Henry V The Hollow Crown

DOG BARKS IN THE DISTANCE

'O for a Muse of fire,

'that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.

'A kingdom for a stage, princes to act

'and monarchs to behold the swelling scene.

'Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, assume the port of Mars.

'Suppose within the girdle of these walls are now confined

'two mighty monarchies,

'whose high upreared and abutting fronts

'the perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder.

'Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France?

'Or may we cram within this wooden "O"

'the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?'

DISTANT SCREAMS AND BATTLE CRIES

In nominum nostrum Iesum Christum. Amen.

ALL: Amen.

'And let us, ciphers to this great account,

'on your imaginary forces work.

'Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts...

'..for tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,

'carry them here and there, jumping o'er times,

'turning th'accomplishment of many years into an hourglass.

'For the which supply, admit me, Chorus, to this history.'

The King is full of grace and fair regard.

And a true lover of the holy church.

The courses of his youth promised it not.

The breath no sooner left his father's body,

but that his wildness, mortified in him, seemed to die too.

Never was such a sudden scholar made.

Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,

you would say it hath been all in all his study.

List his discourse of war

and you shall hear a fearful battle rendered you in music.

Which is a wonder how his grace should glean it.

The strawberry grows underneath the nettle,

and wholesome berries thrive and ripen best

neighboured by fruit of baser quality.

And so the Prince obscured his contemplation

under the veil of wildness.

But my good lord,

how now for mitigation of this bill urged by the Commons?

It must be thought on.

If it pass against us, we lose the better half of our possession.

All the temporal lands which men devout have given to the Church,

would they strip from us,

and to the coffers of the King besides,

a thousand pounds by the year. Thus runs the bill.

This would drink deep.

Twould drink the cup and all.

Doth his majesty incline to it, or no?

He seems indifferent,

or rather, swaying more upon our part.

For I have made an offer to his majesty,

upon our spiritual convocation,

as touching...

France...

..to give a greater sum than ever at one time the clergy yet did

to his predecessor's part withal.

How did this offer seem received?

With good acceptance of his majesty...

..save that there was not time enough to hear.

What was th'impediment?

The French ambassador upon that instant craved audience,

and the time, I think, is come to give him hearing.

Is it four o'clock? It is.

Then go we in, to hear his embassy.

I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it.

Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?

Here, my Lord.

Bring him forward, good uncle.

Shall we call in the French ambassador, my Liege? Not yet.

We would be resolved, before we hear him,

of some things of weight that task our thoughts

concerning us and France.

God and his angels guard your sacred throne and make you long become it!

Sure, we thank you.

My learned lord, we pray you to proceed

and justly and religiously unfold

if I may now with conscience make this 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.

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.

Under this conjuration speak, my lord, for we will hear, note,

and believe in heart that what you speak is in your conscience washed

as pure as sin with baptism.

Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers

that owe your selves, your lives and services to this imperial throne.

There is no bar to make against your highness' claim to France.

Gracious lord, stand for your own,

unwind your bloody flag,

look back into your mighty ancestors.

Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb,

invoke his warlike spirit, and your great-uncle's,

Edward the Black Prince, who on the French ground played a tragedy,

making defeat on the full power of France.

Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,

and with your puissant arm renew their feats.

You are their heir, you sit upon their throne,

the blood and courage that renowned them runs in your veins,

and my thrice-puissant liege is in the very May-morn of his youth,

ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.

Your brother kings and monarchs of the Earth do all expect

that you should rouse yourself as did the former lions of your blood.

They know your grace hath cause,

and means, and might - so doth your highness.

Never king of England had nobles richer

and more loyal subjects, whose hearts have left their bodies

here in England and lie pavilioned in the fields of France.

O let their bodies follow,

my blood and sword and fire to win your right.

Therefore to France, my liege.

Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.

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.

DOOR OPENS

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.

May't please your majesty to give us leave freely

to render what we have in charge?

Or shall we sparingly show you the Dauphin's meaning?

We are no tyrant, but a Christian king.

Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness,

tell us the Dauphin's mind.

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 naught 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.

What treasure, Uncle?

Tennis balls, my liege.

HENRY CHUCKLES

We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us.

His present and your pains, we thank you for.

When we have matched 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 shall be disturbed with chasers.

And we understand him well,

how he comes oer'st 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 license.

As is 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.

And 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 turned 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-hallowed 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 him with safe conduct.

This was a merry message.

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.

MUSIC AND LOUD CHATTER

'Now all the youth of England are on fire.'

Pistol!

'Now thrive the armourers,

'and honour's thought reigns solely in the breast of every man.

'For now sits expectation in the air

'and hides a sword from hilts unto the point

'with crowns imperial, crowns and coronets,

'promised to Harry and his followers.

'The French, advised by good intelligence

'of this most dreadful preparation, shake in their fear.

'O, England, model to thy inward greatness,

'like little body with a mighty heart,

'what mightst thou do, that honour would thee do

'were all thy children kind and natural?'

HE LAUGHS Well met, Corporal Nym.

Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

For my part I care not.

I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends,

and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France.

Faith, I will live so long as I may.

That's the certain of it.

And when I cannot live any longer...

..I will do as I may.

That is the rendezvous of it.

It is certain, Corporal.

He is married to Nell Quickly...

..and certainly she hath done you wrong,

for you were troth-plight to her.

I cannot tell. Things must be as they may.

Men may sleep,

and they may have their throats about them at that time,

and some say knives have edges.

It must be as it may. Well, I cannot tell.

Ah, come on, duckling. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife.

Good Corporal, be patient here.

Nym! Nym!

How now, mine host Pistol?

Base tyke, call'st thou me host?

Now by this hand I swear I scorn the term

and nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.

No, by my troth, not long.

For we cannot lodge and board a dozen or 14 gentlewomen

that live honestly by the prick of their needles

but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. WOMAN LAUGHS

O, well-a-day, lady, if he be not drawn!

Now we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.

Pish! Pish for thee, Iceland dog,

thou prick-eared cur of Iceland!

Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour and put up your sword.

PISTOL LAUGHS

Will you shog off?

I would have you solus!

Solus, egregious dog? O, viper vile!

For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,

and flashing fire will follow.

You cannot conjure me.

I have an humour to knock you indifferently well.

Hear me! Hear me! Hear what I say.

He that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts,

as I am a soldier.

I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms,

that is the humour of it.

Mine host Pistol,

you must come to my master.

And you, hostess. He is very sick and would to bed.

Faith, he's very ill.

By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days.

The King has killed his heart.

As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John.

Ah, poor heart! Sweet men, come to him.

The King hath run bad humours on the knight, that's the even of it.

Nym, thou hast spoke the right.

His heart is fracted and corroborate.

The King is a good king, but it must be as it may.

HE SIGHS

Come, shall I make you two friends?

We must to France together.

I shall have my eight shillings?

A noble shalt thou have, and present pay,

and liquor likewise will I give to thee,

and friendship shall combine and brotherhood.

I'll live by Nym and Nym shall live by me. Give me thy hand.

I shall have my noble? In cash, most justly paid.

Well, then...

that's the humour of it.

BOTH LAUGH Tis well, tis well.

# Bring me some sack

# In a cup made of gold

# Drink to the health

# Of the Henry of old

ALL: # Bring me some sack

# In a cup made of straw

# I shall not want

# For true love no more. #

DOG BARKS

Come, let us in to condole Falstaff,

for, lambkins, we will live.

Bardolph, be blithe.

Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins.

Husband...

..bristle thy courage up.

For Falstaff, he is dead.

Dead?

Then we must yearn therefore.

Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is,

either in heaven or in hell!

Sure, he's not in hell.

He's in Arthur's bosom,

if ever man went to Arthur's bosom.

A' parted him just between 12 and one,

even at the turning o' the tide.

For after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers

and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way.

For his nose was as sharp as a pen...

..and a' babbled of green fields.

"How now, sir John!" quoth I.

"What, man! Be o' good cheer."

So cried out, "God, God, God!" three or four times.

Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God.

I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.

So a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet.

I put my hand in the bed and felt them.

And they were as cold as any stone.

Then I felt to his knees...

..and they were as cold as any stone.

And so upward and upward...

..and all was as cold as any stone.

Did he cry out for sack?

Ay, that a' did.

And for women?

ALL CHUCKLE

Nay,

that a' did not.

Yea, that a' did,

and said they were devils incarnate.

A' could never abide carnation. 'Twas a colour he never liked.

ALL CHUCKLE

Shall we shog? The king will be gone from Southampton.

Come, let us away.

My love, give me thy lips.

Look to my chattels and my movables.

Trust none, for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,

and hold-fast is the only dog, my duck.

Yoke-fellows in arms, let us to France.

Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Farewell, hostess.

I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it, but...

..adieu.

Keep close, I thee command.

Farewell.

Adieu.

Thus comes the English with full power upon us,

and more than carefully it us concerns

to answer royally in our defences.

Therefore the Duke of Orleans shall make forth,

and you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch,

the line and new repair our towns of war

with men of courage and with means defendant,

for England his approaches

makes as fierce as waters to the sucking of a gulf.

My most redoubted father, it is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe.

I say, 'tis meet we all go forth and let us do it with no show of fear, for, my good liege,

she is so idly king'd, her sceptre so fantastically borne

by a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, that fear attends her not.

CONSTABLE BANGS TABLE

Peace, Prince Dauphin!

You are too much mistaken in this king.

Question your grace the late ambassador,

with what great state he heard their embassy,

how modest in exception,

and withal how terrible in constant resolution.

'Tis not so, my lord high constable.

But though we think it so, it is no matter.

In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.

Think we King Harry strong,

and, princes, look you strongly arm to meet him.

For he is bred out of that bloody strain that haunted us

in our familiar paths.

Witness our too much memorable shame when all our princes

captiv'd by the hand of that black name,

Edward, Black Prince of Wales.

This is a stem of that victorious stock.

And let us fear his native mightiness and fate of him.

Ambassadors from Harry, King of England,

do crave admittance to Your Majesty.

We'll give him present audience. Go, and bring him.

You see, this chase is hotly followed, friends.

Turn head, and stop pursuit.

For coward dogs most spend their mouths

when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.

Good my sovereign.

Take up the English short,

and let them know of what a monarchy you are the head.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

DOOR OPENS

From our brother England?

From him, and thus he greets Your Majesty.

He wills you, in the name of God Almighty...

..that you divest yourself and lay apart the borrow'd glories

that by gift of heaven,

by law of nature and of nations, belong to him and to his heirs.

That you may know 'tis no sinister nor no awkward claim

picked from the worm-holes of long-vanished days,

nor from the dust of old oblivion raked,

he sends you this most memorable line,

in every branch truly demonstrative.

Overlook this pedigree

and when you find him evenly derived

from his most famed of famous ancestors, Edward III,

he bids you then resign your crown and kingdom,

indirectly held from him, the native and true challenger.

Or else what follows?

Bloody constraint.

For if you hide the crown even in your hearts,

there will he rake for it.

Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,

in thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove,

and bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, deliver up the crown

and to take mercy on the poor souls for whom this hungry war

opens his vasty jaws,

and on your head turning the widows' tears,

the orphans' cries, the dead men's blood,

the pining maidens' groans, for husbands, fathers and betrothed lovers

that shall be swallow'd in this controversy.

This is his claim...

..his threatening...

..and my message...

..unless the Dauphin be in presence here...

..to whom expressly I bring greeting too.

For us, we will consider of this further.

To-morrow shall you bear our full intent back to our brother England.

For the Dauphin...

..I stand here for him.

What to him from England?

Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt.

Thus says my king - that if your father's highness do not, in grant

of all demands at large, sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty...

..he'll call you to so hot an answer of it

that caves and womby vaultages of France shall chide your trespass

and return your mock in second accent of his ordnance.

I desire nothing but odds with England.

To that end, as matching to his youth and vanity,

I did present him with the Paris balls.

He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it.

And be assured, you'll find a difference,

as we his subjects have in wonder found,

between the promise of his greener days

and these he masters now.

Now, he weighs time,

even to the utmost grain,

that you shall read in your own losses, if he stay in France.

Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full.

Dispatch us with all speed,

lest that our king come here himself to question our delay.

You shall be soon dispatched with fair conditions.

A night is but small breath and little pause

to answer matters of this consequence.

Suppose now that you see the English fleet

with silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning,

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!

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?

Land, my lord.

No King of England, if not King of France.

Suppose that Exeter from the French comes back,

tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter

and with her, to dowry, some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.

The offer likes not.

Work, work your thoughts,

and therein see a siege.

Behold the ordnance on their carriages

with fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.

The nimble gunner with linstock now the devilish cannon touches...

..and down goes all before them.

MEN SCREAM

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.

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!

Dishonour not your mothers.

Now attest that those whom you called 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 St George!

ALL CHEER

To the breach, to the breach!

Pray thee, corporal, stay.

The knocks are too hot,

and for mine own part I have not a case of lives.

The humour of it is too hot, and that is the very plain sum of it.

The plain sum is most just. The humour is still abound.

# Knocks go and come God's vassals drop and die... #

And sword and shield, in bloody field, doth win immortal fame.

I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.

And I!

Up to the breach, you dogs!

Avaunt, you cullions!

Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould.

Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage.

Abate thy rage, great duke!

Good bawcock, bate thy rage!

Use lenity, sweet chuck.

BATTLE CRIES

How yet resolves the governor of the town?

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?

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 villainy.

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?

Our expectation has 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.

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.

Tonight in Harfleur we'll be thy guest.

Tomorrow for the march are we addressed.

Captain...

I thee beseech to do us favours. The Duke of York doth love thee well.

Ay. I praise God,

and I have merited some love at his hands.

Bardolph, a soldier firm and sound of heart...

Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him.

For he hath stolen from a church, and hanged must be.

A damned death! Let not hemp his windpipe suffocate,

but York hath given the doom of death for loot of little price.

Therefore go speak - the Duke will hear thy voice,

and let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut

with edge of penny cord and vile reproach.

Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.

Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.

Why, then, rejoice therefore!

Certainly, Ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at.

For if, look you, he were my brother,

I would desire the Duke to use his good pleasure

and put him to execution, for discipline ought to be used.

Die and be damn'd!

Fig for thy friendship!

It is well.

The fig of Spain! Very good.

HE SPITS

Alice?

Tu as ete en Angleterre?

Et tu parles bien le langage?

Un peu, madame.

Je te prie m'enseigner. Il faut que j'apprenne a parler.

Comment appelez-vous...

la main en Anglois?

La main? Elle est appelee de "hand".

De...

.."ond".

Et les doigts? Les doigts?

Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts - mais je me souviendrai.

Les doigts?

Je pense qu'ils sont appeles

de "fing-res".

Oui, de "fin-gres".

De...

.."fingres"?

Je pense que je suis le bon ecolier!

J'ai gagne deux mots d'Anglois vitement.

Et comment appelez-vous les ongles?

Les ongles? Nous les appelons de "niles".

De "niles".

Ecoutez. Dites-moi si je parle le bien.

De...

"ond".

De "fingres".

Et de "niles".

C'est bien dit, madame.

Il est fort bon Anglois.

Dites-moi l'Anglois pour le bras.

De "arm", madame.

Et le coude?

De "elbow".

De..."elbow".

Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m'avez appris des a present.

Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.

Excusez-moi, Alice. Ecoutez!

De "ond",

de "fingres",

de "niles",

de "arm-a",

et de..."bilbow".

De "elbow", madame.

Ah...Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie!

De..."elbow".

Et comment appelez-vous le col?

De...

"neck", madame.

De "neck".

Et le menton?

The chin.

De "tsin".

Le col, de "nick",

et le menton, de "tsin".

Oui.

Sauf votre honneur, la verite,

c'est que vous prononcez ces mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre.

Oui? SHE GIGGLES

Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu,

et en peu de temps.

N'avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne? Non!

Je reciterai vous promptement.

De...

"ond",

de "fingres",

de "mails"...

"Niles", madame.

De "niles",

de "arm",

et de "ilbow".

Sauf votre honneur, de "elbow".

Ainsi dis-je - de "elbow",

de "nick", et de "tsin".

Et comment appelez-vous le pied et la robe?

De "foot", madame,

et de "cown".

De "foot"...

..et de "con"!

THEY CHUCKLE

O, Seigneur Dieu!

Ce sont mots de son mauvais!

Gros, corruptible et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user.

Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde!

SHE CHUCKLES Oh, foh!

Le "foot" et le "con"!

Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble.

De "ond",

de "fingres",

de "niles",

de "arm",

de "elbow"...

..de "neck",

de "tsin",

de "foot"

and de "coun".

Excellent, madame!

C'est assez pour une fois.

God bless Your Majesty!

How now, Captain! Were you with us at the breach?

Ay, so please Your Majesty.

What men did you lose, Captain?

The perdition of the adversary hath been very great.

Reasonable, great.

Marry, for my part, I think we hath lost never a man,

but one who is executed...

..for robbing a church.

One Bardolph, if Your Majesty know the man.

His face is all bubukles, and whelks, and flames o' fire.

And his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire,

sometimes blue and sometimes red.

But, look, his nose is executed and his fire's out.

SILENCE

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.

Tis certain he hath passed the river Somme.

Normans. The bastard Normans. Norman bastards!

Dieu de batailles, where have they this mettle?

Where is Montjoy, the herald? Speed him hence.

Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.

Up, great princes,

and with spirit of honour edged bar Harry England,

that sweeps through our land with pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur.

Go down upon him. You have power enough.

Bring him our prisoner.

This becomes the great.

Now forth, Lord Constable, and princes all,

and quickly bring us word of England's fall.

HORSE NEIGHS

My lord.

You know me by my habit.

What shall I know of thee?

My master's mind.

Unfold it.

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.

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.

Tell him, for conclusion,

he hath betrayed his followers...

..whose condemnation is pronounced.

So far my king and master, so much my office.

What is thy name?

Montjoy.

Thou dost thy office fairly.

Turn thee back.

And tell thy king I do not seek him now

but would be willing to march on to Calais without impeachment.

For, to say the sooth,

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.

Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am.

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.

I shall deliver so.

Thanks to Your Highness.

We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.

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.

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.

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.

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, tent to tent?

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,

thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all behold,

as may unworthiness define,

a little touch of Harry in the night.

Friends, 'tis true that we are in great danger.

The greater therefore should our courage be.

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.

HENRY CHUCKLES

Thus may we gather honey from the weed...

and make a moral of the devil himself.

My lord.

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham.

A good soft pillow for that good white head were better than a churlish turf of France.

Not so, my liege. This lodging likes me better,

since I may say, "Now lie I like a king."

It is good for men to love their present pains upon example.

So the spirit is eased.

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.

My good lords,

commend me to the captains in our camp.

Do my good morrow to them, and anon desire them come to my pavilion.

We shall, my liege.

Shall I attend, Your Grace?

No, my good knight.

Go with my cousin to my lords of England.

I and my bosom must debate awhile,

and then I would no other company.

The Lord in heaven bless thee,

noble Harry!

God-a-mercy, old heart! Thou speak'st cheerfully.

DISTANT SHOUTING

Will it never be morning?

HORSE NEIGHS IN DISTANCE

Qui vous la?

Discuss unto me - art thou officer?

Or art thou base, common and popular?

I am a gentleman of a company.

What are you?

As good a gentleman as the emperor.

Then you are better than the king.

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?

Harry le Roy.

Le Roy, a Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?

No, I'm a Welshman.

Know'st thou Fluellen?

Yes.

Art thou his friend?

And his kinsman too. The fig for thee, then!

My name is...

..Pistol called.

It sorts well with your fierceness.

My lord Dauphin.

What is it, boy? I have seen the English, sir.

They are within 1,500 paces of their tents.

Is not that the morning which breaks yonder?

We have no great cause to desire the approach of day.

We see yonder the beginning of the day,

but I think we shall never see the end of it.

Who goes there?

A friend.

Under what captain serve you?

Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman.

I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?

Even as men wrecked upon a sand,

that look to be washed off the next tide.

He hath not told his thought to the king?

No...

..nor it is not meet he should.

For I think the king is but a man, as I am.

The element shows to him as it doth to me.

His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man.

Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we do,

his fears be of the same relish as ours are.

Yet, in reason,

no king should possess himself with any appearance of fear,

lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.

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, all adventures, so we were quit here.

I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.

Then I would he were here alone,

and a many poor men's lives saved.

I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone.

Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the king's company,

his cause being just and his quarrel honourable.

That's more than we know. Ay, or more than we should seek after.

For we know enough if we know we are the king's subjects.

If his cause be wrong,

our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us.

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."

I am afeard...there are few die well that die in a battle.

Now, if these men do not die well,

it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it.

Every subject's duty is the king's,

but every subject's soul is his own.

'Tis certain, every man that dies ill,

the ill upon his own head. The king is not to answer it.

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

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.

If I live to see it, I'll never trust his word after.

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! The king!

Come, 'tis a foolish saying.

Your reproof is something too round.

I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.

Let it be a quarrel between us,

if you live. I embrace it.

How shall I know thee again?

Give me any glove of thine

and I will wear it.

Then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

Here is my glove.

Give me another of thine.

There.

This, will I also wear in my belt.

If ever thou come to me and say after tomorrow

"This is my glove," by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear.

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

Thou darest as well be hanged.

Well, I will do it,

though I take thee in the king's company.

Keep thy word.

Fare thee well.

If the English had any apprehension,

they would run away.

LAUGHTER

Now is it time to arm.

Come, shall we about it?

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 today, O Lord, O, not today,

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.

More will I do,

though all that I can do is nothing worth,

since that my penitence comes after all, imploring pardon.

I know thy errand.

I will go with thee.

The day,

my friends

and all things stay for me.

Position!

'O god of battles! Steel my soldiers' hearts,

'possess them not with fear.'

The king has rode himself to view their battle.

God's arm strike with us!

There's five to one.

Besides, they all are fresh.

'Tis fearful odds.

God be with you, princes all.

I'll to my charge.

If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,

then, joyfully, warriors all, adieu!

Farewell, good Salisbury.

Good luck go with thee!

Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today.

You are as full of valour as of kindness, princely in both.

O that we now had here but one ten thousand of those men in England that do no work today!

What's he that wishes so?

My cousin Westmorland?

No, my fair cousin.

If we are mark'd to die, we are enough 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, Westmorland, 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 this day is named,

and rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall see this day, and live old age,

will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours

and say "Tomorrow 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,

Salisbury and Exeter,

Erpingham, Westmorland

and York -

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 today 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 abed

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!

My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed.

The French are bravely in their battles set,

and will with all expedience charge on us.

All things are ready, if our minds be so.

Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?

God's will my liege, would you and I alone, without more help,

could fight this royal battle!

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!

My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg the leading of the vaward.

Take it, brave York.

Now, soldiers,

march away.

And how thou pleasest, God,

dispose the day!

DRUMS AND BUGLE PLAY

HORSE NEIGHS

Once more I come to know of thee,

King Harry, if for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,

before thy most assured overthrow.

Who hath sent thee now?

The Constable of France.

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?

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.

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.

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.

Herald - save thou thy labour.

Come thou no more for ransom.

Thou shalt have none, I swear, but these my joints -

which if thou wilt have as I will leave you them,

shall yield thee little.

Tell the constable.

I shall, King Harry.

Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

HORSE NEIGHS

MEN SCREAM

SHOUTING AND SCREAMING

Advance the archers 30 paces. Now!

SHOUTING AND SCREAMING

HE GRUNTS IN PAIN

HE SCREAMS

Sire!

SHOUTING IN DISTANCE

Steady, lads.

Steady...

Face it!

And off!

HORSE SQUEALS IN PAIN

HORSE NEIGHS LOUDLY

Charge!

MEN SHOUT AND SCREAM

HE SOBS

ORLEANS GRUNTS IN PAIN

CONSTABLE: O, diable!

HE SHIVERS

Mortal reproach and everlasting shame.

Le jour est perdu...

..tout est perdu!

I'll to the throng.

Let life be short...

else shame will be too long.

DAUPHIN SCREAMS

SCREAMING AND SHOUTING IN DISTANCE

The Duke of York commends himself to your majesty.

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.

In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, larding the plain.

He smiled me in the face,

raught me his hand, and with a feeble grip says,

"Dear my lord, commend my service to my sovereign."

And so, espoused to death,

with blood he sealed a testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forced those waters from me

which I would have stopped. But I had not so much of man in me.

And all my mother came into mine eyes and gave me up to tears.

I blame you not.

For, hearing this, I must perforce compound with mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

HORSE NEIGHS IN DISTANCE

Wh... What new alarum is this same?

MAN SHOUTS IN DISTANCE

The French have reinforced their scattered men.

I was not angry since I came to France until this instant!

If they will fight with us, let 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.

We'll cut the throats of those we have,

and not a man of them that we shall take shall taste our mercy.

Let every soldier kill his prisoners. My lord?

Give the word through!

PRISONERS GRUNT IN PAIN

EXETER SIGHS DEEPLY

The herald of the French, my liege.

His eyes are humbler than they used to be.

What means this, herald?

Know'st thou not that I have fined these bones of mine for ransom?

Comest thou again for ransom?

No. Great king, I come to thee for charitable licence.

That we may wander over this bloody field to look our dead,

and then to bury them. O, give us leave, great king,

to view the field in safety and dispose Of their dead bodies.

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.

The day is yours.

Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!

What is this castle called that stands hard by?

They call it Agincourt.

Then call we this the field of Agincourt,

fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

Good uncle, go with him.

Bring me just notice of the numbers dead.

On both our parts.

Your grandfather of famous memory an't please, your majesty,

and your great-uncle Edward the Black Prince of Wales,

as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most brave battle here in France.

They did, Fluellen.

If your majesty is remembered of it,

the Welshmen did good service that day.

I well remember.

For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.

God bless and preserve your majesty!

I am your majesty's countryman.

I care not who know it. I will confess it to all the world.

I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be God.

So long as your majesty is an honest man.

God keep me so!

Call yonder fellow hither.

Soldier, you must come to the King.

Soldier, why wearest thou that glove?

An't please your majesty,

'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive.

An Englishman?

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 on the ear.

What think you, Captain?

Is it fit this soldier keep his oath?

It may be that his enemy is a gentleman of great sort,

quite from the answer of his degree.

Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is,

it is necessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath.

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

So I will, my liege, as I live.

Give me thy glove, soldier.

Look.

Here is the fellow of it.

'Twas I, indeed, thou promised to strike,

and thou hast given me most bitter terms.

And please your majesty, let his neck answer for it.

If there be any martial law in the world.

How canst thou make me satisfaction?

All offences, my lord, come from the heart.

Never came any from mine that might offend your majesty.

It was ourself thou didst abuse.

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.

Here, Captain, fill this glove with crowns

and give it to this fellow.

Keep it, fellow.

And wear it for an honour in thy cap.

Give him the crowns.

And, Captain, you must needs be friends with him.

By this day and this light,

the fellow hath mettle enough in his belly.

Come, fellow.

Now, uncle, are the dead numbered?

Here is the number of the slaughtered French.

This note doth tell me of 10,000 French that in the field lie slain.

Of princes in this number, and nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 126.

Added to these, of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, 8,400,

of the which 500 were but yesterday dubb'd knights.

So that, in these 10,000 they have lost,

there are but 1,600 mercenaries.

The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires

and gentlemen of blood and quality.

Here was a royal fellowship of death!

Where is the number of our English dead?

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.

'Tis wonderful.

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.

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.

But yet the lamentation of the French invites

curtails the King of England's stay at home.

The emperor's coming in behalf of France to order peace between them

and omit all the occurrences, whatever chanced,

till Harry's back return again to France.

WASPS BUZZ

Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met.

Unto our brother France, joy...

..and good wishes to our most fair and princely cousin Katherine.

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.

Right joyous are we to behold your face,

most worthy brother England.

Fairly met.

So are you, princes English, every one.

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.

To cry amen to that, thus we appear.

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.

I entreat...

that I may know the let, why gentle peace

should not expel these inconveniences and bless us