he is: if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind. [Drum within.] Hark you, the king is coming; and I must speak with him from the pridge.

Enter KING Henry, GlosTER, and Soldiers.

God pless your majesty!

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 enforced 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' athversary hath been very great, 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 o' 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's out.

K. Hen. We would have all such offenders so cut off :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.

Mont.
K. Hen.

thee?

Mont.

K. Hen.

You know me by my habit.

Well, then, I know thee: what shall I know of

My master's mind.

Unfold it.

Mont. Thus says my king :-Say thou to Harry of Engand: Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep; advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell 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, 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 the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. 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. Το this add defiance: and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. far my king and master; so much my office.

K. Hen.

Mont.

K. Hen.

What is thy name? I know thy quality.
Montjoy.

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, God,
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, Montjoy.

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 and so, Montjoy, fare you well.

So

[Gives a purse.

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 highness.

[Exit.

Glo. I hope they will not come upon us now.
K. Hen. 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.

ACT III

Chor.

Enter 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 sounds,

That the fix'd sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch :
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 armorers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
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,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously. The poor condemnéd 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 ;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watchéd night;
But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,

His liberal eye doth give to every one,

Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,

A little touch of Harry in the night :

And so our scene must to the battle fly.

SCENE I.—The English Camp at Agincourt.

[Exit.

Dawn.

Enter KING Henry, Bedford, and GLOSTER.

K. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger ;
The greater therefore should our courage be.—
Good morrow, brother Bedford.—God Almighty!
There is some soul 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 :
Besides, they are our outward consciences,
And preachers to us all; admonishing

That we should dress us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
And make a moral of the devil himself.

Enter 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 better,
Since I may say,
"Now lie I like a king."

K. Hen. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains
Upon example; so the spirit is eas'd.

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.-Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;

Do my good morrow to them; and anon

Desire them all to my pavilion.

Glo.
Erp.

We shall, my liege.

K. Hen.

Shall I attend your grace?

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!
[Exeunt GLOSTer, Bedford, and ERPINGHAM.
God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.

K. Hen.

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 :