fire, sometimes plue and sometimes red; but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.

KING HENRY

We would have all such offenders so cut off: (1) and we give express charge, that, in our marches through the country, there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner.

Enter, from Right, MONTJOY, with trumpeters. MONTJOY kneels, Right Centre.

MONTJOY

You know me by my habit (2).

KING HENRY

Well, then, I know thee. What shall I know of thee?

Thus says my king:-Say thou to Harry of England, Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep: Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell

(1) It will be seen by the following extract from an anonymous chronicler how minutely Shakespeare has adhered to history: "There was brought to the king in that plain a certain English robber, who, contrary to the laws of God and the Royal proclamation, had stolen from a church a pix of copper gilt, found in his sleeve, which he happened to mistake for gold, in which the Lord's body was kept; and in the next village where he passed the night, by decree of the King he was put to death on the gallows." Titus Livius relates that Henry commanded his army to halt until the sacrilege was expiated. He first caused the pix to be restored to the church, and the offender was then led, bound as a thief, through the army, and afterwards hung upon a tree, that every man might behold him. (2) Herald's coat.

him, we could have rebuked him at Harfleur; but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, (1) and our voice is imperial; England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him, therefore, consider of his ransom: which must proportion (2) the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested (3). For our losses his exchequer is too poor; for the effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and, for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet, but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add-defiance; and tell him for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. So far my king and master, so much my office.

KING HENRY

What is thy name? I know thy quality (4).
MONTJOY

Montjoy.

KING HENRY

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 (5); for, to say the sooth, (6)
Though 't is 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 God,

(1) In our turn. (2) Be in proportion to. (3) Put up with. (4) Profession. (5) Hindrance, impediment. (6) Truth.

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, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself and such another neighbour

Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, (1)
Montjoy.
(Hands purse.)
Go, bid thy master well advise himself:

If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,

We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour: (2) and so, Montjoy, fare you well.

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.

I shall deliver so.

MONTJOY

Thanks to your highness. (MONTJOY and trumpeters Exeunt, Right.) GLOSTER (Left Centre)

I hope they will not come upon us now.

KING HENRY

We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
March to the bridge; it now draws toward night.
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
And on to-morrow bid them march away.

Exeunt, Left.) The END of the SECOND ACT

(1) It was customary to reward a herald, no matter what was his message. (2) My desire is, that none of you be so unadvised, as to be the occasion that I, in my defence, shall colour and make red your tawny ground with the effusion of Christian blood. When he (Henry) had thus answered the Herald, he gave him a great reward, and licensed him to depart.-Holinshed.

of KING HENRY V

RUMOUR appears as 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 (1) sounds,

That the fixed sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch. (2)
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, (3)
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
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,(4)

(1) Gently, lowly. (2) The armies were only 250 paces apart, according to Holinshed. (3) The plate armour was not only riveted. in parts, before it was put on, but the armourers were employed in closing up parts which fitted to each other by rivets, when the knight was being equipped for the battle or tournament.-Knight. (4) This scene and the next are intended by Shakespeare to contrast the difference in the demeanor of the French and the English on the eve of battle. The night was passed in silence and earnest devotion in the English camp, every one contemplated the morrow with an awful solemnity. The resolution to exert themselves to their last breath for their own preservation and honour was universal; but their state of weakness from disease and suffering, and the vast superiority of the enemy, forbad much hope.-Sharon Turner. The Frenchmen made greate fires about their banners * * * and all that night made greate chere, and were very mery. The English

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.

The FIRST Scene

(The DAUPHIN'S Tent near Agincourt)

The DAUPHIN reclines on couch, Centre. The CONSTABLE and ORLEANS play at dice at table, Right. BOURBON, RAMBURES(1) and GRANDPRÉ play at dice on drumhead Left. Attendants at back. A sentinel paces before the door on the outside. Pages are serving wine. The DAUPHIN rises and goes up to the door of the tent, Centre.

CONSTABLE

Tut! I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day!

men that night sounded their trompettes and diverse instruments musicale with greate melody, and yet they were bothe hungery, wery, sore traveled and much vexed with colde deseases: Howbeit they made peace with God, in confessyng their synnes, requiring hym of help, and receivyng the holy sacramente, every man encouragyng and determying clerely rather to die than either to yelde or flie.-Hall's Chronicle.

(1) The Lord of Rambures was commander of the cross-bows of the French army at Agincourt.