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K. Hen.

Who hath sent thee now? Mont. The Constable of France.

K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back; Bid them achieve me, and then sell


bones. Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man, that once did sell the lion's skin While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him. A many of our bodies shall, no doubt, Find native graves; upon the which, I trust, Shall witness live in brass' of this day's work: And those that leave their valiant bones in France, Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, They shall be fam’d; for there the sun shall greet

them, And draw their honours reeking up to heaven; Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. Mark then a bounding valour in our English ; That, being dead, like to the bullet’s grazing, Break out into a second course of mischief, Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly;—Tell the Constable, We are but warriors for the working-day: Our gayness, and our gilt,3 are all besmirch’dt With rainy marching in the painful field; There's not a piece of feather in our host, (Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly,) And time hath worn us into slovenry: But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim:

1 i.e. In brazen plates antiently

into tomb-stones, 2 We are soldiers but coarsely dressed. 3 Golden show, superficial gilding.

4 Soiled.

And my poor soldiers tell memyet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads,
And turn them out of service. If they do this,
(As, if God please, they shall,) my ransome then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransome, gentle herald;
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints:
Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.

Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well: Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit.

K. Hen. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for


Enter the Duke of York. York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward.5 K. Hen. Take it, brave York.--Now, soldiers, march

away: And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!



The Field of Battle.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter French Soldier,

PISTOL, and Boy. Pist. Yield, cur.

Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité.

5 Vanguard,


Pist. Quality, call you me ? - Construe me, art thou a gentleman? What is thy name ? discuss.

Fr. Sol. O seigneur Dieu !

Pist. O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman:Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark; O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, Except, O signieur, thou do give to me Egregious ransome.

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde ! ayez pitié de moy!

Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys; For I will fetch thy rim? out at thy throat, In drops of crimson blood.

Fr. Sol. Est il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras?

Pist. Brass, cur!
Thou damned and luxurious 8 mountain goat,
Offer'st me brass ?

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy!

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys ?9– Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French, What is his name.

Boy. Escoutez; Comment estes vous appellé ?
Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer,
Boy. He says, his name is—master Fer.

Pist. Master Fer ! I'll fer him, and firk' him, and ferret him :-discuss the same in French unto him.

Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.

An old cant word for a sword, so called from a famous

sword cutler of the name of Fox. • The diaphragm,

8 Lascivious. 9 Pieces of money. i Chastise.


Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur ?

Boy. Il me commande de rous dire que vous faites tous prest; car ce soldat icy est disposé tout à cette heure de couper vostre gorge.

Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant,
Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner ! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison : gardez ma vie, 8: je vous donneray deux cents escus.

Pist. What are his words?

Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of a good house; and, for his ransome, he will give you two hundred crowns.

Pist. Tell him,---my fury shall abate, and I
The crowns will take.
Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que

dit-il ? Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement, de pardonner aucun prisonnier ; neantmoins, pour les escus que rous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

Fr. Sol. Sur mes genour, je vous donne mille remerciemens : of je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, caliunt, & tres distingué seigneur d'Angleterre.

Pist. Expound unto me, boy.

Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks: and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of (as he thinks) the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.

Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me, cur.

[Exit PISTOL. Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine.

[Exit French Soldier. I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart : but the saying is true, -The empty vessel makes the greatest sound. Bardolph, and Nym, had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i'the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger ; and they are both hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, with the luggage of our camp: the French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it, but boys.



Another Part of the Field of Battle.

Alarums. Enter Dauphin, ORLEANS, BOURBON,

Constable, Rameures, and Others. Con. O diable ? Orl. O seigneur !-le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!

Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all ! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. - O meschante for

tune ! Do not run away.

[A short Alarum, Con.

Why, all our ranks are broke. Dau. O perdurable shame!-let's stab ourselves.

* Lasting,

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