the rising of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe,
varie deserued prayse on my Palfray: it is a Theame as
fluent as the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues,
and my Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect
for a Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne
to ride on: And for the World, familiar to vs,
and vnknowne, to lay apart their particular Functions,
and wonder at him, I once writ a Sonnet in his prayse,
and began thus, Wonder of Nature
Orleance. I haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse
Dolph. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd
to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistresse
Orleance. Your Mistresse beares well
Dolph. Me well, which is the prescript prayse and perfection
of a good and particular Mistresse
Const. Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse
shrewdly shooke your back
Dolph. So perhaps did yours
Const. Mine was not bridled
Dolph. O then belike she was old and gentle, and you
rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in
your strait Strossers
Const. You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship
Dolph. Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue
my Horse to my Mistresse
Const. I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade
Dolph. I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his
owne hayre
Const. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a
Sow to my Mistresse
Dolph. Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement est
la leuye lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing
Const. Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse,
or any such Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose
Ramb. My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in
your Tent to night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon it?
Const. Starres my Lord
Dolph. Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope
Const. And yet my Sky shall not want
Dolph. That may be, for you beare a many superfluously,
and 'twere more honor some were away
Const. Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses, who
would trot as well, were some of your bragges dismounted
Dolph. Would I were able to loade him with his desert.
Will it neuer be day? I will trot to morrow a mile,
and my way shall be paued with English Faces
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