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Pist. The plain-song is most just ; for humors do abound; Knocks go and come; God’s vassals drop and die! And sword and shield, In bloody field, ^Doth win immortal fame. Boy. 'Would I were in an alehouse in London I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety. Pist. And I: - If wishes would prevail with me, My purpose should not fail with me, - But thither would I hie. . Boy. As duly, but not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough.

Enter FLUELLEN."

Flu. Got's plood!—Up to the preaches, you rascals! will you not up to the preaches f [Driving them forward. Pist. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould !” Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage! Abate thy rage, great duke . Good bawcock, bate thy rage use lenity, Sweet chuck! Nym. These be good humors —your honor wins bad humors. [Eveunt NYM, Pistol, and BARDolph, followed by FLUELLEN. Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them all three ; but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for, indeed, three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered, and redfaced; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol,-he hath a killing tongue, and a quiet sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym,--he hath heard that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward: but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own ; and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it,-purchase. Bardolph stole a lute case ; bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching; and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel. I knew, by that piece of service, the men would carry coals." They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchiefs; which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another’s pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service: their villany goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. & [Exit Boy.

1 Fluellen is merely the Welsh pronunciation of Lluellyn, as Floyd is of Lloyd. . .

2 i. e. “be merciful, great commander, to men of earth, to poor mortal men.” Duke is only a translation of the Roman dur. Sylvester, in his Du Bartas, calls Moses “a great duke.”

Re-enter FLUELLEN, Gower following.

Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the duke of Gloster would speak with you. . x Flu. 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’ adversary (you may discuss unto the duke, look you) is dight himself four yards under the countermines: * by Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better directions. Gow. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman; a very valiant gentleman, i' faith.

1 “Carry coals.” See note on the first scene of Romeo and Juliet. * “Is dight himself;” that is, the enemy had digged four yards under the countermines.

Flu. It is captain Macmorris, is it not?

Gow. I think it be.

Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld. I will verify as much in his peard; he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.

Enter MACMoRRIs and JAMY, at a distance.

Gow. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, captain Jamy, with him. Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition, and knowledge, in the ancient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. # Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen. Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy. Gow. How now, captain Macmorris f have you quit the mines P have the pioneers given o'er P Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done; the work ish give over; the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand, I swear, and by 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 ! Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will you vouchsafe 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. Jamy. It sall be very gud, gud feith, gud captains bath; and I sall quit' you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, marry.

1 “I sall quit you;” I shall, with your permission, requite you ; that is, answer you, or interpose with my arguments, as I shall find opportunity.

Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me; the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the king, and the dukes; it is no time to discourse. The town is beseeched, and the trumpet calls us to the breach; and we talk, and, by Chrish, do nothing; 'tis shame for us all : So God sa” me, ’tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me, la. . Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slumber, aile do gude service, or aile ligge i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death: and aile pay it as valorously as I may, that sall I surely do, that is the breff and the long. Mary, I wad full sain heard some question 'tween you tway. . Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation Mac. Of my nation ? What ish my nation ? ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal ? What ish my nation ? Who talks of my nation ? Flu. 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 goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities. - - * . Mac. I do not know you so good a man as myself: so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. Gow. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. Jamy. Au ! that’s a foul fault. [A parley sounded. Gow. The town sounds a parley. Flu. 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. - [Eveunt. SCENE III. The same. Before the gates of Harfleur. The Governor and some Citizens on the Walls; the English Forces below.

Enter KING HENRY and his Train.
K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the town?

This is the latest 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 battery once again, -
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
Till in her ashes she lie buried. .
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 flowering 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
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil,
As send precepts to the Leviathan ,
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
Take pity of your town, and of your people,
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany.
If not, why, in a moment, look to see

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