The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, from the text of Johnson, Stevens [sic] and Reed, with glossarial notes, his life, and a critique on his genius & writings by N. Rowe

Erp. I shall do't, my lord.

K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts! [now Possess them not with fear; take from them The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them!-Not to-day, O Lord,

[Exit. To purge this field of such a hilding* foe;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by
Took stand for idle speculation:
But that our honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let us do,
And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
The tucket-sonuance, and the note to mount:
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch down in fear, and
yield.

O not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown?
I Richard's body have interred new;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have
[priests

built

Enter GRANDPre.

Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, France? Two chantries, where the sad and solemnl-favour'dly become the morning field: Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do: Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, Though all that I can do, is nothing worth; And our air shakes them passing scornfully. Since that my penitence comes after all, Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, Imploring pardon.

Mess. The English are embattled, you French peers.

Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!

Do but behold yon poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck 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 sickly veins, To give each naked curtle-ax a stain,

That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on them,

The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
"Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys, and our pea-
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm [sants,-
About our squares of battle,-were enough

An old encouraging exclamation. + Do them out, extinguish them.

jades

And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor [hips; Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and The gum down-roping from their pale-dead And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motion

eyes;

less;

And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words,
To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.

Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.

Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh suits,

And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them?

Con. I stay but for my guard; On, to the field:
I will the banner from a trumpet take,
And use it for my haste. Come, come away!
The sun is high, and we outwear the day.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The English Camp. Enter the English Host; GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND. Glo. Where is the king?

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle,

West. Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.

Exe. There's five to one; besides, they all

are fresh.

Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness; Princely in both.

West. O that we now had here

Enter King HENRY.

But one ten thousand of those men in England, That do no work to-day!

K. Hen, What's he, that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland?-No, my fair couIf we are mark'd to die, we are enough [sin: To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man By Jove, I am not covetous for gold: [more. Not care I, who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not, if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires: But, if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. [land: No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from EngGod's peace! I would not lose so great an honour, [me, As one man more, methinks, would share from For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one [host,

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my
That he, which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd-the feast of Crispian :
He, that outlives this day, and comes safe
home,

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He, that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
And say-to-morrow is Saint Crispian :
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his

names,

Familiar in their mouths as household words,--
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd:
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :+
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not
here;
[speaks,
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin?

West. God's will, my liege, 'would you and I alone,

Without more help, might fight this battle out! K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men;

Which likes me better, than to wish us one.— You know your places: God be with you all! Tucket.-Enter MONTJOY.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king Harry,

If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow:
For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in

mercy,

The Constable desires thee-thou wilt mind"
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields, where (wretches) their
poor bodies
Must lie and fester.

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 my 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 brasst 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, are all besmirch'd
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:
And my poor soldiers tell me-yet 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 ransom then

Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;

Come thou no more for ransom, 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 ransom.

Enter the Duke of YORK.

York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I The leading of the vaward.* [beg K. Hen. Take it, brave York.-Now, soldiers, march away:

And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-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.

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

Fr. Sol. O seigneur Dieu!

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 vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

Fr. Soi. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille remerciemens: et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant, et 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 thriceworthy 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

Pist. O, signieur Dew should be a gentle-empty a heart: but the saying is true,―The

man:

[mark ;Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,t Except, O signieur, thou do give to me Egregious ransom.

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 mountain goat, Offer'st me brass?

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy!

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys?

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.

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.

Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur?

Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous prest; car de soldat icy est disposé tout a 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, et 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 ransom, he will give you two hundred crowns.

* Vanguard.

empty vessel makes the greatest sound. Barthan this roaring devil i'the old play, that every dolph, and Nym, had ten times more valour one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both hanged; and so would this must stay with the lackeys, with the luggage be, if he durst steal any thing adventurously. prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none of our camp: the French might have a good to guard it, but boys. [Exit.

Let us die instant. Once more back again; And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand, Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door, Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,t His fairest daughter is contaminate.

Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!

Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives
Unto these English, or else die with fame.

Orl. We are enough, yet living in the field,
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.

Bour. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng;

+An old cant word for a sword, so called from a famous Let life be short; else, shame will be too long.

sword cutler of the name of Fox.

The diaphragm.

Pieces of money.

Lascivious. Chastise.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Another part of the Field.

Alarums. Enter King HENRY and Forces;
EXETER, and others.

K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant

countrymen :

But all's not done, yet keep the French the field. Exe. The duke of York commends him to your majesty.

K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice, with-
in this hour,

I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting;
From helmet to the spur, all blood he was.
Exe. In which array, (brave soldier,) doth
he lie,

Larding the plain: and by his bloody side,
(Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,)
The noble earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
And cries aloud.-Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven:
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast;
As, in this glorious and well-foughten field,
We kept together in our chivalry!
Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up:
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says,-Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me, which I would have
stopp'd;

But I had not so much of man in me,
But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

K. Hen. I blame you not;

For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.-

[Alarum. But, hark! what new alarum is this same?-The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd

SCENE VII.-Another part of the Field. Alarums. Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER. Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage! 'tis expressly against the law of arms: 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offered, in the 'orld: In your conscience now, is it not?

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, have done this slaughter: besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the king's tent; wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!

Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain Gower: What call you the town's name, where Alexander the pig was born?

Gow. Alexander the great. Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.

* Reached.

Gow. I think, Alexander the great was born in Macedon; his father was called-Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

Flu. I think, it is in Macedon, where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain,-If you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant, you shall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye, at Monmouth: but it is out of my prains, what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis so like as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things. Alexander (God knows, and you know,) in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his pest friend, Clytus.

Gow. Our king is not like him in that; he never killed any of his friends.

Flu. Is it not well done, mark you now, to take tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it: As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, being in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in right wits and his goot judgements, is turn away the fat knight with the great pelly-doublet: be was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I am forget his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaff.

Flu. That is he: I can tell you, there is goot men born at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his majesty.

Alarum. Enter King HENRY, with a part of the
English Forces; WARWICK, GLOSTER, EX-
ETER, and others.

K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to
France

Until this instant.-Take a trumpet, herald;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill;
If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field; they do offend our sight:
If they'll do neither, we will come to them;
And make them skirr away as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we

have;

And not a man of them, that we shall take,
Shall taste our mercy:-Go, and tell them so.
Enter MONTJOY.

Exe. Here comes the herald of the French,
my liege.

Glo. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.

K. Hen. How now, what means this, berald?

know'st thou not,

[som? That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ranCom'st thou again for ransom?

Mont. No, great king:

That we may wander o'er this bloody field,
I come to thee for charitable license,
To book our dead, and then to bury them;
To sort our nobles from our common men;
For many of our princes (woe the while!)
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
(So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs

* Sco

rage,

In blood of princes;) and their wounded steeds Fret fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild [ters, Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masKilling them twice. O, give us leave, great king,

To view the field in safety, and dispose,
Of their dead bodies.

K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald,

I know not, if the day be ours, or no;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer,
And gallop o'er the field.

Mont. The day is yours.

K. Hen. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!

What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by? Mont. They call it-Agincourt.

K. Hen. Then call we this-the field of Agincourt,

Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

Flu. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the plack prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.

K. Hen. They did, Fluellen.

Flu. Your majesty says very true: If your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshman did goot service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty knows, to this hour is an honourable padge of the service; and, I do believe, your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day.

K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour: For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that: Got pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases his grace, and his majesty

too!

K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. Flu. By Cheshu, I am your majesty's countryman, I care not who know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld: I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be God, so long as your majesty is an honest man.

K. Hen. God keep me so!-Our heralds go with him;

Bring me just notice of the numbers dead On both our parts.—Call yonder fellow hither. [Points to WILLIAMS. [Exeunt MONTJOY and others.

Exe. Soldier, you must come to the king. K. Hen. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap?

Will. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive. K. Hen. An Englishman?

Will. An't please your majesty, a rascal, that swaggered with me last night: who, if 'a live, and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box o'the ear: or, if I can see my glove in his cap, (which he swore, as he was a soldier, be would wear, if alive,) I will strike it out soundly.

K. Hen. What think you, captain Fluellen? is it fit this soldier keep his oath?

Flu. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your majesty, in my conscience.

K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of great sort,t quite from the answer of his degree.

Flu. Though he be as goot a gentleman as the tevil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, + High rank.

*Coward.

it is necessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath: if he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain, and a Jack-sauce, as ever his plack shoe trod upon Got's ground and his earth, in my conscience, la.

K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow.

Will. So I will, my liege, as I live. K. Hen. Who servest thou under? Will. Under captain Gower, my liege. Flu. Gower is a goot captain; and is good knowledge and literature in the wars. K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier. Will. I will, my liege.

[Exit.

K. Hen. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me, and stick it in thy cap: When Alençon and myself were down together, I plucked this glove from his helm: if any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alençon and an enemy to our person; if thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost love me.

Flu. Your grace does me as great honours, as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but I would fain see it once; an please Got of his grace, that I might see it.

K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower?

Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.

Flu. I will fetch him.

[Exit.

K. Hen. My lord of Warwick,-and my bro

ther Gloster,

Flu. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I peseech you now, come apace to the king: there is more goot toward you, peradventure, than is in your knowledge to dream of. Will. Sir, know you this glove?

Flu. Know the glove? I know, the glove is a glove.

Will. I know this; and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him.

Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant traitor, as any's in the universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. Gow. How now, Sir? you villain ! Will. Do you think I'll be forsworn? Flu. Stand away, captain Gower; I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you.

*For saucy Jack.

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The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, from the text of Johnson, Stevens ...