Part 3

You see this chase is hotly follow’d, friends.

DAUPHIN. Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head. Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin As self-neglecting.

Enter Exeter.

FRENCH KING. From our brother of England?

EXETER. From him; and thus he greets your Majesty: He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, ’longs To him and to his heirs; namely, the crown And all wide-stretched honours that pertain By custom and the ordinance of times Unto the crown of France. That you may know ’Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim Pick’d from the worm-holes of long-vanish’d days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak’d, He sends you this most memorable line, In every branch truly demonstrative; Willing you overlook this pedigree; And when you find him evenly deriv’d From his most fam’d of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger.

FRENCH KING. Or else what follows?

EXETER. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, That, if requiring fail, he will compel; And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head Turning the widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries, The dead men’s blood, the pining maidens’ groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat’ning, and my message; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too.

FRENCH KING. For us, we will consider of this further. Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England.

DAUPHIN. For the Dauphin, I stand here for him. What to him from England?

EXETER. Scorn and defiance. Slight regard, contempt, And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an if your father’s Highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty, He’ll call you to so hot an answer of it That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance.

DAUPHIN. Say, if my father render fair return, It is against my will; for I desire Nothing but odds with England. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls.

EXETER. He’ll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe; And, be assur’d, you’ll find a difference, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now. Now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain. That you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France.

FRENCH KING. Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full.

[_Flourish._]

EXETER. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already.

FRENCH KING. You shall be soon dispatch’d with fair conditions. A night is but small breath and little pause To answer matters of this consequence.

[_Exeunt._]

## ACT III

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

CHORUS. Thus with imagin’d wing our swift scene flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed king at Hampton pier Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. Play with your fancies; and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give To sounds confus’d; behold the threaden sails, Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on the inconstant billows dancing; For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arriv’d to pith and puissance. For who is he, whose chin is but enrich’d With one appearing hair, that will not follow These cull’d and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,

[_Alarum, and chambers go off._]

And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind.

[_Exit._]

## SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur.

Alarum. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloucester and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders.

KING HENRY. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it As fearfully as does a galled rock O’erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheath’d their swords for lack of argument. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry, “God for Harry! England and Saint George!”

[_Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off._]

## SCENE II. The same.

Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol and Boy.

BARDOLPH. On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach!

NYM. Pray thee, corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too hot; that is the very plain-song of it.

PISTOL. The plain-song is most just, for humours do abound. Knocks go and come; God’s vassals drop and die; And sword and shield, In bloody field, Doth win immortal fame.

BOY. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.

PISTOL. And I. If wishes would prevail with me, My purpose should not fail with me, But thither would I hie.

BOY. As duly, But not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough.

Enter Fluellen.

FLUELLEN. Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions!

[_Driving them forward._]

PISTOL. Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould. Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, Abate thy rage, great Duke! Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!

NYM. These be good humours! Your honour wins bad humours.

[_Exeunt all but Boy._]

BOY. As young as I am, I have observ’d these three swashers. I am boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver’d and red-fac’d; by the means whereof ’a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof ’a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest ’a should be thought a coward. But his few bad words are match’d with as few good deeds; for ’a never broke any man’s head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel. I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers; which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another’s pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.

[_Exit._]

Enter Gower and Fluellen.

GOWER. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines. The Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.

FLUELLEN. To the mines! Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, the athversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself four yard under the countermines. By Cheshu, I think ’a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.

GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’ faith.

FLUELLEN. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?

GOWER. I think it be.

FLUELLEN. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.

Enter Macmorris and Captain Jamy.

GOWER. Here ’a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.

FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition and knowledge in the anchient wars, upon my

## particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his

argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.

JAMY. I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen.

FLUELLEN. God-den to your worship, good Captain James.

GOWER. How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the mines? Have the pioneers given o’er?

MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la! ’tish ill done! The work ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my father’s soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la! in an hour. O, ’tish ill done, ’tish ill done; by my hand, ’tish ill done!

FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, and

## partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the

direction of the military discipline; that is the point.

JAMY. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath: and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, marry.

MACMORRIS. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the Dukes. It is no time to discourse. The town is beseech’d, and the trumpet call us to the breach, and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing. ’Tis shame for us all. So God sa’ me, ’tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me, la!

JAMY. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, I’ll de gud service, or I’ll lig i’ the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and I’ll pay’t as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question ’tween you tway.

FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation—

MACMORRIS. Of my nation! What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?

FLUELLEN. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.

MACMORRIS. I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.

GOWER. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

JAMY. Ah! that’s a foul fault.

[_A parley sounded._]

GOWER. The town sounds a parley.

FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE III. Before the gates.

The Governor and some citizens on the walls; the English forces below. Enter King Henry and his train.

KING HENRY. How yet resolves the governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit; Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves, Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the battery once again, I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh’d soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass 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 smirch’d complexion all fell feats Enlink’d to waste and desolation? What is’t to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into 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 bootless spend our vain command Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people, Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command, Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. If not, why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash’d to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus’d Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod’s bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid, Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy’d?

GOVERNOR. Our expectation hath this day an end. The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, Returns us that his powers are yet not ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; For we no longer are defensible.

KING HENRY. Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, And fortify it strongly ’gainst the French. Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, The winter coming on, and sickness growing Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest; Tomorrow for the march are we addrest.

Flourish. The King and his train enter the town.

## SCENE IV. The French King’s palace.

Enter Katharine and Alice, an old Gentlewoman.

KATHARINE. _Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage._

ALICE. _Un peu, madame._

KATHARINE. _Je te prie, m’enseignez; il faut que j’apprenne à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en anglais?_

ALICE. _La main? Elle est appelée_ de hand.

KATHARINE. De hand. _Et les doigts?_

ALICE. _Les doigts? Ma foi, j’oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense qu’ils sont appelés_ de fingres; _oui_, de fingres.

KATHARINE. _La main_, de hand; _les doigts_, de fingres. _Je pense que je suis le bon écolier; j’ai gagné deux mots d’anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles?_

ALICE. _Les ongles? Nous les appelons_ de nails.

KATHARINE. De nails. _Écoutez; dites-moi, si je parle bien:_ de hand, de fingres, _et_ de nails.

ALICE. _C’est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon anglais._

KATHARINE. _Dites-moi l’anglais pour le bras._

ALICE. De arm, _madame._

KATHARINE. _Et le coude?_

ALICE. D’elbow.

KATHARINE. D’elbow. _Je m’en fais la répétition de tous les mots que vous m’avez appris dès à présent._

ALICE. _Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense._

KATHARINE. _Excusez-moi, Alice. Écoutez:_ d’hand, de fingres, de nails, d’arm, de bilbow.

ALICE. D’elbow, _madame._

KATHARINE. _O Seigneur Dieu, je m’en oublie!_ D’elbow. _Comment appelez-vous le col?_

ALICE. De nick, _madame._

KATHARINE. De nick. _Et le menton?_

ALICE. De chin.

KATHARINE. De sin. _Le col_, de nick; _le menton_, de sin.

ALICE. _Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en vérité, vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d’Angleterre._

KATHARINE. _Je ne doute point d’apprendre, par la grâce de Dieu, et en peu de temps._

ALICE. _N’avez-vous pas déjà oublié ce que je vous ai enseigné?_

KATHARINE. _Non, je réciterai à vous promptement:_ d’hand, de fingres, de mails,—

ALICE. De nails, _madame._

KATHARINE. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.

ALICE. _Sauf votre honneur_, de elbow.

KATHARINE. _Ainsi dis-je_, d’elbow, de nick, _et_ de sin. _Comment appelez-vous le pied et la robe?_

ALICE. De foot, _madame; et_ de coun.

KATHARINE. De foot _et_ de coun! _O Seigneur Dieu! ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d’honneur d’user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh!_ le foot _et_ le coun! _Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble:_ d’hand, de fingres, de nails, d’arm, d’elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun.

ALICE. _Excellent, madame!_

KATHARINE. _C’est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous à dîner._

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE V. The same.

Enter the King of France, the Dauphin, the Duke of Bourbon, the Constable of France and others.

FRENCH KING. ’Tis certain he hath pass’d the river Somme.

CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France; let us quit all And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.

DAUPHIN. _O Dieu vivant_! shall a few sprays of us, The emptying of our fathers’ luxury, Our scions put in wild and savage stock, Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, And overlook their grafters?

BOURBON. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! _Mort de ma vie_, if they march along Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.

CONSTABLE. _Dieu de batailles_, where have they this mettle? Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull, On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, A drench for sur-rein’d jades, their barley-broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land, Let us not hang like roping icicles Upon our houses’ thatch, whiles a more frosty people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields! Poor we may call them in their native lords.

DAUPHIN. By faith and honour, Our madams mock at us, and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth To new-store France with bastard warriors.

BOURBON. They bid us to the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos; Saying our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways.

FRENCH KING. Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence. Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. Up, princes! and, with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field! Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry, Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; Jacques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrale, Boucicault, and Charolois; High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, For your great seats now quit you of great shames. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur. Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon. Go down upon him, you have power enough, And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner.

CONSTABLE. This becomes the great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famish’d in their march; For I am sure, when he shall see our army, He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear And for achievement offer us his ransom.

FRENCH KING. Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy, And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give. Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.

DAUPHIN. Not so, I do beseech your Majesty.

FRENCH KING. Be patient, for you shall remain with us. Now forth, Lord Constable and princes all, And quickly bring us word of England’s fall.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE VI. The English camp in Picardy.

Enter Gower and Fluellen, meeting.

GOWER. How now, Captain Fluellen! come you from the bridge?

FLUELLEN. I assure you, there is very excellent services committed at the bridge.

GOWER. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?