ACT III.

SCENE I.

FRANCE. Alarm, and Cannon go offEnter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucefter; Soldiers with fealing-ladders as before Harfleur.

K. Henry.

ONCE

NCE more unto the breach, dear friends,
once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing fo becomes a man
As modeft ftillness and humility:

But when the blaft of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger;
Stiffen the finews, fummon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible afpect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brafs cannon, let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'er-hang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wafteful ocean.
Now fet the teeth, and stretch the noftril wide,
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every fpirit
To his full height. Now on, you nobleft English,
Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war proof
Fathers, that, like fo many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn 'till even fought,
And fheath'd their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now atteft,
That those whom you call fathers did beget yon.
Be copy now to men of groffer blood,

And teach them how to war; and you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, fhew us here
The mettle of your pasture: let us fwear

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not:
For there is none of you fo mean and base,
'That hath not noble luftre in your eyes;

I fee you stand like Greyhounds on the flips,

This whole act (and also the rest of the play very much enlarged and improved by the author fince the editions of 1600, and 1508.

Straining

Straining upon the ftart. The game's a-foot :
Follow your fpirit; and upon this charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George.

[Exeunt King and Train. Alarm, and Cannon go off.

SCENE

II.

Enter Nym, Bardolph, Piftol, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach. Nym. 'Pray thee, Corporal, ftay, the knocks are too hot: and for mine own part, I have not a cafe of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain fong of it.

Piff. The plain fong is moft juft; for humours do abound: Knocks go and come: God's vaffals drop and die;

And fword and fhield, in bloody field, doth win immortal fame,

Boy. Wou'd I were in an ale-houfe in London, I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and fafety.

Pift. And I; if wifhes would prevail,
I wou'd not ftay, but thither would I hye.
Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Up to the preach, you dogs; avaunt you cullions!
Pift. Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould,
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage;

Good bawcock, bate thy rage, ufe lenity, fweet chuck. Nym. These be good humours; your honour wins bad humours. [Excunt.

For

Boy. As young as I am, I have obferv'd thefe three fwashers. I am boy to them all three; but all the three, though they would ferve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three fuch anticks do not amount to a man. Bardolph, he is white liver'd and red fac'd, by the means whereof he faces it out, but fights not. For Pifiol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet fword; by the means whereof he breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and therefore he fcorns to fay his prayers, left he fhould be thought a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with as few good deeds, for he never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a poft when he was drunk. They will steal any thing and call it purshafe. Bardolph ftole a luta-cafe, bore it twelve leagues, VOL. V. S

and

and fold it for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are fworn brothers in filching; and in Calais they ftole a firefhovel. I knew by that piece of fervice, the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with mens pockets as their gloves or their hand-kerchers, which makes much against my manhood; for if I would take from another's pocket to put into mine, it is plain pocketting up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek fome better service; their villainy goes against my weak ftomach, and therefore I muft caft it up. [Exit Boy.

Enter Gower, and Fluellen. Gorver. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucefter would speak with you.

Flu. To the mines? tell you the Duke it is not so goot to come to the mines; for look you the mines are not according to the disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not fufficient; for look you, th' athverfary (you may difcufs unto the Duke, look you) is dig'd himself four yards under the countermines; by Chefbu, I think a' will plow up all, if there is not petter directions.

Gorver. The Duke of Gloucefter, to whom the order of the fiege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a very valiant gentleman i' faith.

Flu. It is captain Mackmorris, is it not?

Gower. I think it be.

Flu. By Chefbu, he is an Afs, as in the orld; I will verifie as much in his peard; he has no more directions in the true difciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman difciplines, than is a puppy-dog.

Enter Mackmorris, and Captain Jamy.

Gower. Here he comes, and the Scots captain, captain Jamy with him.

Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous valorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in the ancient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions; by Chefbu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the orld, in the disciplines of the priftine wars of the Romans.

Jamy. I fay gudday, captain Fluellen.

1. Godden to your worship, good captain James.

Graver,

Gover. How now, captain Mackmorris, have you quitted the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?

Mack. By Chrifh law, tish ill done; the work ifh give over, the trumpet found the retreat. By my hand I fwear, and by my father's foul, the work ifh ill done; it ifh give over; I would have blowed up the town, fo Chrish fave me law, in an hour. O tifh ill done, tifh ill done; by my hand, tifh ill done.

Flu. Captain Mackmorris, I beseech you now, will you vouchfafe me, look you, a few difputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the difciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to fatisfy my opinion, and partly for the fatisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military difcipline, that is the point.

Jamy. It fall be very gud, gud feith, gud captens bath, and I fall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occafion; that fall I, marry.

Mack. It is no time to discourse, fo Chrish fave me: the day is hot, and the weather and the wars, and the King and the Duke; it is not time to discourse, the town is befeech'd; and the trumpet calls us to the breach, and we talk, and by Chrish do nothing, 'tis fhame for us all; fo God fa' me 'tis fhame to ftand ftill, it is fhame, by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done, and there ifh nothing done, fo Chrish sa' me law.

Jamy. By the mefs, ere theife eyes of mine take themfelves to flomber aile do gud fervice, or aile ligge i'th ground for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay it as voloroufly as I may, that fal I furely do, the breff and the long; marry, I wad full fain heard fome queftion 'tween you tway. Flu. Captain Mackmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation

Mack. Of my nation; what ish my nation? ifh a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? what ifh my nation? who talks of my nation?

Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwife than is meant, captain Mackmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in difcretion you ought

to use me, look you, being as good a man as your felf both in the difciplines of wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.

Mack. I do not know you fo good a man as my felf, fo Chrish fave me, I will cut off your head.

Gower. Gentlemen both, you mistake each other.

Jamy. Au, that's a foul fault.

Gower. The town founds a parley.

[Parley founded.

Flu. Captain Mackmorris, when there is more petter opportunity to be requir'd, look you, I'll be fo pold as to tell you I know the difciplines of war, and there's an end.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter King Henry and bis Train before the Gates. K. Henry. How yet refolves the governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit :

Therefore to our beft mercy give your felves,

Or like to men proud of destruction

Defie us to our worft; as I'm a foldier,
(A name that in my thoughts becomes me beft)
If I begin the batt'ry once again,

I will not leave the hall-atchieved Harfleur,
'Till in her afhes the lye buried.

The gates of mercy fhall be all shut up;

And the flesh'd foldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand fhall range

With confcience wide as hell, mowing like grafs
Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,
Array'd in flames like to the Prince of fiends,
Do with his fmircht complexion all fell feats,
Enlinkt to wafte and defolation?

What is't to me, when you your felves are caufe,
If your pure maidens fall iato the hand

Of hot and forcing violation?

What rein can hold licentious wickedness,

When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootlefs spend our vain command
Upon th' enraged foldiers in their spoil,
As fend our precepts to th' Leviathan

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