Speeches (Lines) for Henry V in "History of Henry V"

Total: 147
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# Act / Scene Speech text
1 I / 2
  • Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
  • Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
  • Bishop of Ely. I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it.

    Henry V. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?

2 I / 2
  • Send for him, good uncle.
  • Send for him, good uncle.
  • Duke of Exeter. Not here in presence.

    Henry V. Send for him, good uncle.

3 I / 2
  • Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolved,
    Before we hear him, of some things...
  • Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolved,
    Before we hear him, of some things of weight
    That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.
  • Earl of Westmoreland. Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege?

    Henry V. Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolved,
    Before we hear him, of some things of weight
    That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.

4 I / 2
  • Sure, we thank you.
    My learned lord, we pray you to proceed
    And justly a...
  • Sure, we thank you.
    My learned lord, we pray you to proceed
    And justly and religiously unfold
    Why the law Salique that they have in France
    Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim:
    And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
    That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
    Or nicely charge your understanding soul
    With opening titles miscreate, whose right
    Suits not in native colours with the truth;
    For God doth know how many now in health
    Shall drop their blood in approbation
    Of what your reverence shall incite us to.
    Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,
    How you awake our sleeping sword of war:
    We charge you, in the name of God, take heed;
    For never two such kingdoms did contend
    Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops
    Are every one a woe, a sore complaint
    'Gainst him whose wrong gives edge unto the swords
    That make such waste in brief mortality.
    Under this conjuration, speak, my lord;
    For we will hear, note and believe in heart
    That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd
    As pure as sin with baptism.
  • Archbishop of Canterbury. God and his angels guard your sacred throne
    And make you long become it!

    Henry V. Sure, we thank you.
    My learned lord, we pray you to proceed
    And justly and religiously unfold
    Why the law Salique that they have in France
    Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim:
    And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
    That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
    Or nicely charge your understanding soul
    With opening titles miscreate, whose right
    Suits not in native colours with the truth;
    For God doth know how many now in health
    Shall drop their blood in approbation
    Of what your reverence shall incite us to.
    Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,
    How you awake our sleeping sword of war:
    We charge you, in the name of God, take heed;
    For never two such kingdoms did contend
    Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops
    Are every one a woe, a sore complaint
    'Gainst him whose wrong gives edge unto the swords
    That make such waste in brief mortality.
    Under this conjuration, speak, my lord;
    For we will hear, note and believe in heart
    That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd
    As pure as sin with baptism.

5 I / 2
  • May I with right and conscience make this claim?
  • May I with right and conscience make this claim?
  • Archbishop of Canterbury. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers,
    That owe yourselves, your lives and services
    To this imperial throne. There is no bar
    To make against your highness' claim to France
    But this, which they produce from Pharamond,
    'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant:'
    'No woman shall succeed in Salique land:'
    Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze
    To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
    The founder of this law and female bar.
    Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
    That the land Salique is in Germany,
    Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe;
    Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons,
    There left behind and settled certain French;
    Who, holding in disdain the German women
    For some dishonest manners of their life,
    Establish'd then this law; to wit, no female
    Should be inheritrix in Salique land:
    Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala,
    Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen.
    Then doth it well appear that Salique law
    Was not devised for the realm of France:
    Nor did the French possess the Salique land
    Until four hundred one and twenty years
    After defunction of King Pharamond,
    Idly supposed the founder of this law;
    Who died within the year of our redemption
    Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great
    Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French
    Beyond the river Sala, in the year
    Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say,
    King Pepin, which deposed Childeric,
    Did, as heir general, being descended
    Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair,
    Make claim and title to the crown of France.
    Hugh Capet also, who usurped the crown
    Of Charles the duke of Lorraine, sole heir male
    Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great,
    To find his title with some shows of truth,
    'Through, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,
    Convey'd himself as heir to the Lady Lingare,
    Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son
    To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son
    Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth,
    Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet,
    Could not keep quiet in his conscience,
    Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied
    That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother,
    Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare,
    Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorraine:
    By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great
    Was re-united to the crown of France.
    So that, as clear as is the summer's sun.
    King Pepin's title and Hugh Capet's claim,
    King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear
    To hold in right and title of the female:
    So do the kings of France unto this day;
    Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law
    To bar your highness claiming from the female,
    And rather choose to hide them in a net
    Than amply to imbar their crooked titles
    Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.

    Henry V. May I with right and conscience make this claim?

6 I / 2
  • We must not only arm to invade the French,
    But lay down our proportions to d...
  • We must not only arm to invade the French,
    But lay down our proportions to defend
    Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
    With all advantages.
  • Archbishop of Canterbury. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,
    With blood and sword and fire to win your right;
    In aid whereof we of the spiritualty
    Will raise your highness such a mighty sum
    As never did the clergy at one time
    Bring in to any of your ancestors.

    Henry V. We must not only arm to invade the French,
    But lay down our proportions to defend
    Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
    With all advantages.

7 I / 2
  • We do not mean the coursing snatchers only,
    But fear the main intendment of...
  • We do not mean the coursing snatchers only,
    But fear the main intendment of the Scot,
    Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us;
    For you shall read that my great-grandfather
    Never went with his forces into France
    But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom
    Came pouring, like the tide into a breach,
    With ample and brim fulness of his force,
    Galling the gleaned land with hot assays,
    Girding with grievous siege castles and towns;
    That England, being empty of defence,
    Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood.
  • Archbishop of Canterbury. They of those marches, gracious sovereign,
    Shall be a wall sufficient to defend
    Our inland from the pilfering borderers.

    Henry V. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only,
    But fear the main intendment of the Scot,
    Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us;
    For you shall read that my great-grandfather
    Never went with his forces into France
    But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom
    Came pouring, like the tide into a breach,
    With ample and brim fulness of his force,
    Galling the gleaned land with hot assays,
    Girding with grievous siege castles and towns;
    That England, being empty of defence,
    Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood.

8 I / 2
  • Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
    [Exeunt some Attendants]
    N...
  • Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
    [Exeunt some Attendants]
    Now are we well resolved; and, by God's help,
    And yours, the noble sinews of our power,
    France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe,
    Or break it all to pieces: or there we'll sit,
    Ruling in large and ample empery
    O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms,
    Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn,
    Tombless, with no remembrance over them:
    Either our history shall with full mouth
    Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave,
    Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,
    Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.
    [Enter Ambassadors of France]
    Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure
    Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear
    Your greeting is from him, not from the king.
  • Archbishop of Canterbury. Therefore doth heaven divide
    The state of man in divers functions,
    Setting endeavour in continual motion;
    To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
    Obedience: for so work the honey-bees,
    Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
    The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
    They have a king and officers of sorts;
    Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,
    Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
    Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
    Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
    Which pillage they with merry march bring home
    To the tent-royal of their emperor;
    Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
    The singing masons building roofs of gold,
    The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
    The poor mechanic porters crowding in
    Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
    The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
    Delivering o'er to executors pale
    The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,
    That many things, having full reference
    To one consent, may work contrariously:
    As many arrows, loosed several ways,
    Come to one mark; as many ways meet in one town;
    As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea;
    As many lines close in the dial's centre;
    So may a thousand actions, once afoot.
    End in one purpose, and be all well borne
    Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.
    Divide your happy England into four;
    Whereof take you one quarter into France,
    And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
    If we, with thrice such powers left at home,
    Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,
    Let us be worried and our nation lose
    The name of hardiness and policy.

    Henry V. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
    [Exeunt some Attendants]
    Now are we well resolved; and, by God's help,
    And yours, the noble sinews of our power,
    France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe,
    Or break it all to pieces: or there we'll sit,
    Ruling in large and ample empery
    O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms,
    Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn,
    Tombless, with no remembrance over them:
    Either our history shall with full mouth
    Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave,
    Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,
    Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.
    [Enter Ambassadors of France]
    Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure
    Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear
    Your greeting is from him, not from the king.

9 I / 2
  • We are no tyrant, but a Christian king;
    Unto whose grace our passion is as s...
  • We are no tyrant, but a Christian king;
    Unto whose grace our passion is as subject
    As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons:
    Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness
    Tell us the Dauphin's mind.
  • First Ambassador. May't please your majesty to give us leave
    Freely to render what we have in charge;
    Or shall we sparingly show you far off
    The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy?

    Henry V. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king;
    Unto whose grace our passion is as subject
    As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons:
    Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness
    Tell us the Dauphin's mind.

10 I / 2
  • What treasure, uncle?
  • What treasure, uncle?
  • First Ambassador. Thus, then, in few.
    Your highness, lately sending into France,
    Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right
    Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third.
    In answer of which claim, the prince our master
    Says that you savour too much of your youth,
    And bids you be advised there's nought in France
    That can be with a nimble galliard won;
    You cannot revel into dukedoms there.
    He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
    This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this,
    Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
    Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.

    Henry V. What treasure, uncle?

11 I / 2
  • We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
    His present and your pains w...
  • We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
    His present and your pains we thank you for:
    When we have march'd our rackets to these balls,
    We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
    Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
    Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
    That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
    With chaces. And we understand him well,
    How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
    Not measuring what use we made of them.
    We never valued this poor seat of England;
    And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
    To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common
    That men are merriest when they are from home.
    But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state,
    Be like a king and show my sail of greatness
    When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
    For that I have laid by my majesty
    And plodded like a man for working-days,
    But I will rise there with so full a glory
    That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
    Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
    And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his
    Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
    Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
    That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows
    Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands;
    Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
    And some are yet ungotten and unborn
    That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
    But this lies all within the will of God,
    To whom I do appeal; and in whose name
    Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on,
    To venge me as I may and to put forth
    My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
    So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin
    His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
    When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.
    Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
  • Duke of Exeter. Tennis-balls, my liege.

    Henry V. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
    His present and your pains we thank you for:
    When we have march'd our rackets to these balls,
    We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
    Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
    Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
    That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
    With chaces. And we understand him well,
    How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
    Not measuring what use we made of them.
    We never valued this poor seat of England;
    And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
    To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common
    That men are merriest when they are from home.
    But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state,
    Be like a king and show my sail of greatness
    When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
    For that I have laid by my majesty
    And plodded like a man for working-days,
    But I will rise there with so full a glory
    That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
    Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
    And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his
    Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
    Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
    That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows
    Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands;
    Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
    And some are yet ungotten and unborn
    That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
    But this lies all within the will of God,
    To whom I do appeal; and in whose name
    Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on,
    To venge me as I may and to put forth
    My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
    So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin
    His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
    When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.
    Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.

12 I / 2
  • We hope to make the sender blush at it.
    Therefore, my lords, omit no happy h...
  • We hope to make the sender blush at it.
    Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour
    That may give furtherance to our expedition;
    For we have now no thought in us but France,
    Save those to God, that run before our business.
    Therefore let our proportions for these wars
    Be soon collected and all things thought upon
    That may with reasonable swiftness add
    More feathers to our wings; for, God before,
    We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
    Therefore let every man now task his thought,
    That this fair action may on foot be brought.
  • Duke of Exeter. This was a merry message.

    Henry V. We hope to make the sender blush at it.
    Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour
    That may give furtherance to our expedition;
    For we have now no thought in us but France,
    Save those to God, that run before our business.
    Therefore let our proportions for these wars
    Be soon collected and all things thought upon
    That may with reasonable swiftness add
    More feathers to our wings; for, God before,
    We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
    Therefore let every man now task his thought,
    That this fair action may on foot be brought.

13 II / 2
  • Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
    My Lord of Cambridge, and my kin...
  • Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
    My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham,
    And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts:
    Think you not that the powers we bear with us
    Will cut their passage through the force of France,
    Doing the execution and the act
    For which we have in head assembled them?
  • Duke of Exeter. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
    Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours,
    That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
    His sovereign's life to death and treachery.
    [Trumpets sound. Enter KING HENRY V, SCROOP,]
    CAMBRIDGE, GREY, and Attendants]

    Henry V. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
    My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham,
    And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts:
    Think you not that the powers we bear with us
    Will cut their passage through the force of France,
    Doing the execution and the act
    For which we have in head assembled them?

14 II / 2
  • I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded
    We carry not a heart with us f...
  • I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded
    We carry not a heart with us from hence
    That grows not in a fair consent with ours,
    Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
    Success and conquest to attend on us.
  • Lord Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.

    Henry V. I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded
    We carry not a heart with us from hence
    That grows not in a fair consent with ours,
    Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
    Success and conquest to attend on us.

15 II / 2
  • We therefore have great cause of thankfulness;
    And shall forget the office o...
  • We therefore have great cause of thankfulness;
    And shall forget the office of our hand,
    Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
    According to the weight and worthiness.
  • Sir Thomas Grey. True: those that were your father's enemies
    Have steep'd their galls in honey and do serve you
    With hearts create of duty and of zeal.

    Henry V. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness;
    And shall forget the office of our hand,
    Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
    According to the weight and worthiness.

16 II / 2
  • We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
    Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
    ...
  • We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
    Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
    That rail'd against our person: we consider
    it was excess of wine that set him on;
    And on his more advice we pardon him.
  • Lord Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil,
    And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
    To do your grace incessant services.

    Henry V. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
    Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
    That rail'd against our person: we consider
    it was excess of wine that set him on;
    And on his more advice we pardon him.

17 II / 2
  • O, let us yet be merciful.
  • O, let us yet be merciful.
  • Lord Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security:
    Let him be punish'd, sovereign, lest example
    Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.

    Henry V. O, let us yet be merciful.

18 II / 2
  • Alas, your too much love and care of me
    Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor...
  • Alas, your too much love and care of me
    Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch!
    If little faults, proceeding on distemper,
    Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
    When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd and digested,
    Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man,
    Though Cambridge, Scroop and Grey, in their dear care
    And tender preservation of our person,
    Would have him punished. And now to our French causes:
    Who are the late commissioners?
  • Sir Thomas Grey. Sir,
    You show great mercy, if you give him life,
    After the taste of much correction.

    Henry V. Alas, your too much love and care of me
    Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch!
    If little faults, proceeding on distemper,
    Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
    When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd and digested,
    Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man,
    Though Cambridge, Scroop and Grey, in their dear care
    And tender preservation of our person,
    Would have him punished. And now to our French causes:
    Who are the late commissioners?

19 II / 2
  • Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours;
    There yours, Lord Scroop of...
  • Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours;
    There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, sir knight,
    Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours:
    Read them; and know, I know your worthiness.
    My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter,
    We will aboard to night. Why, how now, gentlemen!
    What see you in those papers that you lose
    So much complexion? Look ye, how they change!
    Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there
    That hath so cowarded and chased your blood
    Out of appearance?
  • Sir Thomas Grey. And I, my royal sovereign.

    Henry V. Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours;
    There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, sir knight,
    Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours:
    Read them; and know, I know your worthiness.
    My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter,
    We will aboard to night. Why, how now, gentlemen!
    What see you in those papers that you lose
    So much complexion? Look ye, how they change!
    Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there
    That hath so cowarded and chased your blood
    Out of appearance?

20 II / 2
  • The mercy that was quick in us but late,
    By your own counsel is suppress'd a...
  • The mercy that was quick in us but late,
    By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd:
    You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
    For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,
    As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
    See you, my princes, and my noble peers,
    These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here,
    You know how apt our love was to accord
    To furnish him with all appertinents
    Belonging to his honour; and this man
    Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired,
    And sworn unto the practises of France,
    To kill us here in Hampton: to the which
    This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
    Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O,
    What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel,
    Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature!
    Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
    That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
    That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold,
    Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use,
    May it be possible, that foreign hire
    Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
    That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,
    That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
    As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.
    Treason and murder ever kept together,
    As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
    Working so grossly in a natural cause,
    That admiration did not whoop at them:
    But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
    Wonder to wait on treason and on murder:
    And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
    That wrought upon thee so preposterously
    Hath got the voice in hell for excellence:
    All other devils that suggest by treasons
    Do botch and bungle up damnation
    With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
    From glistering semblances of piety;
    But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up,
    Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
    Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
    If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus
    Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
    He might return to vasty Tartar back,
    And tell the legions 'I can never win
    A soul so easy as that Englishman's.'
    O, how hast thou with 'jealousy infected
    The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
    Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learned?
    Why, so didst thou: come they of noble family?
    Why, so didst thou: seem they religious?
    Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet,
    Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
    Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
    Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
    Not working with the eye without the ear,
    And but in purged judgment trusting neither?
    Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem:
    And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
    To mark the full-fraught man and best indued
    With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
    For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
    Another fall of man. Their faults are open:
    Arrest them to the answer of the law;
    And God acquit them of their practises!
  • Sir Thomas Grey. [with Scroop] To which we all appeal.

    Henry V. The mercy that was quick in us but late,
    By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd:
    You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
    For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,
    As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
    See you, my princes, and my noble peers,
    These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here,
    You know how apt our love was to accord
    To furnish him with all appertinents
    Belonging to his honour; and this man
    Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired,
    And sworn unto the practises of France,
    To kill us here in Hampton: to the which
    This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
    Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O,
    What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel,
    Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature!
    Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
    That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
    That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold,
    Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use,
    May it be possible, that foreign hire
    Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
    That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,
    That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
    As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.
    Treason and murder ever kept together,
    As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
    Working so grossly in a natural cause,
    That admiration did not whoop at them:
    But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
    Wonder to wait on treason and on murder:
    And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
    That wrought upon thee so preposterously
    Hath got the voice in hell for excellence:
    All other devils that suggest by treasons
    Do botch and bungle up damnation
    With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
    From glistering semblances of piety;
    But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up,
    Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
    Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
    If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus
    Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
    He might return to vasty Tartar back,
    And tell the legions 'I can never win
    A soul so easy as that Englishman's.'
    O, how hast thou with 'jealousy infected
    The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
    Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learned?
    Why, so didst thou: come they of noble family?
    Why, so didst thou: seem they religious?
    Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet,
    Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
    Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
    Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
    Not working with the eye without the ear,
    And but in purged judgment trusting neither?
    Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem:
    And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
    To mark the full-fraught man and best indued
    With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
    For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
    Another fall of man. Their faults are open:
    Arrest them to the answer of the law;
    And God acquit them of their practises!

21 II / 2
  • God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
    You have conspired against ou...
  • God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
    You have conspired against our royal person,
    Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd and from his coffers
    Received the golden earnest of our death;
    Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
    His princes and his peers to servitude,
    His subjects to oppression and contempt
    And his whole kingdom into desolation.
    Touching our person seek we no revenge;
    But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
    Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws
    We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
    Poor miserable wretches, to your death:
    The taste whereof, God of his mercy give
    You patience to endure, and true repentance
    Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.
    [Exeunt CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP and GREY, guarded]
    Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
    Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
    We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,
    Since God so graciously hath brought to light
    This dangerous treason lurking in our way
    To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now
    But every rub is smoothed on our way.
    Then forth, dear countrymen: let us deliver
    Our puissance into the hand of God,
    Putting it straight in expedition.
    Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance:
    No king of England, if not king of France.
  • Sir Thomas Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice
    At the discovery of most dangerous treason
    Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself.
    Prevented from a damned enterprise:
    My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.

    Henry V. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
    You have conspired against our royal person,
    Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd and from his coffers
    Received the golden earnest of our death;
    Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
    His princes and his peers to servitude,
    His subjects to oppression and contempt
    And his whole kingdom into desolation.
    Touching our person seek we no revenge;
    But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
    Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws
    We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
    Poor miserable wretches, to your death:
    The taste whereof, God of his mercy give
    You patience to endure, and true repentance
    Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.
    [Exeunt CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP and GREY, guarded]
    Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
    Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
    We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,
    Since God so graciously hath brought to light
    This dangerous treason lurking in our way
    To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now
    But every rub is smoothed on our way.
    Then forth, dear countrymen: let us deliver
    Our puissance into the hand of God,
    Putting it straight in expedition.
    Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance:
    No king of England, if not king of France.

22 III / 1
  • Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
    Or close the wall up wit...
  • Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
    Or close the wall up with our English dead.
    In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
    As modest stillness and humility:
    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
    Then imitate the action of the tiger;
    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
    Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
    Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
    Let pry through the portage of the head
    Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
    As fearfully as doth a galled rock
    O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
    Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
    Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
    Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
    To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
    Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
    Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
    Have in these parts from morn till even fought
    And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
    Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
    That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
    Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
    And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
    Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
    The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
    That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
    For there is none of you so mean and base,
    That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
    I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
    Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
    Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
    Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
  • Chorus. Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
    In motion of no less celerity
    Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
    The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
    Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
    With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
    Play with your fancies, and in them behold
    Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
    Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
    To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
    Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
    Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
    Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think
    You stand upon the ravage and behold
    A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
    For so appears this fleet majestical,
    Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:
    Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
    And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
    Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,
    Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;
    For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
    With one appearing hair, that will not follow
    These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
    Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
    Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
    With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
    Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back;
    Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
    Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry,
    Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
    The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
    With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
    [Alarum, and chambers go off]
    And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
    And eke out our performance with your mind.

    Henry V. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
    Or close the wall up with our English dead.
    In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
    As modest stillness and humility:
    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
    Then imitate the action of the tiger;
    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
    Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
    Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
    Let pry through the portage of the head
    Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
    As fearfully as doth a galled rock
    O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
    Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
    Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
    Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
    To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
    Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
    Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
    Have in these parts from morn till even fought
    And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
    Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
    That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
    Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
    And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
    Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
    The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
    That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
    For there is none of you so mean and base,
    That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
    I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
    Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
    Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
    Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

23 III / 3
  • How yet resolves the governor of the town?
    This is the latest parle we will...
  • How yet resolves the governor of the town?
    This is the latest parle we will admit;
    Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves;
    Or like to men proud of destruction
    Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,
    A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
    If I begin the battery once again,
    I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
    Till in her ashes she lie buried.
    The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
    And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
    In liberty of bloody hand shall range
    With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
    Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants.
    What is it then to me, if impious war,
    Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends,
    Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
    Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
    What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
    If your pure maidens fall into the hand
    Of hot and forcing violation?
    What rein can hold licentious wickedness
    When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
    We may as bootless spend our vain command
    Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil
    As send precepts to the leviathan
    To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
    Take pity of your town and of your people,
    Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
    Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
    O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
    Of heady murder, spoil and villany.
    If not, why, in a moment look to see
    The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
    Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
    Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
    And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls,
    Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
    Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
    Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
    At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
    What say you? will you yield, and this avoid,
    Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
  • Fluellen. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better
    opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so
    bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war;
    and there is an end.

    Henry V. How yet resolves the governor of the town?
    This is the latest parle we will admit;
    Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves;
    Or like to men proud of destruction
    Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,
    A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
    If I begin the battery once again,
    I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
    Till in her ashes she lie buried.
    The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
    And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
    In liberty of bloody hand shall range
    With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
    Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants.
    What is it then to me, if impious war,
    Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends,
    Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
    Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
    What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
    If your pure maidens fall into the hand
    Of hot and forcing violation?
    What rein can hold licentious wickedness
    When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
    We may as bootless spend our vain command
    Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil
    As send precepts to the leviathan
    To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
    Take pity of your town and of your people,
    Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
    Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
    O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
    Of heady murder, spoil and villany.
    If not, why, in a moment look to see
    The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
    Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
    Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
    And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls,
    Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
    Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
    Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
    At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
    What say you? will you yield, and this avoid,
    Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?

24 III / 3
  • Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter,
    Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain...
  • Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter,
    Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
    And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French:
    Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
    The winter coming on and sickness growing
    Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
    To-night in Harfleur we will be your guest;
    To-morrow for the march are we addrest.
  • Governor of Harfleur. Our expectation hath this day an end:
    The Dauphin, whom of succors we entreated,
    Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
    To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king,
    We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
    Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours;
    For we no longer are defensible.

    Henry V. Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter,
    Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
    And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French:
    Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
    The winter coming on and sickness growing
    Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
    To-night in Harfleur we will be your guest;
    To-morrow for the march are we addrest.

25 III / 6
  • How now, Fluellen! camest thou from the bridge?
  • How now, Fluellen! camest thou from the bridge?
  • 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 heard]
    Hark you, the king is coming, and I must speak with
    him from the pridge.
    [Drum and colours. Enter KING HENRY, GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers]
    God pless your majesty!

    Henry V. How now, Fluellen! camest thou from the bridge?

26 III / 6
  • What men have you lost, Fluellen?
  • What men have you lost, Fluellen?
  • Fluellen. Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke of Exeter has
    very gallantly maintained 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.

    Henry V. What men have you lost, Fluellen?

27 III / 6
  • We would have all such offenders so cut off: and we
    give express charge, tha...
  • We would have all such offenders so cut off: and we
    give express charge, that in our marches through the
    country, there be nothing compelled 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.
  • 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.

    Henry V. We would have all such offenders so cut off: and we
    give express charge, that in our marches through the
    country, there be nothing compelled 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.

28 III / 6
  • Well then I know thee: what shall I know of thee?
  • Well then I know thee: what shall I know of thee?
  • Montjoy. You know me by my habit.

    Henry V. Well then I know thee: what shall I know of thee?

29 III / 6
  • Unfold it.
  • Unfold it.
  • Montjoy. My master's mind.

    Henry V. Unfold it.

30 III / 6
  • What is thy name? I know thy quality.
  • What is thy name? I know thy quality.
  • Montjoy. Thus says my king: Say thou to Harry of England:
    Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep: advantage
    is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him we
    could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we
    thought not good to bruise an injury till it were
    full ripe: now we speak upon our cue, and our voice
    is imperial: England shall repent his folly, see
    his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him
    therefore consider of his ransom; which must
    proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we
    have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which in
    weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under.
    For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the
    effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too
    faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own
    person, kneeling at our feet, but a weak and
    worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance: and
    tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his
    followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. So far
    my king and master; so much my office.

    Henry V. What is thy name? I know thy quality.

31 III / 6
  • Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back.
    And tell thy king I do not seek...
  • Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back.
    And tell thy king I do not seek him now;
    But could be willing to march on to Calais
    Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth,
    Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
    Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,
    My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
    My numbers lessened, and those few I have
    Almost no better than so many French;
    Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
    I thought upon one pair of English legs
    Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, God,
    That I do brag thus! This your air of France
    Hath blown that vice in me: I must repent.
    Go therefore, tell thy master here I am;
    My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk,
    My army but a weak and sickly guard;
    Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
    Though France himself and such another neighbour
    Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.
    Go bid thy master well advise himself:
    If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,
    We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
    Discolour: and so Montjoy, fare you well.
    The sum of all our answer is but this:
    We would not seek a battle, as we are;
    Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it:
    So tell your master.
  • Montjoy. Montjoy.

    Henry V. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back.
    And tell thy king I do not seek him now;
    But could be willing to march on to Calais
    Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth,
    Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
    Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,
    My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
    My numbers lessened, and those few I have
    Almost no better than so many French;
    Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
    I thought upon one pair of English legs
    Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, God,
    That I do brag thus! This your air of France
    Hath blown that vice in me: I must repent.
    Go therefore, tell thy master here I am;
    My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk,
    My army but a weak and sickly guard;
    Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
    Though France himself and such another neighbour
    Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.
    Go bid thy master well advise himself:
    If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,
    We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
    Discolour: and so Montjoy, fare you well.
    The sum of all our answer is but this:
    We would not seek a battle, as we are;
    Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it:
    So tell your master.

32 III / 6
  • We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
    March to the bridge; it now dr...
  • We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
    March to the bridge; it now draws toward night:
    Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
    And on to-morrow, bid them march away.
  • Duke of Gloucester. I hope they will not come upon us now.

    Henry V. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
    March to the bridge; it now draws toward night:
    Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
    And on to-morrow, bid them march away.

33 IV / 1
  • Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
    The greater therefore sho...
  • Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
    The greater therefore should our courage be.
    Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
    There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
    Would men observingly distil it out.
    For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
    Which is both healthful and good husbandry:
    Besides, they are our outward consciences,
    And preachers to us all, admonishing
    That we should dress us fairly for our end.
    Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
    And make a moral of the devil himself.
    [Enter ERPINGHAM]
    Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
    A good soft pillow for that good white head
    Were better than a churlish turf of France.
  • Chorus. 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 stilly sounds,
    That the fixed sentinels almost receive
    The secret whispers of each other's watch:
    Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
    Each battle sees the other's umber'd 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
    Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
    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 over-bears 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, that 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-disposed in brawl ridiculous,
    The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
    Minding true things by what their mockeries be.

    Henry V. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
    The greater therefore should our courage be.
    Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
    There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
    Would men observingly distil it out.
    For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
    Which is both healthful and good husbandry:
    Besides, they are our outward consciences,
    And preachers to us all, admonishing
    That we should dress us fairly for our end.
    Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
    And make a moral of the devil himself.
    [Enter ERPINGHAM]
    Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
    A good soft pillow for that good white head
    Were better than a churlish turf of France.

34 IV / 1
  • 'Tis good for men to love their present pains
    Upon example; so the spirit is...
  • 'Tis good for men to love their present pains
    Upon example; so the spirit is eased:
    And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
    The organs, though defunct and dead before,
    Break up their drowsy grave and newly move,
    With casted slough and fresh legerity.
    Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,
    Commend me to the princes in our camp;
    Do my good morrow to them, and anon
    Desire them an to my pavilion.
  • Sir Thomas Erpingham. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better,
    Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.'

    Henry V. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains
    Upon example; so the spirit is eased:
    And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
    The organs, though defunct and dead before,
    Break up their drowsy grave and newly move,
    With casted slough and fresh legerity.
    Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,
    Commend me to the princes in our camp;
    Do my good morrow to them, and anon
    Desire them an to my pavilion.

35 IV / 1
  • No, my good knight;
    Go with my brothers to my lords of England:
    I and my...
  • No, my good knight;
    Go with my brothers to my lords of England:
    I and my bosom must debate awhile,
    And then I would no other company.
  • Sir Thomas Erpingham. Shall I attend your grace?

    Henry V. No, my good knight;
    Go with my brothers to my lords of England:
    I and my bosom must debate awhile,
    And then I would no other company.

36 IV / 1
  • God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.
  • God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.
  • Sir Thomas Erpingham. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!

    Henry V. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.

37 IV / 1
  • A friend.
  • A friend.
  • Pistol. Qui va la?

    Henry V. A friend.

38 IV / 1
  • I am a gentleman of a company.
  • I am a gentleman of a company.
  • Pistol. Discuss unto me; art thou officer?
    Or art thou base, common and popular?

    Henry V. I am a gentleman of a company.

39 IV / 1
  • Even so. What are you?
  • Even so. What are you?
  • Pistol. Trail'st thou the puissant pike?

    Henry V. Even so. What are you?

40 IV / 1
  • Then you are a better than the king.
  • Then you are a better than the king.
  • Pistol. As good a gentleman as the emperor.

    Henry V. Then you are a better than the king.

41 IV / 1
  • Harry le Roy.
  • Harry le Roy.
  • Pistol. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold,
    A lad of life, an imp of fame;
    Of parents good, of fist most valiant.
    I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string
    I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?

    Henry V. Harry le Roy.

42 IV / 1
  • No, I am a Welshman.
  • No, I am a Welshman.
  • Pistol. Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew?

    Henry V. No, I am a Welshman.

43 IV / 1
  • Yes.
  • Yes.
  • Pistol. Know'st thou Fluellen?

    Henry V. Yes.

44 IV / 1
  • Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day,
    lest he knock that about y...
  • Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day,
    lest he knock that about yours.
  • Pistol. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate
    Upon Saint Davy's day.

    Henry V. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day,
    lest he knock that about yours.

45 IV / 1
  • And his kinsman too.
  • And his kinsman too.
  • Pistol. Art thou his friend?

    Henry V. And his kinsman too.

46 IV / 1
  • I thank you: God be with you!
  • I thank you: God be with you!
  • Pistol. The figo for thee, then!

    Henry V. I thank you: God be with you!

47 IV / 1
  • It sorts well with your fierceness.
  • It sorts well with your fierceness.
  • Pistol. My name is Pistol call'd.

    Henry V. It sorts well with your fierceness.

48 IV / 1
  • Though it appear a little out of fashion,
    There is much care and valour in t...
  • Though it appear a little out of fashion,
    There is much care and valour in this Welshman.
  • Fluellen. I pray you and beseech you that you will.

    Henry V. Though it appear a little out of fashion,
    There is much care and valour in this Welshman.

49 IV / 1
  • A friend.
  • A friend.
  • Williams. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think
    we shall never see the end of it. Who goes there?

    Henry V. A friend.

50 IV / 1
  • Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
  • Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
  • Williams. Under what captain serve you?

    Henry V. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

51 IV / 1
  • Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be
    washed off the next tide.
  • Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be
    washed off the next tide.
  • Williams. A good old commander and a most kind gentleman: I
    pray you, what thinks he of our estate?

    Henry V. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be
    washed off the next tide.

52 IV / 1
  • No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I
    speak it to you, I think the...
  • No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I
    speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I
    am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me: the
    element shows to him as it doth to me; all his
    senses have but human conditions: his ceremonies
    laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and
    though his affections are higher mounted than ours,
    yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like
    wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we
    do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish
    as ours are: yet, in reason, no man should possess
    him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing
    it, should dishearten his army.
  • Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king?

    Henry V. No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I
    speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I
    am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me: the
    element shows to him as it doth to me; all his
    senses have but human conditions: his ceremonies
    laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and
    though his affections are higher mounted than ours,
    yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like
    wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we
    do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish
    as ours are: yet, in reason, no man should possess
    him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing
    it, should dishearten his army.

53 IV / 1
  • By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king:
    I think he would not wi...
  • By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king:
    I think he would not wish himself any where but
    where he is.
  • Bates. He may show what outward courage he will; but I
    believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish
    himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he
    were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.

    Henry V. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king:
    I think he would not wish himself any where but
    where he is.

54 IV / 1
  • I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here
    alone, howsoever you sp...
  • I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here
    alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's
    minds: methinks I could not die any where so
    contented as in the king's company; his cause being
    just and his quarrel honourable.
  • Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be
    sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.

    Henry V. I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here
    alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's
    minds: methinks I could not die any where so
    contented as in the king's company; his cause being
    just and his quarrel honourable.

55 IV / 1
  • So, if a son that is by his father sent about
    merchandise do sinfully miscar...
  • So, if a son that is by his father sent about
    merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the
    imputation of his wickedness by your rule, should be
    imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a
    servant, under his master's command transporting a
    sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in
    many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the
    business of the master the author of the servant's
    damnation: but this is not so: the king is not
    bound to answer the particular endings of his
    soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of
    his servant; for they purpose not their death, when
    they purpose their services. Besides, there is no
    king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to
    the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all
    unspotted soldiers: some peradventure have on them
    the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder;
    some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of
    perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that
    have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with
    pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have
    defeated the law and outrun native punishment,
    though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to
    fly from God: war is his beadle, war is vengeance;
    so that here men are punished for before-breach of
    the king's laws in now the king's quarrel: where
    they feared the death, they have borne life away;
    and where they would be safe, they perish: then if
    they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of
    their damnation than he was before guilty of those
    impieties for the which they are now visited. Every
    subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's
    soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in
    the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every
    mote out of his conscience: and dying so, death
    is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was
    blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained:
    and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think
    that, making God so free an offer, He let him
    outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach
    others how they should prepare.
  • Williams. But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath
    a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and
    arms and heads, chopped off in battle, shall join
    together at the latter day and cry all 'We died at
    such a place;' some swearing, some crying for a
    surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind
    them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their
    children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die
    well that die in a battle; for how can they
    charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their
    argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it
    will be a black matter for the king that led them to
    it; whom to disobey were against all proportion of
    subjection.

    Henry V. So, if a son that is by his father sent about
    merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the
    imputation of his wickedness by your rule, should be
    imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a
    servant, under his master's command transporting a
    sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in
    many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the
    business of the master the author of the servant's
    damnation: but this is not so: the king is not
    bound to answer the particular endings of his
    soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of
    his servant; for they purpose not their death, when
    they purpose their services. Besides, there is no
    king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to
    the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all
    unspotted soldiers: some peradventure have on them
    the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder;
    some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of
    perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that
    have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with
    pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have
    defeated the law and outrun native punishment,
    though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to
    fly from God: war is his beadle, war is vengeance;
    so that here men are punished for before-breach of
    the king's laws in now the king's quarrel: where
    they feared the death, they have borne life away;
    and where they would be safe, they perish: then if
    they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of
    their damnation than he was before guilty of those
    impieties for the which they are now visited. Every
    subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's
    soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in
    the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every
    mote out of his conscience: and dying so, death
    is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was
    blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained:
    and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think
    that, making God so free an offer, He let him
    outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach
    others how they should prepare.

56 IV / 1
  • I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.
  • I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.
  • Bates. But I do not desire he should answer for me; and
    yet I determine to fight lustily for him.

    Henry V. I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.

57 IV / 1
  • If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
  • If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
  • Williams. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but
    when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, and we
    ne'er the wiser.

    Henry V. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.

58 IV / 1
  • Your reproof is something too round: I should be
    angry with you, if the time...
  • Your reproof is something too round: I should be
    angry with you, if the time were convenient.
  • Williams. You pay him then. That's a perilous shot out of an
    elder-gun, that a poor and private displeasure can
    do against a monarch! you may as well go about to
    turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a
    peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word
    after! come, 'tis a foolish saying.

    Henry V. Your reproof is something too round: I should be
    angry with you, if the time were convenient.

59 IV / 1
  • I embrace it.
  • I embrace it.
  • Williams. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.

    Henry V. I embrace it.

60 IV / 1
  • Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my
    bonnet: then, if ever th...
  • Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my
    bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I
    will make it my quarrel.
  • Williams. How shall I know thee again?

    Henry V. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my
    bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I
    will make it my quarrel.

61 IV / 1
  • There.
  • There.
  • Williams. Here's my glove: give me another of thine.

    Henry V. There.

62 IV / 1
  • If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
  • If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
  • Williams. This will I also wear in my cap: if ever thou come
    to me and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,'
    by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear.

    Henry V. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

63 IV / 1
  • Well. I will do it, though I take thee in the
    king's company.
  • Well. I will do it, though I take thee in the
    king's company.
  • Williams. Thou darest as well be hanged.

    Henry V. Well. I will do it, though I take thee in the
    king's company.

64 IV / 1
  • Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to
    one, they will beat us; f...
  • Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to
    one, they will beat us; for they bear them on their
    shoulders: but it is no English treason to cut
    French crowns, and to-morrow the king himself will
    be a clipper.
    [Exeunt soldiers]
    Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
    Our debts, our careful wives,
    Our children and our sins lay on the king!
    We must bear all. O hard condition,
    Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
    Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
    But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease
    Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!
    And what have kings, that privates have not too,
    Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
    And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?
    What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
    Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
    What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?
    O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
    What is thy soul of adoration?
    Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,
    Creating awe and fear in other men?
    Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
    Than they in fearing.
    What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
    But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
    And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
    Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
    With titles blown from adulation?
    Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
    Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
    Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
    That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
    I am a king that find thee, and I know
    'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,
    The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
    The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
    The farced title running 'fore the king,
    The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
    That beats upon the high shore of this world,
    No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
    Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
    Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
    Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind
    Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
    Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
    But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
    Sweats in the eye of Phoebus and all night
    Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,
    Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
    And follows so the ever-running year,
    With profitable labour, to his grave:
    And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
    Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
    Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
    The slave, a member of the country's peace,
    Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots
    What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
    Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
  • Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends: we have
    French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

    Henry V. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to
    one, they will beat us; for they bear them on their
    shoulders: but it is no English treason to cut
    French crowns, and to-morrow the king himself will
    be a clipper.
    [Exeunt soldiers]
    Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
    Our debts, our careful wives,
    Our children and our sins lay on the king!
    We must bear all. O hard condition,
    Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
    Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
    But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease
    Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!
    And what have kings, that privates have not too,
    Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
    And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?
    What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
    Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
    What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?
    O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
    What is thy soul of adoration?
    Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,
    Creating awe and fear in other men?
    Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
    Than they in fearing.
    What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
    But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
    And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
    Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
    With titles blown from adulation?
    Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
    Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
    Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
    That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
    I am a king that find thee, and I know
    'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,
    The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
    The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
    The farced title running 'fore the king,
    The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
    That beats upon the high shore of this world,
    No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
    Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
    Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
    Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind
    Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
    Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
    But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
    Sweats in the eye of Phoebus and all night
    Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,
    Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
    And follows so the ever-running year,
    With profitable labour, to his grave:
    And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
    Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
    Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
    The slave, a member of the country's peace,
    Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots
    What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
    Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

65 IV / 1
  • Good old knight,
    Collect them all together at my tent:
    I'll be before th...
  • Good old knight,
    Collect them all together at my tent:
    I'll be before thee.
  • Sir Thomas Erpingham. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,
    Seek through your camp to find you.

    Henry V. Good old knight,
    Collect them all together at my tent:
    I'll be before thee.

66 IV / 1
  • O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;
    Possess them not with fear; tak...
  • O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;
    Possess them not with fear; take from them now
    The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
    Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord,
    O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
    My father made in compassing the crown!
    I Richard's body have interred anew;
    And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
    Than from it issued forced drops of blood:
    Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
    Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
    Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
    Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
    Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
    Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
    Since that my penitence comes after all,
    Imploring pardon.
  • Sir Thomas Erpingham. I shall do't, my lord.

    Henry V. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;
    Possess them not with fear; take from them now
    The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
    Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord,
    O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
    My father made in compassing the crown!
    I Richard's body have interred anew;
    And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
    Than from it issued forced drops of blood:
    Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
    Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
    Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
    Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
    Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
    Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
    Since that my penitence comes after all,
    Imploring pardon.

67 IV / 1
  • My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay;
    I know thy errand, I will go with thee: <...
  • My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay;
    I know thy errand, I will go with thee:
    The day, my friends and all things stay for me.
  • Duke of Gloucester. My liege!

    Henry V. My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay;
    I know thy errand, I will go with thee:
    The day, my friends and all things stay for me.

68 IV / 3
  • What's he that wishes so?
    My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
    If...
  • 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.
    God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
    By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
    Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
    It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
    Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
    But if it be a sin to covet honour,
    I am the most offending soul alive.
    No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
    God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
    As one man more, methinks, would share from me
    For the best hope I have. 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 called the feast of Crispian:
    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
    He that shall live this day, and see 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.'
    Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
    But he'll remember with advantages
    What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
    Familiar in his mouth as household words
    Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
    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 accursed they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
  • Earl of Westmoreland. O that we now had here
    But one ten thousand of those men in England
    That do no work to-day!

    Henry V. 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.
    God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
    By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
    Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
    It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
    Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
    But if it be a sin to covet honour,
    I am the most offending soul alive.
    No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
    God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
    As one man more, methinks, would share from me
    For the best hope I have. 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 called the feast of Crispian:
    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
    He that shall live this day, and see 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.'
    Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
    But he'll remember with advantages
    What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
    Familiar in his mouth as household words
    Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
    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 accursed they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

69 IV / 3
  • All things are ready, if our minds be so.
  • All things are ready, if our minds be so.
  • Earl of Salisbury. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
    The French are bravely in their battles set,
    And will with all expedience charge on us.

    Henry V. All things are ready, if our minds be so.

70 IV / 3
  • Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
  • Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
  • Earl of Westmoreland. Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

    Henry V. Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?

71 IV / 3
  • Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men;
    Which likes me better than to...
  • 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!
  • Earl of Westmoreland. God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,
    Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

    Henry V. 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!

72 IV / 3
  • Who hath sent thee now?
  • Who hath sent thee now?
  • Montjoy. 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.

    Henry V. Who hath sent thee now?

73 IV / 3
  • I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
    Bid them achieve me and then sell m...
  • 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 lived, was killed with hunting him.
    A many of our bodies shall no doubt
    Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
    Shall witness live in brass of this day's work:
    And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
    Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
    They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them,
    And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
    Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
    The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
    Mark then abounding valour in our English,
    That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
    Break out into a second course of mischief,
    Killing in relapse of mortality.
    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.
  • Montjoy. The Constable of France.

    Henry V. 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 lived, was killed with hunting him.
    A many of our bodies shall no doubt
    Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
    Shall witness live in brass of this day's work:
    And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
    Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
    They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them,
    And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
    Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
    The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
    Mark then abounding valour in our English,
    That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
    Break out into a second course of mischief,
    Killing in relapse of mortality.
    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.

74 IV / 3
  • I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom.
  • I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom.
  • Montjoy. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
    Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

    Henry V. I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom.

75 IV / 3
  • Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away:
    And how thou pleasest, God,...
  • Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away:
    And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
  • Duke of York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
    The leading of the vaward.

    Henry V. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away:
    And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

76 IV / 6
  • Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen:
    But all's not done; yet keep t...
  • Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen:
    But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.
  • Duke of Bourbon. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng:
    Let life be short; else shame will be too long.

    Henry V. Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen:
    But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.

77 IV / 6
  • Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour
    I saw him down; thrice up agai...
  • Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour
    I saw him down; thrice up again and fighting;
    From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
  • Duke of Exeter. The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.

    Henry V. Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour
    I saw him down; thrice up again and fighting;
    From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

78 IV / 6
  • I blame you not;
    For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
    With mistfu...
  • I blame you not;
    For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
    With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.
    [Alarum]
    But, hark! what new alarum is this same?
    The French have reinforced their scatter'd men:
    Then every soldier kill his prisoners:
    Give the word through.
  • Duke of Exeter. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,
    Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
    Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
    The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
    Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over,
    Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
    And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes
    That bloodily did spawn upon his face;
    And cries aloud 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
    My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
    Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
    As in this glorious and well-foughten field
    We kept together in our chivalry!'
    Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up:
    He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,
    And, with a feeble gripe, says 'Dear my lord,
    Commend my service to me sovereign.'
    So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck
    He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;
    And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd
    A testament of noble-ending love.
    The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
    Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
    But I had not so much of man in me,
    And all my mother came into mine eyes
    And gave me up to tears.

    Henry V. I blame you not;
    For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
    With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.
    [Alarum]
    But, hark! what new alarum is this same?
    The French have reinforced their scatter'd men:
    Then every soldier kill his prisoners:
    Give the word through.

79 IV / 7
  • I was not angry since I came to France
    Until this instant. Take a trumpet, h...
  • I was not angry since I came to France
    Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;
    Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill:
    If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
    Or void the field; they do offend our sight:
    If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
    And make them skirr away, as swift as stones
    Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
    Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
    And not a man of them that we shall take
    Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
  • Gower. Here comes his majesty.
    [Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, and forces; WARWICK,]
    GLOUCESTER, EXETER, and others]

    Henry V. I was not angry since I came to France
    Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;
    Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill:
    If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
    Or void the field; they do offend our sight:
    If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
    And make them skirr away, as swift as stones
    Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
    Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
    And not a man of them that we shall take
    Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.

80 IV / 7
  • How now! what means this, herald? know'st thou not
    That I have fined these b...
  • How now! what means this, herald? know'st thou not
    That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom?
    Comest thou again for ransom?
  • Duke of Gloucester. His eyes are humbler than they used to be.

    Henry V. How now! what means this, herald? know'st thou not
    That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom?
    Comest thou again for ransom?

81 IV / 7
  • I tell thee truly, herald,
    I know not if the day be ours or no;
    For yet...
  • I tell thee truly, herald,
    I know not if the day be ours or no;
    For yet a many of your horsemen peer
    And gallop o'er the field.
  • Montjoy. No, great king:
    I come to thee for charitable licence,
    That we may wander o'er this bloody field
    To look our dead, and then to bury them;
    To sort our nobles from our common men.
    For many of our princes--woe the while!--
    Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
    So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
    In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds
    Fret fetlock deep in gore and with wild rage
    Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
    Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king,
    To view the field in safety and dispose
    Of their dead bodies!

    Henry V. I tell thee truly, herald,
    I know not if the day be ours or no;
    For yet a many of your horsemen peer
    And gallop o'er the field.

82 IV / 7
  • Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
    What is this castle call'd tha...
  • Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
    What is this castle call'd that stands hard by?
  • Montjoy. The day is yours.

    Henry V. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
    What is this castle call'd that stands hard by?

83 IV / 7
  • Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
    Fought on the day of Crispin Crisp...
  • Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
    Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.
  • Montjoy. They call it Agincourt.

    Henry V. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
    Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

84 IV / 7
  • They did, Fluellen.
  • They did, Fluellen.
  • Fluellen. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your
    majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack
    Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles,
    fought a most prave pattle here in France.

    Henry V. They did, Fluellen.

85 IV / 7
  • I wear it for a memorable honour;
    For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman....
  • I wear it for a memorable honour;
    For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
  • Fluellen. Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is
    remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a
    garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their
    Monmouth caps; which, your majesty know, to this
    hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do
    believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek
    upon Saint Tavy's day.

    Henry V. I wear it for a memorable honour;
    For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.

86 IV / 7
  • Thanks, good my countryman.
  • Thanks, good my countryman.
  • Fluellen. All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's
    Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that:
    God pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases
    his grace, and his majesty too!

    Henry V. Thanks, good my countryman.

87 IV / 7
  • God keep me so! Our heralds go with him:
    Bring me just notice of the numbers...
  • God keep me so! Our heralds go with him:
    Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
    On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.
  • Fluellen. By Jeshu, I am your majesty's countryman, I care not
    who know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld: I
    need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be
    God, so long as your majesty is an honest man.

    Henry V. God keep me so! Our heralds go with him:
    Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
    On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.

88 IV / 7
  • Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap?
  • Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap?
  • Duke of Exeter. Soldier, you must come to the king.

    Henry V. Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap?

89 IV / 7
  • An Englishman?
  • An Englishman?
  • Williams. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one that
    I should fight withal, if he be alive.

    Henry V. An Englishman?

90 IV / 7
  • What think you, Captain Fluellen? is it fit this
    soldier keep his oath?
  • What think you, Captain Fluellen? is it fit this
    soldier keep his oath?
  • Williams. An't please your majesty, a rascal that swaggered
    with me last night; who, if alive and ever dare to
    challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box
    o' th' ear: or if I can see my glove in his cap,
    which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear
    if alive, I will strike it out soundly.

    Henry V. What think you, Captain Fluellen? is it fit this
    soldier keep his oath?

91 IV / 7
  • It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort,
    quite from the answer of h...
  • It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort,
    quite from the answer of his degree.
  • Fluellen. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your
    majesty, in my conscience.

    Henry V. It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort,
    quite from the answer of his degree.

92 IV / 7
  • Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.
  • Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.
  • Fluellen. Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as
    Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look
    your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath: if
    he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as
    arrant a villain and a Jacksauce, as ever his black
    shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my
    conscience, la!

    Henry V. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.

93 IV / 7
  • Who servest thou under?
  • Who servest thou under?
  • Williams. So I will, my liege, as I live.

    Henry V. Who servest thou under?

94 IV / 7
  • Call him hither to me, soldier.
  • Call him hither to me, soldier.
  • Fluellen. Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and
    literatured in the wars.

    Henry V. Call him hither to me, soldier.

95 IV / 7
  • Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and
    stick it in thy cap: when A...
  • Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and
    stick it in thy cap: when Alencon and myself were
    down together, I plucked this glove from his helm:
    if any man challenge this, he is a friend to
    Alencon, and an enemy to our person; if thou
    encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.
  • Williams. I will, my liege.

    Henry V. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and
    stick it in thy cap: when Alencon and myself were
    down together, I plucked this glove from his helm:
    if any man challenge this, he is a friend to
    Alencon, and an enemy to our person; if thou
    encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.

96 IV / 7
  • Knowest thou Gower?
  • Knowest thou Gower?
  • Fluellen. Your grace doo's me as great honours as can be
    desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain
    see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find
    himself aggrieved at this glove; that is all; but I
    would fain see it once, an please God of his grace
    that I might see.

    Henry V. Knowest thou Gower?

97 IV / 7
  • Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.
  • Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.
  • Fluellen. He is my dear friend, an please you.

    Henry V. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.

98 IV / 7
  • My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester,
    Follow Fluellen closely at th...
  • My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester,
    Follow Fluellen closely at the heels:
    The glove which I have given him for a favour
    May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear;
    It is the soldier's; I by bargain should
    Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick:
    If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
    By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
    Some sudden mischief may arise of it;
    For I do know Fluellen valiant
    And, touched 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.
  • Fluellen. I will fetch him.

    Henry V. My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester,
    Follow Fluellen closely at the heels:
    The glove which I have given him for a favour
    May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear;
    It is the soldier's; I by bargain should
    Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick:
    If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
    By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
    Some sudden mischief may arise of it;
    For I do know Fluellen valiant
    And, touched 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.

99 IV / 8
  • How now! what's the matter?
  • How now! what's the matter?
  • Fluellen. My Lord of Warwick, here is--praised be God for it!
    --a most contagious treason come to light, look
    you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Here is
    his majesty.

    Henry V. How now! what's the matter?

100 IV / 8
  • Give me thy glove, soldier: look, here is the
    fellow of it.
    'Twas I, ind...
  • 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.
  • Fluellen. Your majesty hear now, saving your majesty's
    manhood, what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy
    knave it is: I hope your majesty is pear me
    testimony and witness, and will avouchment, that
    this is the glove of Alencon, that your majesty is
    give me; in your conscience, now?

    Henry V. 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.

101 IV / 8
  • How canst thou make me satisfaction?
  • How canst thou make me satisfaction?
  • Fluellen. An please your majesty, let his neck answer for it,
    if there is any martial law in the world.

    Henry V. How canst thou make me satisfaction?

102 IV / 8
  • It was ourself thou didst abuse.
  • It was ourself thou didst abuse.
  • Williams. All offences, my lord, come from the heart: never
    came any from mine that might offend your majesty.

    Henry V. It was ourself thou didst abuse.

103 IV / 8
  • Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns,
    And give it to this fellow....
  • 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.
  • Williams. 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.

    Henry V. 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.

104 IV / 8
  • Now, herald, are the dead number'd?
  • Now, herald, are the dead number'd?
  • Fluellen. It is with a good 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 good: 'tis
    a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

    Henry V. Now, herald, are the dead number'd?

105 IV / 8
  • What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
  • What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
  • Herald. Here is the number of the slaughter'd French.

    Henry V. What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?

106 IV / 8
  • This note doth tell me of ten thousand French
    That in the field lie slain: o...
  • 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
    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 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,
    And gentlemen of blood and quality.
    The names of those their nobles that lie dead:
    Charles Delabreth, 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 Guichard Dolphin,
    John Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant,
    The brother of 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?
    [Herald shews him another paper]
    Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
    Sir Richard Ketly, 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 none but thine!
  • Duke of Exeter. 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.

    Henry V. 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
    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 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,
    And gentlemen of blood and quality.
    The names of those their nobles that lie dead:
    Charles Delabreth, 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 Guichard Dolphin,
    John Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant,
    The brother of 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?
    [Herald shews him another paper]
    Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
    Sir Richard Ketly, 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 none but thine!

107 IV / 8
  • Come, go we in procession to the village.
    And be it death proclaimed through...
  • Come, go we in procession to the village.
    And be it death proclaimed through our host
    To boast of this or take the praise from God
    Which is his only.
  • Duke of Exeter. 'Tis wonderful!

    Henry V. Come, go we in procession to the village.
    And be it death proclaimed through our host
    To boast of this or take the praise from God
    Which is his only.

108 IV / 8
  • Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,
    That God fought for us.
  • Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,
    That God fought for us.
  • Fluellen. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell
    how many is killed?

    Henry V. Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,
    That God fought for us.

109 IV / 8
  • Do we all holy rites;
    Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum;'
    The d...
  • Do we all holy rites;
    Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum;'
    The dead with charity enclosed in clay:
    And then to Calais; and to England then:
    Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men.
  • Fluellen. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.

    Henry V. Do we all holy rites;
    Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum;'
    The dead with charity enclosed in clay:
    And then to Calais; and to England then:
    Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men.

110 V / 2
  • Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!
    Unto our brother France, and to...
  • 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 contrived,
    We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy;
    And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!
  • Pistol. Doth Fortune play the huswife 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 cudgelled. Well, bawd I'll 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 cudgell'd scars,
    And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.

    Henry V. 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 contrived,
    We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy;
    And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!

111 V / 2
  • To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
  • To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
  • Queen Isabel. 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.

    Henry V. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.

112 V / 2
  • If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
    Whose want gives growth to the im...
  • If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
    Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
    Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
    With full accord to all our just demands;
    Whose tenors and particular effects
    You have enscheduled briefly in your hands.
  • Duke of Burgundy. 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 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 chased,
    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-pleach'd,
    Like prisoners wildly overgrown 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 deracinate 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,--
    To swearing and stern looks, diffused attire
    And every thing that seems unnatural.
    Which to reduce into our former favour
    You are assembled: and my speech entreats
    That I may know the let, why gentle Peace
    Should not expel these inconveniences
    And bless us with her former qualities.

    Henry V. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
    Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
    Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
    With full accord to all our just demands;
    Whose tenors and particular effects
    You have enscheduled briefly in your hands.

113 V / 2
  • Well then the peace,
    Which you before so urged, lies in his answer.
  • Well then the peace,
    Which you before so urged, lies in his answer.
  • Duke of Burgundy. The king hath heard them; to the which as yet
    There is no answer made.

    Henry V. Well then the peace,
    Which you before so urged, lies in his answer.

114 V / 2
  • Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,
    And brother Clarence, and you, brother...
  • Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,
    And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester,
    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?
  • King of France. I have but with a cursorary eye
    O'erglanced 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.

    Henry V. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,
    And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester,
    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?

115 V / 2
  • Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us:
    She is our capital demand, comp...
  • Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us:
    She is our capital demand, comprised
    Within the fore-rank of our articles.
  • Queen Isabel. Our gracious brother, I will go with them:
    Haply a woman's voice may do some good,
    When articles too nicely urged be stood on.

    Henry V. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us:
    She is our capital demand, comprised
    Within the fore-rank of our articles.

116 V / 2
  • Fair Katharine, and most fair,
    Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms <...
  • 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?
  • Queen Isabel. She hath good leave.

    Henry V. 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?

117 V / 2
  • O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with
    your French heart, I will...
  • 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?
  • Katharine. Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot speak your England.

    Henry V. 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?

118 V / 2
  • An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
  • An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
  • Katharine. Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is 'like me.'

    Henry V. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.

119 V / 2
  • I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to
    affirm it.
  • I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to
    affirm it.
  • Alice. Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.

    Henry V. I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to
    affirm it.

120 V / 2
  • What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men
    are full of deceits?
  • What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men
    are full of deceits?
  • Katharine. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de
    tromperies.

    Henry V. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men
    are full of deceits?

121 V / 2
  • The princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith,
    Kate, my wooing is fit fo...
  • The princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith,
    Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am
    glad thou canst speak no better English; for, if
    thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king
    that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my
    crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but
    directly to say 'I love you:' then if you urge me
    farther than to say 'do you in faith?' I wear out
    my suit. Give me your answer; i' faith, do: and so
    clap hands and a bargain: how say you, lady?
  • Alice. Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of
    deceits: dat is de princess.

    Henry V. The princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith,
    Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am
    glad thou canst speak no better English; for, if
    thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king
    that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my
    crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but
    directly to say 'I love you:' then if you urge me
    farther than to say 'do you in faith?' I wear out
    my suit. Give me your answer; i' faith, do: and so
    clap hands and a bargain: how say you, lady?

122 V / 2
  • Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for
    your sake, Kate, why yo...
  • 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,
    Kate, 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, is 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
    uncoined 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; 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 the
    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 soldier,
    take a king. And what sayest thou then to my love?
    speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
  • Katharine. Sauf votre honneur, me understand vell.

    Henry V. 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,
    Kate, 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, is 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
    uncoined 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; 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 the
    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 soldier,
    take a king. And what sayest thou then to my love?
    speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.

123 V / 2
  • No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of
    France, Kate: but, in lo...
  • No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of
    France, Kate: but, in loving me, you should love
    the friend of France; for I love France so well that
    I will not part with a village of it; I will have it
    all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine and I am
    yours, then yours is France and you are mine.
  • Katharine. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?

    Henry V. No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of
    France, Kate: but, in loving me, you should love
    the friend of France; for I love France so well that
    I will not part with a village of it; I will have it
    all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine and I am
    yours, then yours is France and you are mine.

124 V / 2
  • No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; which I am
    sure will hang upon my tong...
  • 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. Je quand sur le possession de France, et quand
    vous avez le possession de moi,--let me see, what
    then? Saint Denis be my speed!--donc votre est
    France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me,
    Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much
    more French: I shall never move thee in French,
    unless it be to laugh at me.
  • Katharine. I cannot tell vat is dat.

    Henry V. 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. Je quand sur le possession de France, et quand
    vous avez le possession de moi,--let me see, what
    then? Saint Denis be my speed!--donc votre est
    France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me,
    Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much
    more French: I shall never move thee in French,
    unless it be to laugh at me.

125 V / 2
  • No, faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my
    tongue, and I thine, most...
  • No, faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my
    tongue, and I thine, most truly-falsely, must needs
    be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou
    understand thus much English, canst thou love me?
  • Katharine. Sauf votre honneur, le Francois que vous parlez, il
    est meilleur que l'Anglois lequel je parle.

    Henry V. No, faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my
    tongue, and I thine, most truly-falsely, must needs
    be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou
    understand thus much English, canst thou love me?

126 V / 2
  • Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask
    them. Come, I know thou love...
  • 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 beest 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 Denis 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, my fair
    flower-de-luce?
  • Katharine. I cannot tell.

    Henry V. 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 beest 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 Denis 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, my fair
    flower-de-luce?

127 V / 2
  • No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise: do
    but now promise, Kate, yo...
  • 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 cher
    et devin deesse?
  • Katharine. I do not know dat

    Henry V. 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 cher
    et devin deesse?

128 V / 2
  • Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in
    true English, I love thee,...
  • 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. 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 with the looks of an empress;
    take me by the hand, and say 'Harry of England I am
    thine:' which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine
    ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 'England is
    thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Harry
    Plantagenet 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?
  • Katharine. Your majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de
    most sage demoiselle dat is en France.

    Henry V. 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. 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 with the looks of an empress;
    take me by the hand, and say 'Harry of England I am
    thine:' which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine
    ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 'England is
    thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Harry
    Plantagenet 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?

129 V / 2
  • Nay, it will please him well, Kate it shall please
    him, Kate.
  • Nay, it will please him well, Kate it shall please
    him, Kate.
  • Katharine. Dat is as it sall please de roi mon pere.

    Henry V. Nay, it will please him well, Kate it shall please
    him, Kate.

130 V / 2
  • Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen.
  • Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen.
  • Katharine. Den it sall also content me.

    Henry V. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen.

131 V / 2
  • Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
  • Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
  • Katharine. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez: ma foi, je
    ne veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en
    baisant la main d'une de votre seigeurie indigne
    serviteur; excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon
    tres-puissant seigneur.

    Henry V. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.

132 V / 2
  • Madam my interpreter, what says she?
  • Madam my interpreter, what says she?
  • Katharine. Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant
    leur noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France.

    Henry V. Madam my interpreter, what says she?

133 V / 2
  • To kiss.
  • To kiss.
  • Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of
    France,--I cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish.

    Henry V. To kiss.

134 V / 2
  • It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss
    before they are married,...
  • It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss
    before they are married, would she say?
  • Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que moi.

    Henry V. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss
    before they are married, would she say?

135 V / 2
  • O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear
    Kate, you and I cannot be c...
  • O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear
    Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak
    list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of
    manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our
    places stops the mouth of all find-faults; as I will
    do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your
    country in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently
    and yielding.
    [Kissing her]
    You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is
    more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the
    tongues of the French council; and they should
    sooner persuade Harry of England than a general
    petition of monarchs. Here comes your father.
  • Alice. Oui, vraiment.

    Henry V. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear
    Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak
    list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of
    manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our
    places stops the mouth of all find-faults; as I will
    do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your
    country in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently
    and yielding.
    [Kissing her]
    You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is
    more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the
    tongues of the French council; and they should
    sooner persuade Harry of England than a general
    petition of monarchs. Here comes your father.

136 V / 2
  • I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how
    perfectly I love her; and that i...
  • I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how
    perfectly I love her; and that is good English.
  • Duke of Burgundy. God save your majesty! my royal cousin, teach you
    our princess English?

    Henry V. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how
    perfectly I love her; and that is good English.

137 V / 2
  • Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not
    smooth; so that, having ne...
  • Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not
    smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the
    heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up
    the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in
    his true likeness.
  • Duke of Burgundy. Is she not apt?

    Henry V. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not
    smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the
    heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up
    the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in
    his true likeness.

138 V / 2
  • Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.
  • Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.
  • Duke of Burgundy. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you
    for that. If you would conjure in her, you must
    make a circle; if conjure up love in her in his true
    likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you
    blame her then, being a maid yet rosed over with the
    virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the
    appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing
    self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid
    to consign to.

    Henry V. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.

139 V / 2
  • Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.
  • Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.
  • Duke of Burgundy. They are then excused, my lord, when they see not
    what they do.

    Henry V. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.

140 V / 2
  • This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer;
    and so I shall catch the f...
  • This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer;
    and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the
    latter end and she must be blind too.
  • Duke of Burgundy. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will
    teach her to know my meaning: for maids, well
    summered and warm kept, are like flies at
    Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their
    eyes; and then they will endure handling, which
    before would not abide looking on.

    Henry V. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer;
    and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the
    latter end and she must be blind too.

141 V / 2
  • It is so: and you may, some of you, thank love for
    my blindness, who cannot...
  • It is so: and you may, some of you, thank love for
    my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city
    for one fair French maid that stands in my way.
  • Duke of Burgundy. As love is, my lord, before it loves.

    Henry V. It is so: and you may, some of you, thank love for
    my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city
    for one fair French maid that stands in my way.

142 V / 2
  • Shall Kate be my wife?
  • Shall Kate be my wife?
  • King of France. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities
    turned into a maid; for they are all girdled with
    maiden walls that war hath never entered.

    Henry V. Shall Kate be my wife?

143 V / 2
  • I am content; so the maiden cities you talk of may
    wait on her: so the maid...
  • I am content; so the maiden cities you talk of may
    wait on her: so the maid that stood in the way for
    my wish shall show me the way to my will.
  • King of France. So please you.

    Henry V. I am content; so the maiden cities you talk of may
    wait on her: so the maid that stood in the way for
    my wish shall show me the way to my will.

144 V / 2
  • Is't so, my lords of England?
  • Is't so, my lords of England?
  • King of France. We have consented to all terms of reason.

    Henry V. Is't so, my lords of England?

145 V / 2
  • I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,
    Let that one article rank with t...
  • I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,
    Let that one article rank with the rest;
    And thereupon give me your daughter.
  • King of France. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied,
    But your request shall make me let it pass.

    Henry V. I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,
    Let that one article rank with the rest;
    And thereupon give me your daughter.

146 V / 2
  • Now, welcome, Kate: and bear me witness all,
    That here I kiss her as my sove...
  • Now, welcome, Kate: and bear me witness all,
    That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.
  • All. Amen!

    Henry V. Now, welcome, Kate: and bear me witness all,
    That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.

147 V / 2
  • Prepare we for our marriage--on which day,
    My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take y...
  • Prepare we for our marriage--on which day,
    My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
    And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.
    Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me;
    And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be!
    [Sennet. Exeunt]
    EPILOGUE
  • All. Amen!

    Henry V. Prepare we for our marriage--on which day,
    My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
    And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.
    Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me;
    And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be!
    [Sennet. Exeunt]
    EPILOGUE

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© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.