King Henry V

by William Shakespeare

FRENCH KING. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme.
CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France; let us quit an,
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
DAUPHIN. O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers' luxury,
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,
And overlook their grafters?
BRITAINE. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!
Mort Dieu, ma vie! if they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom
To buy a slobb'ry and a dirty farm
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
CONSTABLE. Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull;
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields-
Poor we call them in their native lords!
DAUPHIN. By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us and plainly say
Our mettle is bred out, and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth
To new-store France with bastard warriors.
BRITAINE. They bid us to the English dancing-schools
And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos,
Saying our grace is only in our heels
And that we are most lofty runaways.
FRENCH KING. Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence;
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France;
You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri,
Alengon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconbridge,
Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
For your great seats now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur.
Rush on his host as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon;
Go down upon him, you have power enough,
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner.
CONSTABLE. This becomes the great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march;
For I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And for achievement offer us his ransom.
FRENCH KING. Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy,
And let him say to England that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
DAUPHIN. Not so, I do beseech your Majesty.
FRENCH KING. Be patient, for you shall remain with us.
Now forth, Lord Constable and Princes all,
And quickly bring us word of England's fall. Exeunt

SCENE VI. The English camp in Picardy

Enter CAPTAINS, English and Welsh, GOWER and FLUELLEN

GOWER. How now, Captain Fluellen! Come you from the bridge?
FLUELLEN. I assure you there is very excellent services
committed
at the bridge.
GOWER. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
FLUELLEN. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon;
and a
man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my
duty, and my live, and my living, and my uttermost power. He
is
not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt in the world, but
keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There
is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the bridge- I think in my
very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he
is
man of no estimation in the world; but I did see him do as
gallant service.
GOWER. What do you call him?
FLUELLEN. He is call'd Aunchient Pistol.
GOWER. I know him not.

Enter PISTOL

FLUELLEN. Here is the man.
PISTOL. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours.
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
FLUELLEN. Ay, I praise God; and I have merited some love at his
hands.
PISTOL. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
And of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate
And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone-
FLUELLEN. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is
painted
blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that
Fortune is blind; and she is painted also with a wheel, to
signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is
turning,
and inconstant, and mutability, and variation; and her foot,
look
you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls,
and
rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent
description
of it: Fortune is an excellent moral.
PISTOL. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must 'a be-
A damned death!
Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free,
And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate.
But Exeter hath given the doom of death
For pax of little price.
Therefore, go speak- the Duke will hear thy voice;
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach.
Speak, Captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
FLUELLEN. Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your
meaning.
PISTOL. Why then, rejoice therefore.
FLUELLEN. Certainly, Aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice
at;
for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke
to
use his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for
discipline
ought to be used.
PISTOL. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship!
FLUELLEN. It is well.
PISTOL. The fig of Spain! Exit

FLUELLEN. Very good.
GOWER. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember
him
now- a bawd, a cutpurse.
FLUELLEN. I'll assure you, 'a utt'red as prave words at the
pridge
as you shall see in a summer's day. But it is very well; what
he
has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is
serve.
GOWER. Why, 'tis a gull a fool a rogue, that now and then goes
to
the wars to grace himself, at his return into London, under
the
form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great
commanders' names; and they will learn you by rote where
services
were done- at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at
such a
convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgrac'd,
what
terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the
phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths; and
what
a beard of the General's cut and a horrid suit of the camp
will
do among foaming bottles and ale-wash'd wits is wonderful to
be
thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the
age,
or else you may be marvellously mistook.
FLUELLEN. I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is
not
the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is; if
I
find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind. [Drum
within]
Hark you, the King is coming; and I must speak with him from
the
pridge.

Drum and colours. Enter the KING and his poor soldiers,
and GLOUCESTER

God pless your Majesty!
KING HENRY. How now, Fluellen! Cam'st thou from the bridge?
FLUELLEN. Ay, so please your Majesty. The Duke of Exeter has
very
gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look
you, and there is gallant and most prave passages. Marry, th'
athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is
enforced
to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge; I
can
tell your Majesty the Duke is a prave man.
KING HENRY. What men have you lost, Fluellen!
FLUELLEN. The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great,
reasonable great; marry, for my part, I think the Duke hath
lost
never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing
a
church- one Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man; his face
is
all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire; and
his
lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire,
sometimes
plue and sometimes red; but his nose is executed and his
fire's
out.
KING HENRY. We would have all such offenders so cut off. And we
give express charge that in our marches through the country
there
be nothing compell'd from the villages, nothing taken but
paid
for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful
language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom the
gentler gamester is the soonest winner.

Tucket. Enter MONTJOY