geon; fome, upon their wives left poor behind them; "fome, upon the debts they owe; fome, upon their "children rawly left." I am afeard there are few die well, that die in battle; for how can they charitably difpofe of any thing, 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, whom to difobey were againft all proportion of subjection.

K. Henry. "So, if a fon that is fent by his father a"bout merchandize, do fall into fome lewd action and "mifcarry, the imputation of his wickednefs, by your "rule, fhould be impofed upon his father that fent "him; or if a fervant, under his master's command, "transporting a fum of money, be affail'd by robbers, " and die in many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may call "the bufinefs of the mafter the author of the fervant's "damnation. But this is not fo: the King is not bound "to answer the particular endings of his foldiers, the "father of his fon, nor the master of his fervant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpofe their "fervices. Befides, there is no King, be his caufe ne"ver fo fpotlefs, if it come to the arbitriment of fwords,

can try it out with all unspotted foldiers. Some, per"adventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated

and contrived murder; fome, of beguiling virgins. "with the broken feals of perjury; fome, making the "wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle "bofom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if "these men have defeated the law, and outrun native "punifhment; though they can outftrip men, they "have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle, "war is his vengeance; fo that here men are punithed, "for before breach of the King's laws, in the King's

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quarrel now. Where they feared the death, they "have borne life away; and where they would be fafe, they perith. Then if they die unprovided, no "more is the King guilty of their damnation, than he "was before guilty of thofe impieties for which they "are now vifited. Every fubject's duty is the King's,, "but every fubject's foul is his own. Therefore fhould every foldier in the wars do as every fick man in his bed, wath every moth out of his confcience: and

66

dying fo, death is to him advantage; or not dying, "the time was bleffedly loft, wherein fuch preparation "was gained and, in him that efcapes, it were not "fin to think, that making God fo free an offer, he let ❝ him outlive that day to fee his greatnefs, and to teach "others how they fhould prepare.

Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his own head; the King is not to answer for it. Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight luftily for him.

K. Henry. I myself heard the King fay, he would not be ranfom'd

Will. Ay, he faid fo, to make us fight chearfully; but when our throats are cut, he may be ranfom'd, and we ne'er the wifer.

K. Henry. If I live to fee it, I will never truft his word after.

Will. You pay him then; that's a perilous fhot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and private difpleasure can do against a monarch! you may as well go about to turn the fun to ice, with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never truft his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish faying.

K. Henry. Your reproof is fomething too round. I fhould be angry with you, if the time were convenient. Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. K. Henry. I embrace it.

Will. How fhall I know thee again?

K. Henry. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet: then if ever thou dar'ft acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

Will. Here's my glove; give me another of thine. K. Henry. There.

Will. This will I alfo wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me and fay, after to-morrow, This is my glove; by this hand, I will give thee a box on the ear.

K. Henry. If ever I live to fee it, I will challenge it. Will. Thou dar'ft as well be hang'd.

K. Henry. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company.

Will. 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. [Exeunt foldiers,

SCENE V. Manet King Henry. *

K. Henry. Upon the King! let us our lives, our fouls, Our debts, our careful wives, our children and Our fins, lay on the King; he must bear all. Q hard condition, and twin-born with greatnefs, Subject to breath of ev'ry fool, whofe fenfe No more can feel but his own wringing. What infinite heart-eafe mult King's neglect, That private men enjoy; and what have Kings That private have not too, fave ceremony? Save gen'ral ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that fuffer'ft more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
O Ceremony, fhew me but thy worth:

What is thy toll, O Adoration?

Art thou aught elfe but peace, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art lefs happy, being fear'd,
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, inftead of homage fweet,

But poifon'd flatt'ry? O be fick, great Greatness,` And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure.

Think'it thou, the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Can't thou, when thou command'ft the beggar's knee, • Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, That play'ft fo fubtly with a King's repofe.

I am a King, that find thee; and I know,

'Tis not the balm, the fceptre, and the ball, "The fword, the mace, the crown imperial, "The enter-tiffued robe of gold and pearl,

*King Henry.

K. Henry. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one, they will beat us; for they bear them on their fhoulders but it is no English treafon to cut French crowns, and to-morrow the King himself will be a clipper.

Upon the King! &c.

"The

"The farfed titles running 'fore the King, "The throne he fits on, nor the tide of pomp "That beats upon the high fhore of this world; "No, not all thefe thrice-gorgeous ceremonies, "Not all thefe, laid in bed majestical,

"Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched flave; "Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, "Gets him to reft, cramm'd with distressful bread; "Never fees horrid night, the child of hell;

But, like a lacquey, from the rise to fet, "Sweats in the eye of Phoebus; and all night

Sleeps in Elyfium; next day, after dawn, "Doth rife, and help Hyperion to his horfe; "And follows fo the ever-running year "With profitable labour to his grave: "And (but for ceremony) fuch a wretch,

"Winding up days with toil, and nights with fleep, "Hath the fore-hand and 'vantage of a King. The flave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it; but in grofs brain little wots, What watch the King keeps to maintain the Whofe hours the pealant beft advantages.

SCENE VI.

peace;

Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles, jealous of your abfence, Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Henry. Good old Knight,

Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.

Erp. I fhall do't, my Lord.

[Exit.

K. Henry. O God of battles! fteel my foldiers'

hearts;

Poffefs them not with fear; take from them now The fenfe of reck'ning: left th' oppofed numbers Pluck their hearts from them-Not to-day, O Lord, O not to-day, think not upon the fault

My

father made in compaffing the crown.

I Richard's body have interred new,

And on it have beltow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it iffu'd forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,

Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up

Tow'rd

Tow'rd heav'n to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chauntries, where the fad and folemn priests
Sing ftill for Richard's foul. More will I do;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after call,
Imploring pardon.

Glou. My Liege.

Enter Gloucefter.

K. Henry. My brother Glo'fter's voice? I know thy errand, I will go with thee: The day, my friends, and all things stay for me. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII, Changes to the French camp. Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, and Beaumont.

Orl. The fun doth gild our armour; up, my Lords*. Con. To horfe! you gallant Princes, ftrait to horfe! Do but behold yon poor and ftarved band, And your fair fhew fhall fuck away their fouls; Leaving them but the fhales and hufks of men. There is not work enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their fickly veins To give each naked curtle-ax a ftain

-up, my Lords.

Dau. Montez Cheval: my horse, vakt, lacquay: ha!
Orl. O brave fpirit!

Dau. Via!

les eaux et la terre.

Orl. Rien puis! le air et feu.
Dau. Ciel! Coufin Orleans.

Now, my Lord Constable!

Enter Conflable.

Con. Hark, how our freeds for prefent fervice neigh.
Dau. Mount them, and make iscifion in their hides,

That their hot blood may fpin in English eyes.

And daunt them with fuperfluous courage: ha!

Ram. What, will you have them weep our horfes' blood? How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a Meffenger.

Me. The English are embattl'd, you French Peers.

Con. To horfe, &C.

That