The Life of King Henry the Fifth

SCENE VII. The French camp near Agincourt

Enter the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, the LORD RAMBURES, the DUKE OF ORLEANS, the DAUPHIN, with others

  CONSTABLE. Tut! I have the best armour of the world.    Would it were day!  ORLEANS. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse havehis    due.  CONSTABLE. It is the best horse of Europe.  ORLEANS. Will it never be morning?  DAUPHIN. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, youtalk of    horse and armour?  ORLEANS. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the    world.  DAUPHIN. What a long night is this! I will not change my horsewith    any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds fromthe    earth as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the    Pegasus, chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him I soar,I    am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touchesit;    the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of    Hermes.  ORLEANS. He's of the colour of the nutmeg.  DAUPHIN. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast forPerseus:    he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth andwater    never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his    rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jadesyou    may call beasts.  CONSTABLE. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent    horse.  DAUPHIN. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the    bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.  ORLEANS. No more, cousin.  DAUPHIN. Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the risingof    the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise onmy    palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn the sandsinto    eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: 'tisa    subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's    sovereign to ride on; and for the world- familiar to us and    unknown- to lay apart their particular functions and wonderat    him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus:'Wonder    of nature'-  ORLEANS. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.  DAUPHIN. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to mycourser;    for my horse is my mistress.  ORLEANS. Your mistress bears well.  DAUPHIN. Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfectionof a    good and particular mistress.  CONSTABLE. Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly    shook your back.  DAUPHIN. So perhaps did yours.  CONSTABLE. Mine was not bridled.  DAUPHIN. O, then belike she was old and gentle; and you rodelike a    kern of Ireland, your French hose off and in your strait    strossers.  CONSTABLE. You have good judgment in horsemanship.  DAUPHIN. Be warn'd by me, then: they that ride so, and ride not    warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my horse to my    mistress.  CONSTABLE. I had as lief have my mistress a jade.  DAUPHIN. I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his ownhair.  CONSTABLE. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sowto    my mistress.  DAUPHIN. 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la    truie lavee au bourbier.' Thou mak'st use of anything.  CONSTABLE. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or anysuch    proverb so little kin to the purpose.  RAMBURES. My Lord Constable, the armour that I saw in your tent    to-night- are those stars or suns upon it?  CONSTABLE. Stars, my lord.  DAUPHIN. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.  CONSTABLE. And yet my sky shall not want.  DAUPHIN. That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and'twere    more honour some were away.  CONSTABLE. Ev'n as your horse bears your praises, who wouldtrot as    well were some of your brags dismounted.  DAUPHIN. Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it    never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shallbe    paved with English faces.  CONSTABLE. I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out ofmy    way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be aboutthe    ears of the English.  RAMBURES. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners?  CONSTABLE. You must first go yourself to hazard ere you havethem.  DAUPHIN. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. Exit  ORLEANS. The Dauphin longs for morning.  RAMBURES. He longs to eat the English.  CONSTABLE. I think he will eat all he kills.  ORLEANS. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince.  CONSTABLE. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.  ORLEANS. He is simply the most active gentleman of France.  CONSTABLE. Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.  ORLEANS. He never did harm that I heard of.  CONSTABLE. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that goodname    still.  ORLEANS. I know him to be valiant.  CONSTABLE. I was told that by one that knows him better thanyou.  ORLEANS. What's he?  CONSTABLE. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said he car'dnot    who knew it.  ORLEANS. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.  CONSTABLE. By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody saw itbut      his lackey.    'Tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will bate.  ORLEANS. Ill-wind never said well.  CONSTABLE. I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in    friendship.'  ORLEANS. And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'  CONSTABLE. Well plac'd! There stands your friend for the devil;    have at the very eye of that proverb with 'A pox of thedevil!'  ORLEANS. You are the better at proverbs by how much 'A fool'sbolt    is soon shot.'  CONSTABLE. You have shot over.  ORLEANS. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot.

Enter a MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. My Lord High Constable, the English lie withinfifteen    hundred paces of your tents.  CONSTABLE. Who hath measur'd the ground?  MESSENGER. The Lord Grandpre.  CONSTABLE. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it wereday!    Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning aswe    do.  ORLEANS. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of    England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so far out ofhis    knowledge!  CONSTABLE. If the English had any apprehension, they would run    away.  ORLEANS. That they lack; for if their heads had anyintellectual    armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.  RAMBURES. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures;    their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.  ORLEANS. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of aRussian    bear, and have their heads crush'd like rotten apples! Youmay as    well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast onthe    lip of a lion.  CONSTABLE. Just, just! and the men do sympathise with themastiffs    in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits withtheir    wives; and then give them great meals of beef and iron andsteel;    they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.  ORLEANS. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.  CONSTABLE. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachsto    eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we    about it?  ORLEANS. It is now two o'clock; but let me see- by ten    We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. Exeunt

ACT IV. PROLOGUE

Enter CHORUS

  CHORUS. Now entertain conjecture of a time    When creeping murmur and the poring dark    Fills the wide vessel of the universe.    From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,    The hum of either army stilly sounds,    That the fix'd sentinels almost receive    The secret whispers of each other's watch.    Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames    Each battle sees the other's umber'd face;    Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs    Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents    The armourers accomplishing the knights,    With busy hammers closing rivets up,    Give dreadful note of preparation.    The country cocks do crow, the clocks do ton,    And the third hour of drowsy morning name.    Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,    The confident and over-lusty French    Do the low-rated English play at dice;    And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night    Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp    So tediously away. The poor condemned English,    Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires    Sit patiently and inly ruminate    The morning's danger; and their gesture sad    Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats    Presenteth them unto the gazing moon    So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold    The royal captain of this ruin'd band    Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,    Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!'    For forth he goes and visits all his host;    Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,    And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.    Upon his royal face there is no note    How dread an army hath enrounded him;    Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour    Unto the weary and all-watched night;    But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint    With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;    That every wretch, pining and pale before,    Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks;    A largess universal, like the sun,    His liberal eye doth give to every one,    Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all    Behold, as may unworthiness define,    A little touch of Harry in the night.    And so our scene must to the battle fly;    Where- O for pity! – we shall much disgrace    With four or five most vile and ragged foils,    Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous,    The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,    Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. Exit

SCENE I. France. The English camp at Agincourt

Enter the KING, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER

  KING HENRY. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;    The greater therefore should our courage be.    Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!    There is some soul of goodness in things evil,    Would men observingly distil it out;    For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,    Which is both healthful and good husbandry.    Besides, they are our outward consciences    And preachers to us all, admonishing    That we should dress us fairly for our end.    Thus may we gather honey from the weed,    And make a moral of the devil himself.

Enter ERPINGHAM

    Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:    A good soft pillow for that good white head    Were better than a churlish turf of France.  ERPINGHAM. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,    Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.'  KING HENRY. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains    Upon example; so the spirit is eased;    And when the mind is quick'ned, out of doubt    The organs, though defunct and dead before,    Break up their drowsy grave and newly move    With casted slough and fresh legerity.    Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,    Commend me to the princes in our camp;    Do my good morrow to them, and anon    Desire them all to my pavilion.  GLOUCESTER. We shall, my liege.  ERPINGHAM. Shall I attend your Grace?  KING HENRY. No, my good knight:    Go with my brothers to my lords of England;    I and my bosom must debate awhile,    And then I would no other company.  ERPINGHAM. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!Exeunt all but the KING  KING HENRY. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.

Enter PISTOL

  PISTOL. Qui va la?  KING HENRY. A friend.  PISTOL. Discuss unto me: art thou officer,    Or art thou base, common, and popular?  KING HENRY. I am a gentleman of a company.  PISTOL. Trail'st thou the puissant pike?  KING HENRY. Even so. What are you?  PISTOL. As good a gentleman as the Emperor.  KING HENRY. Then you are a better than the King.  PISTOL. The King's a bawcock and a heart of gold,    A lad of life, an imp of fame;    Of parents good, of fist most valiant.    I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string    I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?  KING HENRY. Harry le Roy.  PISTOL. Le Roy! a Cornish name; art thou of Cornish crew?  KING HENRY. No, I am a Welshman.  PISTOL. Know'st thou Fluellen?  KING HENRY. Yes.  PISTOL. Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate    Upon Saint Davy's day.  KING HENRY. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day,lest    he knock that about yours.  PISTOL. Art thou his friend?  KING HENRY. And his kinsman too.  PISTOL. The figo for thee, then!  KING HENRY. I thank you; God be with you!  PISTOL. My name is Pistol call'd. Exit  KING HENRY. It sorts well with your fierceness.

Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER

  GOWER. Captain Fluellen!  FLUELLEN. So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It isthe    greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and    aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: ifyou    would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey theGreat,    you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddlenor    pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall findthe    ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms ofit,    and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to beotherwise.  GOWER. Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.  FLUELLEN. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating    coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, lookyou, be    an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb? In your own    conscience, now?  GOWER. I will speak lower.  FLUELLEN. I pray you and beseech you that you will.Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN  KING HENRY. Though it appear a little out of fashion,    There is much care and valour in this Welshman.Enter three soldiers: JOHN BATES, ALEXANDER COURT, and MICHAEL WILLIAMS

COURT. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder? BATES. I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day. WILLIAMS. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it. Who goes there? KING HENRY. A friend. WILLIAMS. Under what captain serve you? KING HENRY. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. WILLIAMS. A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our estate? KING HENRY. Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that look to be wash'd off the next tide. BATES. He hath not told his thought to the King? KING HENRY. No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions; his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army. BATES. He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here. KING HENRY. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is. BATES. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved. KING HENRY. I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this, to feel other men's minds; methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable. WILLIAMS. That's more than we know. BATES. Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough if we know we are the King's subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us. WILLIAMS. But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all 'We died at such a place'– some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey were against all proportion of subjection. KING HENRY. So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation. But this is not so: the King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his

    soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of hisservant;    for they purpose not their death when they purpose their    services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so    spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try itout    with all unspotted soldiers: some peradventure have on themthe    guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, ofbeguiling    virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making thewars    their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom ofpeace    with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated thelaw    and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip menthey    have no wings to fly from God: war is His beadle, war is His    vengeance; so that here men are punish'd for before-breach ofthe    King's laws in now the King's quarrel. Where they feared the    death they have borne life away; and where they would be safe    they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King    guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those    impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject's    duty is the King's; but every subject's soul is his own.    Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sickman    in his bed- wash every mote out of his conscience; and dyingso,    death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time wasblessedly    lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him thatescapes    it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer,He    let him outlive that day to see His greatness, and to teach    others how they should prepare.  WILLIAMS. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill uponhis    own head- the King is not to answer for it.  BATES. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet Idetermine    to fight lustily for him.  KING HENRY. I myself heard the King say he would not beransom'd.  WILLIAMS. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but whenour    throats are cut he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser.  KING HENRY. If I live to see it, I will never trust his wordafter.  WILLIAMS. You pay him then! That's a perilous shot out of an    elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can doagainst a    monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with    fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll nevertrust    his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish saying.  KING HENRY. Your reproof is something too round; I should beangry    with you, if the time were convenient.  WILLIAMS. Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.  KING HENRY. I embrace it.  WILLIAMS. How shall I know thee again?  KING HENRY. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my    bonnet; then if ever thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will makeit    my quarrel.  WILLIAMS. Here's my glove; give me another of thine.  KING HENRY. There.  WILLIAMS. This will I also wear in my cap; if ever thou come tome    and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,' by this hand Iwill    take thee a box on the ear.  KING HENRY. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.  WILLIAMS. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.  KING HENRY. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in theKing's    company.  WILLIAMS. Keep thy word. Fare thee well.  BATES. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we have    French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.  KING HENRY. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns toone    they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders; butit    is no English treason to cut French crowns, and to-morrow the    King himself will be a clipper.Exeunt soldiers    Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls,    Our debts, our careful wives,    Our children, and our sins, lay on the King!    We must bear all. O hard condition,    Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath    Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel    But his own wringing! What infinite heart's ease    Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!    And what have kings that privates have not too,    Save ceremony- save general ceremony?    And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony?    What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more    Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?    What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in?    O Ceremony, show me but thy worth!    What is thy soul of adoration?    Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,    Creating awe and fear in other men?    Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd    Than they in fearing.    What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,    But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,    And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!    Thinks thou the fiery fever will go out    With titles blown from adulation?    Will it give place to flexure and low bending?    Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,    Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,    That play'st so subtly with a king's repose.    I am a king that find thee; and I know    'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,    The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,    The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,    The farced tide running fore the king,    The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp    That beats upon the high shore of this world-    No, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony,    Not all these, laid in bed majestical,    Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave    Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind,    Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;    Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;    But, like a lackey, from the rise to set    Sweats in the eye of Pheebus, and all night    Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,    Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse;    And follows so the ever-running year    With profitable labour, to his grave.    And but for ceremony, such a wretch,    Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,    Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.    The slave, a member of the country's peace,    Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots    What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace    Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Enter ERPINGHAM

  ERPINGHAM. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,    Seek through your camp to find you.  KING. Good old knight,    Collect them all together at my tent:    I'll be before thee.  ERPINGHAM. I shall do't, my lord. Exit  KING. O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts,    Possess them not with fear! Take from them now    The sense of reck'ning, if th' opposed numbers    Pluck their hearts from them! Not to-day, O Lord,    O, not to-day, think not upon the fault    My father made in compassing the crown!    I Richard's body have interred new,    And on it have bestowed more contrite tears    Than from it issued forced drops of blood;    Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,    Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up    Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built    Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests    Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;    Though all that I can do is nothing worth,    Since that my penitence comes after all,    Imploring pardon.

Enter GLOUCESTER

  GLOUCESTER. My liege!  KING HENRY. My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay;    I know thy errand, I will go with thee;    The day, my friends, and all things, stay for me. Exeunt

SCENE II. The French camp

Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others

  ORLEANS. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!  DAUPHIN. Montez a cheval! My horse! Varlet, laquais! Ha!  ORLEANS. O brave spirit!  DAUPHIN. Via! Les eaux et la terre-  ORLEANS. Rien puis? L'air et le feu.  DAUPHIN. Ciel! cousin Orleans.

Enter CONSTABLE

    Now, my Lord Constable!  CONSTABLE. Hark how our steeds for present service neigh!  DAUPHIN. Mount them, and make incision in their hides,    That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,    And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!  RAMBURES. What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?    How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a MESSENGER