ACT FOUR
PROLOGUE
Enter CHORUS.
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,
[5]
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fixād sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each otherās watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the otherās umberād face;
[10]
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the nightās dull ear; and from the tents
The armourers accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
[15]
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;
[20]
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
[25]
The morningās 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 ruinād band
[30]
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry āPraise and glory on his head!ā
For forth he goes and visits all his host;
Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,
And calk them brothers, friends, and countrymen.
[35]
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
[40]
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,
[45]
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 ā O for pity! ā we shall much disgrace
[50]
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill-disposād in brawl ridiculous,
The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
Minding true things by what their mockāries be.
[Exit.
SCENE I. France. The English camp at Agincourt.
Enter the KING, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER.
KING Gloucester, ātis 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,
[5]
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
[10]
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
[15]
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
ERPINGHAM Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say āNow lie I like a kingā.
KING āTis good for men to love their present pains
Upon example; so the spirit is eased;
[20]
And when the mind is quickāned, 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,
[25]
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good morrow to them, and anon
Desire them all to my pavilion.
GLOUCESTER We shall, my liege.
ERPINGHAM Shall I attend your Grace?
KING No, my good knight:
[30]
Go with my brothers to my lords of England;
I and my bosom must debate awhile,
And then I would no other company.
ERPINGHAM The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
[Exeunt all hut the King.
KING God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speakāst cheerfully.
Enter PISTOL.
[35]
PISTOL Qui va lĆ ?
KING A friend.
PISTOL Discuss unto me: art thou officer,
Or art thou base, common, and popular?
KING I am a gentleman of a company.
[40]
PISTOL Trailāst thou the puissant pike?
KING Even so. What are you?
PISTOL As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
KING Then you are a better than the King.
PISTOL The Kingās a bawcock and a heart of gold,
[45]
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?
KING Harry le Roy.
[50]
PISTOL Le Roy! a Cornish name; art thou of Cornish crew?
KING No, I am a Welshman.
PISTOL Knowāst thou Fluellen?
KING Yes.
[55]
PISTOL Tell him Iāll knock his leek about his pate Upon Saint Davyās day.
KING Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.
PISTOL Art thou his friend?
KING And his kinsman too.
[60]
PISTOL The figo for thee, then!
KING I thank you; God be with you!
PISTOL My name is Pistol callād.
[Exit.
KING It sorts well with your fierceness.
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER.
GOWER Captain Fluellen!
[74]
FLUELLEN So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept; if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompeyās camp; I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
GOWER Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.
[80]
FLUELLEN If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb? In your own conscience, now?
GOWER I will speak lower.
FLUELLEN I pray you and beseech you that you will.
[Exeunt Gower and Fluellen.
KING Thoug...