K. Hen. How now, Fluellen? Cam'st thou from the bridge?

Flu. Ay, so please your Majesty. The duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge: the French is gone off, look you; and there is gallant and most prave passages : Marry, th' athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is inforced to retire, and the duke of Exeter is master of the pridge: I can tell your Majesty, the duke is a prave man,

K. Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen:

Flu. The perdition of th' athyersary hath been very great, very reasonable great :-Marry, for my part, I think the duke hath lost never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church; one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire; sometimes plue, and sometimes red but his nose is executed, and his fire is out,

[Tucket sounds,
Enter MontJoy, and ATTENDANTS.
K. Hen. What shall I know of thee?
Mont. My master's mind.
K. Hen. Unfold it.
Mont. Thus says my king :-Say thou to Harry

England,
Although we seemed dead, we did but sleep;
Tell him, we could at Harfleur have rebuk'd him ;
But that we thought not good to bruise an injury,
Till it were ripe. Now speak we on our cue
With voice imperial : England shall repent
His folly, see his weakness, and admire
Our sufferance: bid him therefore to consider,
What must the ransom be, which must proportion
The losses we have borne, the subjects we
Have lost, and the disgrace we have digested :
First, for our loss, too poor is his exchequer;

For the effusion of our blood, his army
Too faint a number : and for our disgrace,
Ev'n his own person, kneeling at our feet, .
A weak and worthless satisfaction.
To this, defiance add; and, for conclusion,
Tell him, he hath betray'd his followers,
Whose condemnation is pronounc'd.--So far
My king and master; and so much my office.
K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly.-Turn thee

back,
And tell thy king, I do not seek him now;
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment : for, to say the sooth,
(Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,)
My people are with sickness much enfeebled ;
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French;..
Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen.-Yet, forgive me

''Heav'n, That I do brag thus! this your air of France Hath blown that vice in me: I must repent.-Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am ; My ransom, is this frail and worthless trunk; My army, but a weak and sickly guard ; Yet Heav'n before, tell him we will come on, Though France himself, and such another neighbour, Stand in our way.-There's for thy labour, Montjoy. Go, bid thy master well advise himself: If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour.The sum of all our answer is but this; We would not seek a battle, as we are; Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it : So tell your master.

Mont. I shall deliver so.—Thanks to your high

ness. [Exit MontJoy, with his ATTENDANTS. Glost, I hope they will not come upon us now. K. Hen. We are in Heaven's hand, brother, not in

theirs.
On to the bridge ; it now draws toward night:-
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ;
And on to-morrow bid them march away.

[March.- Exeunt,

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

KING HENRY's Tent,

King Henry and Gloster discovered, K. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in great

danger;
The greater therefore should our courage be,

Enter BeDFORD,
Good morrow, brother Bedford.
There is some squl 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.

Enter Sir Thomas ERPINGHAM.
Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:

A good soft pillow, for that good white head,
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
Erp. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me bet-

ter; Since I may say,--now lie I like a king. K. Hen. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.-Bro

thers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good-morrow to them; and, anon,
Desire them all to my pavilion.
Glost. We shall, my liege.

[Exeunt BeDFORD, and GLOSTER. Erp. Shall I attend your grace?

K. Hen. 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. Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!

[Exit ERPINGHAM. K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak'st cheerfully.

[Exit into his Tent.

SCENE II.

Another Part of the English Camp.

Enter King Henry, and Pistol.
Pist. Qui va là ?
K. Hen. A friend.

Pist. Discuss unto me : Art thou officer;
Or art thou base, common, and popular?

K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company,
Pist. Trail'st thou the puissant pike?
K. Hen. Even so : What are you?
Pist. As good a gentleman as the emperor.

K. Hen. Then you are a better than the king.

Pist. 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 my heart-strings I love the lovely bully. What's thy name?

K. Hen. Harry le Roy.

Pist. Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cor. nish crew?

K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman.
Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen?
K. Hen. Yes.

Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate, Upon St. Davy's day.

K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.

Pist. Art thou his friend ?
K. Hen. And his kinsman too.

Pist. The figo for thee then!
My name is Pistol callid.

[Exit Pistol. K. Hen. It sorts well with your fierceness.

Enter Fluellen and Gower. Gow. Captain Fluellen ! Captain Fluellen!

Flu. Su ; speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal 'orld, when the true and ancient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle, nor pibble babble, in Pompey's camp: I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.

Gow. Why, the enemy is loud ; you heard him all night.

Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet think you, that we should