly
,
As
gardeners
do
with
ordure
hide
those
roots
That
shall
first
spring
and
be
most
delicate
.
Well
,
’tis
not
so
,
my
Lord
High
Constable
.
But
though
we
think
it
so
,
it
is
no
matter
.
In
cases
of
defense
,
’tis
best
to
weigh
The
enemy
more
mighty
than
he
seems
.
So
the
proportions
of
defense
are
filled
,
Which
of
a
weak
and
niggardly
projection
Doth
,
like
a
miser
,
spoil
his
coat
with
scanting
A
little
cloth
.
Think
we
King
Harry
strong
,
And
,
princes
,
look
you
strongly
arm
to
meet
him
.
The
kindred
of
him
hath
been
fleshed
upon
us
,
And
he
is
bred
out
of
that
bloody
strain
That
haunted
us
in
our
familiar
paths
.
Witness
our
too-much-memorable
shame
When
Cressy
battle
fatally
was
struck
And
all
our
princes
captived
by
the
hand
Of
that
black
name
,
Edward
,
Black
Prince
of
Wales
,
ACT 2. SC. 4
Whiles
that
his
mountain
sire
,
on
mountain
standing
Up
in
the
air
,
crowned
with
the
golden
sun
,
Saw
his
heroical
seed
and
smiled
to
see
him
Mangle
the
work
of
nature
and
deface
The
patterns
that
by
God
and
by
French
fathers
Had
twenty
years
been
made
.
This
is
a
stem
Of
that
victorious
stock
,
and
let
us
fear
The
native
mightiness
and
fate
of
him
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Ambassadors
from
Harry
King
of
England
Do
crave
admittance
to
your
Majesty
.
We’ll
give
them
present
audience
.
Go
,
and
bring
them
.
Messenger
exits
.
You
see
this
chase
is
hotly
followed
,
friends
.
Turn
head
and
stop
pursuit
,
for
coward
dogs
Most
spend
their
mouths
when
what
they
seem
to
threaten
Runs
far
before
them
.
Good
my
sovereign
,
Take
up
the
English
short
,
and
let
them
know
Of
what
a
monarchy
you
are
the
head
.
Self-love
,
my
liege
,
is
not
so
vile
a
sin
As
self-neglecting
.
Enter
Exeter
,
with
Lords
and
Attendants
.
From
our
brother
of
England
?
From
him
,
and
thus
he
greets
your
Majesty
:
He
wills
you
,
in
the
name
of
God
almighty
,
That
you
divest
yourself
and
lay
apart
The
borrowed
glories
that
,
by
gift
of
heaven
,
By
law
of
nature
and
of
nations
,
’longs
To
him
and
to
his
heirs
—
namely
,
the
crown
ACT 2. SC. 4
And
all
wide-stretchèd
honors
that
pertain
By
custom
and
the
ordinance
of
times
Unto
the
crown
of
France
.
That
you
may
know
’Tis
no
sinister
nor
no
awkward
claim
Picked
from
the
wormholes
of
long-vanished
days
Nor
from
the
dust
of
old
oblivion
raked
,
He
sends
you
this
most
memorable
line
,
He
offers
a
paper
.
In
every
branch
truly
demonstrative
,
Willing
you
overlook
this
pedigree
,
And
when
you
find
him
evenly
derived
From
his
most
famed
of
famous
ancestors
,
Edward
the
Third
,
he
bids
you
then
resign
Your
crown
and
kingdom
,
indirectly
held
From
him
,
the
native
and
true
challenger
.
Or
else
what
follows
?
Bloody
constraint
,
for
if
you
hide
the
crown
Even
in
your
hearts
,
there
will
he
rake
for
it
.
Therefore
in
fierce
tempest
is
he
coming
,
In
thunder
and
in
earthquake
like
a
Jove
,
That
,
if
requiring
fail
,
he
will
compel
,
And
bids
you
,
in
the
bowels
of
the
Lord
,
Deliver
up
the
crown
and
to
take
mercy
On
the
poor
souls
for
whom
this
hungry
war
Opens
his
vasty
jaws
,
and
on
your
head
Turning
the
widows’
tears
,
the
orphans’
cries
,
The
dead
men’s
blood
,
the
privèd
maidens’
groans
,
For
husbands
,
fathers
,
and
betrothèd
lovers
That
shall
be
swallowed
in
this
controversy
.
This
is
his
claim
,
his
threat’ning
,
and
my
message
—
Unless
the
Dauphin
be
in
presence
here
,
To
whom
expressly
I
bring
greeting
too
.
For
us
,
we
will
consider
of
this
further
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Tomorrow
shall
you
bear
our
full
intent
Back
to
our
brother
of
England
.
,
to
Exeter
For
the
Dauphin
,
I
stand
here
for
him
.
What
to
him
from
England
?
Scorn
and
defiance
,
slight
regard
,
contempt
,
And
anything
that
may
not
misbecome
The
mighty
sender
,
doth
he
prize
you
at
.
Thus
says
my
king
:
an
if
your
father’s
Highness
Do
not
,
in
grant
of
all
demands
at
large
,
Sweeten
the
bitter
mock
you
sent
his
Majesty
,
He’ll
call
you
to
so
hot
an
answer
of
it
That
caves
and
womby
vaultages
of
France
Shall
chide
your
trespass
and
return
your
mock
In
second
accent
of
his
ordinance
.
Say
,
if
my
father
render
fair
return
,
It
is
against
my
will
,
for
I
desire
Nothing
but
odds
with
England
.
To
that
end
,
As
matching
to
his
youth
and
vanity
,
I
did
present
him
with
the
Paris
balls
.
He’ll
make
your
Paris
Louvre
shake
for
it
,
Were
it
the
mistress
court
of
mighty
Europe
.
And
be
assured
you’ll
find
a
difference
,
As
we
his
subjects
have
in
wonder
found
,
Between
the
promise
of
his
greener
days
And
these
he
masters
now
.
Now
he
weighs
time
Even
to
the
utmost
grain
.
That
you
shall
read
In
your
own
losses
,
if
he
stay
in
France
.
Tomorrow
shall
you
know
our
mind
at
full
.
Flourish
.
Dispatch
us
with
all
speed
,
lest
that
our
king
ACT 2. SC. 4
Come
here
himself
to
question
our
delay
,
For
he
is
footed
in
this
land
already
.
You
shall
be
soon
dispatched
with
fair
conditions
.
A
night
is
but
small
breath
and
little
pause
To
answer
matters
of
this
consequence
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
ACT
3
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
Dover
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
,
shipboys
climbing
.
Hear
the
shrill
whistle
,
which
doth
order
give
To
sounds
confused
.
Behold
the
threaden
sails
,
Borne
with
th’
invisible
and
creeping
wind
,
Draw
the
huge
bottoms
through
the
furrowed
sea
,
Breasting
the
lofty
surge
.
O
,
do
but
think
You
stand
upon
the
rivage
and
behold
A
city
on
th’
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
puissance
,
For
who
is
he
whose
chin
is
but
enriched
With
one
appearing
hair
that
will
not
follow
ACT 3. SC. 1
These
culled
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
th’
Ambassador
from
the
French
comes
back
,
Tells
Harry
that
the
King
doth
offer
him
Katherine
his
daughter
and
with
her
,
to
dowry
,
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
.
He
exits
.
Scene
1
Enter
the
King
of
England
,
Exeter
,
Bedford
,
and
Gloucester
.
Alarum
.
Enter
Soldiers
with
scaling
ladders
at
Harfleur
.
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-favored
rage
,
Then
lend
the
eye
a
terrible
aspect
,
Let
it
pry
through
the
portage
of
the
head
Like
the
brass
cannon
,
let
the
brow
o’erwhelm
it
As
fearfully
as
doth
a
gallèd
rock
ACT 3. SC. 2
O’erhang
and
jutty
his
confounded
base
Swilled
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
,
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
called
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
That
hath
not
noble
luster
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
!
Alarum
,
and
chambers
go
off
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Nym
,
Bardolph
,
Pistol
,
and
Boy
.
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
plainsong
of
it
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
The
plainsong
is
most
just
,
for
humors
do
abound
.
Knocks
go
and
come
.
God’s
vassals
drop
and
die
,
Sings
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
.
Sings
If
wishes
would
prevail
with
me
,
My
purpose
should
not
fail
with
me
,
But
thither
would
I
hie
.
sings
As
duly
,
But
not
as
truly
,
As
bird
doth
sing
on
bough
.
Enter
Fluellen
.
Up
to
the
breach
,
you
dogs
!
Avaunt
,
you
cullions
!
Be
merciful
,
great
duke
,
to
men
of
mold
.
Abate
thy
rage
,
abate
thy
manly
rage
,
abate
thy
rage
,
great
duke
.
Good
bawcock
,
’bate
thy
rage
.
Use
lenity
,
sweet
chuck
.
,
to
Fluellen
These
be
good
humors
.
Your
Honor
wins
bad
humors
.
All
but
the
Boy
exit
.
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
he
faces
it
out
but
fights
not
;
for
Pistol
,
he
hath
a
killing
tongue
and
a
quiet
sword
,
by
the
means
whereof
he
breaks
words
and
keeps
whole
weapons
;
for
Nym
,
he
hath
heard
that
men
of
few
words
are
the
best
men
,
and
ACT 3. SC. 2
therefore
he
scorns
to
say
his
prayers
,
lest
he
should
be
thought
a
coward
,
but
his
few
bad
words
are
matched
with
as
few
good
deeds
,
for
he
never
broke
any
man’s
head
but
his
own
,
and
that
was
against
a
post
when
he
was
drunk
.
They
will
steal
anything
and
call
it
purchase
.
Bardolph
stole
a
lute
case
,
bore
it
twelve
leagues
,
and
sold
it
for
three
halfpence
.
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
villainy
goes
against
my
weak
stomach
,
and
therefore
I
must
cast
it
up
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Fluellen
and
Gower
.
Captain
Fluellen
,
you
must
come
presently
to
the
mines
;
the
Duke
of
Gloucester
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
he
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
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
Captain
Macmorris
,
and
Captain
Jamy
.
Here
he
comes
,
and
the
Scots
captain
,
Captain
Jamy
,
with
him
.
Captain
Jamy
is
a
marvelous
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
gudday
,
Captain
Fluellen
.
Godden
to
your
Worship
,
good
Captain
James
.
How
now
,
Captain
Macmorris
,
have
you
quit
the
mines
?
Have
the
pioners
given
o’er
?
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
,
’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
partly
for
the
satisfaction
,
look
you
,
of
my
mind
,
as
touching
the
direction
of
the
military
discipline
,
that
is
the
point
.
It
sall
be
vary
gud
,
gud
feith
,
gud
captens
bath
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
and
I
sall
quit
you
with
gud
leve
,
as
I
may
pick
occasion
,
that
sall
I
,
marry
.
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
.
An
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
Christ
sa’
me
,
la
.
By
the
Mess
,
ere
theise
eyes
of
mine
take
themselves
to
slomber
,
ay’ll
de
gud
service
,
or
I’ll
lig
i’
th’
grund
for
it
,
ay
,
or
go
to
death
.
And
I’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
heard
some
question
’tween
you
tway
.
Captain
Macmorris
,
I
think
,
look
you
,
under
your
correction
,
there
is
not
many
of
your
nation
—
Of
my
nation
?
What
ish
my
nation
?
Ish
a
villain
and
a
basterd
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
particularities
.
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
.
Ah
,
that’s
a
foul
fault
.
A
parley
sounds
.
The
town
sounds
a
parley
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
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
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
the
King
of
England
and
all
his
train
before
the
gates
.
,
to
the
men
of
Harfleur
How
yet
resolves
the
Governor
of
the
town
?
This
is
the
latest
parle
we
will
admit
.
Therefore
to
our
best
mercy
give
yourselves
Or
,
like
to
men
proud
of
destruction
,
Defy
us
to
our
worst
.
For
,
as
I
am
a
soldier
,
A
name
that
in
my
thoughts
becomes
me
best
,
If
I
begin
the
batt’ry
once
again
,
I
will
not
leave
the
half-achieved
Harfleur
Till
in
her
ashes
she
lie
burièd
.
The
gates
of
mercy
shall
be
all
shut
up
,
And
the
fleshed
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
flow’ring
infants
.
What
is
it
then
to
me
if
impious
war
,
Arrayed
in
flames
like
to
the
prince
of
fiends
,
Do
with
his
smirched
complexion
all
fell
feats
Enlinked
to
waste
and
desolation
?
What
is
’t
to
me
,
when
you
yourselves
are
cause
,
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
ACT 3. SC. 3
Upon
th’
enragèd
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
,
Whiles
yet
the
cool
and
temperate
wind
of
grace
O’erblows
the
filthy
and
contagious
clouds
Of
heady
murder
,
spoil
,
and
villainy
.
If
not
,
why
,
in
a
moment
look
to
see
The
blind
and
bloody
soldier
with
foul
hand
Desire
the
locks
of
your
shrill-shrieking
daughters
,
Your
fathers
taken
by
the
silver
beards
And
their
most
reverend
heads
dashed
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
At
Herod’s
bloody-hunting
slaughtermen
.
What
say
you
?
Will
you
yield
and
this
avoid
Or
,
guilty
in
defense
,
be
thus
destroyed
?
Enter
Governor
.
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
,
For
we
no
longer
are
defensible
.
Open
your
gates
.
Governor
exits
.
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
The
winter
coming
on
and
sickness
growing
Upon
our
soldiers
,
we
will
retire
to
Calais
.
Tonight
in
Harfleur
will
we
be
your
guest
.
Tomorrow
for
the
march
are
we
addressed
.
Flourish
,
and
enter
the
town
.
Scene
4
Enter
Katherine
and
Alice
,
an
old
Gentlewoman
.
Alice
,
tu
as
été
en
Angleterre
,
et
tu
parles
bien
le
langage
.
Un
peu
,
madame
.
Je
te
prie
,
m’enseignez
.
Il
faut
que
j’apprenne
à
parler
.
Comment
appelez-vous
la
main
en
anglais
?
La
main
?
Elle
est
appelée
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
appelés
de
fingres
;
oui
,
de
fingres
.
La
main
,
de
hand
.
Les
doigts
,
le
fingres
.
Je
pense
que
je
suis
le
bon
écolier
.
J’ai
gagné
deux
mots
d’anglais
vitement
.
Comment
appelez-vous
les
ongles
?
Les
ongles
?
Nous
les
appelons
de
nailes
.
De
nailes
.
Écoutez
.
Dites-moi
si
je
parle
bien
:
de
hand
,
de
fingres
,
et
de
nailes
.
C’est
bien
dit
,
madame
.
Il
est
fort
bon
anglais
.
Dites-moi
l’anglais
pour
le
bras
.
De
arme
,
madame
.
Et
le
coude
?
D’
elbow
.
D’
elbow
.
Je
m’en
fais
la
répétition
de
tous
les
mots
que
vous
m’avez
appris
dès
à
présent
.
Il
est
trop
difficile
,
madame
,
comme
je
pense
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Excusez-moi
,
Alice
.
Écoutez
:
d’
hand
,
de
fingre
,
de
nailes
,
d’
arma
,
de
bilbow
.
D’
elbow
,
madame
.
Ô
Seigneur
Dieu
!
Je
m’en
oublie
;
d’
elbow
.
Comment
appelez-vous
le
col
?
De
nick
,
madame
.
De
nick
.
Et
le
menton
?
De
chin
.
De
sin
.
Le
col
,
de
nick
;
le
menton
,
de
sin
.
Oui
.
Sauf
votre
honneur
,
en
vérité
vous
prononcez
les
mots
aussi
droit
que
les
natifs
d’Angleterre
.
Je
ne
doute
point
d’apprendre
,
par
le
grâce
de
Dieu
,
et
en
peu
de
temps
.
N’avez-vous
pas
déjà
oublié
ce
que
je
vous
ai
enseigné
?
Non
.
Je
réciterai
à
vous
promptement
:
d’
hand
,
de
fingre
,
de
mailes
—
De
nailes
,
madame
.
De
nailes
,
de
arme
,
de
ilbow
—
Sauf
votre
honneur
,
d’
elbow
.
Ainsi
dis-je
:
d’
elbow
,
de
nick
,
et
de
sin
.
Comment
appelez-vous
le
pied
et
la
robe
?
Le
foot
,
madame
,
et
le
count
.
Le
foot
,
et
le
count
.
Ô
Seigneur
Dieu
!
Ils
sont
les
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
count
!
Néanmoins
,
je
réciterai
une
autre
fois
ma
leçon
ensemble
:
d’
hand
,
de
fingre
,
de
nailes
,
d’
arme
,
d’
elbow
,
de
nick
,
de
sin
,
de
foot
,
le
count
.
Excellent
,
madame
.
C’est
assez
pour
une
fois
.
Allons-nous
à
dîner
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 5
Scene
5
Enter
the
King
of
France
,
the
Dauphin
,
the
Duke
of
Brittany
,
the
Constable
of
France
,
and
others
.
’Tis
certain
he
hath
passed
the
river
Somme
.
An
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
.
Ô
Dieu
vivant
,
shall
a
few
sprays
of
us
,
The
emptying
of
our
fathers’
luxury
,
Our
scions
,
put
in
wild
and
savage
stock
,
Spurt
up
so
suddenly
into
the
clouds
And
overlook
their
grafters
?
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
slobb’ry
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-reined
jades
,
their
barley
broth
,
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 5
By
faith
and
honor
,
Our
madams
mock
at
us
and
plainly
say
Our
mettle
is
bred
out
,
and
they
will
give
Their
bodies
to
the
lust
of
English
youth
To
new-store
France
with
bastard
warriors
.
They
bid
us
to
the
English
dancing-schools
,
And
teach
lavoltas
high
,
and
swift
corantos
,
Saying
our
grace
is
only
in
our
heels
And
that
we
are
most
lofty
runaways
.
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
Orléans
,
Bourbon
,
and
of
Berri
,
Alençon
,
Brabant
,
Bar
,
and
Burgundy
;
Jacques
Chatillon
,
Rambures
,
Vaudemont
,
Beaumont
,
Grandpré
,
Roussi
,
and
Faulconbridge
,
Foix
,
Lestrale
,
Bouciquault
,
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
.
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
famished
in
their
march
,
For
,
I
am
sure
,
when
he
shall
see
our
army
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
He’ll
drop
his
heart
into
the
sink
of
fear
And
for
achievement
offer
us
his
ransom
.
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
.
Be
patient
,
for
you
shall
remain
with
us
.
—
Now
forth
,
Lord
Constable
and
princes
all
,
And
quickly
bring
us
word
of
England’s
fall
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
Captains
,
English
and
Welsh
,
Gower
and
Fluellen
.
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
?
ACT 3. SC. 6
He
is
called
Aunchient
Pistol
.
I
know
him
not
.
Enter
Pistol
.
Here
is
the
man
.
Captain
,
I
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
excellent
moral
.
Fortune
is
Bardolph’s
foe
and
frowns
on
him
,
for
he
hath
stolen
a
pax
and
hangèd
must
he
be
.
A
damnèd
death
!
Let
gallows
gape
for
dog
,
let
man
go
free
,
and
let
not
hemp
his
windpipe
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
.
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
ACT 3. SC. 6
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
.
Die
and
be
damned
,
and
figo
for
thy
friendship
!
It
is
well
.
The
fig
of
Spain
!
He
exits
.
Very
good
.
Why
,
this
is
an
arrant
counterfeit
rascal
.
I
remember
him
now
,
a
bawd
,
a
cutpurse
.
I’ll
assure
you
he
uttered
as
prave
words
at
the
pridge
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
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
marvelously
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
Drum
and
Colors
.
Enter
the
King
of
England
and
his
poor
Soldiers
,
and
Gloucester
.
Hark
you
,
the
King
is
coming
,
and
I
must
speak
with
him
from
the
pridge
.
—
God
pless
your
Majesty
.
How
now
,
Fluellen
,
cam’st
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
man
.
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
.
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
,
the
gentler
gamester
is
the
soonest
winner
.
Tucket
.
Enter
Montjoy
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
You
know
me
by
my
habit
.
Well
then
,
I
know
thee
.
What
shall
I
know
of
thee
?
My
master’s
mind
.
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
bruise
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
reanswer
,
his
pettiness
would
bow
under
.
For
our
losses
,
his
exchequer
is
too
poor
;
for
th’
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
.
What
is
thy
name
?
I
know
thy
quality
.
Montjoy
.
Thou
dost
thy
office
fairly
.
Turn
thee
back
,
And
tell
thy
king
I
do
not
seek
him
now
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
,
ACT 3. SC. 6
My
numbers
lessened
,
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
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
neighbor
Stand
in
our
way
.
There’s
for
thy
labor
,
Montjoy
.
Gives
money
.
Go
bid
thy
master
well
advise
himself
:
If
we
may
pass
,
we
will
;
if
we
be
hindered
,
We
shall
your
tawny
ground
with
your
red
blood
Discolor
.
And
so
,
Montjoy
,
fare
you
well
.
The
sum
of
all
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
.
He
exits
.
I
hope
they
will
not
come
upon
us
now
.
We
are
in
God’s
hand
,
brother
,
not
in
theirs
.
March
to
the
bridge
.
It
now
draws
toward
night
.
Beyond
the
river
we’ll
encamp
ourselves
,
And
on
tomorrow
bid
them
march
away
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
Scene
7
Enter
the
Constable
of
France
,
the
Lord
Rambures
,
Orléans
,
Dauphin
,
with
others
.
Tut
,
I
have
the
best
armor
of
the
world
.
Would
it
were
day
!
You
have
an
excellent
armor
,
but
let
my
horse
have
his
due
.
It
is
the
best
horse
of
Europe
.
Will
it
never
be
morning
?
My
Lord
of
Orléans
and
my
Lord
High
Constable
,
you
talk
of
horse
and
armor
?
You
are
as
well
provided
of
both
as
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
.
Çà
,
ha
!
He
bounds
from
the
earth
,
as
if
his
entrails
were
hairs
,
le
cheval
volant
,
the
Pegasus
,
qui
a
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
.
He’s
of
the
color
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
his
countenance
enforces
homage
.
No
more
,
cousin
.
Nay
,
the
man
hath
no
wit
that
cannot
,
from
ACT 3. SC. 7
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
mistress
.
Your
mistress
bears
well
.
Me
well
—
which
is
the
prescript
praise
and
perfection
of
a
good
and
particular
mistress
.
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
judgment
in
horsemanship
.
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
retourné
à
son
propre
vomissement
,
et
la
truie
lavée
au
bourbier
.
Thou
mak’st
use
of
anything
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
Yet
do
I
not
use
my
horse
for
my
mistress
,
or
any
such
proverb
so
little
kin
to
the
purpose
.
My
Lord
Constable
,
the
armor
that
I
saw
in
your
tent
tonight
,
are
those
stars
or
suns
upon
it
?
Stars
,
my
lord
.
Some
of
them
will
fall
tomorrow
,
I
hope
.
And
yet
my
sky
shall
not
want
.
That
may
be
,
for
you
bear
a
many
superfluously
,
and
’twere
more
honor
some
were
away
.
Ev’n
as
your
horse
bears
your
praises
—
who
would
trot
as
well
were
some
of
your
brags
dismounted
.
Would
I
were
able
to
load
him
with
his
desert
!
Will
it
never
be
day
?
I
will
trot
tomorrow
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
.
He
exits
.
The
Dauphin
longs
for
morning
.
He
longs
to
eat
the
English
.
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
doing
.
He
never
did
harm
,
that
I
heard
of
.
Nor
will
do
none
tomorrow
.
He
will
keep
that
good
name
still
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
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
in
him
.
By
my
faith
,
sir
,
but
it
is
;
never
anybody
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
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
Grandpré
.
A
valiant
and
most
expert
gentleman
.
—
Would
it
were
day
!
Alas
,
poor
Harry
of
England
!
He
longs
not
for
the
dawning
as
we
do
.
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 7
That
they
lack
;
for
if
their
heads
had
any
intellectual
armor
,
they
could
never
wear
such
heavy
headpieces
.
That
island
of
England
breeds
very
valiant
creatures
.
Their
mastiffs
are
of
unmatchable
courage
.
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
tomorrow
they
have
only
stomachs
to
eat
and
none
to
fight
.
Now
is
it
time
to
arm
.
Come
,
shall
we
about
it
?
It
is
now
two
o’clock
.
But
,
let
me
see
,
by
ten
We
shall
have
each
a
hundred
Englishmen
.
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Enter
Chorus
.
Now
entertain
conjecture
of
a
time
When
creeping
murmur
and
the
poring
dark
Fills
the
wide
vessel
of
the
universe
.
From
camp
to
camp
,
through
the
foul
womb
of
night
,
The
hum
of
either
army
stilly
sounds
,
That
the
fixed
sentinels
almost
receive
The
secret
whispers
of
each
other’s
watch
.
Fire
answers
fire
,
and
through
their
paly
flames
Each
battle
sees
the
other’s
umbered
face
;
Steed
threatens
steed
in
high
and
boastful
neighs
Piercing
the
night’s
dull
ear
;
and
from
the
tents
The
armorers
,
accomplishing
the
knights
,
With
busy
hammers
closing
rivets
up
,
Give
dreadful
note
of
preparation
.
The
country
cocks
do
crow
,
the
clocks
do
toll
,
And
,
the
third
hour
of
drowsy
morning
named
,
Proud
of
their
numbers
and
secure
in
soul
,
The
confident
and
overlusty
French
Do
the
low-rated
English
play
at
dice
And
chide
the
cripple
,
tardy-gaited
night
,
Who
like
a
foul
and
ugly
witch
doth
limp
So
tediously
away
.
The
poor
condemnèd
English
,
ACT 4. CHORUS
Like
sacrifices
,
by
their
watchful
fires
Sit
patiently
and
inly
ruminate
The
morning’s
danger
;
and
their
gesture
sad
,
Investing
lank-lean
cheeks
and
war-worn
coats
,
Presenteth
them
unto
the
gazing
moon
So
many
horrid
ghosts
.
O
now
,
who
will
behold
The
royal
captain
of
this
ruined
band
Walking
from
watch
to
watch
,
from
tent
to
tent
,
Let
him
cry
,
Praise
and
glory
on
his
head
!
For
forth
he
goes
and
visits
all
his
host
,
Bids
them
good
morrow
with
a
modest
smile
,
And
calls
them
brothers
,
friends
,
and
countrymen
.
Upon
his
royal
face
there
is
no
note
How
dread
an
army
hath
enrounded
him
,
Nor
doth
he
dedicate
one
jot
of
color
Unto
the
weary
and
all-watchèd
night
,
But
freshly
looks
and
overbears
attaint
With
cheerful
semblance
and
sweet
majesty
,
That
every
wretch
,
pining
and
pale
before
,
Beholding
him
,
plucks
comfort
from
his
looks
.
A
largesse
universal
,
like
the
sun
,
His
liberal
eye
doth
give
to
everyone
,
Thawing
cold
fear
,
that
mean
and
gentle
all
Behold
,
as
may
unworthiness
define
,
A
little
touch
of
Harry
in
the
night
.
And
so
our
scene
must
to
the
battle
fly
,
Where
,
O
for
pity
,
we
shall
much
disgrace
,
With
four
or
five
most
vile
and
ragged
foils
Right
ill-disposed
in
brawl
ridiculous
,
The
name
of
Agincourt
.
Yet
sit
and
see
,
Minding
true
things
by
what
their
mock’ries
be
.
He
exits
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Scene
1
Enter
the
King
of
England
,
Bedford
,
and
Gloucester
.
Gloucester
,
’tis
true
that
we
are
in
great
danger
.
The
greater
therefore
should
our
courage
be
.
—
Good
morrow
,
brother
Bedford
.
God
almighty
,
There
is
some
soul
of
goodness
in
things
evil
,
Would
men
observingly
distill
it
out
.
For
our
bad
neighbor
makes
us
early
stirrers
,
Which
is
both
healthful
and
good
husbandry
.
Besides
,
they
are
our
outward
consciences
And
preachers
to
us
all
,
admonishing
That
we
should
dress
us
fairly
for
our
end
.
Thus
may
we
gather
honey
from
the
weed
And
make
a
moral
of
the
devil
himself
.
Enter
Erpingham
.
Good
morrow
,
old
Sir
Thomas
Erpingham
.
A
good
soft
pillow
for
that
good
white
head
Were
better
than
a
churlish
turf
of
France
.
Not
so
,
my
liege
,
this
lodging
likes
me
better
,
Since
I
may
say
Now
lie
I
like
a
king
.
’Tis
good
for
men
to
love
their
present
pains
Upon
example
.
So
the
spirit
is
eased
;
And
when
the
mind
is
quickened
,
out
of
doubt
,
The
organs
,
though
defunct
and
dead
before
,
Break
up
their
drowsy
grave
and
newly
move
With
casted
slough
and
fresh
legerity
.
Lend
me
thy
cloak
,
Sir
Thomas
.
He
puts
on
Erpingham’s
cloak
.
Brothers
both
,
Commend
me
to
the
princes
in
our
camp
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
Do
my
good
morrow
to
them
,
and
anon
Desire
them
all
to
my
pavilion
.
We
shall
,
my
liege
.
Shall
I
attend
your
Grace
?
No
,
my
good
knight
.
Go
with
my
brothers
to
my
lords
of
England
.
I
and
my
bosom
must
debate
awhile
,
And
then
I
would
no
other
company
.
The
Lord
in
heaven
bless
thee
,
noble
Harry
.
All
but
the
King
exit
.
God-a-mercy
,
old
heart
,
thou
speak’st
cheerfully
.
Enter
Pistol
.
Qui
vous
là
?
A
friend
.
Discuss
unto
me
:
art
thou
officer
or
art
thou
base
,
common
,
and
popular
?
I
am
a
gentleman
of
a
company
.
Trail’st
thou
the
puissant
pike
?
Even
so
.
What
are
you
?
As
good
a
gentleman
as
the
Emperor
.
Then
you
are
a
better
than
the
King
.
The
King’s
a
bawcock
and
a
heart
of
gold
,
a
lad
of
life
,
an
imp
of
fame
,
of
parents
good
,
of
fist
most
valiant
.
I
kiss
his
dirty
shoe
,
and
from
heartstring
I
love
the
lovely
bully
.
What
is
thy
name
?
Harry
le
Roy
.
Le
Roy
?
A
Cornish
name
.
Art
thou
of
Cornish
crew
?
No
,
I
am
a
Welshman
.
Know’st
thou
Fluellen
?
Yes
.
Tell
him
I’ll
knock
his
leek
about
his
pate
upon
Saint
Davy’s
day
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Do
not
you
wear
your
dagger
in
your
cap
that
day
,
lest
he
knock
that
about
yours
.
Art
thou
his
friend
?
And
his
kinsman
too
.
The
figo
for
thee
then
!
I
thank
you
.
God
be
with
you
.
My
name
is
Pistol
called
.
He
exits
.
It
sorts
well
with
your
fierceness
.
He
steps
aside
.
Enter
Fluellen
and
Gower
.
Captain
Fluellen
.
’So
So
.
In
the
name
of
Jesu
Christ
,
speak
fewer
.
It
is
the
greatest
admiration
in
the
universal
world
when
the
true
and
aunchient
prerogatifes
and
laws
of
the
wars
is
not
kept
.
If
you
would
take
the
pains
but
to
examine
the
wars
of
Pompey
the
Great
,
you
shall
find
,
I
warrant
you
,
that
there
is
no
tiddle
taddle
nor
pibble
babble
in
Pompey’s
camp
.
I
warrant
you
,
you
shall
find
the
ceremonies
of
the
wars
and
the
cares
of
it
and
the
forms
of
it
and
the
sobriety
of
it
and
the
modesty
of
it
to
be
otherwise
.
Why
,
the
enemy
is
loud
.
You
hear
him
all
night
.
If
the
enemy
is
an
ass
and
a
fool
and
a
prating
coxcomb
,
is
it
meet
,
think
you
,
that
we
should
also
,
look
you
,
be
an
ass
and
a
fool
and
a
prating
coxcomb
,
in
your
own
conscience
now
?
I
will
speak
lower
.
I
pray
you
and
beseech
you
that
you
will
.
Gower
and
Fluellen
exit
.
Though
it
appear
a
little
out
of
fashion
,
There
is
much
care
and
valor
in
this
Welshman
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Enter
three
Soldiers
,
John
Bates
,
Alexander
Court
,
and
Michael
Williams
.
Brother
John
Bates
,
is
not
that
the
morning
which
breaks
yonder
?
I
think
it
be
,
but
we
have
no
great
cause
to
desire
the
approach
of
day
.
We
see
yonder
the
beginning
of
the
day
,
but
I
think
we
shall
never
see
the
end
of
it
.
—
Who
goes
there
?
A
friend
.
Under
what
captain
serve
you
?
Under
Sir
Thomas
Erpingham
.
A
good
old
commander
and
a
most
kind
gentleman
.
I
pray
you
,
what
thinks
he
of
our
estate
?
Even
as
men
wracked
upon
a
sand
,
that
look
to
be
washed
off
the
next
tide
.
He
hath
not
told
his
thought
to
the
King
?
No
.
Nor
it
is
not
meet
he
should
,
for
,
though
I
speak
it
to
you
,
I
think
the
King
is
but
a
man
as
I
am
.
The
violet
smells
to
him
as
it
doth
to
me
.
The
element
shows
to
him
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
.
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
ACT 4. SC. 1
he
were
,
and
I
by
him
,
at
all
adventures
,
so
we
were
quit
here
.
By
my
troth
,
I
will
speak
my
conscience
of
the
King
.
I
think
he
would
not
wish
himself
anywhere
but
where
he
is
.
Then
I
would
he
were
here
alone
;
so
should
he
be
sure
to
be
ransomed
,
and
a
many
poor
men’s
lives
saved
.
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
anywhere
so
contented
as
in
the
King’s
company
,
his
cause
being
just
and
his
quarrel
honorable
.
That’s
more
than
we
know
.
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
.
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
anything
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
,
who
to
disobey
were
against
all
proportion
of
subjection
.
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
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
arbitrament
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
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
free
an
offer
,
He
let
him
outlive
that
day
to
ACT 4. SC. 1
see
His
greatness
and
to
teach
others
how
they
should
prepare
.
’Tis
certain
,
every
man
that
dies
ill
,
the
ill
upon
his
own
head
;
the
King
is
not
to
answer
it
.
I
do
not
desire
he
should
answer
for
me
,
and
yet
I
determine
to
fight
lustily
for
him
.
I
myself
heard
the
King
say
he
would
not
be
ransomed
.
Ay
,
he
said
so
to
make
us
fight
cheerfully
,
but
when
our
throats
are
cut
,
he
may
be
ransomed
and
we
ne’er
the
wiser
.
If
I
live
to
see
it
,
I
will
never
trust
his
word
after
.
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
,
’tis
a
foolish
saying
.
Your
reproof
is
something
too
round
.
I
should
be
angry
with
you
if
the
time
were
convenient
.
Let
it
be
a
quarrel
between
us
,
if
you
live
.
I
embrace
it
.
How
shall
I
know
thee
again
?
Give
me
any
gage
of
thine
,
and
I
will
wear
it
in
my
bonnet
.
Then
,
if
ever
thou
dar’st
acknowledge
it
,
I
will
make
it
my
quarrel
.
Here’s
my
glove
.
Give
me
another
of
thine
.
There
.
They
exchange
gloves
.
This
will
I
also
wear
in
my
cap
.
If
ever
thou
come
to
me
and
say
,
after
tomorrow
,
This
is
my
glove
,
by
this
hand
I
will
take
thee
a
box
on
the
ear
.
If
ever
I
live
to
see
it
,
I
will
challenge
it
.
Thou
dar’st
as
well
be
hanged
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Well
,
I
will
do
it
,
though
I
take
thee
in
the
King’s
company
.
Keep
thy
word
.
Fare
thee
well
.
Be
friends
,
you
English
fools
,
be
friends
.
We
have
French
quarrels
enough
,
if
you
could
tell
how
to
reckon
.
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
tomorrow
the
King
himself
will
be
a
clipper
.
Soldiers
exit
.
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
worshipers
?
What
are
thy
rents
?
What
are
thy
comings-in
?
O
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
feared
,
Than
they
in
fearing
?
What
drink’st
thou
oft
,
instead
of
homage
sweet
,
But
poisoned
flattery
?
O
,
be
sick
,
great
greatness
,
And
bid
thy
ceremony
give
thee
cure
!
Think’st
thou
the
fiery
fever
will
go
out
ACT 4. SC. 1
With
titles
blown
from
adulation
?
Will
it
give
place
to
flexure
and
low
bending
?
Canst
thou
,
when
thou
command’st
the
beggar’s
knee
,
Command
the
health
of
it
?
No
,
thou
proud
dream
,
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
scepter
,
and
the
ball
,
The
sword
,
the
mace
,
the
crown
imperial
,
The
intertissued
robe
of
gold
and
pearl
,
The
farcèd
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
filled
and
vacant
mind
,
Gets
him
to
rest
,
crammed
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
labor
to
his
grave
.
And
,
but
for
ceremony
,
such
a
wretch
,
Winding
up
days
with
toil
and
nights
with
sleep
,
Had
the
forehand
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
.
Enter
Erpingham
.
My
lord
,
your
nobles
,
jealous
of
your
absence
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
Seek
through
your
camp
to
find
you
.
Good
old
knight
,
Collect
them
all
together
at
my
tent
.
I’ll
be
before
thee
.
I
shall
do
’t
,
my
lord
.
He
exits
.
O
God
of
battles
,
steel
my
soldiers’
hearts
.
Possess
them
not
with
fear
.
Take
from
them
now
The
sense
of
reck’ning
or
th’
opposèd
numbers
Pluck
their
hearts
from
them
.
Not
today
,
O
Lord
,
O
,
not
today
,
think
not
upon
the
fault
My
father
made
in
compassing
the
crown
.
I
Richard’s
body
have
interrèd
new
And
on
it
have
bestowed
more
contrite
tears
Than
from
it
issued
forcèd
drops
of
blood
.
Five
hundred
poor
I
have
in
yearly
pay
Who
twice
a
day
their
withered
hands
hold
up
Toward
heaven
to
pardon
blood
.
And
I
have
built
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
,
Since
that
my
penitence
comes
after
all
,
Imploring
pardon
.
Enter
Gloucester
.
My
liege
.
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
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
the
Dauphin
,
Orléans
,
Rambures
,
and
Beaumont
.
The
sun
doth
gild
our
armor
.
Up
,
my
lords
.
Montez
à
cheval
!
My
horse
,
varlet
!
Lackey
!
Ha
!
O
brave
spirit
!
Via
les
eaux
et
terre
.
Rien
puis
?
L’air
et
feu
?
Cieux
,
cousin
Orléans
.
Enter
Constable
.
Now
,
my
Lord
Constable
?
Hark
how
our
steeds
for
present
service
neigh
.
Mount
them
,
and
make
incision
in
their
hides
,
That
their
hot
blood
may
spin
in
English
eyes
And
dout
them
with
superfluous
courage
.
Ha
!
What
,
will
you
have
them
weep
our
horses’
blood
?
How
shall
we
then
behold
their
natural
tears
?
Enter
Messenger
.
The
English
are
embattled
,
you
French
peers
.
To
horse
,
you
gallant
princes
,
straight
to
horse
.
Do
but
behold
yond
poor
and
starvèd
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
curtal
ax
a
stain
,
That
our
French
gallants
shall
today
draw
out
ACT 4. SC. 2
And
sheathe
for
lack
of
sport
.
Let
us
but
blow
on
them
,
The
vapor
of
our
valor
will
o’erturn
them
.
’Tis
positive
against
all
exceptions
,
lords
,
That
our
superfluous
lackeys
and
our
peasants
,
Who
in
unnecessary
action
swarm
About
our
squares
of
battle
,
were
enough
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
honors
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
.
Enter
Grandpré
.
Why
do
you
stay
so
long
,
my
lords
of
France
?
Yond
island
carrions
,
desperate
of
their
bones
,
Ill-favoredly
become
the
morning
field
.
Their
ragged
curtains
poorly
are
let
loose
,
And
our
air
shakes
them
passing
scornfully
.
Big
Mars
seems
bankrupt
in
their
beggared
host
And
faintly
through
a
rusty
beaver
peeps
.
The
horsemen
sit
like
fixèd
candlesticks
With
torch
staves
in
their
hand
,
and
their
poor
jades
Lob
down
their
heads
,
drooping
the
hides
and
hips
,
The
gum
down-roping
from
their
pale
dead
eyes
,
And
in
their
pale
dull
mouths
the
gemeled
bit
Lies
foul
with
chawed
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
They
have
said
their
prayers
,
and
they
stay
for
death
.
Shall
we
go
send
them
dinners
and
fresh
suits
,
And
give
their
fasting
horses
provender
,
And
after
fight
with
them
?
I
stay
but
for
my
guard
.
On
,
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
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Gloucester
,
Bedford
,
Exeter
,
Erpingham
with
all
his
host
,
Salisbury
,
and
Westmoreland
.
Where
is
the
King
?
The
King
himself
is
rode
to
view
their
battle
.
Of
fighting
men
they
have
full
threescore
thousand
.
There’s
five
to
one
.
Besides
,
they
all
are
fresh
.
God’s
arm
strike
with
us
!
’Tis
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
,
And
my
kind
kinsman
,
warriors
all
,
adieu
.
Farewell
,
good
Salisbury
,
and
good
luck
go
with
thee
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
And
yet
I
do
thee
wrong
to
mind
thee
of
it
,
For
thou
art
framed
of
the
firm
truth
of
valor
.
Farewell
,
kind
lord
.
Fight
valiantly
today
.
Salisbury
exits
.
He
is
as
full
of
valor
as
of
kindness
,
Princely
in
both
.
Enter
the
King
of
England
.
O
,
that
we
now
had
here
But
one
ten
thousand
of
those
men
in
England
That
do
no
work
today
.
What’s
he
that
wishes
so
?
My
cousin
Westmoreland
?
No
,
my
fair
cousin
.
If
we
are
marked
to
die
,
we
are
enough
To
do
our
country
loss
;
and
if
to
live
,
The
fewer
men
,
the
greater
share
of
honor
.
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
honor
,
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
honor
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
called
the
feast
of
Crispian
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
He
that
outlives
this
day
and
comes
safe
home
Will
stand
o’
tiptoe
when
this
day
is
named
And
rouse
him
at
the
name
of
Crispian
.
He
that
shall
see
this
day
,
and
live
old
age
,
Will
yearly
on
the
vigil
feast
his
neighbors
And
say
Tomorrow
is
Saint
Crispian
.
Then
will
he
strip
his
sleeve
and
show
his
scars
.
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
his
mouth
as
household
words
,
Harry
the
King
,
Bedford
and
Exeter
,
Warwick
and
Talbot
,
Salisbury
and
Gloucester
,
Be
in
their
flowing
cups
freshly
remembered
.
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
rememberèd
—
We
few
,
we
happy
few
,
we
band
of
brothers
;
For
he
today
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
whiles
any
speaks
That
fought
with
us
upon
Saint
Crispin’s
day
.
Enter
Salisbury
.
My
sovereign
lord
,
bestow
yourself
with
speed
.
The
French
are
bravely
in
their
battles
set
,
And
will
with
all
expedience
charge
on
us
.
All
things
are
ready
if
our
minds
be
so
.
Perish
the
man
whose
mind
is
backward
now
!
ACT 4. SC. 3
Thou
dost
not
wish
more
help
from
England
,
coz
?
God’s
will
,
my
liege
,
would
you
and
I
alone
,
Without
more
help
,
could
fight
this
royal
battle
!
Why
,
now
thou
hast
unwished
five
thousand
men
,
Which
likes
me
better
than
to
wish
us
one
.
—
You
know
your
places
.
God
be
with
you
all
.
Tucket
.
Enter
Montjoy
.
Once
more
I
come
to
know
of
thee
,
King
Harry
,
If
for
thy
ransom
thou
wilt
now
compound
,
Before
thy
most
assurèd
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
.
Who
hath
sent
thee
now
?
The
Constable
of
France
.
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
killed
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
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
And
draw
their
honors
reeking
up
to
heaven
,
Leaving
their
earthly
parts
to
choke
your
clime
,
The
smell
whereof
shall
breed
a
plague
in
France
.
Mark
,
then
,
abounding
valor
in
our
English
,
That
being
dead
,
like
to
the
bullet’s
crazing
,
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
besmirched
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’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
labor
.
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
them
,
Shall
yield
them
little
,
tell
the
Constable
.
I
shall
,
King
Harry
.
And
so
fare
thee
well
.
Thou
never
shalt
hear
herald
anymore
.
I
fear
thou
wilt
once
more
come
again
for
a
ransom
.
Montjoy
exits
.
Enter
York
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
,
kneeling
My
lord
,
most
humbly
on
my
knee
I
beg
The
leading
of
the
vaward
.
Take
it
,
brave
York
.
York
rises
.
Now
,
soldiers
,
march
away
,
And
how
Thou
pleasest
,
God
,
dispose
the
day
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Alarum
.
Excursions
.
Enter
Pistol
,
French
Soldier
,
and
Boy
.
Yield
,
cur
.
Je
pense
que
vous
êtes
le
gentilhomme
de
bonne
qualité
.
Qualtitie
calmie
custure
me
.
Art
thou
a
gentleman
?
What
is
thy
name
?
Discuss
.
Ô
Seigneur
Dieu
!
O
,
Seigneur
Dew
should
be
a
gentleman
.
Perpend
my
words
,
O
Seigneur
Dew
,
and
mark
:
O
Seigneur
Dew
,
thou
diest
on
point
of
fox
,
except
,
O
Seigneur
,
thou
do
give
to
me
egregious
ransom
.
Ô
,
prenez
miséricorde
!
Ayez
pitié
de
moi
!
Moy
shall
not
serve
.
I
will
have
forty
moys
,
or
I
will
fetch
thy
rim
out
at
thy
throat
in
drops
of
crimson
blood
.
Est-il
impossible
d’échapper
la
force
de
ton
bras
?
Brass
,
cur
?
Thou
damned
and
luxurious
mountain
goat
,
offer’st
me
brass
?
Ô
,
pardonnez-moi
!
Say’st
thou
me
so
?
Is
that
a
ton
of
moys
?
—
ACT 4. SC. 4
Come
hither
,
boy
.
Ask
me
this
slave
in
French
what
is
his
name
.
Écoutez
.
Comment
êtes-vous
appelé
?
Monsieur
le
Fer
.
He
says
his
name
is
Master
Fer
.
Master
Fer
.
I’ll
fer
him
,
and
firk
him
,
and
ferret
him
.
Discuss
the
same
in
French
unto
him
.
I
do
not
know
the
French
for
fer
,
and
ferret
,
and
firk
.
Bid
him
prepare
,
for
I
will
cut
his
throat
.
,
to
the
Boy
Que
dit-il
,
monsieur
?
Il
me
commande
à
vous
dire
que
vous
faites
vous
prêt
,
car
ce
soldat
ici
est
disposé
tout
à
cette
heure
de
couper
votre
gorge
.
Owy
,
cuppele
gorge
,
permafoy
,
peasant
,
unless
thou
give
me
crowns
,
brave
crowns
,
or
mangled
shalt
thou
be
by
this
my
sword
.
Ô
,
je
vous
supplie
,
pour
l’amour
de
Dieu
,
me
pardonner
.
Je
suis
le
gentilhomme
de
bonne
maison
.
Gardez
ma
vie
,
et
je
vous
donnerai
deux
cents
écus
.
What
are
his
words
?
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
.
Tell
him
my
fury
shall
abate
,
and
I
the
crowns
will
take
.
,
to
the
Boy
Petit
monsieur
,
que
dit-il
?
Encore
qu’il
est
contre
son
jurement
de
pardonner
aucun
prisonnier
;
néanmoins
,
pour
les
écus
que
vous
lui
avez
promis
,
il
est
content
à
vous
donner
la
liberté
,
le
franchisement
.
French
soldier
kneels
.
Sur
mes
genoux
je
vous
donne
mille
remercîments
,
et
je
m’estime
heureux
que
j’ai
tombé
ACT 4. SC. 5
entre
les
mains
d’un
chevalier
,
je
pense
,
le
plus
brave
,
vaillant
,
et
très
distingué
seigneur
d’Angleterre
.
Expound
unto
me
,
boy
.
He
gives
you
upon
his
knees
a
thousand
thanks
,
and
he
esteems
himself
happy
that
he
hath
fall’n
into
the
hands
of
one
,
as
he
thinks
,
the
most
brave
,
valorous
,
and
thrice-worthy
seigneur
of
England
.
As
I
suck
blood
,
I
will
some
mercy
show
.
Follow
me
.
Suivez-vous
le
grand
capitaine
.
The
French
Soldier
stands
up
.
He
and
Pistol
exit
.
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
valor
than
this
roaring
devil
i’
th’
old
play
,
that
everyone
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
.
He
exits
.
Scene
5
Enter
Constable
,
Orléans
,
Bourbon
,
Dauphin
,
and
Rambures
.
Ô
diable
!
Ô
Seigneur
!
Le
jour
est
perdu
,
tout
est
perdu
!
Mort
de
ma
vie
,
all
is
confounded
,
all
!
Reproach
and
everlasting
shame
Sits
mocking
in
our
plumes
.
A
short
Alarum
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Ô
méchante
Fortune
!
Do
not
run
away
.
Why
,
all
our
ranks
are
broke
.
O
perdurable
shame
!
Let’s
stab
ourselves
.
Be
these
the
wretches
that
we
played
at
dice
for
?
Is
this
the
king
we
sent
to
for
his
ransom
?
Shame
,
and
eternal
shame
,
nothing
but
shame
!
Let
us
die
.
In
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
,
His
fairest
daughter
is
contaminate
.
Disorder
,
that
hath
spoiled
us
,
friend
us
now
.
Let
us
on
heaps
go
offer
up
our
lives
.
We
are
enough
yet
living
in
the
field
To
smother
up
the
English
in
our
throngs
,
If
any
order
might
be
thought
upon
.
The
devil
take
order
now
!
I’ll
to
the
throng
.
Let
life
be
short
,
else
shame
will
be
too
long
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Alarum
.
Enter
the
King
of
England
and
his
train
,
with
prisoners
.
Well
have
we
done
,
thrice-valiant
countrymen
,
But
all’s
not
done
.
Yet
keep
the
French
the
field
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Enter
Exeter
.
The
Duke
of
York
commends
him
to
your
Majesty
.
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
.
In
which
array
,
brave
soldier
,
doth
he
lie
,
Larding
the
plain
,
and
by
his
bloody
side
,
Yoke-fellow
to
his
honor-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
insteeped
,
And
takes
him
by
the
beard
,
kisses
the
gashes
That
bloodily
did
yawn
upon
his
face
.
He
cries
aloud
Tarry
,
my
cousin
Suffolk
.
My
soul
shall
thine
keep
company
to
heaven
.
Tarry
,
sweet
soul
,
for
mine
;
then
fly
abreast
,
As
in
this
glorious
and
well-foughten
field
We
kept
together
in
our
chivalry
.
Upon
these
words
I
came
and
cheered
him
up
.
He
smiled
me
in
the
face
,
raught
me
his
hand
,
And
with
a
feeble
grip
,
says
Dear
my
lord
,
Commend
my
service
to
my
sovereign
.
So
did
he
turn
,
and
over
Suffolk’s
neck
He
threw
his
wounded
arm
and
kissed
his
lips
,
And
so
,
espoused
to
death
,
with
blood
he
sealed
A
testament
of
noble-ending
love
.
The
pretty
and
sweet
manner
of
it
forced
Those
waters
from
me
which
I
would
have
stopped
,
But
I
had
not
so
much
of
man
in
me
,
And
all
my
mother
came
into
mine
eyes
And
gave
me
up
to
tears
.
I
blame
you
not
,
ACT 4. SC. 7
For
,
hearing
this
,
I
must
perforce
compound
With
my
full
eyes
,
or
they
will
issue
too
.
Alarum
.
But
hark
,
what
new
alarum
is
this
same
?
The
French
have
reinforced
their
scattered
men
.
Then
every
soldier
kill
his
prisoners
.
Give
the
word
through
.
They
exit
.
Scene
7
Enter
Fluellen
and
Gower
.
Kill
the
poys
and
the
luggage
!
’Tis
expressly
against
the
law
of
arms
.
’Tis
as
arrant
a
piece
of
knavery
,
mark
you
now
,
as
can
be
offert
,
in
your
conscience
now
,
is
it
not
?
’Tis
certain
there’s
not
a
boy
left
alive
,
and
the
cowardly
rascals
that
ran
from
the
battle
ha’
done
this
slaughter
.
Besides
,
they
have
burned
and
carried
away
all
that
was
in
the
King’s
tent
,
wherefore
the
King
,
most
worthily
,
hath
caused
every
soldier
to
cut
his
prisoner’s
throat
.
O
,
’tis
a
gallant
king
!
Ay
,
he
was
porn
at
Monmouth
,
Captain
Gower
.
What
call
you
the
town’s
name
where
Alexander
the
Pig
was
born
?
Alexander
the
Great
.
Why
,
I
pray
you
,
is
not
pig
great
?
The
pig
,
or
the
great
,
or
the
mighty
,
or
the
huge
,
or
the
magnanimous
,
are
all
one
reckonings
,
save
the
phrase
is
a
little
variations
.
I
think
Alexander
the
Great
was
born
in
Macedon
.
His
father
was
called
Philip
of
Macedon
,
as
I
take
it
.
I
think
it
is
in
Macedon
where
Alexander
is
porn
.
I
tell
you
,
captain
,
if
you
look
in
the
maps
of
ACT 4. SC. 7
the
’orld
,
I
warrant
you
sall
find
,
in
the
comparisons
between
Macedon
and
Monmouth
,
that
the
situations
,
look
you
,
is
both
alike
.
There
is
a
river
in
Macedon
,
and
there
is
also
,
moreover
,
a
river
at
Monmouth
.
It
is
called
Wye
at
Monmouth
,
but
it
is
out
of
my
prains
what
is
the
name
of
the
other
river
.
But
’tis
all
one
;
’tis
alike
as
my
fingers
is
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
displeasures
and
his
indignations
,
and
also
being
a
little
intoxicates
in
his
prains
,
did
,
in
his
ales
and
his
angers
,
look
you
,
kill
his
best
friend
,
Cleitus
.
Our
king
is
not
like
him
in
that
.
He
never
killed
any
of
his
friends
.
It
is
not
well
done
,
mark
you
now
,
to
take
the
tales
out
of
my
mouth
ere
it
is
made
and
finished
.
I
speak
but
in
the
figures
and
comparisons
of
it
.
As
Alexander
killed
his
friend
Cleitus
,
being
in
his
ales
and
his
cups
,
so
also
Harry
Monmouth
,
being
in
his
right
wits
and
his
good
judgments
,
turned
away
the
fat
knight
with
the
great-belly
doublet
;
he
was
full
of
jests
and
gipes
and
knaveries
and
mocks
—
I
have
forgot
his
name
.
Sir
John
Falstaff
.
That
is
he
.
I’ll
tell
you
,
there
is
good
men
porn
at
Monmouth
.
Here
comes
his
Majesty
.
Alarum
.
Enter
King
Harry
,
Exeter
,
Warwick
,
Gloucester
,
Heralds
and
Bourbon
with
other
prisoners
.
Flourish
.
I
was
not
angry
since
I
came
to
France
ACT 4. SC. 7
Until
this
instant
.
Take
a
trumpet
,
herald
.
Ride
thou
unto
the
horsemen
on
yond
hill
.
If
they
will
fight
with
us
,
bid
them
come
down
,
Or
void
the
field
.
They
do
offend
our
sight
.
If
they’ll
do
neither
,
we
will
come
to
them
And
make
them
skirr
away
as
swift
as
stones
Enforcèd
from
the
old
Assyrian
slings
.
Besides
,
we’ll
cut
the
throats
of
those
we
have
,
And
not
a
man
of
them
that
we
shall
take
Shall
taste
our
mercy
.
Go
and
tell
them
so
.
Enter
Montjoy
.
Here
comes
the
herald
of
the
French
,
my
liege
.
His
eyes
are
humbler
than
they
used
to
be
.
How
now
,
what
means
this
,
herald
?
Know’st
thou
not
That
I
have
fined
these
bones
of
mine
for
ransom
?
Com’st
thou
again
for
ransom
?
No
,
great
king
.
I
come
to
thee
for
charitable
license
,
That
we
may
wander
o’er
this
bloody
field
To
book
our
dead
and
then
to
bury
them
,
To
sort
our
nobles
from
our
common
men
,
For
many
of
our
princes
—
woe
the
while
!
—
Lie
drowned
and
soaked
in
mercenary
blood
.
So
do
our
vulgar
drench
their
peasant
limbs
In
blood
of
princes
,
and
the
wounded
steeds
Fret
fetlock
deep
in
gore
,
and
with
wild
rage
Yerk
out
their
armèd
heels
at
their
dead
masters
,
Killing
them
twice
.
O
,
give
us
leave
,
great
king
,
To
view
the
field
in
safety
and
dispose
Of
their
dead
bodies
.
I
tell
thee
truly
,
herald
,
ACT 4. SC. 7
I
know
not
if
the
day
be
ours
or
no
,
For
yet
a
many
of
your
horsemen
peer
And
gallop
o’er
the
field
.
The
day
is
yours
.
Praised
be
God
,
and
not
our
strength
,
for
it
!
What
is
this
castle
called
that
stands
hard
by
?
They
call
it
Agincourt
.
Then
call
we
this
the
field
of
Agincourt
,
Fought
on
the
day
of
Crispin
Crispianus
.
Your
grandfather
of
famous
memory
,
an
’t
please
your
Majesty
,
and
your
great-uncle
Edward
the
Plack
Prince
of
Wales
,
as
I
have
read
in
the
chronicles
,
fought
a
most
prave
pattle
here
in
France
.
They
did
,
Fluellen
.
Your
Majesty
says
very
true
.
If
your
Majesties
is
remembered
of
it
,
the
Welshmen
did
good
service
in
a
garden
where
leeks
did
grow
,
wearing
leeks
in
their
Monmouth
caps
,
which
,
your
Majesty
know
,
to
this
hour
is
an
honorable
badge
of
the
service
.
And
I
do
believe
your
Majesty
takes
no
scorn
to
wear
the
leek
upon
Saint
Tavy’s
day
.
I
wear
it
for
a
memorable
honor
,
For
I
am
Welsh
,
you
know
,
good
countryman
.
All
the
water
in
Wye
cannot
wash
your
Majesty’s
Welsh
plood
out
of
your
pody
,
I
can
tell
you
that
.
God
pless
it
and
preserve
it
as
long
as
it
pleases
his
Grace
and
his
Majesty
too
.
Thanks
,
good
my
countryman
.
By
Jeshu
,
I
am
your
Majesty’s
countryman
,
I
care
not
who
know
it
.
I
will
confess
it
to
all
the
’orld
.
I
need
not
to
be
ashamed
of
your
Majesty
,
ACT 4. SC. 7
praised
be
God
,
so
long
as
your
Majesty
is
an
honest
man
.
God
keep
me
so
.
—
Our
heralds
,
go
with
him
.
Bring
me
just
notice
of
the
numbers
dead
On
both
our
parts
.
Montjoy
,
English
Heralds
,
and
Gower
exit
.
Enter
Williams
.
Call
yonder
fellow
hither
.
Soldier
,
you
must
come
to
the
King
.
Soldier
,
why
wear’st
thou
that
glove
in
thy
cap
?
An
’t
please
your
Majesty
,
’tis
the
gage
of
one
that
I
should
fight
withal
,
if
he
be
alive
.
An
Englishman
?
An
’t
please
your
Majesty
,
a
rascal
that
swaggered
with
me
last
night
,
who
,
if
alive
and
ever
dare
to
challenge
this
glove
,
I
have
sworn
to
take
him
a
box
o’
th’
ear
,
or
if
I
can
see
my
glove
in
his
cap
,
which
he
swore
,
as
he
was
a
soldier
,
he
would
wear
if
alive
,
I
will
strike
it
out
soundly
.
What
think
you
,
Captain
Fluellen
,
is
it
fit
this
soldier
keep
his
oath
?
He
is
a
craven
and
a
villain
else
,
an
’t
please
your
Majesty
,
in
my
conscience
.
It
may
be
his
enemy
is
a
gentleman
of
great
sort
,
quite
from
the
answer
of
his
degree
.
Though
he
be
as
good
a
gentleman
as
the
devil
is
,
as
Lucifer
and
Beelzebub
himself
,
it
is
necessary
,
look
your
Grace
,
that
he
keep
his
vow
and
his
oath
.
If
he
be
perjured
,
see
you
now
,
his
reputation
is
as
arrant
a
villain
and
a
Jack
Sauce
as
ever
his
black
shoe
trod
upon
God’s
ground
and
His
earth
,
in
my
conscience
,
la
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
Then
keep
thy
vow
,
sirrah
,
when
thou
meet’st
the
fellow
.
So
I
will
,
my
liege
,
as
I
live
.
Who
serv’st
thou
under
?
Under
Captain
Gower
,
my
liege
.
Gower
is
a
good
captain
,
and
is
good
knowledge
and
literatured
in
the
wars
.
Call
him
hither
to
me
,
soldier
.
I
will
,
my
liege
.
He
exits
.
,
giving
Fluellen
Williams’s
glove
Here
,
Fluellen
,
wear
thou
this
favor
for
me
,
and
stick
it
in
thy
cap
.
When
Alençon
and
myself
were
down
together
,
I
plucked
this
glove
from
his
helm
.
If
any
man
challenge
this
,
he
is
a
friend
to
Alençon
and
an
enemy
to
our
person
.
If
thou
encounter
any
such
,
apprehend
him
,
an
thou
dost
me
love
.
,
putting
the
glove
in
his
cap
Your
Grace
does
me
as
great
honors
as
can
be
desired
in
the
hearts
of
his
subjects
.
I
would
fain
see
the
man
that
has
but
two
legs
that
shall
find
himself
aggriefed
at
this
glove
,
that
is
all
;
but
I
would
fain
see
it
once
,
an
please
God
of
His
grace
that
I
might
see
.
Know’st
thou
Gower
?
He
is
my
dear
friend
,
an
please
you
.
Pray
thee
,
go
seek
him
,
and
bring
him
to
my
tent
.
I
will
fetch
him
.
He
exits
.
My
Lord
of
Warwick
and
my
brother
Gloucester
,
Follow
Fluellen
closely
at
the
heels
.
The
glove
which
I
have
given
him
for
a
favor
May
haply
purchase
him
a
box
o’
th’
ear
.
It
is
the
soldier’s
.
I
by
bargain
should
Wear
it
myself
.
Follow
,
good
cousin
Warwick
.
If
that
the
soldier
strike
him
,
as
I
judge
By
his
blunt
bearing
he
will
keep
his
word
,
ACT 4. SC. 8
Some
sudden
mischief
may
arise
of
it
,
For
I
do
know
Fluellen
valiant
And
,
touched
with
choler
,
hot
as
gunpowder
,
And
quickly
will
return
an
injury
.
Follow
,
and
see
there
be
no
harm
between
them
.
—
Go
you
with
me
,
uncle
of
Exeter
.
They
exit
.
Scene
8
Enter
Gower
and
Williams
.
I
warrant
it
is
to
knight
you
,
captain
.
Enter
Fluellen
,
wearing
Williams’s
glove
.
,
to
Gower
God’s
will
and
His
pleasure
,
captain
,
I
beseech
you
now
,
come
apace
to
the
King
.
There
is
more
good
toward
you
peradventure
than
is
in
your
knowledge
to
dream
of
.
,
to
Fluellen
,
pointing
to
the
glove
in
his
own
hat
Sir
,
know
you
this
glove
?
Know
the
glove
?
I
know
the
glove
is
a
glove
.
I
know
this
,
and
thus
I
challenge
it
.
Strikes
him
.
’Sblood
,
an
arrant
traitor
as
any
’s
in
the
universal
world
,
or
in
France
,
or
in
England
!
,
to
Williams
How
now
,
sir
?
You
villain
!
Do
you
think
I’ll
be
forsworn
?
Stand
away
,
Captain
Gower
.
I
will
give
treason
his
payment
into
plows
,
I
warrant
you
.
I
am
no
traitor
.
That’s
a
lie
in
thy
throat
.
—
I
charge
you
in
his
Majesty’s
name
,
apprehend
him
.
He’s
a
friend
of
the
Duke
Alençon’s
.
Enter
Warwick
and
Gloucester
.
ACT 4. SC. 8
How
now
,
how
now
,
what’s
the
matter
?
My
Lord
of
Warwick
,
here
is
,
praised
be
God
for
it
,
a
most
contagious
treason
come
to
light
,
look
you
,
as
you
shall
desire
in
a
summer’s
day
.
Enter
King
of
England
and
Exeter
.
Here
is
his
Majesty
.
How
now
,
what’s
the
matter
?
My
liege
,
here
is
a
villain
and
a
traitor
,
that
,
look
your
Grace
,
has
struck
the
glove
which
your
Majesty
is
take
out
of
the
helmet
of
Alençon
.
My
liege
,
this
was
my
glove
;
here
is
the
fellow
of
it
.
And
he
that
I
gave
it
to
in
change
promised
to
wear
it
in
his
cap
.
I
promised
to
strike
him
if
he
did
.
I
met
this
man
with
my
glove
in
his
cap
,
and
I
have
been
as
good
as
my
word
.
Your
Majesty
,
hear
now
,
saving
your
Majesty’s
manhood
,
what
an
arrant
,
rascally
,
beggarly
,
lousy
knave
it
is
.
I
hope
your
Majesty
is
pear
me
testimony
and
witness
and
will
avouchment
that
this
is
the
glove
of
Alençon
that
your
Majesty
is
give
me
,
in
your
conscience
now
.
,
to
Williams
Give
me
thy
glove
,
soldier
.
Look
,
here
is
the
fellow
of
it
.
’Twas
I
indeed
thou
promised’st
to
strike
,
And
thou
hast
given
me
most
bitter
terms
.
An
please
your
Majesty
,
let
his
neck
answer
for
it
,
if
there
is
any
martial
law
in
the
world
.
,
to
Williams
How
canst
thou
make
me
satisfaction
?
All
offenses
,
my
lord
,
come
from
the
heart
.
Never
came
any
from
mine
that
might
offend
your
Majesty
.
It
was
ourself
thou
didst
abuse
.
Your
Majesty
came
not
like
yourself
.
You
ACT 4. SC. 8
appeared
to
me
but
as
a
common
man
;
witness
the
night
,
your
garments
,
your
lowliness
.
And
what
your
Highness
suffered
under
that
shape
,
I
beseech
you
take
it
for
your
own
fault
and
not
mine
,
for
,
had
you
been
as
I
took
you
for
,
I
made
no
offense
.
Therefore
,
I
beseech
your
Highness
pardon
me
.
Here
,
uncle
Exeter
,
fill
this
glove
with
crowns
And
give
it
to
this
fellow
.
—
Keep
it
,
fellow
,
And
wear
it
for
an
honor
in
thy
cap
Till
I
do
challenge
it
.
—
Give
him
the
crowns
.
—
And
,
captain
,
you
must
needs
be
friends
with
him
.
By
this
day
and
this
light
,
the
fellow
has
mettle
enough
in
his
belly
.
—
Hold
,
there
is
twelvepence
for
you
,
and
I
pray
you
to
serve
God
and
keep
you
out
of
prawls
and
prabbles
and
quarrels
and
dissensions
,
and
I
warrant
you
it
is
the
better
for
you
.
I
will
none
of
your
money
.
It
is
with
a
good
will
.
I
can
tell
you
it
will
serve
you
to
mend
your
shoes
.
Come
,
wherefore
should
you
be
so
pashful
?
Your
shoes
is
not
so
good
.
’Tis
a
good
silling
,
I
warrant
you
,
or
I
will
change
it
.
Enter
an
English
Herald
.
Now
,
herald
,
are
the
dead
numbered
?
,
giving
the
King
a
paper
Here
is
the
number
of
the
slaughtered
French
.
,
to
Exeter
What
prisoners
of
good
sort
are
taken
,
uncle
?
Charles
,
Duke
of
Orléans
,
nephew
to
the
King
;
John
,
Duke
of
Bourbon
,
and
Lord
Bouciqualt
.
Of
other
lords
and
barons
,
knights
and
squires
,
Full
fifteen
hundred
,
besides
common
men
.
ACT 4. SC. 8
This
note
doth
tell
me
of
ten
thousand
French
That
in
the
field
lie
slain
.
Of
princes
in
this
number
And
nobles
bearing
banners
,
there
lie
dead
One
hundred
twenty-six
.
Added
to
these
,
Of
knights
,
esquires
,
and
gallant
gentlemen
,
Eight
thousand
and
four
hundred
,
of
the
which
Five
hundred
were
but
yesterday
dubbed
knights
.
So
that
in
these
ten
thousand
they
have
lost
,
There
are
but
sixteen
hundred
mercenaries
.
The
rest
are
princes
,
barons
,
lords
,
knights
,
squires
,
And
gentlemen
of
blood
and
quality
.
The
names
of
those
their
nobles
that
lie
dead
:
Charles
Delabreth
,
High
Constable
of
France
;
Jacques
of
Chatillon
,
Admiral
of
France
;
The
Master
of
the
Crossbows
,
Lord
Rambures
;
Great
Master
of
France
,
the
brave
Sir
Guichard
Dauphin
;
John
,
Duke
of
Alençon
;
Anthony
,
Duke
of
Brabant
,
The
brother
to
the
Duke
of
Burgundy
;
And
Edward
,
Duke
of
Bar
.
Of
lusty
earls
:
Grandpré
and
Roussi
,
Faulconbridge
and
Foix
,
Beaumont
and
Marle
,
Vaudemont
and
Lestrale
.
Here
was
a
royal
fellowship
of
death
.
Where
is
the
number
of
our
English
dead
?
Herald
gives
him
another
paper
.
Edward
the
Duke
of
York
,
the
Earl
of
Suffolk
,
Sir
Richard
Ketly
,
Davy
Gam
,
esquire
;
None
else
of
name
,
and
of
all
other
men
But
five
and
twenty
.
O
God
,
thy
arm
was
here
,
And
not
to
us
,
but
to
thy
arm
alone
Ascribe
we
all
!
When
,
without
stratagem
,
But
in
plain
shock
and
even
play
of
battle
,
Was
ever
known
so
great
and
little
loss
On
one
part
and
on
th’
other
?
Take
it
,
God
,
For
it
is
none
but
thine
.
ACT 4. SC. 8
’Tis
wonderful
.
Come
,
go
we
in
procession
to
the
village
,
And
be
it
death
proclaimèd
through
our
host
To
boast
of
this
or
take
that
praise
from
God
Which
is
His
only
.
Is
it
not
lawful
,
an
please
your
Majesty
,
to
tell
how
many
is
killed
?
Yes
,
captain
,
but
with
this
acknowledgment
:
That
God
fought
for
us
.
Yes
,
my
conscience
,
He
did
us
great
good
.
Do
we
all
holy
rites
.
Let
there
be
sung
Non
nobis
,
and
Te
Deum
,
The
dead
with
charity
enclosed
in
clay
,
And
then
to
Calais
,
and
to
England
then
,
Where
ne’er
from
France
arrived
more
happy
men
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Enter
Chorus
.
Vouchsafe
to
those
that
have
not
read
the
story
That
I
may
prompt
them
;
and
of
such
as
have
,
I
humbly
pray
them
to
admit
th’
excuse
Of
time
,
of
numbers
,
and
due
course
of
things
,
Which
cannot
in
their
huge
and
proper
life
Be
here
presented
.
Now
we
bear
the
King
Toward
Calais
.
Grant
him
there
.
There
seen
,
Heave
him
away
upon
your
wingèd
thoughts
Athwart
the
sea
.
Behold
,
the
English
beach
Pales
in
the
flood
with
men
,
wives
,
and
boys
,
Whose
shouts
and
claps
outvoice
the
deep-mouthed
sea
,
Which
,
like
a
mighty
whiffler
’fore
the
King
Seems
to
prepare
his
way
.
So
let
him
land
,
And
solemnly
see
him
set
on
to
London
.
So
swift
a
pace
hath
thought
that
even
now
You
may
imagine
him
upon
Blackheath
,
Where
that
his
lords
desire
him
to
have
borne
His
bruisèd
helmet
and
his
bended
sword
Before
him
through
the
city
.
He
forbids
it
,
Being
free
from
vainness
and
self-glorious
pride
,
Giving
full
trophy
,
signal
,
and
ostent
Quite
from
himself
,
to
God
.
But
now
behold
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
In
the
quick
forge
and
workinghouse
of
thought
,
How
London
doth
pour
out
her
citizens
.
The
Mayor
and
all
his
brethren
in
best
sort
,
Like
to
the
senators
of
th’
antique
Rome
,
With
the
plebeians
swarming
at
their
heels
,
Go
forth
and
fetch
their
conqu’ring
Caesar
in
—
As
,
by
a
lower
but
by
loving
likelihood
Were
now
the
general
of
our
gracious
empress
,
As
in
good
time
he
may
,
from
Ireland
coming
,
Bringing
rebellion
broachèd
on
his
sword
,
How
many
would
the
peaceful
city
quit
To
welcome
him
!
Much
more
,
and
much
more
cause
,
Did
they
this
Harry
.
Now
in
London
place
him
(
As
yet
the
lamentation
of
the
French
Invites
the
King
of
England’s
stay
at
home
;
The
Emperor’s
coming
in
behalf
of
France
To
order
peace
between
them
)
and
omit
All
the
occurrences
,
whatever
chanced
,
Till
Harry’s
back
return
again
to
France
.
There
must
we
bring
him
,
and
myself
have
played
The
interim
,
by
remembering
you
’tis
past
.
Then
brook
abridgment
,
and
your
eyes
advance
After
your
thoughts
,
straight
back
again
to
France
.
He
exits
.
Scene
1
Enter
Fluellen
and
Gower
.
Nay
,
that’s
right
.
But
why
wear
you
your
leek
today
?
Saint
Davy’s
day
is
past
.
There
is
occasions
and
causes
why
and
wherefore
in
all
things
.
I
will
tell
you
ass
my
friend
,
Captain
Gower
.
The
rascally
,
scald
,
beggarly
,
lousy
,
pragging
knave
Pistol
,
which
you
and
ACT 5. SC. 1
yourself
and
all
the
world
know
to
be
no
petter
than
a
fellow
,
look
you
now
,
of
no
merits
,
he
is
come
to
me
and
prings
me
pread
and
salt
yesterday
,
look
you
,
and
bid
me
eat
my
leek
.
It
was
in
a
place
where
I
could
not
breed
no
contention
with
him
,
but
I
will
be
so
bold
as
to
wear
it
in
my
cap
till
I
see
him
once
again
,
and
then
I
will
tell
him
a
little
piece
of
my
desires
.
Enter
Pistol
.
Why
here
he
comes
,
swelling
like
a
turkey-cock
.
’Tis
no
matter
for
his
swellings
,
nor
his
turkey-cocks
.
—
God
pless
you
,
Aunchient
Pistol
,
you
scurvy
,
lousy
knave
,
God
pless
you
.
Ha
,
art
thou
bedlam
?
Dost
thou
thirst
,
base
Trojan
,
to
have
me
fold
up
Parca’s
fatal
web
?
Hence
.
I
am
qualmish
at
the
smell
of
leek
.
I
peseech
you
heartily
,
scurvy
,
lousy
knave
,
at
my
desires
and
my
requests
and
my
petitions
,
to
eat
,
look
you
,
this
leek
.
Because
,
look
you
,
you
do
not
love
it
,
nor
your
affections
and
your
appetites
and
your
disgestions
does
not
agree
with
it
,
I
would
desire
you
to
eat
it
.
Not
for
Cadwallader
and
all
his
goats
.
There
is
one
goat
for
you
.
(
Strikes
him
with
a
cudgel
.
)
Will
you
be
so
good
,
scald
knave
,
as
eat
it
?
Base
Trojan
,
thou
shalt
die
.
You
say
very
true
,
scald
knave
,
when
God’s
will
is
.
I
will
desire
you
to
live
in
the
meantime
and
eat
your
victuals
.
Come
,
there
is
sauce
for
it
.
Strikes
him
.
You
called
me
yesterday
mountain
squire
,
but
I
will
make
you
today
a
squire
of
low
degree
.
I
pray
you
,
fall
to
.
If
you
can
mock
a
leek
,
you
can
eat
a
leek
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Enough
,
captain
.
You
have
astonished
him
.
I
say
I
will
make
him
eat
some
part
of
my
leek
,
or
I
will
peat
his
pate
four
days
.
—
Bite
,
I
pray
you
.
It
is
good
for
your
green
wound
and
your
ploody
coxcomb
.
Must
I
bite
?
Yes
,
certainly
,
and
out
of
doubt
and
out
of
question
,
too
,
and
ambiguities
.
By
this
leek
,
I
will
most
horribly
revenge
.
Fluellen
threatens
him
.
I
eat
and
eat
,
I
swear
—
Eat
,
I
pray
you
.
Will
you
have
some
more
sauce
to
your
leek
?
There
is
not
enough
leek
to
swear
by
.
Quiet
thy
cudgel
.
Thou
dost
see
I
eat
.
Much
good
do
you
,
scald
knave
,
heartily
.
Nay
,
pray
you
throw
none
away
.
The
skin
is
good
for
your
broken
coxcomb
.
When
you
take
occasions
occásions
to
see
leeks
hereafter
,
I
pray
you
mock
at
’em
,
that
is
all
.
Good
.
Ay
,
leeks
is
good
.
Hold
you
,
there
is
a
groat
to
heal
your
pate
.
Me
,
a
groat
?
Yes
,
verily
,
and
in
truth
you
shall
take
it
,
or
I
have
another
leek
in
my
pocket
,
which
you
shall
eat
.
I
take
thy
groat
in
earnest
of
revenge
.
If
I
owe
you
anything
,
I
will
pay
you
in
cudgels
.
You
shall
be
a
woodmonger
and
buy
nothing
of
me
but
cudgels
.
God
be
wi’
you
and
keep
you
and
heal
your
pate
.
He
exits
.
All
hell
shall
stir
for
this
.
Go
,
go
.
You
are
a
counterfeit
cowardly
knave
.
Will
you
mock
at
an
ancient
tradition
begun
upon
an
honorable
respect
and
worn
as
a
memorable
trophy
of
predeceased
valor
,
and
dare
not
avouch
in
ACT 5. SC. 2
your
deeds
any
of
your
words
?
I
have
seen
you
gleeking
and
galling
at
this
gentleman
twice
or
thrice
.
You
thought
because
he
could
not
speak
English
in
the
native
garb
,
he
could
not
therefore
handle
an
English
cudgel
.
You
find
it
otherwise
,
and
henceforth
let
a
Welsh
correction
teach
you
a
good
English
condition
.
Fare
you
well
.
He
exits
.
Doth
Fortune
play
the
huswife
with
me
now
?
News
have
I
that
my
Doll
is
dead
i’
th’
spital
of
a
malady
of
France
,
and
there
my
rendezvous
is
quite
cut
off
.
Old
I
do
wax
,
and
from
my
weary
limbs
honor
is
cudgeled
.
Well
,
bawd
I’ll
turn
,
and
something
lean
to
cutpurse
of
quick
hand
.
To
England
will
I
steal
,
and
there
I’ll
steal
.
And
patches
will
I
get
unto
these
cudgeled
scars
,
And
swear
I
got
them
in
the
Gallia
wars
.
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
at
one
door
,
King
Henry
,
Exeter
,
Bedford
,
Warwick
,
Westmoreland
,
and
other
Lords
.
At
another
,
Queen
Isabel
of
France
,
the
King
of
France
,
the
Princess
Katherine
and
Alice
,
the
Duke
of
Burgundy
,
and
other
French
.
Peace
to
this
meeting
wherefor
we
are
met
.
Unto
our
brother
France
and
to
our
sister
,
Health
and
fair
time
of
day
.
—
Joy
and
good
wishes
To
our
most
fair
and
princely
cousin
Katherine
.
—
And
,
as
a
branch
and
member
of
this
royalty
,
By
whom
this
great
assembly
is
contrived
,
We
do
salute
you
,
Duke
of
Burgundy
.
—
And
princes
French
,
and
peers
,
health
to
you
all
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Right
joyous
are
we
to
behold
your
face
,
Most
worthy
brother
England
.
Fairly
met
.
—
So
are
you
,
princes
English
,
every
one
.
So
happy
be
the
issue
,
brother
Ireland
,
Of
this
good
day
and
of
this
gracious
meeting
,
As
we
are
now
glad
to
behold
your
eyes
—
Your
eyes
which
hitherto
have
borne
in
them
Against
the
French
that
met
them
in
their
bent
The
fatal
balls
of
murdering
basilisks
.
The
venom
of
such
looks
,
we
fairly
hope
,
Have
lost
their
quality
,
and
that
this
day
Shall
change
all
griefs
and
quarrels
into
love
.
To
cry
Amen
to
that
,
thus
we
appear
.
You
English
princes
all
,
I
do
salute
you
.
My
duty
to
you
both
,
on
equal
love
,
Great
kings
of
France
and
England
.
That
I
have
labored
With
all
my
wits
,
my
pains
,
and
strong
endeavors
To
bring
your
most
imperial
Majesties
Unto
this
bar
and
royal
interview
,
Your
Mightiness
on
both
parts
best
can
witness
.
Since
,
then
,
my
office
hath
so
far
prevailed
That
face
to
face
and
royal
eye
to
eye
You
have
congreeted
,
let
it
not
disgrace
me
If
I
demand
before
this
royal
view
What
rub
or
what
impediment
there
is
Why
that
the
naked
,
poor
,
and
mangled
peace
,
Dear
nurse
of
arts
,
plenties
,
and
joyful
births
,
Should
not
in
this
best
garden
of
the
world
,
Our
fertile
France
,
put
up
her
lovely
visage
?
Alas
,
she
hath
from
France
too
long
been
chased
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
all
her
husbandry
doth
lie
on
heaps
,
Corrupting
in
its
own
fertility
.
Her
vine
,
the
merry
cheerer
of
the
heart
,
Unprunèd
,
dies
.
Her
hedges
,
even-pleached
,
Like
prisoners
wildly
overgrown
with
hair
,
Put
forth
disordered
twigs
.
Her
fallow
leas
The
darnel
,
hemlock
,
and
rank
fumitory
Doth
root
upon
,
while
that
the
coulter
rusts
That
should
deracinate
such
savagery
.
The
even
mead
,
that
erst
brought
sweetly
forth
The
freckled
cowslip
,
burnet
,
and
green
clover
,
Wanting
the
scythe
,
withal
uncorrected
,
rank
,
Conceives
by
idleness
,
and
nothing
teems
But
hateful
docks
,
rough
thistles
,
kecksies
,
burrs
,
Losing
both
beauty
and
utility
.
And
all
our
vineyards
,
fallows
,
meads
,
and
hedges
,
Defective
in
their
natures
,
grow
to
wildness
.
Even
so
our
houses
and
ourselves
and
children
Have
lost
,
or
do
not
learn
for
want
of
time
,
The
sciences
that
should
become
our
country
,
But
grow
like
savages
,
as
soldiers
will
That
nothing
do
but
meditate
on
blood
,
To
swearing
and
stern
looks
,
diffused
attire
,
And
everything
that
seems
unnatural
.
Which
to
reduce
into
our
former
favor
You
are
assembled
,
and
my
speech
entreats
That
I
may
know
the
let
why
gentle
peace
Should
not
expel
these
inconveniences
And
bless
us
with
her
former
qualities
.
If
,
Duke
of
Burgundy
,
you
would
the
peace
,
Whose
want
gives
growth
to
th’
imperfections
Which
you
have
cited
,
you
must
buy
that
peace
With
full
accord
to
all
our
just
demands
,
Whose
tenors
and
particular
effects
You
have
,
enscheduled
briefly
,
in
your
hands
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
The
King
hath
heard
them
,
to
the
which
as
yet
There
is
no
answer
made
.
Well
then
,
the
peace
which
you
before
so
urged
Lies
in
his
answer
.
I
have
but
with
a
cursitory
eye
O’erglanced
the
articles
.
Pleaseth
your
Grace
To
appoint
some
of
your
council
presently
To
sit
with
us
once
more
with
better
heed
To
resurvey
them
,
we
will
suddenly
Pass
our
accept
and
peremptory
answer
.
Brother
,
we
shall
.
—
Go
,
uncle
Exeter
,
And
brother
Clarence
,
and
you
,
brother
Gloucester
,
Warwick
,
and
Huntington
,
go
with
the
King
,
And
take
with
you
free
power
to
ratify
,
Augment
,
or
alter
,
as
your
wisdoms
best
Shall
see
advantageable
for
our
dignity
,
Anything
in
or
out
of
our
demands
,
And
we’ll
consign
thereto
.
—
Will
you
,
fair
sister
,
Go
with
the
princes
or
stay
here
with
us
?
Our
gracious
brother
,
I
will
go
with
them
.
Haply
a
woman’s
voice
may
do
some
good
When
articles
too
nicely
urged
be
stood
on
.
Yet
leave
our
cousin
Katherine
here
with
us
.
She
is
our
capital
demand
,
comprised
Within
the
forerank
of
our
articles
.
She
hath
good
leave
.
All
but
Katherine
,
and
the
King
of
England
,
and
Alice
exit
.
Fair
Katherine
,
and
most
fair
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
Will
you
vouchsafe
to
teach
a
soldier
terms
Such
as
will
enter
at
a
lady’s
ear
And
plead
his
love-suit
to
her
gentle
heart
?
Your
Majesty
shall
mock
at
me
.
I
cannot
speak
your
England
.
O
fair
Katherine
,
if
you
will
love
me
soundly
with
your
French
heart
,
I
will
be
glad
to
hear
you
confess
it
brokenly
with
your
English
tongue
.
Do
you
like
me
,
Kate
?
Pardonnez-moi
,
I
cannot
tell
wat
is
like
me
.
An
angel
is
like
you
,
Kate
,
and
you
are
like
an
angel
.
,
to
Alice
Que
dit-il
?
Que
je
suis
semblable
à
les
anges
?
Oui
,
vraiment
,
sauf
votre
Grâce
,
ainsi
dit-il
.
I
said
so
,
dear
Katherine
,
and
I
must
not
blush
to
affirm
it
.
Ô
bon
Dieu
,
les
langues
des
hommes
sont
pleines
de
tromperies
.
,
to
Alice
What
says
she
,
fair
one
?
That
the
tongues
of
men
are
full
of
deceits
?
Oui
,
dat
de
tongues
of
de
mans
is
be
full
of
deceits
;
dat
is
de
Princess
.
The
Princess
is
the
better
Englishwoman
.
—
I’
faith
,
Kate
,
my
wooing
is
fit
for
thy
understanding
.
I
am
glad
thou
canst
speak
no
better
English
,
for
if
thou
couldst
,
thou
wouldst
find
me
such
a
plain
king
that
thou
wouldst
think
I
had
sold
my
farm
to
buy
my
crown
.
I
know
no
ways
to
mince
it
in
love
,
but
directly
to
say
I
love
you
.
Then
if
you
urge
me
farther
than
to
say
Do
you
,
in
faith
?
I
wear
out
my
suit
.
Give
me
your
answer
,
i’
faith
,
do
;
and
so
clap
hands
and
a
bargain
.
How
say
you
,
lady
?
Sauf
votre
honneur
,
me
understand
well
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Marry
,
if
you
would
put
me
to
verses
or
to
dance
for
your
sake
,
Kate
,
why
you
undid
me
.
For
the
one
,
I
have
neither
words
nor
measure
;
and
for
the
other
,
I
have
no
strength
in
measure
,
yet
a
reasonable
measure
in
strength
.
If
I
could
win
a
lady
at
leapfrog
or
by
vaulting
into
my
saddle
with
my
armor
on
my
back
,
under
the
correction
of
bragging
be
it
spoken
,
I
should
quickly
leap
into
a
wife
.
Or
if
I
might
buffet
for
my
love
,
or
bound
my
horse
for
her
favors
,
I
could
lay
on
like
a
butcher
and
sit
like
a
jackanapes
,
never
off
.
But
,
before
God
,
Kate
,
I
cannot
look
greenly
nor
gasp
out
my
eloquence
,
nor
I
have
no
cunning
in
protestation
,
only
downright
oaths
,
which
I
never
use
till
urged
,
nor
never
break
for
urging
.
If
thou
canst
love
a
fellow
of
this
temper
,
Kate
,
whose
face
is
not
worth
sun-burning
,
that
never
looks
in
his
glass
for
love
of
anything
he
sees
there
,
let
thine
eye
be
thy
cook
.
I
speak
to
thee
plain
soldier
.
If
thou
canst
love
me
for
this
,
take
me
.
If
not
,
to
say
to
thee
that
I
shall
die
is
true
,
but
for
thy
love
,
by
the
Lord
,
no
.
Yet
I
love
thee
too
.
And
while
thou
liv’st
,
dear
Kate
,
take
a
fellow
of
plain
and
uncoined
constancy
,
for
he
perforce
must
do
thee
right
because
he
hath
not
the
gift
to
woo
in
other
places
.
For
these
fellows
of
infinite
tongue
,
that
can
rhyme
themselves
into
ladies’
favors
,
they
do
always
reason
themselves
out
again
.
What
?
A
speaker
is
but
a
prater
,
a
rhyme
is
but
a
ballad
,
a
good
leg
will
fall
,
a
straight
back
will
stoop
,
a
black
beard
will
turn
white
,
a
curled
pate
will
grow
bald
,
a
fair
face
will
wither
,
a
full
eye
will
wax
hollow
,
but
a
good
heart
,
Kate
,
is
the
sun
and
the
moon
,
or
rather
the
sun
and
not
the
moon
,
for
it
shines
bright
and
never
changes
but
keeps
his
course
truly
.
If
thou
would
have
such
a
one
,
take
me
.
And
take
me
,
take
a
soldier
.
Take
a
soldier
,
take
a
king
.
And
what
ACT 5. SC. 2
say’st
thou
then
to
my
love
?
Speak
,
my
fair
,
and
fairly
,
I
pray
thee
.
Is
it
possible
dat
I
sould
love
de
enemy
of
France
?
No
,
it
is
not
possible
you
should
love
the
enemy
of
France
,
Kate
.
But
,
in
loving
me
,
you
should
love
the
friend
of
France
,
for
I
love
France
so
well
that
I
will
not
part
with
a
village
of
it
.
I
will
have
it
all
mine
.
And
,
Kate
,
when
France
is
mine
and
I
am
yours
,
then
yours
is
France
and
you
are
mine
.
I
cannot
tell
wat
is
dat
.
No
,
Kate
?
I
will
tell
thee
in
French
,
which
I
am
sure
will
hang
upon
my
tongue
like
a
new-married
wife
about
her
husband’s
neck
,
hardly
to
be
shook
off
.
Je
quand
sur
le
possession
de
France
,
et
quand
vous
avez
le
possession
de
moi
—
let
me
see
,
what
then
?
Saint
Denis
be
my
speed
!
—
donc
vôtre
est
France
,
et
vous
êtes
mienne
.
It
is
as
easy
for
me
,
Kate
,
to
conquer
the
kingdom
as
to
speak
so
much
more
French
.
I
shall
never
move
thee
in
French
,
unless
it
be
to
laugh
at
me
.
Sauf
votre
honneur
,
le
français
que
vous
parlez
,
il
est
meilleur
que
l’anglais
lequel
je
parle
.
No
,
faith
,
is
’t
not
,
Kate
,
but
thy
speaking
of
my
tongue
,
and
I
thine
,
most
truly-falsely
must
needs
be
granted
to
be
much
at
one
.
But
,
Kate
,
dost
thou
understand
thus
much
English
?
Canst
thou
love
me
?
I
cannot
tell
.
Can
any
of
your
neighbors
tell
,
Kate
?
I’ll
ask
them
.
Come
,
I
know
thou
lovest
me
;
and
at
night
,
when
you
come
into
your
closet
,
you’ll
question
this
gentlewoman
about
me
,
and
,
I
know
,
Kate
,
you
will
,
to
her
,
dispraise
those
parts
in
me
that
you
love
with
your
heart
.
But
,
good
Kate
,
mock
me
ACT 5. SC. 2
mercifully
,
the
rather
,
gentle
princess
,
because
I
love
thee
cruelly
.
If
ever
thou
beest
mine
,
Kate
,
as
I
have
a
saving
faith
within
me
tells
me
thou
shalt
,
I
get
thee
with
scambling
,
and
thou
must
therefore
needs
prove
a
good
soldier-breeder
.
Shall
not
thou
and
I
,
between
Saint
Denis
and
Saint
George
,
compound
a
boy
,
half
French
,
half
English
,
that
shall
go
to
Constantinople
and
take
the
Turk
by
the
beard
?
Shall
we
not
?
What
say’st
thou
,
my
fair
flower
de
luce
?
I
do
not
know
dat
.
No
,
’tis
hereafter
to
know
,
but
now
to
promise
.
Do
but
now
promise
,
Kate
,
you
will
endeavor
for
your
French
part
of
such
a
boy
;
and
for
my
English
moiety
,
take
the
word
of
a
king
and
a
bachelor
.
How
answer
you
,
la
plus
belle
Katherine
du
monde
,
mon
très
cher
et
divin
déesse
?
Your
Majesté
’ave
fausse
French
enough
to
deceive
de
most
sage
demoiselle
dat
is
en
France
.
Now
fie
upon
my
false
French
.
By
mine
honor
,
in
true
English
,
I
love
thee
,
Kate
.
By
which
honor
I
dare
not
swear
thou
lovest
me
,
yet
my
blood
begins
to
flatter
me
that
thou
dost
,
notwithstanding
the
poor
and
untempering
effect
of
my
visage
.
Now
beshrew
my
father’s
ambition
!
He
was
thinking
of
civil
wars
when
he
got
me
;
therefore
was
I
created
with
a
stubborn
outside
,
with
an
aspect
of
iron
,
that
when
I
come
to
woo
ladies
,
I
fright
them
.
But
,
in
faith
,
Kate
,
the
elder
I
wax
,
the
better
I
shall
appear
.
My
comfort
is
that
old
age
,
that
ill
layer-up
of
beauty
,
can
do
no
more
spoil
upon
my
face
.
Thou
hast
me
,
if
thou
hast
me
,
at
the
worst
,
and
thou
shalt
wear
me
,
if
thou
wear
me
,
better
and
better
.
And
therefore
tell
me
,
most
fair
Katherine
,
will
you
have
me
?
Put
off
your
maiden
blushes
,
avouch
the
thoughts
of
your
heart
with
the
looks
of
an
empress
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
take
me
by
the
hand
,
and
say
Harry
of
England
,
I
am
thine
,
which
word
thou
shalt
no
sooner
bless
mine
ear
withal
,
but
I
will
tell
thee
aloud
England
is
thine
,
Ireland
is
thine
,
France
is
thine
,
and
Henry
Plantagenet
is
thine
,
who
,
though
I
speak
it
before
his
face
,
if
he
be
not
fellow
with
the
best
king
,
thou
shalt
find
the
best
king
of
good
fellows
.
Come
,
your
answer
in
broken
music
,
for
thy
voice
is
music
,
and
thy
English
broken
.
Therefore
,
queen
of
all
,
Katherine
,
break
thy
mind
to
me
in
broken
English
.
Wilt
thou
have
me
?
Dat
is
as
it
shall
please
de
roi
mon
père
.
Nay
,
it
will
please
him
well
,
Kate
;
it
shall
please
him
,
Kate
.
Den
it
sall
also
content
me
.
Upon
that
I
kiss
your
hand
,
and
I
call
you
my
queen
.
Laissez
,
mon
seigneur
,
laissez
,
laissez
!
Ma
foi
,
je
ne
veux
point
que
vous
abaissiez
votre
grandeur
,
en
baisant
la
main
d’
une
—
Notre
Seigneur
!
—
indigne
serviteur
.
Excusez-moi
,
je
vous
supplie
,
mon
très
puissant
seigneur
.
Then
I
will
kiss
your
lips
,
Kate
.
Les
dames
et
demoiselles
,
pour
être
baisées
devant
leurs
noces
,
il
n’est
pas
la
coutume
de
France
.
Madam
my
interpreter
,
what
says
she
?
Dat
it
is
not
be
de
fashion
pour
les
ladies
of
France
—
I
cannot
tell
wat
is
baiser
en
Anglish
.
To
kiss
.
Your
Majesté
entendre
bettre
que
moi
.
It
is
not
a
fashion
for
the
maids
in
France
to
kiss
before
they
are
married
,
would
she
say
?
Oui
,
vraiment
.
O
Kate
,
nice
customs
curtsy
to
great
kings
.
Dear
Kate
,
you
and
I
cannot
be
confined
within
the
weak
list
of
a
country’s
fashion
.
We
are
ACT 5. SC. 2
the
makers
of
manners
,
Kate
,
and
the
liberty
that
follows
our
places
stops
the
mouth
of
all
find-faults
,
as
I
will
do
yours
for
upholding
the
nice
fashion
of
your
country
in
denying
me
a
kiss
.
Therefore
,
patiently
and
yielding
.
He
kisses
her
.
You
have
witchcraft
in
your
lips
,
Kate
.
There
is
more
eloquence
in
a
sugar
touch
of
them
than
in
the
tongues
of
the
French
council
,
and
they
should
sooner
persuade
Harry
of
England
than
a
general
petition
of
monarchs
.
Enter
the
French
power
,
the
French
King
and
Queen
and
Burgundy
,
and
the
English
Lords
Westmoreland
and
Exeter
.
Here
comes
your
father
.
God
save
your
Majesty
.
My
royal
cousin
,
teach
you
our
princess
English
?
I
would
have
her
learn
,
my
fair
cousin
,
how
perfectly
I
love
her
,
and
that
is
good
English
.
Is
she
not
apt
?
Our
tongue
is
rough
,
coz
,
and
my
condition
is
not
smooth
,
so
that
,
having
neither
the
voice
nor
the
heart
of
flattery
about
me
,
I
cannot
so
conjure
up
the
spirit
of
love
in
her
that
he
will
appear
in
his
true
likeness
.
Pardon
the
frankness
of
my
mirth
if
I
answer
you
for
that
.
If
you
would
conjure
in
her
,
you
must
make
a
circle
;
if
conjure
up
Love
in
her
in
his
true
likeness
,
he
must
appear
naked
and
blind
.
Can
you
blame
her
,
then
,
being
a
maid
yet
rosed
over
with
the
virgin
crimson
of
modesty
,
if
she
deny
the
appearance
of
a
naked
blind
boy
in
her
naked
seeing
self
?
It
were
,
my
lord
,
a
hard
condition
for
a
maid
to
consign
to
.
Yet
they
do
wink
and
yield
,
as
love
is
blind
and
enforces
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
They
are
then
excused
,
my
lord
,
when
they
see
not
what
they
do
.
Then
,
good
my
lord
,
teach
your
cousin
to
consent
winking
.
I
will
wink
on
her
to
consent
,
my
lord
,
if
you
will
teach
her
to
know
my
meaning
,
for
maids
well
summered
and
warm
kept
are
like
flies
at
Bartholomew-tide
:
blind
,
though
they
have
their
eyes
;
and
then
they
will
endure
handling
,
which
before
would
not
abide
looking
on
.
This
moral
ties
me
over
to
time
and
a
hot
summer
.
And
so
I
shall
catch
the
fly
,
your
cousin
,
in
the
latter
end
,
and
she
must
be
blind
too
.
As
love
is
,
my
lord
,
before
it
loves
.
It
is
so
.
And
you
may
,
some
of
you
,
thank
love
for
my
blindness
,
who
cannot
see
many
a
fair
French
city
for
one
fair
French
maid
that
stands
in
my
way
.
Yes
,
my
lord
,
you
see
them
perspectively
,
the
cities
turned
into
a
maid
,
for
they
are
all
girdled
with
maiden
walls
that
war
hath
never
entered
.
Shall
Kate
be
my
wife
?
So
please
you
.
I
am
content
,
so
the
maiden
cities
you
talk
of
may
wait
on
her
.
So
the
maid
that
stood
in
the
way
for
my
wish
shall
show
me
the
way
to
my
will
.
We
have
consented
to
all
terms
of
reason
.
Is
’t
so
,
my
lords
of
England
?
The
King
hath
granted
every
article
,
His
daughter
first
,
and
,
in
sequel
,
all
,
According
to
their
firm
proposèd
natures
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Only
he
hath
not
yet
subscribèd
this
:
Where
your
Majesty
demands
that
the
King
of
France
,
having
any
occasion
to
write
for
matter
of
grant
,
shall
name
your
Highness
in
this
form
and
with
this
addition
,
in
French
:
Notre
très
cher
fils
Henri
,
roi
d’
Angleterre
,
héritier
de
France
;
and
thus
in
Latin
:
Praeclarissimus
filius
noster
Henricus
,
rex
Angliae
et
hœres
Franciae
.
Nor
this
I
have
not
,
brother
,
so
denied
But
your
request
shall
make
me
let
it
pass
.
I
pray
you
,
then
,
in
love
and
dear
alliance
,
Let
that
one
article
rank
with
the
rest
,
And
thereupon
give
me
your
daughter
.
Take
her
,
fair
son
,
and
from
her
blood
raise
up
Issue
to
me
,
that
the
contending
kingdoms
Of
France
and
England
,
whose
very
shores
look
pale
With
envy
of
each
other’s
happiness
,
May
cease
their
hatred
,
and
this
dear
conjunction
Plant
neighborhood
and
Christian-like
accord
In
their
sweet
bosoms
,
that
never
war
advance
His
bleeding
sword
’twixt
England
and
fair
France
.
Amen
.
Now
welcome
,
Kate
,
and
bear
me
witness
all
That
here
I
kiss
her
as
my
sovereign
queen
.
He
kisses
her
.
Flourish
.
God
,
the
best
maker
of
all
marriages
,
Combine
your
hearts
in
one
,
your
realms
in
one
.
As
man
and
wife
,
being
two
,
are
one
in
love
,
So
be
there
’twixt
your
kingdoms
such
a
spousal
That
never
may
ill
office
or
fell
jealousy
,
ACT 5. EPILOGUE
Which
troubles
oft
the
bed
of
blessèd
marriage
,
Thrust
in
between
the
paction
of
these
kingdoms
To
make
divorce
of
their
incorporate
league
,
That
English
may
as
French
,
French
Englishmen
,
Receive
each
other
.
God
speak
this
Amen
!
Amen
.
Prepare
we
for
our
marriage
;
on
which
day
,
My
Lord
of
Burgundy
,
we’ll
take
your
oath
,
And
all
the
peers’
,
for
surety
of
our
leagues
.
Then
shall
I
swear
to
Kate
,
and
you
to
me
,
And
may
our
oaths
well
kept
and
prosp’rous
be
.
Sennet
.
They
exit
.
Enter
Chorus
as
Epilogue
.
Thus
far
with
rough
and
all-unable
pen
Our
bending
author
hath
pursued
the
story
,
In
little
room
confining
mighty
men
,
Mangling
by
starts
the
full
course
of
their
glory
.
Small
time
,
but
in
that
small
most
greatly
lived
This
star
of
England
.
Fortune
made
his
sword
,
By
which
the
world’s
best
garden
he
achieved
And
of
it
left
his
son
imperial
lord
.
Henry
the
Sixth
,
in
infant
bands
crowned
King
Of
France
and
England
,
did
this
king
succeed
,
Whose
state
so
many
had
the
managing
That
they
lost
France
and
made
his
England
bleed
,
Which
oft
our
stage
hath
shown
.
And
for
their
sake
,
In
your
fair
minds
let
this
acceptance
take
.
He
exits
.
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