And, when you find him evenly deriv'd From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, Edward the third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him the native and true challenger.

F. King. Or else what follows?

Exe. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown
Even in your hearts, there will be rake for it:
And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thander, 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
Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd 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.

F. King. For us, we will consider of this further: Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent

Back to our brother England.

I stand here for him: What to him from England?
Exe. Scorn and defiance; slight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not misbecome
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.

Thus says my king: and, 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 for it,

That caves and womby vaultages of France

Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock

In second accent of his ordnance.

Dau. Say, if my father render fair reply,
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 those Paris balls.

Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe:
And, be assur'd, 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; which you shall read
In your own losses, if he stay in France.

F. King. To-morrow shall you know our mind at full.

Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already.

F. King. You shall be soon despatch'd, with fair conditions:

A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this consequence.

ACT III.

Enter Chorus.

IUS with imagin'd wing our swift scene flics,

In motion of no less celerity

Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton-pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave flect

With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing:
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: 0, do but think,
You stand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow!
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy;
And leave your England, as dead midnight, stili,
Guarded with grandsires, babies, and oli women,
Either past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puissance:
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,

With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose, the ambassador from the French comes back;
Tells Harry,-that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
[Alarum, and chambers go off.

And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit.

SCENE I.-The same. Before Harfleur. Alurums.

Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloster, and Soldiers, with scaling ladders.

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

Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As modest stillness, and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage:
Then lead 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 the galled rock
O'erhand, and jutty, his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height!-On, on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,
Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument,
Dishonour not your inothers; now attest,
That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you!
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war!-And you, good yeomen
Whose lin.bs 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 lustre in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot;
Follow your spirit: and
upou
this charge,

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

SCENE IL-The same. Forces pass over; then enter

Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach! Nym. Pray thee, corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives; the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of it.

Pist. The plain-song is most just; for humours 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 ale-house 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?

[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 humours!-your honour wins

bad humours.

a man.

[Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bard. followed by Flu. Boy. As young as I am, I have observ'd 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 anties do not amount to 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 inen of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a eoward; 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, pur chase. 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 ine 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.

Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following. Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the duke of Gloster would speak with you. 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' ath

versary (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.

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 main tain-his argument as well as any military man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Ro

mans.

Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen.

Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy. Gow. How now, captain Macmorris? have.you quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?

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 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 sat isfy my opinion, and partly, for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the mili tary discipline; that is the point.

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

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 gud service, or aile ligge i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay it as valorously as I may, that sal I surely do, that is the breff and the long: Mary, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway.

Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nationMac. 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 goof 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. Gew. 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 [Exeunt. is an end.

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 flesh'd soldier,-rough and hard of heart,—
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range

With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins, and your flowering infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,-
Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends,—
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
Enlink'd to waste and desolation?

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

grace

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
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany.
If not, why, in a moment, look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,

And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes ;
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughter-men.
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?

Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end:
The dauphin, whom of succour we entreated,
Returns us,-that his powers are not yet ready
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread 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.

K. Hen. Open your gates.-Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French : Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,

Alice. Un peu, madame.

Kath. Je te prie, m'enseigneuz; il faut que j'appren ne a parler. Comment appaliez vous la main, en Anglois?

Alice. La main? elle est appellee, de hand.

Kath. De hand. Et les doigts?

Alice. Les doigts? ma foy, je oublie les doigts ; mais je me souviendray. Les doigts? je pense qu'ils sont appelle de fingres; ouy, de fingres.

Kath. La main, de hand: les doigts, de fingres. Je pense, que je suis le bon escolier. J'ay gagne deux mots d'Anglois vistement. Comment appallez vous les ongles?

Alice. Les ongles? les appellons, de nails.

Kath. De nails. Escoutez: dites moy, si je parle bien; de hand, de fingres, de nails.

Alice. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Ans glois.

Kath. Dites moy en Anglois, le bras.
Alice. De arm, madame.

Kath. Et le coude.

Alice. De elbow.

Alice. De nails, madame.

Kath. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.

Alice, Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow.

Kath. Ainsi dis je; de elbow, de neck, et de sin: Comment appellez vous le pieds et la robe ?

Alice. De foot, madame; et de con.

Kath. De foot, et de con? O seigneur Dieu! ces sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: Je ne voudrois, prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde ! Il faut de foot, et de con, neant-moins. Je reciterai une autrefois ma leçon ensemble: De hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de clbow, de neck, de sin, de foot, de con,

Alice. Excellent, madame!

Kath. C'est assez pour une fois; allons nous a dis[Exeun'.

ner.

SCENE V.-The same. Another Room in the same. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, Duke of Bourbon, the Constable of France, and others.

F. King. 'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Some. Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France; let us quit all, And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. Dau. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays The emptying of our father's luxury, Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,— Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,

And overlook their grafters?

of

as,

Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!

Mort de ma vie! if they march along

Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm

In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.

Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Ronen. Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty.

F. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with us.-Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all; And quickly bring us word of England's fall.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-The English Camp in Picardy. Enter Gower and Fluellen.

Gow. How now, captain Fluellen? come you from the bridge?

Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent service committed at the pridge.

Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe?

Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and my livings, and my uttermost powers: he is not, (God be

Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull?

On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O, for honour 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.

Dau. By faith and honour,

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.

Bour. 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 run-aways.

the pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at the pridge,-I think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no estimation in the 'orld: but I did see him do gallant service.

Gow. What do you call him?

Flu. He is called-ancient Pistol.
Gow. I know him not.

Enter Pistol.

Flu. Do you not know him? Here comes the man. Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours: The duke of Exeter doth love thee well.

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

Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
Of buxom valour, hath,-by cruel fate,
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,

That stands upon the rolling restless stone,—
Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is

bim hence;

Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.-
Up, princes; and with spirit of honour edg'd,
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,
Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques, Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur:
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
Upon the vallies; 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.

Con.
This becomes the great.
Sorry am I, his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march;
For, I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,

And, for achievement, offer us his ransome.

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

And let him say to England, that we send

To know what willing ransome he will give.

to you that fortune is plind: 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 variations, and mutabilities; and her foot, look you, is fixed upan a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls:In good truth, the poet is make a most excellent de scription of fortune. Fortune, look you, is an excel·

lent moral.

Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him
For he hath stol'n a pix, and hanged must a be
A damned death!

Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate:
But Exeter hath given the doom of death,
For pix 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.
Flu. Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your
meaning.

Pist. Why then rejoice therefore.

Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be used. Pist. Die and be dain'd; and fige for thy friend ship!