THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.
The King is reported to have dismounted before the battle commenced, and to have fought on foot.
Hollinshed states that the English army consisted of 15,000, and the French of 60,000 horse and 40,000 infantry—in all, 100,000. Walsingham and Harding represent the English as but 9,000, and other authors say that the number of French amounted to 150,000. Fabian says the French were 40,000, and the English only 7,000. The battle lasted only three hours.
The noble Duke of Gloucester, the king's brother, pushing himself too vigorously on his horse into the conflict, was grievously wounded, and cast down to the earth, by the blows of the French, for whose protection the King being interested, he bravely leapt against his enemies in defence of his brother, defended him with his own body, and plucked and guarded him from the raging malice of the enemy, sustaining perils of war scarcely possible to be borne.
Nicolas's History of Agincourt.
During the battle the Duke of Alençon most valiantly broke through the English lines, and advanced fighting near the King—inasmuch that he wounded and struck down the Duke of York. King Henry seeing this stepped forth to his aid, and as he was leaning down to aid him the Duke of Alençon gave him a blow on his helmet that struck off part of his crown. The King's guards on this surrounded him, when seeing he could no way escape death but by surrendering, he lifted up his arms and said to the King, "I am the Duke of Alençon, and yield myself to you." But as the King was holding out his hand to receive his pledge he was put to death by the guards.
Monstrelet.
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GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, SALISBURY, ERPINGHAM, and WESTMORELAND discovered.
GLO. Where is the king?
BED. The king himself is rode to view their battle.
WEST. Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.
EXE. There's five to one; besides they're all fresh.
'Tis a fearful odds.
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then joyfully my noble lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloster, and my good Lord Exeter
And my kind kinsman, warriors all—adieu!
WEST. O that we now had here
Enter KING HENRY, attended.
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
K. HEN. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland?—No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men the greater share of honour.
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:
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 neighbours,
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
Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,—
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 remember'd:
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;
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 St. Crispin's day.
Enter GOWER.
GOWER. 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. Heaven's will, my liege, I 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!
Enter MONTJOY and attendants.
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.
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.
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'lt once more come again for ransom.
Enter the DUKE 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.
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