Part 6

I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but the saying is true, “The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.” Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i’ the old play, that everyone may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both hang’d; and so would this be, if he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it but boys.

[_Exit._]

## SCENE V. Another part of the field.

Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin and Rambures.

CONSTABLE. _O diable!_

ORLEANS. _O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!_

DAUPHIN. _Mort de ma vie!_ all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes.

[_A short alarum._]

_O méchante Fortune!_ Do not run away.

CONSTABLE. Why, all our ranks are broke.

DAUPHIN. O perdurable shame! Let’s stab ourselves, Be these the wretches that we play’d at dice for?

ORLEANS. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?

BOURBON. Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame! Let’s die in honour! Once more back again! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand, Like a base pandar, hold the chamber door Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, His fairest daughter is contaminated.

CONSTABLE. Disorder, that hath spoil’d us, friend us now! Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

ORLEANS. We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.

BOURBON. The devil take order now! I’ll to the throng. Let life be short, else shame will be too long.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE VI. Another part of the field.

Alarum. Enter King Henry and his train, with prisoners.

KING HENRY. Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen. But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field.

EXETER. The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.

KING HENRY. Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting. From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

EXETER. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over, Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawn upon his face. He cries aloud, “Tarry, my cousin Suffolk! My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry.” Upon these words I came and cheer’d him up. He smil’d me in the face, raught me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says, “Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.” So did he turn and over Suffolk’s neck He threw his wounded arm and kiss’d his lips; And so espous’d to death, with blood he seal’d A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forc’d Those waters from me which I would have stopp’d; But I had not so much of man in me, And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.

KING HENRY. I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

[_Alarum._]

But hark! what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforc’d their scatter’d men. Then every soldier kill his prisoners; Give the word through.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE VII. Another part of the field.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

FLUELLEN. Kill the poys and the luggage! ’Tis expressly against the law of arms. ’Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offer’t; in your conscience, now, is it not?

GOWER. ’Tis certain there’s not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha’ done this slaughter. Besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the King’s tent; wherefore the King, most worthily, hath caus’d every soldier to cut his prisoner’s throat. O, ’tis a gallant king!

FLUELLEN. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you the town’s name where Alexander the Pig was born?

GOWER. Alexander the Great.

FLUELLEN. Why, I pray you, is not pig great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.

GOWER. I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon. His father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

FLUELLEN. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, Captain, if you look in the maps of the ’orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; it is call’d Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but ’tis all one, ’tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander’s life well, Harry of Monmouth’s life is come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things. Alexander, God knows, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Cleitus.

GOWER. Our King is not like him in that. He never kill’d any of his friends.

FLUELLEN. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it. As Alexander kill’d his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgements, turn’d away the fat knight with the great belly doublet. He was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name.

GOWER. Sir John Falstaff.

FLUELLEN. That is he. I’ll tell you there is good men porn at Monmouth.

GOWER. Here comes his Majesty.

Alarum. Enter King Henry and forces; Warwick, Gloucester, Exeter with prisoners. Flourish.

KING HENRY. I was not angry since I came to France Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald; Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill. If they will fight with us, bid them come down, Or void the field; they do offend our sight. If they’ll do neither, we will come to them, And make them skirr away, as swift as stones Enforced from the old Assyrian slings. Besides, we’ll cut the throats of those we have, And not a man of them that we shall take Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.

Enter Montjoy.

EXETER. Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.

GLOUCESTER. His eyes are humbler than they us’d to be.

KING HENRY. How now! what means this, herald? Know’st thou not That I have fin’d these bones of mine for ransom? Com’st thou again for ransom?

MONTJOY. No, great King; I come to thee for charitable license, That we may wander o’er this bloody field To book our dead, and then to bury them; To sort our nobles from our common men. For many of our princes—woe the while!— Lie drown’d and soak’d in mercenary blood; So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great King, To view the field in safety, and dispose Of their dead bodies!

KING HENRY. I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no; For yet a many of your horsemen peer And gallop o’er the field.

MONTJOY. The day is yours.

KING HENRY. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it! What is this castle call’d that stands hard by?

MONTJOY. They call it Agincourt.

KING HENRY. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

FLUELLEN. Your grandfather of famous memory, an’t please your Majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.

KING HENRY. They did, Fluellen.

FLUELLEN. Your Majesty says very true. If your Majesties is rememb’red of it, the Welshmen did good service in garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which, your Majesty know, to this hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy’s day.

KING HENRY. I wear it for a memorable honour; For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.

FLUELLEN. All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty’s Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that. Got pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases His grace, and His majesty too!

KING HENRY. Thanks, good my countryman.

FLUELLEN. By Jeshu, I am your Majesty’s countryman, I care not who know it. I will confess it to all the ’orld. I need not be asham’d of your Majesty, praised be God, so long as your Majesty is an honest man.

KING HENRY. God keep me so!

Enter Williams.

Our heralds go with him; Bring me just notice of the numbers dead On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.

[_Exeunt Heralds with Montjoy._]

EXETER. Soldier, you must come to the King.

KING HENRY. Soldier, why wear’st thou that glove in thy cap?

WILLIAMS. An’t please your Majesty, ’tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive.

KING HENRY. An Englishman?

WILLIAMS. An’t please your Majesty, a rascal that swagger’d with me last night; who, if alive and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box o’ the ear; or if I can see my glove in his cap, which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear if alive, I will strike it out soundly.

KING HENRY. What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it fit this soldier keep his oath?

FLUELLEN. He is a craven and a villain else, an’t please your Majesty, in my conscience.

KING HENRY. It may be his enemy is a gentlemen of great sort, quite from the answer of his degree.

FLUELLEN. Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifier and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace, that he keep his vow and his oath. If he be perjur’d, see you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jacksauce, as ever his black shoe trod upon God’s ground and His earth, in my conscience, la!

KING HENRY. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet’st the fellow.

WILLIAMS. So I will, my liege, as I live.

KING HENRY. Who serv’st thou under?

WILLIAMS. Under Captain Gower, my liege.

FLUELLEN. Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in the wars.

KING HENRY. Call him hither to me, soldier.

WILLIAMS. I will, my liege.

[_Exit._]

KING HENRY. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and stick it in thy cap. When Alençon and myself were down together, I pluck’d this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alençon, and an enemy to our person. If thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.

FLUELLEN. Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desir’d in the hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find himself aggrief’d at this glove; that is all. But I would fain see it once, an please God of His grace that I might see.

KING HENRY. Know’st thou Gower?

FLUELLEN. He is my dear friend, an please you.

KING HENRY. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.

FLUELLEN. I will fetch him.

[_Exit._]

KING HENRY. My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester, Follow Fluellen closely at the heels. The glove which I have given him for a favour May haply purchase him a box o’ the ear. It is the soldier’s; I by bargain should Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick. If that the soldier strike him, as I judge By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, Some sudden mischief may arise of it; For I do know Fluellen valiant And, touch’d with choler, hot as gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury. Follow, and see there be no harm between them. Go you with me, uncle of Exeter.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE VIII. Before King Henry’s pavilion.

Enter Gower and Williams.

WILLIAMS. I warrant it is to knight you, Captain.

Enter Fluellen.

FLUELLEN. God’s will and his pleasure, captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the King. There is more good toward you peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of.

WILLIAMS. Sir, know you this glove?

FLUELLEN. Know the glove! I know the glove is a glove.

WILLIAMS. I know this; and thus I challenge it.

[_Strikes him._]

FLUELLEN. ’Sblood! an arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England!

GOWER. How now, sir! you villain!

WILLIAMS. Do you think I’ll be forsworn?

FLUELLEN. Stand away, Captain Gower. I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you.

WILLIAMS. I am no traitor.

FLUELLEN. That’s a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his Majesty’s name, apprehend him; he’s a friend of the Duke Alençon’s.

Enter Warwick and Gloucester.

WARWICK. How now, how now! what’s the matter?

FLUELLEN. My lord of Warwick, here is—praised be God for it!—a most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer’s day. Here is his Majesty.

Enter King Henry and Exeter.

KING HENRY. How now! what’s the matter?

FLUELLEN. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your Grace, has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out of the helmet of Alençon.

WILLIAMS. My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of it; and he that I gave it to in change promis’d to wear it in his cap. I promis’d to strike him, if he did. I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.

FLUELLEN. Your Majesty hear now, saving your Majesty’s manhood, what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is. I hope your Majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will avouchment, that this is the glove of Alençon that your Majesty is give me; in your conscience, now?

KING HENRY. Give me thy glove, soldier. Look, here is the fellow of it. ’Twas I, indeed, thou promisedst to strike; And thou hast given me most bitter terms.

FLUELLEN. An it please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world.

KING HENRY. How canst thou make me satisfaction?

WILLIAMS. All offences, my lord, come from the heart. Never came any from mine that might offend your Majesty.

KING HENRY. It was ourself thou didst abuse.

WILLIAMS. Your Majesty came not like yourself. You appear’d to me but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your Highness suffer’d under that shape, I beseech you take it for your own fault and not mine; for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech your Highness, pardon me.

KING HENRY. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns, And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow; And wear it for an honour in thy cap Till I do challenge it. Give him his crowns; And, captain, you must needs be friends with him.

FLUELLEN. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his belly. Hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to serve God, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better for you.

WILLIAMS. I will none of your money.

FLUELLEN. It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? Your shoes is not so good. ’Tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

Enter an English Herald.

KING HENRY. Now, herald, are the dead numb’red?

HERALD. Here is the number of the slaught’red French.

KING HENRY. What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?

EXETER. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King; John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Boucicault: Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.

KING HENRY. This note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lie slain; of princes, in this number, And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead One hundred twenty-six; added to these, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which, Five hundred were but yesterday dubb’d knights; So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality. The names of those their nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; Jacques of Chatillon, Admiral of France; The master of the Crossbows, Lord Rambures; Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dauphin, John, Duke of Alençon, Anthony, Duke of Brabant, The brother to the Duke of Burgundy, And Edward, Duke of Bar; of lusty earls, Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale. Here was a royal fellowship of death! Where is the number of our English dead?

[_Herald gives him another paper._]

Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire; None else of name; and of all other men But five and twenty.—O God, thy arm was here; And not to us, but to thy arm alone, Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem, But in plain shock and even play of battle, Was ever known so great and little loss On one part and on the other? Take it, God, For it is none but thine!

EXETER. ’Tis wonderful!

KING HENRY. Come, go we in procession to the village; And be it death proclaimed through our host To boast of this or take that praise from God Which is His only.

FLUELLEN. Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how many is kill’d?

KING HENRY. Yes, Captain; but with this acknowledgment, That God fought for us.

FLUELLEN. Yes, my conscience, He did us great good.

KING HENRY. Do we all holy rites. Let there be sung _Non nobis_ and _Te Deum_, The dead with charity enclos’d in clay, And then to Calais; and to England then, Where ne’er from France arriv’d more happy men.

[_Exeunt._]

## ACT V

Enter Chorus.

CHORUS. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, That I may prompt them; and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit the excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life Be here presented. Now we bear the King Toward Calais; grant him there; there seen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys, Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth’d sea, Which like a mighty whiffler ’fore the King Seems to prepare his way. So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace hath thought that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath, Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city. He forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent Quite from himself to God. But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens! The mayor and all his brethren in best sort, Like to the senators of th’ antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in; As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; As yet the lamentation of the French Invites the King of England’s stay at home, The Emperor’s coming in behalf of France, To order peace between them;—and omit All the occurrences, whatever chanc’d, Till Harry’s back-return again to France. There must we bring him; and myself have play’d The interim, by rememb’ring you ’tis past. Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

[_Exit._]

## SCENE I. France. The English camp.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

GOWER. Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy’s day is past.

FLUELLEN. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I will tell you ass my friend, Captain Gower. The rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.

Enter Pistol.

GOWER. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

FLUELLEN. ’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Anchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!

PISTOL. Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

FLUELLEN. I peseech you heartily, scurfy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek. Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

PISTOL. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

FLUELLEN. There is one goat for you. [_Strikes him._] Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?

PISTOL. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.