Chapter 93

Const. I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't out of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would faine be about the eares of the English

Ramb. Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie Prisoners? Const. You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you haue them

Dolph. 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe. Enter.

Orleance. The Dolphin longs for morning

Ramb. He longs to eate the English

Const. I thinke he will eate all he kills

Orleance. By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant Prince

Const. Sweare by her Foot, that she may tread out the Oath

Orleance. He is simply the most actiue Gentleman of France

Const. Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing

Orleance. He neuer did harme, that I heard of

Const. Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe that good name still

Orleance. I know him to be valiant

Const. I was told that, by one that knowes him better then you

Orleance. What's hee? Const. Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee car'd not who knew it

Orleance. Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in him

Const. By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body saw it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appeares, it will bate

Orleance. Ill will neuer sayd well

Const. I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie in friendship

Orleance. And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill his due

Const. Well plac't: there stands your friend for the Deuill: haue at the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A Pox of the Deuill

Orleance. You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much a Fooles Bolt is soone shot

Const. You haue shot ouer

Orleance. 'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My Lord high Constable, the English lye within fifteene hundred paces of your Tents

Const. Who hath measur'd the ground? Mess. The Lord Grandpree

Const. A valiant and most expert Gentleman. Would it were day? Alas poore Harry of England: hee longs not for the Dawning, as wee doe

Orleance. What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so farre out of his knowledge

Const. If the English had any apprehension, they would runne away

Orleance. That they lack: for if their heads had any intellectuall Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie Head-pieces

Ramb. That Iland of England breedes very valiant Creatures; their Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage

Orleance. Foolish Curres, that runne winking into the mouth of a Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht like rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eate his breakefast on the Lippe of a Lyon

Const. Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with the Mastiffes, in robustious and rough comming on, leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils

Orleance. I, but these English are shrowdly out of Beefe

Const. Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only stomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to arme: come, shall we about it? Orleance. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten Wee shall haue each a hundred English men.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertaine coniecture of a time, When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke Fills the wide Vessell of the Vniuerse. From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night The Humme of eyther Army stilly sounds; That the fixt Centinels almost receiue The secret Whispers of each others Watch. Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each Battaile sees the others vmber'd face. Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents, The Armourers accomplishing the Knights, With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp, Giue dreadfull note of preparation. The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle: And the third howre of drowsie Morning nam'd, Prowd of their Numbers, and secure in Soule, The confident and ouer-lustie French, Doe the low-rated English play at Dice; And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night, Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe So tediously away. The poore condemned English, Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The Mornings danger: and their gesture sad, Inuesting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats, Presented them vnto the gazing Moone So many horride Ghosts. O now, who will behold The Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent; Let him cry, Prayse and Glory on his head: For forth he goes, and visits all his Hoast, Bids them good morrow with a modest Smyle, And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen. Vpon his Royall Face there is no note, How dread an Army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night: But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint, With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie: That euery Wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes. A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne, His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one, Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all Behold, as may vnworthinesse define. A little touch of Harry in the Night, And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye: Where, O for pitty, we shall much disgrace, With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles, (Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous) The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see, Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee. Enter.

Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.

King. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger, The greater therefore should our Courage be. God morrow Brother Bedford: God Almightie, There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill, Would men obseruingly distill it out. For our bad Neighbour makes vs early stirrers, Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward Consciences, And Preachers to vs all; admonishing, That we should dresse vs fairely for our end. Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed, And make a Morall of the Diuell himselfe. Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham: A good soft Pillow for that good white Head, Were better then a churlish turfe of France

Erping. Not so my Liege, this Lodging likes me better, Since I may say, now lye I like a King

King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines, Vpon example, so the Spirit is eased: And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt The Organs, though defunct and dead before, Breake vp their drowsie Graue, and newly moue With casted slough, and fresh legeritie. Lend me thy Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both, Commend me to the Princes in our Campe; Doe my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my Pauillion

Gloster. We shall, my Liege

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace? King. No, my good Knight: Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England: I and my Bosome must debate a while, And then I would no other company

Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble Harry.

Exeunt.

King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully. Enter Pistoll

Pist. Che vous la? King. A friend

Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou base, common, and popular? King. I am a Gentleman of a Company

Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke? King. Euen so: what are you? Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor

King. Then you are a better then the King

Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist most valiant: I kisse his durtie shooe, and from heartstring I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name? King. Harry le Roy

Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew? King. No, I am a Welchman

Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen? King. Yes

Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon S[aint]. Dauies day

King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe that day, least he knock that about yours

Pist. Art thou his friend? King. And his Kinsman too

Pist. The Figo for thee then

King. I thanke you: God be with you

Pist. My name is Pistol call'd. Enter.

King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.

Manet King.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluellen

Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it is the greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when the true and aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the Warres is not kept: if you would take the paines but to examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie of it, to be otherwise

Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all Night

Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should also, looke you, be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe, in your owne conscience now? Gow. I will speake lower

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. Enter.

King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welchman. Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.

Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning which breakes yonder? Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to desire the approach of day

Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day, but I thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes there? King. A Friend

Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you? King. Vnder Sir Iohn Erpingham

Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde Gentleman: I pray you, what thinkes he of our estate? King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a Sand, that looke to be washt off the next Tyde

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King? King. No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I speake it to you, I thinke the King is but a man, as I am: the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the Element shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but humane Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse he appeares but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted then ours, yet when they stoupe, they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of the same rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should possesse him with any appearance of feare; least hee, by shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army

Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will: but I beleeue, as cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe in Thames vp to the Neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were quit here

King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the King: I thinke hee would not wish himselfe any where, but where hee is

Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued

King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him here alone: howsoeuer you speake this to feele other mens minds, me thinks I could not dye any where so contented, as in the Kings company; his Cause being iust, and his Quarrell honorable

Williams. That's more then we know

Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee know enough, if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects: if his Cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the Cryme of it out of vs

Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King himselfe hath a heauie Reckoning to make, when all those Legges, and Armes, and Heads, chopt off in a Battaile, shall ioyne together at the latter day, and cry all, Wee dyed at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a Surgean; some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them; some vpon the Debts they owe, some vpon their Children rawly left: I am afear'd, there are few dye well, that dye in a Battaile: for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if these men doe not dye well, it will be a black matter for the King, that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion of subiection

King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent about Merchandize, doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation of his wickednesse, by your rule, should be imposed vpon his Father that sent him: or if a Seruant, vnder his Masters command, transporting a summe of Money, be assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd Iniquities; you may call the businesse of the Master the author of the Seruants damnation: but this is not so: The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master of his Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their seruices. Besides, there is no King, be his Cause neuer so spotlesse, if it come to the arbitrement of Swords, can trye it out with all vnspotted Souldiers: some (peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some, making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie. Now, if these men haue defeated the Law, and outrunne Natiue punishment; though they can out-strip men, they haue no wings to flye from God. Warre is his Beadle, Warre is his Vengeance: so that here men are punisht, for before breach of the Kings Lawes, in now the Kings Quarrell: where they feared the death, they haue borne life away; and where they would bee safe, they perish. Then if they dye vnprouided, no more is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was before guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are now visited. Euery Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but euery Subiects Soule is his owne. Therefore should euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man in his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and dying so, Death is to him aduantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne to thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue that day, to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others how they should prepare

Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill vpon his owne head, the King is not to answer it

Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him

King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not be ransom'd

Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but when our throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee ne're the wiser

King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after

Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out of an Elder Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure can doe against a Monarch: you may as well goe about to turne the Sunne to yce, with fanning in his face with a Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his word after; come, 'tis a foolish saying

King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should be angry with you, if the time were conuenient

Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you liue

King. I embrace it

Will. How shall I know thee againe? King. Giue me any Gage of thine, and I will weare it in my Bonnet: Then if euer thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my Quarrell

Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of thine

King. There

Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou come to me, and say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue, by this Hand I will take thee a box on the eare

King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it

Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd

King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the Kings companie

Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well

Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee haue French Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

Exit Souldiers.

King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French Crownes to one, they will beat vs, for they beare them on their shoulders: but it is no English Treason to cut French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe will be a Clipper. Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules, Our Debts, our carefull Wiues, Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King: We must beare all. O hard Condition, Twin-borne with Greatnesse, Subiect to the breath of euery foole, whose sence No more can feele, but his owne wringing. What infinite hearts-ease must Kings neglect, That priuate men enioy? And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue not too, Saue Ceremonie, saue generall Ceremonie? And what art thou, thou Idoll Ceremonie? What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more Of mortall griefes, then doe thy worshippers. What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in? O Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth. What? is thy Soule of Odoration? Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme, Creating awe and feare in other men? Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd, Then they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet, But poyson'd flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse, And bid thy Ceremonie giue thee cure. Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out With Titles blowne from Adulation? Will it giue place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggers knee, Command the health of it? No, thou prowd Dreame, That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose. I am a King that find thee: and I know, 'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the Ball, The Sword, the Mase, the Crowne Imperiall, The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearle, The farsed Title running 'fore the King, The Throne he sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe, That beates vpon the high shore of this World: No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie; Not all these, lay'd in Bed Maiesticall, Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue: Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull bread, Neuer sees horride Night, the Child of Hell: But like a Lacquey, from the Rise to Set, Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night Sleepes in Elizium: next day after dawne, Doth rise and helpe Hiperio[n] to his Horse, And followes so the euer-running yeere With profitable labour to his Graue: And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch, Winding vp Dayes with toyle, and Nights with sleepe, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a King. The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace, Enioyes it; but in grosse braine little wots, What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the peace; Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages. Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence, Seeke through your Campe to find you

King. Good old Knight, collect them all together At my Tent: Ile be before thee

Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord. Enter.

King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts, Possesse them not with feare: Take from them now The sence of reckning of th' opposed numbers: Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord, O not to day, thinke not vpon the fault My Father made, in compassing the Crowne. I Richards body haue interred new, And on it haue bestowed more contrite teares, Then from it issued forced drops of blood. Fiue hundred poore I haue in yeerely pay, Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp Toward Heauen, to pardon blood: And I haue built two Chauntries, Where the sad and solemne Priests sing still For Richards Soule. More will I doe: Though all that I can doe, is nothing worth; Since that my Penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon. Enter Gloucester.

Glouc. My Liege

King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I: I know thy errand, I will goe with thee: The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.

Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my Lords

Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay: Ha

Orleance. Oh braue Spirit

Dolph. Via les ewes & terre

Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu

Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance. Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable? Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice neigh

Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And doubt them with superfluous courage: ha

Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood? How shall we then behold their naturall teares? Enter Messenger.

Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French Peeres

Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse. Doe but behold yond poore and starued Band, And your faire shew shall suck away their Soules, Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men. There is not worke enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their sickly Veines, To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne, That our French Gallants shall to day draw out, And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on them, The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them. 'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords, That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants, Who in vnnecessarie action swarme About our Squares of Battaile, were enow To purge this field of such a hilding Foe; Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis by, Tooke stand for idle speculation: But that our Honours must not. What's to say? A very little little let vs doe, And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld. Enter Graundpree.

Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France? Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-fauoredly become the Morning field: Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose, And our Ayre shakes them passing scornefully. Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoast, And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes. The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks, With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore Iades Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips: The gumme downe roping from their pale-dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold Bitt Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse. And their executors, the knauish Crowes, Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre. Description cannot sute it selfe in words, To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile, In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe

Const. They haue said their prayers, And they stay for death

Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes, And giue their fasting Horses Prouender, And after fight with them? Const. I stay but for my Guard: on To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take, And vse it for my haste. Come, come away, The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast: Salisbury, and Westmerland.

Glouc. Where is the King? Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile

West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand

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

Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes. God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge: If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen; Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford, My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu

Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee: And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour

Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day

Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse, Princely in both. Enter the King.

West. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England, That doe no worke to day