1599 The Life Of King Henry V
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PISTOL. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy!
Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
FRENCH SOLDIER. 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 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?
BOY. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun
prisonnier, neamnoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il
est content a vous donner la liberte, le franchisement.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et
je m'estime heureux que je suis tombe entre les mains d'un
chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue
PISTOL. Expound unto me, boy.
BOY. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he
esteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one-
as he thinks- the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy
signieur of England.
PISTOL. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.
Follow me. Exit
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' th' old play, that every one 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
Another part of the field of battle
Enter CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, BOURBON, DAUPHIN, and RAMBURES
CONSTABLE. O diable!
ORLEANS. O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
DAUPHIN. Mort Dieu, ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes. [A short alarum]
O mechante fortune! Do not run away.
CONSTABLE. Why, an 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 us 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 gender 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 enow 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
Another part of the field
Alarum. Enter the KING and his train, with prisoners; EXETER, and others
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 grip, 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
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 offert; 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 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
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 judgments, 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
GOWER. Here comes his Majesty.
Alarum. Enter the KING, WARWICK, GLOUCESTER,
EXETER, and others, 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.
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 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;