Be copy now to men of groffer blood,

And teach them how to war; and you, good yeomen,
Whofe limbs were made in England, fhew 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 fo mean and base,
That hath not noble luftre in your eyes;
I fee you ftand like Greyhounds in the flips,
Straining upon the ftart. The game's a-foot:
Follow your fpirit; and upon this charge,
Cry, God for Harry! England! and St. George!

[Exeunt King, and Train, [Alarm, and Cannon go off.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Piftol, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach....

Nim. 'Pray thee, corporal, ftay; the knocks are too hot; and for mine own part, I have not a cafe of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain fong of it. [bound:

Pift. The plain fong is most just; for humours do a Knocks go and come: God's vaffals drop and die; And fword and shield, in bloody field, doth win immortal fame.

Boy. Wou'd I were in an ale-house in London, I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and fafety.

Pift. And I; if wishes would prevail,

I wou'd not stay, but thither would I hye.

Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Up to the breach, you dogs; avaunt, you cullions.

Pift. Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould, Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage; Good bawcock, bate thy rage; ufe lenity, fweet chuck. Nim. Thefe be good humours; your honour wins bad humours.

[Exeunt. Boy. As young as I am, I have obferv'd thefe three fwashers. I am boy to them all three; but all they

three,

three, though they would ferve me, could not be man to me; for, indeed, three fuch Anticks do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver'd and redfac'd by the means whereof he faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet fword; by the means whereof he breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nim, he hath heard, that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he fcorns to fay his prayers, left he should be thought a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with as few good deeds, for he never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a poft when he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it purchase. Bardolph ftole a lute-cafe, bore it twelve leagues, and fold it for three half-pence. Nim and Bardolph are fworn brothers in filching; and in Calais they ftole a fire-shovel, I knew, by that piece of fervice, the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with mens pockets, as their gloves or their hand-kerchers; which makes much againft my manhood; for if I would take from another's pocket to put into mine, it is plain pocketting up of wrongs. I must leave them, and feek fome better fervice; their villany goes against my weak ftomach, and therefore I muft caft it up. [Exit Boy

Enter Gower, and Fluellen.

Gower. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would fpeak with

you.

Flu. To the mines? tell you the Duke, it is not fo good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines are not according to the difciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not fufficient; for, look you, th' athverfary (you may difcufs unto the Duke, look you) is digt himself four yards under the countermines; by Chefbu, I think, a' will plow up all, if there is not petter directions.

Gower. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the fiege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a very valiant gentleman, i' faith.

Flu.

Flu. It is captain Mackmorrice, is it not?
Gower. I think, it be.

Flu. By Chefbu, he is an Afs, as is in the world; I will verifie as much in his beard; he has no more directions in the true difciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman difciplines, than is a Puppy-dog.

Enter Mackmorris, and Capt. Jamy.

Gower. Here he comes, and the Scots Captain, Captain Jamy with him.

Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous valorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition and knowledge in the antient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions; by Chefbu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the difciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.

Jamy. I fay, gudday, Captain Fluellen.

Flu. Godden to your worship, good captain James. Gower. How now, captain Mackmorris, have you quitted the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?

Mack. By Chrifh law, tifh ill done; the work ifh give over, the trumpet found the retreat. By my hand, I fwear, and by my father's foul, the work ifh ill done; it ish give over; I would have blowed up the town, fo Chrish fave me law, in an hour. O tifh ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done.

Flu. Captain Mackmorrice, I befeech you now will you vouchfafe me, look you, a few difputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the difciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly, to fatisfy my opinion; and partly for the fatisfaction, look you, of my mind; as touching the direction of the military disci pline, that is the point.

Jamy. It fall be very gud, gud feith, gud captains bath; and I fall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occafion; that fall I, marry.

Mack. 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 Duke; it is not time to discourse, the town

is befeech'd: and the trumpet calls us to the breach, and we talk, and by Chrifh do nothing, 'tis fhame for us all; fo God fa' me, 'tis fhame to ftand ftill; it is shame, by my hand ; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done, fo Chrifh fa' me law.'

Jamy. By the mess, ere theife eyes of mine take themfelves to flomber, aile do gud fervice, or aile ligge i'th' ground for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay it as valorously as I may, that fal I furely do, the breff and the long; marry, I wad full fain heard fome queftion 'tween you tway.

Flu, Captain Mackmorrice, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation

Mack. Of my nation? what ifh my nation? ifh 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 Mackmorrice, peradventure, I fhall think you do not ufe me with that affability as in difcretion you ought to use me, look you; being as good a man as your felf, both in the difciplines of wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particula

rities.

Mack. I do not know you fo good a man as my felf; fo Chrish fave me, I will cut off your head.

Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. Jamy. A, that's a foul fault. [A Parley founded.

Gower. The town founds a parley.

Flu. Captain Mackmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be requir'd, look you, I'll be fo bold as to tell you, I know the difciplines of war; and there's an end.

[Exeunt.

SCENE,

SCENE, before the Gates of Harfleur.

Enter King Henry and his train.

TOW yet refolves the Governor of the

K. Henry. How town?

felves,

This is the latest parle we will admit :
Therefore to our best mercy give your
Or, like to men proud of deftruction,
Defie us to our worft; as I'm a foldier,
(A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me beft)
If I begin the batt'ry once again,

I will not leave the half-atchieved Harfleur,
Till in her afhes fhe lie buried.

The gates of mercy fhall be all fhut up;
And the flesh'd foldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand fhall range

With confcience wide as hell, mowing like grafs
Your fresh fair virgins, and your flow'ring infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,

Array'd in flames like to the Prince of fiends,
Do with his fmircht complexion all fell feats,
Enlinkt to waste and defolation?

What is❜t to me, when you your felves are caufe,
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 bootlefs, spend our vain command
Upon th' enraged foldiers in their spoil,
As fend our precepts to th' Leviathan

To come a-fhoar. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
Take pity of your town and of your people,
While yet my foldiers are in my command;
While yet the cool and temp'rate wind of grace
O'er-blows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murther, fpoil and villany.
If not, why, in a moment, look to fee
The blind and bloody foldier with foul hand