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geon; fome, upon their wives left poor behind them;

fome, upon the debts they owe; some, upon their “ children rawly left.” I am afeard there are few die well, that die in battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument ? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black måtter for the King that led them to it, whom to difobey were against all proportion of subjection. K. Henry.

“ So, if a fon that is sent by his father a" bout merchandize, do fall into some lewd action and "miscarry, the imputation of his wickedness, by your

rule, should be imposed upon his father that fent

him; or if a servant, under his master's command, “transporting a sum of money, be afrail'd 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 foldiers, the “ father of his son, nor the master of his fervant; for

they purpose not their death, when they purpose their “ services. Befides, there is no King, be his cause ne“ ver fo fpotless, if it come to the arbitriment of fwords,

can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, per

adventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated * and contrived murder; fome, of beguiling virgins “ with the broken seals of perjury; fome, making the

wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle " bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if " these men have defeated the law, and outrun native “punishment; though they can outstrip men, they

have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle, “ war is his vengeance; so that here men are punished, “ for before breach of the King's laws, in the King's

quarrel now. Where they feared the deatli, 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 which they " are now visited. Every subject's duty is the King's, " but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should every

foldier in the wars do as cvery sick man in his bed, wafh every moth out of his conscience : and P p 2

dying

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dying fo, death is to him advantage; or not dying, “ the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation

was gained : and, in him that escapes, it were not “ siv 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.

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 lustily for him.

K. Henry. I myielf heard the King say, he would not be ransom'd

Will. 4y, he said fo, to make us fight chearfully; but when our throats are cut, he may be ransom’d, and we ne'er the wiser.

K. Henry. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.

Will. You pay him then; that's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and private displeasure 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 trust his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish saying.

K. Henry. Your reproof is fomething too round. I should 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 shall 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'st 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 also wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me and say, 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 see it, I will challenge it. Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.

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

Itill. 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 soldiers, SCENE V. Manet King Henry. * K. Henry. Upon the King ! let us our lives, our souls, 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 greatness, Subject to breath of ev'ry fool, whose fense No more can feel but his own wringing, What infinite heart-ease mult King's neglect, That private men enjoy; and what have Kings That private have not too, save ceremony? Save gen’ral ceremony? 6. And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony ? • What kind of god art thou, that suffer'lt 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 else but peace, 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 fweet, • But poison'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'st thou, when thou command't the beggar's knee,
i Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a King's repote.
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 enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,

* King Henry. K. Henry. Indeed, the French may lay twenty Fiench crowns to one, they will beat us; for they b.ar them on the shoulders : but it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and to.murrow the King himself vill be a clipper. Upon the King! &c.

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« The farsed titles running 'fore the King, • The throne he fits on, nor the tide of pomp “ That beats upon the high shore of this world; “ No, not all these thrice-gorgeous ceremonies, “ Not all these, laid in bed majestical, “ Can Beep so loundly as the wretched fave; “ Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, “ Gets him to relt, cramm'd with distressful bread; “ Never sees horrid night, the child of hell; “ But, like a lacquey, from the rise to fet, “ Sweats in the eye of Phæbus; and all night

Sleeps in Elyfium ; 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 fleep, • Hath the fore-hand and 'vantage of a King. The slave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it ; but in grofs brain little wots, What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace; Whole hours the pealant best advantages.

SCENE VI. Enter Erpingham.
Erp. My Lord, your Nobles, jealous of your absence,
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 shall do't, my Lord.

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

hearts; Possess them not with fear; take from them now The sense of reck’ning : left th'opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from thein - Not to-day, O Lord, O not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in coinpalling the crown. I Richard's body have interred new, Aud on it have beltow'd more contrite tears, Than from it illu'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
T'wo chauntries, where the fad and folemn priests
Sing still 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.

Enter Gloucester.
Glou. My Liege.
K. Henry. My brother Glo'ster's voice?
I know thy errand, I will go with thee :
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

[Excunt.

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

Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my Lords*:

Con. To horse! you gallant Princes, strait to horse!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And
your

fair shew shall fuck away their souls;
Leaving them but the shales and husks 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 stain;

-up, my Lords.

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Dau, Montez Cheval: my horse, valet, lacquay: ha!
Orl, Obrave fpirit !
Dau, Via!

- les eaux et la terre.
Orl, Rien puis ! le air et feu.
Dau, Ciel! Coulin Orleans.-

Enter Confiable.
Now, my Lord Constable !

Con. Hark, how our steeds for prefent service neigh.
Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes.
And daunt them with fuperfluous courage: ha!

Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses' blood ?
How Thall we ihen behold their natural tears ?

Enter a Mefjenger,
Mell. The English are embattl'd, you French Peers.
Con. To horse, &c.

That

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