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That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this

number,

And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead

One hundred twenty six: added to these,
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which,

90

Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights:
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries;

The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires,

And gentlemen of blood and quality.

The names of those their nobles that lie dead :
Charles Delabreth, high constable of France;
Jacques of Chatillon, admiral of France;
The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures;
Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard

Dolphin,

John Duke of Alençon, Anthony Duke of Brabant,
The brother to the Duke of Burgundy,
And Edward Duke of Bar: of lusty earls,
Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix,
Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale.

Here was a royal fellowship of death!

Where is the number of our English dead?

[Herald shews him another paper.

Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire :
None else of name; and of all other men
But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here;
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,

Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock and even play of battle,

100

98. Jacques (monosyllable). 99. cross bows, crossbow

men.

III. But five and twenty. Holinshed gives this as the

report of 'some'; adding, 'but other writers of greater credit affirm, that there were slain above five or six hundred persons.'

Was ever known so great and little loss

On one part and on the other? Take it, God,

For it is none but thine!

Exe.

'Tis wonderful!

K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the village :

And be it death proclaimed through our host
To boast of this or take that praise from God
Which is his only.

Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how many is killed?

K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,

That God fought for us.

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.
K. Hen. Do we all holy rites;

Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum ;'
The dead with charity enclosed in clay :
And then to Calais; and to England then;
Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men.

120

130

[Exeunt.

ACT V

PROLOGUE.

Enter Chorus.

Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not read
the story,

That I may prompt them: and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life

Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd

sea,

Which like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath;
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal and ostent
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,

10

20

How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor and all his brethren in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conquering Cæsar in :
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,

Were now the general of our gracious empress,
As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,

30

12. whiffler, one who marched or rode at the head of a procession to clear the way, furnished with a staff, or lath sword. The ' whiffle was probably a fife.

21. signal and ostent, sign and outward show of triumph. 25. sort, array.

29. by a lower but loving likelihood, to compare Henry's triumphal entry with another, less momentous, but not less welcome.

30. the general, the Earl of Essex, who had been sent in March 1599 to suppress the Irish revolt. See the Introduction.

To welcome him! much more, and much more

cause,

Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; As yet the lamentation of the French

Invites the king of England's stay at home;
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them; and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanced,

40

Till Harry's back-return again to France:

There must we bring him; and myself have

play'd

The interim, by remembering you 'tis past.

Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance,

After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

[Exit.

SCENE I. France. The English camp.

Enter FLUELLEN and Gower.

Gow. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint Davy's day is past.

Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, asse my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scauld, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.

38. The emperor; Sigismund, Emperor of Germany, landed in

England in May 1416. 5. scauld, scabby.

10

Enter PISTOL.

Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his
turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol!
you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!
Pist. Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst,
base Trojan,

To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your disgestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

20

Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] 30 Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it? Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

Flu. You say very true, scauld knave, when God's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. [Strikes him.] You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to day a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

Gow. Enough, captain: you have astonished him.

Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.

40

29. Cadwallader, a legendary Welsh king. 32. Trojan, knave.

38. a squire of low degree; alluding to the burlesque romance so entitled.

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