Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing.221 What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy?
And what have kings, that privates223 have not too,
Save224 ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idle225 ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal227 griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? What are thy comings in?228
O ceremony, show me but thy worth.
What? Is thy soul of adoration?230
Art thou aught231 else but place, degree and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy being feared
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poisoned flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles239 blown from adulation?
Will it give place240 to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee241,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly243 with a king's repose.
I am a king that find thee244, and I know
'Tis not the balm245, the sceptre and the ball,
The sword, the mace246, the crown imperial,
The intertissued247 robe of gold and pearl,
The farced248 title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp249
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 filled and vacant mind
Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful255 bread,
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
But like a lackey257, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus258 and all night
Sleeps in Elysium259: next day after dawn,
Doth rise and help Hyperion260 to his horse,
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable262 labour, to his grave.
And but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the forehand and vantage of265 a king.
The slave, a member266 of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross267 brain little wots
What watch268 the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.269
Enter Erpingham
ERPINGHAM My lord, your nobles, jealous of270 your absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
KING HENRY V Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.
ERPINGHAM I shall do't, my lord.
Exit
KING HENRY V O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts,
Possess them not with fear. Take from them now
The sense of reck'ning278, ere th'opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O lord,
O, not today, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing281 the crown!
I Richard's body have interred new282,
And on it have bestowed more contrite tears
Than from it issued forced284 drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their withered hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood287, and I have built
Two chantries288, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still289 for Richard's soul. More will I do,
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloucester
GLOUCESTER My liege.
KING HENRY V My brother Gloucester's voice?-- Ay,
I know thy errand. I will go with thee.
The day, my friends, and all things stay296 for me.
Exeunt
[Act 4 Scene 2]
running scene 11
Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and Beaumont
ORLEANS The sun doth gild our armour. Up, my lords!
DAUPHIN Monte a cheval!2 My horse, varlet! Laquais! Ha!
ORLEANS O brave spirit!
DAUPHIN Via, les eaux et la terre.4
ORLEANS Rien puis? L'air et feu5.
DAUPHIN Cieux6, cousin Orleans.
Enter Constable
Now, my lord constable?
CONSTABLE Hark, how our steeds for present service8 neigh.
DAUPHIN Mount them, and make incision in their hides9,
That their hot blood may spin10 in English eyes,
And dout11 them with superfluous courage. Ha!
RAMBURES What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?
How shall we then behold their natural tears?
Enter Messenger
MESSENGER The English are embattled14, you French peers.
CONSTABLE To horse, you gallant princes, straight to horse!
Do but behold yond poor and starved band16,
And your fair show17 shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales18 and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins
To give each naked curtle-axe21 a stain,
That our French gallants22 shall today draw out,
And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.24
'Tis positive gainst all exceptions25, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants,
Who in unnecessary action swarm
About our squares of battle28, were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding29 foe,
Though we upon this mountain's basis30 by
Took stand for idle speculation:
But that our honours32 must not. What's to say?
A very little little let us do
And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
The tucket sonance35 and the note to mount,
For our approach shall so much dare36 the field
That England shall couch down in fear and yield.
Enter Grandpre
GRANDPRE Why do you stay38 so long, my lords of France?
Yond39 island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favouredly become40 the morning field:
Their ragged curtains41 poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing42 scornfully.
Big Mars43 seems bankrupt in their beggared host
And faintly through a rusty beaver44 peeps.
The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks45,
With torch-staves46 in their hand, and their poor jades
Lob47 down their heads, dropping the hides and hips,
The gum48 down-roping from their pale dead eyes
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmaled49 bit
Lies foul50 with chewed grass, still and motionless,
And their executors51, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.52
Description cannot suit53 itself in words
To demonstrate the life of such a battle54
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
CONSTABLE They have said their prayers and they stay for death.
DAUPHIN Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits
And give their fasting58 horses provender,
And after fight with them?
CONSTA
BLE I stay but for my guidon.60 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 outwear63 the day.
Exeunt
[Act 4 Scene 3]
running scene 12
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his host, Salisbury and Westmorland
GLOUCESTER Where is the king?
BEDFORD The king himself is rode to view their battle.
WESTMORLAND Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.3
EXETER There's five to one. Besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY God's arm strike with us! 'Tis a fearful odds.
God buy'6 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 kinsman10, warriors all, adieu!
BEDFORD Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!
EXETER Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today.
And yet I do thee wrong to mind13 thee of it,
For thou art framed14 of the firm truth of valour.
[Exit Salisbury]
BEDFORD He is as full of valour as of kindness,
Princely in both.
Enter the King
WESTMORLAND O, that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work today!
KING HENRY V What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin,
If we are marked to die, we are enough22
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will, I pray thee, wish25 not one man more.
By Jove26, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost27,
It yearns28 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 coz32, wish not a man from England.
God's peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share34 from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more.
Rather proclaim it36, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to37 this fight,
Let him depart, his passport38 shall be made
And crowns for convoy39 put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship41 to die with us.--
To all
This day is called the feast of Crispian42:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tiptoe44 when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil47 feast his neighbours,
And say, 'Tomorrow 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 all51 shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages52
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 remembered.57
This story shall the good man teach his son,
And Crispin Crispian59 shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy62 few, we band of brothers.
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother, be he ne'er so vile64,
This day shall gentle his condition.65
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods68 cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Enter Salisbury
SALISBURY My sovereign lord, bestow yourself70 with speed:
The French are bravely71 in their battles set,
And will with all expedience72 charge on us.
KING HENRY v All things are ready, if our minds be so.
WESTMORLAND Perish the man whose mind is backward74 now!
KING HENRY V Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
WESTMORLAND God's will, my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
KING HENRY V Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men,
Which likes79 me better than to wish us one.--
You know your places. God be with you all!
Tucket. Enter Montjoy
MONTJOY Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound82,
Before thy most assured overthrow,
For certainly thou art so near the gulf84,
Thou needs must be englutted.85 Besides, in mercy,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind86
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire88
From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must lie and fester.
KING HENRY V Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY The Constable of France.
KING HENRY V I pray thee bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve94 me and then sell my bones.
Good God, why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin96
While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him.
A many98 of our bodies shall no doubt
Find native99 graves, upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass100 of this day's work.
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be famed, for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking104 up to heaven,
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime105,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark107 then abounding valour in our English,
That being dead, like to the bullet's crazing108,
Break out into a second course of mischief109,
Killing in relapse of mortality.110
Let me speak proudly: tell the constable
We are but warriors for the working day.112
Our gayness113 and our gilt are all besmirched
With rainy marching in the painful field.114
There's not a piece of feather115 in our host --
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly116 --
And time hath worn us into slovenry.117
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim118,
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night,
They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck120
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.124 Herald, save thou thy labour:
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald.
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints126,
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them127,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.
MONTJOY I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
Exit
KING HENRY V I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom.
Enter York
Kneels
YORK My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vanguard.
KING HENRY V Take it, brave York.-- Now, soldiers, march away.
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose135 the day!
Exeunt
[Act 4 Scene 4]
running scene 13
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistol, French Soldier [and] Boy
PISTOL Yield, cur!
FRENCH SOLDIER Je pense que vous etes le gentilhomme de bon2
qualite.
PISTOL Qualtitie4 calmie custure me? Art thou a gentleman?
What is thy name? Discuss.5
FRENCH SOLDIER O Seigneur Dieu!6
PISTOL O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman.
Perpend8 my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark:
Draws his sword
O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox9,
Except10, O signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious11 ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER O, prenez misericorde! Ayez pitie de moi!12
PISTOL 'Moy13' shall not serve. I will have forty moys,
For I will fetch thy rim14 out at thy throat
In drops of crimson blood.
FRENCH SOLDIER Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras?16
PISTOL Brass17, cur?
Thou damned and luxurious18 mountain goat,
Offer'st me brass?
FRENCH SOLDIER O, pardonnez-moi!20
PISTOL Say'st thou me so? Is that a ton of moys?21
Come hither, boy. Ask me this slave in French
What is his name.
BOY Ecoutez, comment etes-vous appele?24
FRENCH SOLDIER Monsieur le Fer25.
BOY He says his name is Master Fer.
PISTOL Master Fer?27 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.
PISTOL Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.
FRENCH SOLDIER Que dit-il, monsieur?31
BOY Il me commande a vous dire que vous faites vous pret32,
car ce soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre
gorge.
PISTOL Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy35,
Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave36 crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
FRENCH SOLDIER O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me38
pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie,
et je vous donnerai deux cents ecus.
PISTOL What are his words?
BOY He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of a
good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred
crowns.
PISTOL Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the crowns will
take.
FRENCH SOLDIER Petit monsieur, que dit-il?47
BOY Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun48
prisonnier, neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il est
content a vous donner la liberte, le franchisement.