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 : (2)
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and sees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,*
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,

a

Familiar in their mouths as household words,—c
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
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
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;
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 :a
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd, 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.
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, could 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
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;

Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.

(*) First folio, neighbours.

a He that outlives this day, and sees old age,-] This is from the quartos, and is surely preferable to the lection of the folio:"He that shall see this day, and live old age."

b And say, These wounds I had on Crispin's day.] This line is found only in the quartos.

e Familiar in their mouths as household words,-] So the quartos. In the folio the line runs,

"Familiar in his mouth as household words."

d Shall gentle his condition :] King Henry V. inhibited any person but such as had a right by inheritance, or grant, to assume coats of arms, except those who fought with him at the battle of Agincourt; and, I think, these last were allowed the chief seats of honour at all feasts and publick meetings."-TOLLET.

Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?

The man that once did sell the lion's skin

While the beast liv'd, 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,
They shall be fam'd; 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 will 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.

[Exit.

K. HEN. I fear thou wilt once more come again for ransom.b

(*) Old text, crasing.

a Shall witness live in brass-] The effigy, engraved on brass, of John Leventhorp, Esq. one of the heroes of Agincourt, who died in 1433, still remains in Sawbridgeworth church, Herts.

I fear thou wilt once more come again for ransom.] This is not in the quartos; and the folio has,

"I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom." Qualify! cality! construe me, art thou a gentleman ?] In the folto the line is not found in the quartos) this is printed,"Qualitie calmie custure me." Malone, having met with "A Sonet of a Lover in the Praise of his Lady, to Calen o custure me, sung at every line's end," concluded that the incomprehensible jargon of the folio was nothing else than this very burden, and he arcordingly gave the line,

"Quality? Calen o custure me."

Subsequently, Boswell discovered that "Callino, castore me" is an old Irish song, still preserved in Playford's "Musical Companion." The line is now, therefore, usually printed,

Enter the Ditk. of YORK.

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

The leading of the vaward.

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 PISTOL, French Soldier, and Boy.

PIST. Yield, cur!

FR. SOL. Je pense, que vous êtes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité.

с

PIST. Quality! cality! construe 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,d Except, O signieur, thou do give to me Egregious ransom.

FR. SOL. O, prennez miséricorde! ayez pitié de moi ! [moys; PIST. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat, In drops of crimson blood.

e

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

This solution of the difficulty is certainly curious and very captivating; but to us the idea of Pistol holding a prisoner by the throat and quoting the fag end of a ballad at the same moment, is too preposterous, and in default of any better explanation of the mysterious syllables, we have adopted that of Warburton.

d On point of fox,-] The modern editors all agree in informing us that "Fox was an old cant word for a sword;" but why a sword was so called none of them appears to have been aware. The name was given from the circumstance that Andrea Ferrara, and, since his time, other foreign sword-cutlers, adopted a fox as the blade-mark of their weapons. Swords, with a running-fox rudely engraved on the blades, are still occasionally to be met with in the old curiosity-shops of London.

e For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat,-] Rim was a term formerly used, not very definitively, for a part of the intestines; but Pistol's rim (the folio spells it rymme) was, perhaps, as Mr. Knight conjectured, no more than a word coined for the non e, in mimickry of the Frenchman's guttural pronunciation.

Box. He says, his name is-master Fer. PIST. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him:-discuss the same in French unto him.

Box. 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 ?

Box. 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. Oui, coupe le gorge, par ma foi, pesant,

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 pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus.

PIST. What are his words?

Box. He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom, ne will give you two hundred crowns.

PIST. Tell him my fury shall abate, And I the crowns will take.

FR. SOL. Petit monsieur, que dit-il ?

Box. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier; néanmoins, pour

les écus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

FR. SOL. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille remercimens: et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et très distingué seigneur d'Angleterre.

PIST. Expound unto me, boy.

Box. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks: and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, (as he thinks,) the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.

PIST. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.Follow me!

[Exit PISTOL. Boy. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [Exit French Soldier.

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 every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; (3) and they are both hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing 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.

Alarums. Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, BOURBON, CONSTABLE, RAMBURES, and others.

CON. O diable !

ORL. O seigneur !—le jour est perdu, tout est perdu !

Dav. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes.-O méchante fortune! Do not run away. [A short alarum. CON. Why, all our ranks are broke. DAU. O perdurable shame!-let's stab ourselves.

Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?
ORL. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
BOUR. 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 pander hold the chamber-door,
Whilst by a slave,* no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminate.†

[now!

CON. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us
Let us, on heaps, go offer up our lives
Unto these English, or else die with fame."

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

BOUR. The devil take order now! I'll to the

K. HEN. Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen ;

But all's not done, yet keep the French the field. EXE. The duke of York commends him to your majesty. [this hour, K. HEN. Lives he, good uncle? thrice, within I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting; From helmet to the spur, all blood he was.

EXE. 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 o'er,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
And cries aloud,—Tarry, dear+ cousin Suffolk !
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven :
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast,
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.

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

[Alarum.

SCENE VII. Another Part of the Field. Alarums. Enter FLUELLEN and GoWER.

FLU. 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 pe offered; in your conscience now, is it not?

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

FLU. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain Gower: what call you the town's name, where Alexander the pig was porn?

Gow. Alexander the great.

FLU. 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.

Gow. I think Alexander the great was born in Macedon; his father was called-Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

FLU. 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 petween Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is poth alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye, at Monmouth; put it is out of my prains, what is the name of the other river: put 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in poth. 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 (Got 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 peing a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his pest friend, Clytus. Gow. Our king is not like him in that; he never killed any of his friends.

*

FLU. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and finished. I speak put in the figures and comparisons of it: as Alexander killed his friend Clytus, peing in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, peing in his right wits and his goot judgments, turned away the fat knight with the great pelly doublet: he was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaff.

FLU. That is he: I'll tell you, there is goot men porn at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his majesty.

Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, with a part of the English Forces; WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, EXETER, and others.

K. HEN. I was not angry since I came to France,

(*) First folio omits, an end.

a To book our dead,-] Mr. Collier's annotator reads "to look our dead," which is at least a very plausible emendation. Thus, in "The Merry Wives of Windsor," Act IV. Sc. 2,

"Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head." Again, in "As You Like It," Act II. Sc. 5,

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 skir 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 tnem so.
EXE. Here comes the Herald of the French,
my liege.

GLO. His eyes are humbler than they us❜d to be.

Enter MONTJOY.

K. HEN. 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?

MONT.

a

;

No, great king:
I come to thee for charitable licence,
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.

K. HEN.
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.
MONT.

The day is yours.
K. HEN. Praised be God, and not our strength,

for it!

What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by? MONT. They call it-Agincourt.

K. HEN. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,

Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

FLU. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your majesty, and your great-uncle

(*) Old text, with.

"He hath been all this day to look you."

And again, in "All's Well That Ends Well," Act III. Sc. 6,-"I must go look my twigs."

To book our dead, was, however, we have no doubt, the poet's phrase.