Part 5
[Footnote III.17: _----by my habit,_] That is, by his herald's coat. The person of a herald being inviolable, was distinguished in those times of formality by a peculiar dress, which is likewise yet worn on particular occasions.]
[Footnote III.18: _----admire our sufferance._] i.e., our patience, moderation.]
[Footnote III.19: _Without impeachment:_] i.e., hindrance. _Empechement_, French.]
[Footnote III.20: _Yet, Heaven before,_] In the acting edition, the name of God is changed to Heaven. This was an expression in Shakespeare's time for _God being my guide_.]
[Footnote III.21: _Though France himself,_] i.e., though _the King of France_ himself.]
END OF ACT THIRD.
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT THIRD.
(A) _Come you from the bridge?_] After Henry had passed the Somme, Titus Livius asserts, that the King having been informed of a river which must be crossed, over which was a bridge, and that his progress depended in a great degree upon securing possession of it, despatched some part of his forces to defend it from any attack, or from being destroyed. They found many of the enemy ready to receive them, to whom they gave battle, and after a severe conflict, they captured the bridge, and kept it.
(B) _Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; For he hath stol'n a pix, and hanged must 'a be._
It will be seen by the following extract from the anonymous Chronicler how minutely Shakespeare has adhered to history-- "There was brought to the King in that plain a certain English robber, who, contrary to the laws of God and the Royal Proclamation, had stolen from a church a pix of copper gilt, found in his sleeve, which he happened to mistake for gold, in which the Lord's body was kept; and in the next village where he passed the night, by decree of the King, he was put to death on the gallows." Titus Livius relates that Henry commanded his army to halt until the sacrilege was expiated. He first caused the pix to be restored to the Church, and the offender was then led, bound as a thief, through the army, and afterwards hung upon a tree, that every man might behold him.
(C) _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:_]
My desire is, that none of you be so _unadvised_, as to be the occasion that I in my defence shall _colour_ and make _red your tawny ground_ with the effusion of Christian blood. When he (Henry) had thus answered the Herald, he gave him a great reward, and licensed him to depart. --_Holinshed_.
_Enter CHORUS._
_Cho._ 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,[1] That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch:[2] Fire answers fire;[3] and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber'd face:[4] Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents, The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, The confident and over-lusty[5] French Do the low-rated English play at dice;[6] And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp So tediously away.
_Scene opens and discovers the interior of a French tent, with the DAUPHIN, the CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, and others, playing at dice._
_Dau._ Will it never be day?
_Con._ I would it were morning; for I would fain be about the ears of the English.
_Dau._ Who will go to hazard with me for twenty English prisoners?
_Orl._ The prince longs to eat the English.
_Con._ Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning, as we do.
_Dau._ If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.
_Con._ That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
_Dau._ Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten apples! You may as well say,--that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
_Con._ Just, just: give them great meals of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.
_Orl._ Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
_Con._ Then we shall find to-morrow--they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we about it?
_Dau._ It is now two o'clock: but, let me see,--by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
## SCENE CLOSES IN.
_Cho._ The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The morning's danger; and their gestures sad, Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats, Presenteth them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts.
[_Scene re-opens, discovering the English camp, with group of soldiery praying. After a pause the scene closes._
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-watched night; But freshly looks, and overbears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: 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; The field of Agincourt. Yet, sit and see; Minding true things[7] by what their mockeries be.
[_Exit._
[Footnote IVc.1: _----+stilly+ sounds,_] i.e., gently, lowly.]
[Footnote IVc.2: _The secret whispers of each other's watch:_] Holinshed says, that the distance between the two armies was but 250 paces.]
[Footnote IVc.3: _Fire answers fire;_] This circumstance is also taken from Holinshed. "But at their coming into the village, _fires_ were made by the English to give light on every side, as there likewise were in the French hoste."]
[Footnote IVc.4: _----the other's +umber'd+ face:_] _Umber'd_ means here _discoloured_ by the gleam of the fires. _Umber_ is a dark yellow earth, brought from Umbria, in Italy, which, being mixed with water, produces such a dusky yellow colour as the gleam of fire by night gives to the countenance. Shakespeare's theatrical profession probably furnished him with the epithet, as burnt umber is occasionally used by actors for colouring the face.]
[Footnote IVc.5: _----over-+lusty+_] i.e., over-_saucy._]
[Footnote IVc.6: _Do the low-rated English play at dice;_] i.e., do play them away at dice. Holinshed says-- "The Frenchmen, in the meanwhile, as though they had been sure of victory, made great triumph; for the captains had determined before how to divide the spoil, and _the soldiers the night before had played the Englishmen at dice_."]
[Footnote IVc.7: _Minding true things_] To _mind_ is the same as to _call to remembrance_.]
## ACT IV.
## SCENE I.--THE ENGLISH CAMP AT AGINCOURT.(A) NIGHT.
_Enter KING HENRY and GLOSTER, U.E.L.H._
_K. Hen._ Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be.
_Enter BEDFORD, R.H._
Good morrow, brother Bedford.--Gracious Heaven! 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. Thus may we gather honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself.
_Enter ERPINGHAM.(B) L.H._
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._ 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._ We shall, my liege.
[_Exeunt GLOSTER and BEDFORD, R.H._
_Erp._ Shall I attend your grace?
_K. Hen._ No, my good knight; Go with my brothers to my lords of England:
[_ERPINGHAM crosses to R._
I and my bosom must debate a while, And then I would no other company.
_Erp._ Heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
[_Exit ERPINGHAM, R.H._
_K. Hen._ Gad-a-mercy, old heart! thou speakest cheerfully.
_Enter PISTOL, L.H._
_Pist._ _Qui va la?_
_K. Hen._ A friend.
_Pist._ Discuss unto me; Art thou officer? Or art thou base, common, and popular?[1]
_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.[2]
_Pist._ The king's a bawcock,[3] and a heart of gold, A lad of life, an imp of fame;[4] Of parents good, of fist most valiant: I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings I love the lovely bully. What's thy name?
_K. Hen._ Harry _le Roi_.
_Pist._ _Le Roi!_ a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew?
_K. Hen._ No, I am a Welshman.
_Pist._ Knowest thou Fluellen?
_K. Hen._ Yes.
_Pist._ Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate, Upon Saint Davy's day.
[_Crosses to R._
_K. Hen._ Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.
_Pist._ Art thou his friend?
_K. Hen._ And his kinsman too.
_Pist._ The _figo_ for thee, then!
_K. Hen._ I thank you: Heaven be with you!
_Pist._ My name is Pistol call'd.
[_Exit, R.H._
_K. Hen._ It sorts[5] well with your fierceness.
_Enter FLUELLEN, L.H., and crosses to R., and GOWER, U.E.R.H., following hastily._
_Gow._ Captain Fluellen!
_Flu._ (R.C.) So! in the name of Heaven, speak lower.[6] It is the greatest admiration in the universal 'orld, when the true and auncient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle, or pibble pabble in Pompey's camp.
_Gow._ (L.C.) Why, the enemy is loud; you heard him all night.
_Flu._ If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, in your own conscience, now?
_Gow._ I will speak lower.
_Flu._ I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.
[_Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN, R.H._
_K. Hen._ Though it appear a little out of fashion, there is much care and valour in this Welshman.
_Enter BATES and WILLIAMS, L.H._
_Will._ Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?
_Bates._ I think it be: but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day.
_Will._ We see yonder the beginning of the day, but, I think, we shall never see the end of it.--Who goes there?
_K. Hen._ A friend.
[_Comes down, R._
_Will._ Under what captain serve you?
_K. Hen._ Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
_Will._ A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?
_K. Hen._ Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide.
_Bates._ (L.) He hath not told his thought to the king?
_K. Hen._ No; nor it is not meet he should. (_Crosses to centre._) For, though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions:[7] therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are: Yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.
_Bates._ He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in the Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.
_K. Hen._ (C.) By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king: I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is.
_Bates._ (L.) Then 'would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.
_K. Hen._ I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this, to feel other men's minds: Methinks I could not die any where so contented as in the king's company; his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable.[8]
_Will._ (R.) That's more than we know.
_Bates._ Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the king's subjects: if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us.
_Will._ But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy rekoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in battle, shall join together at the latter day,[9] and cry all--We died at such place; some swearing; some crying for a surgeon; some, upon their wives left poor behind them; some, upon the debts they owe; some, upon their children rawly left.[10] I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it; whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.
_K. Hen._ So, if a son, that is by his father sent about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him:--But this is not so: the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, nor the father of his son, for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience: and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained.
_Will._ 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his own head; the king is not to answer for it.
_Bates._ I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
_K. Hen._ I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.
_Will._ Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, and we ne'er the wiser.
_K. Hen._ If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
_Will._ That's a perilous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch! you may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word after! come, 'tis a foolish saying.
_K. Hen._ Your reproof is something too round:[11] I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
_Will._ Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
_K. Hen._ I embrace it.
_Will._ How shall I know thee again?
_K. Hen._ Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.
_Will._ Here's my glove: give me another of thine.
_K. Hen._ There.
_Will._ This will I also wear in my cap: if ever thou come to me and say, after to-morrow. _This is my glove_, by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear.
_K. Hen._ If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
_Will._ Thou darest as well be hanged.
_K. Hen._ Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the king's company.
_Will._ Keep thy word: fare thee well.
_Bates._ Be friends, you English fools, be friends: (_Crosses to_ WILLIAMS, R.) we have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to reckon.
[_Exeunt Soldiers, R.H._
_K. Hen._ Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls, Our sins, lay on the king!--we must bear all. O hard condition, twin-born with greatness, Subjected to the breath of every fool. What infinite heart's ease must king's neglect, That private men enjoy! And what have kings, that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men? Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd Than they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, That play'st so subtly with a king's repose: I am a king that find thee; and I know, 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world, No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave, Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; And but for ceremony, such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
_Enter ERPINGHAM, R.H._
_Erp._ My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you.
_K. Hen._ Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent: I'll be before thee.
[_Gives back the Cloak to ERPINGHAM._
_Erp._ I shall do't, my lord. _[Exit, R.H._
_K. Hen._ O God of battles! steel my soldier's hearts; Possess them not with fear; take from them now The sense of reckoning, lest the opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them!--Not to-day, O Lord, O, not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown! I Richard's body have interred new;(C) And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, Than from it issu'd 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: More will I do--
[_Trumpet sounds without, R._
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
[_Exit, R.H._
[Footnote IV.1: _----popular_] i.e., one of the people.]
[Footnote IV.2: _----you are a better than the king._] i.e., a better _man_ than the king.]
[Footnote IV.3: _The king's a bawcock,_] A burlesque term of endearment, supposed to be derived from _beau coq_.]
[Footnote IV.4: _----an imp of fame;_] An _imp_ is a young shoot, but means a _son_ in Shakespeare. In this sense the word has become obsolete, and is now only understood as a small or inferior devil.
In Holingshed, p. 951, the last words of Lord Cromwell are preserved, who says:-- "----and after him, that his son Prince Edward, that goodly _imp_, may long reign over you."]
[Footnote IV.5: _It sorts_] i.e., it agrees.]
[Footnote IV.6: _----speak lower._] Shakespeare has here, as usual, followed Holinshead: "Order was taken by commandement from the king, after the army was first set in battle array, that _no noise or clamor should be made in the host_."]
[Footnote IV.7: _----conditions:_] i.e., _qualities_. The meaning is, that objects are represented by his senses to him, as to other men by theirs. What is danger to another is danger likewise to him; and, when he feels fear, it is like the fear of meaner mortals. --JOHNSON.]
[Footnote IV.8: _----his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable._] In his address to the army, King Henry called upon them all to remember _the just cause and quarrel_ for which they fought. --HOLINSHED.]
[Footnote V.9: _----the latter day,_] i.e., the last day, the day of Judgment. Shakespeare frequently uses the _comparative_ for the _superlative_.]
[Footnote V.10: _----their children +rawly+ left._] i.e., _left young and helpless_.]
[Footnote IV.11: _----too +round+:_] i.e., too rough, too unceremonious.]
## SCENE II.--THE FRENCH CAMP--SUNRISE.
_Flourish of trumpets._
_Enter DAUPHIN, GRANDPRE, RAMBURES,[12] and Others._
_Dau._ The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords! My horse! _varlet! lacquay!_ ha!
[_Servants exeunt hastily._
_Grand._ O brave spirit!
_Dau._ Cousin Orleans.--
_Enter CONSTABLE, L.H._
Now, my lord Constable!
_Con._ Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!
_Dau._ Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And dout them[13] with superfluous courage, Ha!
_Con._ What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? How shall we, then, behold their natural tears?
_Enter MONTJOY, R.H._
_Mont._ The English are embattled, you French peers.
[_Exit R.H._
_Con._ To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band. 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. 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, That our superfluous lackeys, are enough To purge this field of such a hilding foe.[14] A very little little let us do, And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.
_Enter ORLEANS,(D) hastily, R.H._
_Orl._ Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? Yon island carrions,[15] desperate of their bones, Ill-favour'dly become the morning field: Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,[16] And our air shakes them passing scornfully: Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, 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.
_Dau._ Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits, And give their fasting horses provender, And after fight with them?
_Con._ On, to the field! Come, come, away! The sun is high, and we outwear the day.
[_Exeunt, R.H._
_Flourish of trumpets._
[Footnote IV.12: _Rambures_,] The Lord of Rambures was commander of the cross-bows in the French army at Agincourt.]
[Footnote IV.13: _And dout them_] _Dout_, is a word still used in Warwickshire, and signifies to _do out_, or _extinguish_.]
[Footnote IV.14: _----a hilding foe._] _Hilding_, or _hinderling_, is a _low wretch_.]
[Footnote IV.15: _Yon island carrion,_] This description of the English is founded on the melancholy account given by our historians of Henry's army, immediately before the battle of Agincourt.]
[Footnote IV.16: _Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,_] By their _ragged curtains_, are meant their colours.]
## SCENE III.--THE ENGLISH POSITION AT AGINCOURT.
_The English Army drawn up for battle;(E) GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, SALISBURY, ERPINGHAM, and WESTMORELAND._
_Glo._ (R.C.) Where is the king?