That in the field lie slain; of princes, in this number,
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six; added to these,
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which,
Five hundred were but yesterday dubbed knights:
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries;
The rest are-princes, barons, lords, knights, 'squires,
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 Dau-
phin;

John duke of Alençon; Antony duke of Brabant,
The brother to the duke of Burgundy ;

And Edward duke of Bar; of lusty earls,
Grandpre, 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?

paper.

[Herald presents another
Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire.1
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,

1 "Davy Gam, esquire." This gentleman being sent out by Henry, before the battle, to reconnoitre the enemy, and to find out their strength, made this report:" May it please you, my liege, there are enough to be killed, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away." He saved the king's life in the field. Had the Poet been apprized of this circumstance, the brave Welshman would probably have been more particularly noticed, and not have been merely a name in a muster-roll.-See Drayton's Battaile of Agincourt, 1627, p. 50 and 54; and Dunster's Edition of Philips's Cyder, a poem, p. 74.

On one part and on the other?-Take it, God,
For it is only thine!

Exe.

'Tis wonderful!

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 acknowledg

ment,

That God fought for us.

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot.
K. Hen. Do we all holy rites;1

Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum.
The dead with charity inclosed in clay,

We'll then to Calais; and to England then;

Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

Enter CHORUS.

Chor. 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

1 "Do we all holy rites." "The king, when he saw no appearance of enemies, caused the retreate to be blowen; and, gathering his army together, gave thanks to Almighty God for so happy a victorie, causing his prelates and chapeleins to sing this psalme-In exitu Israel de Egypto; and commaunding every man to kneele down on the grounde at this verse -Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam; which done, he caused Te Deum and certain anthems to be sung, giving laud and praise to God, and not boasting of his own force or any humaine power."

-Holinshed.

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 outvoice the deep-mouthed sea,
Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king,
Seems to prepare his way; so let him land;
And, solemnly, see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought, that even now
You
may imagine him upon Blackheath;

2

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 But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house 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 Cæsar in;
As, by a lower, but by loving likelihood,3
Were now the general of our gracious empress
(As, in good tune, he may) from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,

How many

would the peaceful city quit,

4

1 "Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen." Steevens proposes, in order to complete the metre, that we should read:

"Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen awhile."

2 "Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king,
Seems to prepare his way."

Whifflers were persons going before a great personage or procession, furnished with staves or wands to clear the way. The junior liverymen of the city companies, who walk first in processions, are still called whifflers, from the circumstance of their going before.

3 i. e. similitude.

4 i. e. the earl of Essex. Shakspeare grounded his anticipation of such a reception for Essex on his return from Ireland, upon what had already occurred at his setting forth. But how different his return was from what the Poet predicted, may be seen in the Sydney Papers, vol. ii. p. 127. 5 Broached is spitted, transfixed.

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

1

Invites the king of England's stay at home ;)
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them, we omit,
And all the occurrences, whatever chanced,
Till Harry's back-return again to France;
There must we bring him; and myself have played
The interim, by remembering you-'tis past.
Then brook abridgment; 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, captain 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 bid 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.

1 "The emperor's coming." The emperor Sigismund, who was married to Henry's second cousin. This passage stands in the following embarrassed and obscure manner in the folio:

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," &c.

The liberty we have taken is to transpose the word and, and substitute we in its place.

Enter PISTOL.

Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkeycock.

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?

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 appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.

Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so good, 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. [Strikes 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.2

1 Stunned.

2 "I eat, and eke I swear." The folio has "eat I swear."