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 guidon: 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.

SCENE III. The English Camp.

60

[Exeunt.

Enter the English Host; GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, SALISBURY, and WESTMORE

LAND.

GLOU. 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.
SAL. God's arm strike with us! 't is a fearful odds.
God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,

My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu !

BED. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with. thee !

EXE. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day: And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,

For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.

[Exit SALISBURY. BED. He is as full of valour as of kindness; Princely in both.

WEST.

Enter KING HENRY.

O that we now had here

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 cousin :
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

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 more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,

Nor 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.

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
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 named,
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 neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian :'

Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day: then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
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,

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30

40

50

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;

60

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 accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Re-enter SALISBURY.

SAL. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: The French are bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us.

70

K. HEN. All things are ready, if our minds be so. WEST. Perish the man whose mind is backward now! K. HEN. Thou dost not wish more help from England,

coz?

WEST. God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, might fight this royal battle!

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

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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 : 90 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 lived, 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,

ΙΟΙ

They shall be famed; 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 abounding 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 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.

120

[Exit. K. HEN. I fear thou 'lt once more come again for

ransom.

Enter YORK.

YORK. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg

The leading of the vaward.

130

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 êtes gentilhomme de bonne qualité.

PIST. Qualtity! calmie casture 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 ransom.

FR. SOL. O, prenez miséricorde! ayez pitié de moi ! PIST. Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys; Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat

In drops of crimson blood.

ΙΟ

FR. SOL. Est-il impossible d'échapper la force de ton bras?

PIST. Brass, cur!

Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat,
Offer'st me brass?

FR. SOL. O pardonnez-moi !

PIST. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moyś? Come hither, boy: ask me this slave in French

What is his name.

Boy. Écoutez: comment êtes-vous appelé?

FR. SOL. Monsieur le Fer.

Boy. He says his name is Master Fer.

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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?

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Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous prêt; car ce soldat ici est disposé tout à cette heure de couper votre gorge.

PIST. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy,

Peasant, 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