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Flu. My lord of Warwick, here is (praised be Got | One hundred twenty-six added to these, for it!) a most contagious treason come to light, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, look you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which, Here is his majesty. Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights: So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are-princes, barons, lords, knights, 'squires,

Enter King Henry and Exeter.

K. Hen. How now! what's the matter? Flu. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your grace, has struck the glove which your majesty is take out of the helmet of Alençon. Will. My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of it: and he, that I gave it to in change, promised to wear it in his cap; I promised to strike him, if he did: I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word. Flu. Your majesty hear now (saving your majesty's manhood,) what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lowsy knave it is: I hope, your majesty is pear me testimony, and witness, and avouchments, that this is the glove of Alençon, that your majesty is give me, in your conscience now.

K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier: Look, here is the fellow of it. 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the 'orld.

K. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction? Will. All offences, my liege, come from the heart: never came any from mine, that might offend your majesty.

K. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse. Will. Your majesty came not like yourself: you appeared to me but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you, take it for your own fault, and not mine: for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech your highness, pardon me. K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with

crowns,

And give it to this fellow.-Keep it, fellow; And wear it for an honour in thy cap, Till I do challenge it.-Give him the crowns:And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his pelly :-Hold, there is twelve pence for you, and I pray you to serve Got, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the petter for

you.

Will. I will none of your money.

Flu. It is with a goot will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes: Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? your shoes is not so goot: 'tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

Enter an English Herald.

K. Hen. Now, herald; are the dead number'd? |
Her. Here is the number of the slaughter'd
French.
[Delivers a paper.
K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are taken,
uncle?

Exe. Charles duke of Orleans, nephew to the king:
John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouciqualt:
Of other lords, and barons, knights, and 'squires,
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.

K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten thousand
French,

That in the field lie slain of princes, in this
number,

And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead

(1) An officer who walks first in processions.

And gentlemen of blood and quality.
The names of those their nobles that lie dead,-
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France;
The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures;
Great-master of France, the brave sir Guischard
Dauphin;

John duke of Alençon; Antony duke of Brabant,
The brother to the duke of Burgundy;
And Edward duke of Bar: of lusty earls,
Grandpré, and Roussi, Fauconberg, and Foix,
Beaumont, and Marle, Vaudemont, and Lestrale.
Here was a royal fellowship of death!-
Where is the number of our English dead?

[Herald presents another paper.
Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire:
None else of name; and, of all other men,
But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here,
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Ascribe we all.-When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock, and even play of battle,
Was ever known so great and little loss,
On one part and on the other?-Take it, God,
For it is only thine!
'Tis wonderful!

Exe.
K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the
village :

And be it death proclaimed through our host,
To boast of this, or take that praise from God,
Which is his only.

Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how many is killed?

K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,

That God fought for us.

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot. K. Hen. Do we all holy rites; Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum. The dead with charity enclos'd in clay, We'll then to Calais; and to England then; Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. [Exeunt.

ACT V. Enter Chorus.

Cho. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,

That I may prompt them and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais : grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the sea: Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd

sea,

Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king,
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land;
And, solemnly, see himn set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought, that even now

You may imagine him upon Blackheath:
Where that his lords desire him to have borne!
His bruised helmet, and his bended sword,
Before him, through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent,
Quite from himself, to God.2 But now behold,
In the quick forge and workinghouse of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,-
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,-
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cesar in:
As, by a lower but by loving likelihood,3
Were now the general of our gracious empress4
(As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland coming.
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,

To welcome him? much more, and much more

cause,

Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
(As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the king of England's stay at home:
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them;) and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd,
Till Harry's back-return again to France;
There must we bring him; and myself
play'd

have||

The interim, by remembering you-'tis past.
Then brook abridgement; and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

[Exit.

SCENE I-France. An English court of guard. Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gow. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint Davy's day is past.

Flu. There is occasions and causes why and

wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend, eaptain Gower; The rascally, scald, beggarly; lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol,-which you and yourself, and all the 'orld, know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits,-he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could not breed no contentions with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.

Enter Pistol.

Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.-Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Got pless you!

Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web ?6 Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy lowsy knave. at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions. to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appe. tites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

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Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats. Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it? Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals; come, there is sauce for it. [Striking him again.] You called me yesterday, mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to; if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

Gow. Enough, captain; you have astonished? him.

Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days:-Pite, I pray you; it is goot for your green wound, and your ploody coxcomb.

Pist Must I bite?

Flu. Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out of questions too, and ambiguities.

Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; I eat, and eke I swear

Flu. Eat, I pray you: Will you have some more sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by.

Pist. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see, I eat. Flu Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, 'pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them; that is all.

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Flu. Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it; shall eat. or I have another leek in my pocket, which you

Pist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate. {Exit.

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Pist. All hell shall stir for this. knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour,--and have seen you gleekings and galling at this gendare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? tleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel: you find it otherwise; and, henceforth, let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition.9 Fare ye well. (Exit.

Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife10 with me now?

News have I, that my Nell is dead i'the spital!!
Of malady of France;

And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax: and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will I turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal :
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars.
[Exit.

(5) Spitted, transfixed.

(6) Dost thou desire to have me put thee to death?

(7) Stunned. (8) Scoffing, sneering. (9) Temper. (10) For jilt. (11) Hospital

SCENE II-Troyes in Champagne. An apart. ment in the French King's palace. Enter, at one door, King Henry, Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, Warwick, Westmoreland, and other lords; at another, the French king, queen Isabel, the princess Katharine, lords, ladies, &c. the duke of Burgundy, and his train.

K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we
are met!

Unto our brother France,-and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day :-joy and good wishes
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine;
And (as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,)
We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ;-
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!
Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your
face,

Most worthy brother England; fairly met :~-
So are you princes English, every one.

Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks:
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love.
K. Hen To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you.
Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great kings of France and England! That I have
labour'd

With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial majesties
Unto this bar and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd,
That, face to face, and royal eye to eye,
You have congreeted; let it not disgrace me,
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub, or what impediment, there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not, in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas! she hath from France too long been chas'd;|
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached,-
Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulter? rusts,
That should deracinate3 such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness: and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow, like savages,-as soldiers will,
That nothing do but meditate on blood,--

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There is no answer made.

K. Hen. Well then, the peace, Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer. Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye O'er-glanc'd the articles: pleaseth your grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more, with better heed To re-survey them, we will, suddenly, Pass our accept, and peremptory answer.

ter,

K. Hen Brother, we shall.-Go, uncle Exeter,And brother Clarence-and you, brother Glos. Warwick-and Huntingdon,-go with the king: And take with you free power, to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see advantageable for our dignity, Any thing in, or out of, our demands; And we'll consign thereto.--Will you, fair sister, Go with the princes, or stay here with us?

Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with them; Haply, a woman's voice may do some good, When articles, too nicely urg'd, be stood on.

K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us;

She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
Q. Isa. She hath good leave. [Exeunt all but
Henry, Katharine and her gentlewoman.
K. Hen.
Fair Katharine, and most fair,
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms
Such as will enter at a lady's ear,
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
Kath. Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot
speak your England.

K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love me Soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

me

Kath. Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is—like

K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate; and you are like an angel.

Kath. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable à les anges?

Alice. Ouy, vraymeut, (sauf vostre grace) ainsi

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woman. I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy un-shall never move thee in French, unless it be to derstanding: I am glad, thou canst speak no bet-laugh at me. ter English; for, if thou couldst, thou wouldst find Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, le François que vous me such a plain king, that thou wouldst think, parlez, est meilleur, que l'Anglois lequel je parle. had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no K. Hen. No, 'faith, 'tis not, Kate; but thy speakways to mince it in love, but directly to say-I love ing of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, you then, if you urge me further than to say-must needs be granted to be much at one. Do you in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? your answer: i'faith, do; and so clap hands and a Canst thou love me? bargain: How say you, lady?

Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well. K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me for the one, I have neither words nor measure; and for the other, I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife. Or, if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off: but, before God, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst love me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee--that I shall die, true; but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined3 constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places; for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours,-they do always reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall 4 a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me : And take me, take a soldier; take a so'dier, take a king: And what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.

Kath. I cannot tell.

But,

K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me: and at night when you come into your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, that you love with your heart: but, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, Kate, (as I have a saving faith within me, tells me,-thou shalt,) I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder: Shall not thou and I, between Saint Dennis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk by the beard? shall we not? what sayest thou, flower-de-luce?

Kath. I do not know dat.

K. Hen. No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise: do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy; and, for my English moiety, take the word of a king, and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon tres chere et divine deesse?

Kath. Your majesté 'ave fausse French enough to deceive the most sage demoiselle dat is en France. K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honour I dare not swear, thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage 5 Now beshrew my father's ambition! he was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age, that ill-layer up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better; And therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart K. Hen. No; it is not possible, you should love with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand, the enemy of France, Kate: but, in loving me, you and say-Harry of England, I am thine: which should love the friend of France; for I love France word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear, withal, so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I but I will tell thee aloud-England is thine, Irewill have it all mine: and, Kate, when France island is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagemine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine.

Kath. Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France?

Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat.

K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck. hardly to be shook off. Quand j'ay la possession|| de France, et quand vous avez la possession de moi, (let me see, what then? Saint Dennis be my speed!)-donc vostre est France, et vous este: mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom, as to speak so much more French: 1

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net is thine; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music, and thy English broken: therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English, Wilt thou have me?

Kath. Dat is, as it shall please de roy mon pere. K Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.

Kath. Den it shall also content me.

K Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I call you-my queen.

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Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.

Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentleman of France.

Con. Doing is activity: and he will still be doing.
Orl. He never did harm, that I heard of.
Con. Nor will do none to-morrow; he will keep
that good name still.

Orl. I know him to be valiant.

Now is it

only stomachs to eat, and none to fight.
time to arm: Come, shall we about it?
Orl. It is now two o'clock: but, let me see,-by
ten,

We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. [Exe.

ACT IV.

Enter Chorus.

Chor. Now entertain conjecture of a time,
When creeping murmur, and the poring dark,
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
The hum of either army stilly3 sounds,
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive

Con. I was told that, by one that knows him The secret whispers of each other's watch: better than you.

Orl. What's he?

Con. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said, he cared not who knew it.

Orl. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him. Con. By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body saw it, but his lackey: 'tis a hooded valour; and, when it appears, it will bate.!

Orl. Ill will never said well.

Con. I will cap that proverb with-There is flattery in friendship.

Orl. And I will take up that with-Give the

devil his due.

Con. Well placed; there stands your friend for the devil: have at the very eye of that proverb, with-A pox of the devil.

Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by how much-A fool's bolt is soon shot.

Con. You have shot over.

Orl. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot.

Enter a Messenger.

Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd4 face:
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold
The royal captain of this ruin'd band,

Mess. My lord high constable, the English lie Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, within fifteen hundred paces your tent.

of

Con. Who hath measured the ground?
Mess. The lord Grandpré.

Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were day!-Alas, poor Harry of England! -he longs not for the dawning, as we do.

Orl. What a wretched and peevish2 fellow is this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowledge!

Con. If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.

Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.

Ram. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. Orl. Foolish curs! that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten apples: You may as well say,that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

Con. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with the mastiffs, in robustious and rough coming on. leaving their wits with their wives: and then give them great meals of beef, and iron, and steel, they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.

Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.

Con. Then we shall find to-morrow-they have

(1) An equivoque in terms in falconry: he means, nis valour is hid from every body but his lackey, and when it appears it will fall off.

Let him cry-Praise and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and visits all his host;
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile;
And calls them-brothers, friends, and countrymen.
Upon his royal face there is no note,
How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night:
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where (O for pity!) we shall much disgrace-
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill-dispos'd, in brawl ridiculous,-
The name of Agincourt: Yet, sit and see;
[Exit.
Minding true things, by what their mockeries be.

SCENE I-The English camp at Agincourt.
Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloster.
K. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in great
danger;

(2) Foolish. (3) Gently, lowly.
(4) Discoloured by the gleam of the fires.
(5) Over-saucy. (6) Calling to remembrance.

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