Henry V
ACT IV SCENE III | The English camp. | |
Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with all his host: SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND. | ||
GLOUCESTER | Where is the king? | |
BEDFORD | The king himself is rode to view their battle. | |
WESTMORELAND | Of fighting men they have full three score thousand. | |
EXETER | There’s five to one; besides, they all are fresh. | 5 |
SALISBURY | God’s arm strike with us! ’tis a fearful odds. | |
God be wi’ you, princes all; I’ll to my charge: | ||
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, | ||
Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, | ||
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, | 10 | |
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu! | ||
BEDFORD | Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee! | |
EXETER | Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day: | |
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, | ||
For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour. | 15 | |
Exit SALISBURY | ||
BEDFORD | He is full of valour as of kindness; | |
Princely in both. | ||
Enter the KING | ||
WESTMORELAND | O that we now had here | |
But one ten thousand of those men in England | ||
That do no work to-day! | 20 | |
KING 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. | 25 | |
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: | 30 | |
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 | 35 | |
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: | 40 | |
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, | 45 | |
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. | 50 | |
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 | 55 | |
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, | 60 | |
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, | 65 | |
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. | 70 | |
Re-enter SALISBURY | ||
SALISBURY | My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: | |
The French are bravely in their battles set, | ||
And will with all expedience charge on us. | ||
KING HENRY V | All things are ready, if our minds be so. | |
WESTMORELAND | Perish the man whose mind is backward now! | 75 |
KING HENRY V | Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz? | |
WESTMORELAND | God’s will! my liege, would you and I alone, | |
Without more help, could fight this royal battle! | ||
KING HENRY V | Why, now thou hast unwish’d five thousand men; | |
Which likes me better than to wish us one. | 80 | |
You know your places: God be with you all! | ||
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY | ||
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, | 85 | |
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 | 90 | |
Must lie and fester. | ||
KING HENRY V | Who hath sent thee now? | |
MONTJOY | The Constable of France. | |
KING HENRY V | I pray thee, bear my former answer back: | |
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. | 95 | |
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, | 100 | |
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; | 105 | |
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, | 110 | |
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; | 115 | |
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 | 120 | |
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; | 125 | |
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 | I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: | 130 |
Thou never shalt hear herald any more. | ||
Exit. | ||
KING HENRY V | I fear thou’lt once more come again for ransom. | |
Enter YORK. | ||
YORK | My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg | |
The leading of the vaward. | ||
KING HENRY V | Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away: | 135 |
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! | ||
Exeunt |
Henry V, Act 4, Scene 4