"Steed threatens fteed, 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 nam'd), Proud of their numbers and fecure in foul, The confident and over-lufty French Do the low-rated English play at dice *; And chide the cripple tardy-gated Night, Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp So tedioufly away. "The poor condemned English, "Like facrifices, by their watchful fires "Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

"The morning's danger: and their gefture fad, "Inveft in lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats, "Prefented them unto the gazing moon

"So many horrid ghofts. Who now beholds "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 vifits all his hoft,
Bids them good morrow with a modeft fmile,
And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen,
Upon his royal face there is no note,

How dread in army hath inrounded him ;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks and over-bears attaint,
With chearful femblance and sweet majesty;
That ev'ry wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks.
A largefs univerfal, like the fun,

His lib'ral eye doth give to ev'ry one,
Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle, all
Behold (as may unworthinefs define)

A little touch of Harry in the night,
And fo our scene muft to the battle fly:
Where, O for pity! we shall much difgrace,
With four or five moft vile and ragged foils,

i. e. do play them away at cice.

(Right ill difpos'd, in brawl ridiculous),

The name of Agincourt. Yet fit and fee,

Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. [Exit,

SCENE II. The English camp at Agincourt.

Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloucester.

K. Henry. Glou'fter, 'tis true that we are in great danger;

The greater therefore fhould our courage be.
Good morrow, brother Bedford: God Almighty!
"There is fome foul of goodness in things evil,
"Would men obfervingly diftil it out.

For our bad neighbour makes us early ftirrers;
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry.
Befides, 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 foft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turff of France.

Erping. Not fo, my Liege this lodging likes me Since I may fay, Now lie I like a King.

[better; K. Henry. 'Tis good for men to love their prefent pain Upon example; fo the fpirit is eafed :

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 cafted flough and fresh celerity.

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas: brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp.
Do my good morrow to them, and anon
Defire them all to my pavilion.

Glou. We fhall, my Liege.

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace!
K. Henry. No, my good Knight;

Soul, for fpirit,

tise, address,

Go

Go with my brothers to my Lords of England.
I and my bofom muft debate a while,

And then I would no other company.

Erping. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!

[Exeunt. K. Henry. God-a-mercy, old heart, thou fpeak'ft chearfully.

CENE III. Enter Pistol.

Pift. Qui va là ?

R. Henry. A friend.

Pift. Difcufs unto me, art thou officer,
Or art thou base, common, and popular?
K. Henry. I am a gentleman of a company.
Pift. Trail'st thou the puiffant pike?

K. Henry. Even fo. What are you

?

Pift. As good a gentleman as the Emperor.

K. Henry. Then you are a better than the King. Pift. 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 kifs his dirty fhoe, and from my heart-ftring
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name ?

K. Henry. Harry le Roy.

Pift. Le Roy! a Cornifh name; art thou of Cornish

crew?

K. Henry. No; I am a Welchman.

Pift. Know'st thou Fluellen?

K. Henry. Yes.

Pist. Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate Úpon St. David's day.

K. Henry. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, left he knock that about your's.

Pift. Art thou his friend?

K. Henry. And his kinsman too.

Pift. The Figo for thee then!

K. Henry. I thank you. God be with you.
Pift. My name is Pistol call'd.

[Exit.

K. Henry. It forts well with your fierceness.

[Manet K. Henry.

Enter

Enter Fluellen, and Gower, feverally. Gor. Captain Fluellen.

Flu. So; in the name of Chefhu Chrift, fpeak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the univerfal world when the true and antient 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 Pompey's camp. I warrant you, you fhall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the fobrieties of it, and the modefty of it, to be otherwise.

Gow. Why, the enemy is loud, you hear him all night.

Flu. If the enemy is an afs and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is is meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an afs and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, in your own confcience now ?

Gow. I will fpeak lower.

Flu. I pray you, and befeech you, that you will.

[Exeunt. K. Henry. Though it appear a little out of fainion, There is much care and valour in this Welchman.

Enter three foldiers, John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?

Bates. I think it be; but we have no great cause to defire the approach of day.

Will. We fee yonder the beginning of the day; but I think we shall never fee the end of it. Who goes there?

K. Henry. A friend.

Will. Under what captain ferve you?

K. Henry, Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

Will. A good old commander, and a moit kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our eítate. VOL. IV.

P P

K. Henry.

K. Henry. Even as men wreck'd upon a fand, that look to be wafh'd off the next tide.

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King? K. Henry. No; nor is it meet he fhould: for though I fpeak it to you, I think the King is but a man as I "The violet fmells to him as it doth to me; the "element fhews to him as it doth to me; all his fenfes "have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid "by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and tho'

am.

his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet "when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing: "therefore, when he fees reafon of fears as we do, his "fears, out of doubt, be of the fame relish as ours are:" yet in reafon no man fhould poffefs him with any appearance of fear, left he, by fhewing it, fhould difhearten his army.

Bates." He may fhew what outward courage he "will: but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could "with himself in the Thames up to the neck, and fo "I would he were, and I by him at all adventures, so "we were quit here."

K. Henry. By my troth, I will speak my confcience of the King. I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is.

Bates. Then would he were here alone; fo fhould he be fure to be ransomed, and many poor mens' lives faved.

K. Henry. I dare fay, you love him not fo ill to wish him here alone, howfoever you speak this to feel other men's minds. Methinks I could not die any where fo contented as in the King's company, his caufe being juft, and his quarrel honourable.

Will. That's more than we know.

for

Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; we know enough, if we know we are the King's fubjects: if his caufe be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us..

Will. But if the caufe be not good, the King himfelf hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs, and arms, and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, fhall join together at the latter day, and cry all, We dy'd at fuch a place; "fome, fwearing; fome, crying for a fur66 'geon;