fain see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but I would fain see it once; an please Got of his grace, that I might see it. K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower? Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, 'and bring him to my tent. Flu. I will fetch him. [Exit. K. Hen. My lord of Warwick,-and my brother Gloster, Follow Fluellen closely at the heels: The glove, which I have given him for a favour, By his blunt bearing, he will keep his word), For I do know Fluellen valiant, And, touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury : Follow, and see there be no harm between them. Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Before King Henry's Pavilion. Enter GOWER and WILLIAMS. Will. I warrant it is to knight you, captain. Enter FLUEllen. Flu. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I peseech you now, come apace to the king: there is more goot toward you, peradventure, than is in your knowledge to dream of. Will. Sir, know you this glove? VOL. V. X X Flu. Know the glove? I know, the glove is a glove. Will. I know this; and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him. Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant traitor, as any's in the universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. Gow. How now, sir? you villain! Will. Do you think I'll be forsworn? Flu. Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his payment into plows 1, I warrant you. Will. I am no traitor. Flu. That's a lie in thy throat.-I charge you in his majesty's name, apprehend him; he's a friend of the duke Alençon's. Enter WARWICK and GLOSTER. War. How now, how now! what's the matter? Flu. My lord of Warwick, here is (praised be Got for it!) a most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Here is his majesty. 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 ma 1 'Into plows.' It has been suggested that we should read ' in plows,' but it was not intended that Fluellen should speak very correctly, and into for in is still used in Scotland. jesty'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 in your conscience now. me, 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 majesty. your 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; 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. 2 i. e. the glove that thou hast now in thy cap; it was the king's glove, which he had given to Williams. 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 goot 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 That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this number, The names of those their nobles that lie dead, 3Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights.' In ancient times the distribution of this honour appears to have been customary on the eve of a battle. Thus in Lawrence Minot's Sixth Poem on the Successes of King Edward III, p. 28: Charles De-la-bret, high constable 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, And Edward duke of Bar: of lusty earls, [Herald presents another Paper.· Ascribe we all.—When, without stratagem, 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. 4 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. |