Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  Forage in blood of French nobility.

  O noble English. that could entertain

  With half their forces the full Pride of France

  And let another half stand laughing by,

  All out of work and cold for action!

  Ely

  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.

  Exeter

  Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth

  Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,

  As did the former lions of your blood.

  Westmoreland

  They know your grace hath cause and means and might;

  So hath your highness; never king of England

  Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects,

  Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England

  And lie pavilion’d in the fields of France.

  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.

  King 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.

  Canterbury

  They of those marches, gracious sovereign,

  Shall be a wall sufficient to defend

  Our inland from the pilfering borderers.

  King 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.

  Canterbury

  She hath been then more fear’d than harm’d, my liege;

  For hear her but exampled by herself:

  When all her chivalry hath been in France

  And she a mourning widow of her nobles,

  She hath herself not only well defended

  But taken and impounded as a stray

  The King of Scots; whom she did send to France,

  To fill King Edward’s fame with prisoner kings

  And make her chronicle as rich with praise

  As is the ooze and bottom of the sea

  With sunken wreck and sunless treasuries.

  Westmoreland

  But there’s a saying very old and true,

  ‘If that you will France win,

  Then with Scotland first begin:’

  For once the eagle England being in prey,

  To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot

  Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely eggs,

  Playing the mouse in absence of the cat,

  To tear and havoc more than she can eat.

  Exeter

  It follows then the cat must stay at home:

  Yet that is but a crush’d necessity,

  Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries,

  And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.

  While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,

  The advised head defends itself at home;

  For government, though high and low and lower,

  Put into parts, doth keep in one consent,

  Congreeing in a full and natural close,

  Like music.

  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.

  King 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.

  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?

  King 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.

  First Ambassador

  Thus, then, in few.

  Your highness, lately sending into France,

  Did cla
im 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.

  King Henry V

  What treasure, uncle?

  Exeter

  Tennis-balls, my liege.

  King 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.

  Exeunt Ambassadors

  Exeter

  This was a merry message.

  King 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.

  Exeunt. Flourish

  ACT II

  PROLOGUE

  Enter Chorus

  Chorus

  Now all the youth of England are on fire,

  And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies:

  Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought

  Reigns solely in the breast of every man:

  They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,

  Following the mirror of all Christian kings,

  With winged heels, as English Mercuries.

  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 and with pale policy

  Seek to divert the English purposes.

  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!

  But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out

  A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills

  With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men,

  One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second,

  Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third,

  Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland,

  Have, for the gilt of France,— O guilt indeed!

  Confirm’d conspiracy with fearful France;

  And by their hands this grace of kings must die,

  If hell and treason hold their promises,

  Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.

  Linger your patience on; and we’ll digest

  The abuse of distance; force a play:

  The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed;

  The king is set from London; and the scene

  Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton;

  There is the playhouse now, there must you sit:

  And thence to France shall we convey you safe,

  And bring you back, charming the narrow seas

  To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,

  We’ll not offend one stomach with our play.

  But, till the king come forth, and not till then,

  Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.

  Exit

  SCENE I. LONDON. A STREET.

  Enter Corporal Nym and Lieutenant Bardolph

  Bardolph

  Well met, Corporal Nym.

  Nym

  Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

  Bardolph

  What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

  Nym

  For my part, I care not: I say little; but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles; but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine iron: it is a simple one; but what though? it will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man’s sword will: and there’s an end.

  Bardolph

  I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France: let it be so, good Corporal Nym.

  Nym

  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 my rest, that is the rendezvous of it.

  Bardolph

  It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly: and certainly she did you wrong; for you were troth-plight to her.

  Nym

  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: though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell.

  Enter Pistol and Hostess

  Bardolph

  Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife: good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol!

  Pistol

  Base tike, call’st thou me host? Now, by this hand,

  I swear, I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep
lodgers.

  Hostess

  No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy house straight.

  Nym and Pistol draw

  O well a day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.

  Bardolph

  Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here.

  Nym

  Pish!

  Pistol

  Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear’d cur of Iceland!

  Hostess

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

  Nym

  Will you shog off? I would have you solus.

  Pistol

  ‘solus,’ egregious dog? O viper vile!

  The ‘solus’ in thy most mervailous face;

  The ‘solus’ in thy teeth, and in thy throat,

  And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy,

  And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth!

  I do retort the ‘solus’ in thy bowels;

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

  And flashing fire will follow.

  Nym

  I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms: if you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may: and that’s the humour of it.

  Pistol

  O braggart vile and damned furious wight!

  The grave doth gape, and doting death is near;

  Therefore exhale.

  Bardolph

  Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke, I’ll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.

  Draws

  Pistol

  An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.

  Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give:

  Thy spirits are most tall.

  Nym

  I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms: that is the humour of it.

  Pistol

  ‘Couple a gorge!’

  That is the word. I thee defy again.

  O hound of Crete, think’st thou my spouse to get?

  No; to the spital go,

  And from the powdering tub of infamy

  Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind,

  Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse:

  I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly

  For the only she; and — pauca, there’s enough. Go to.

  Enter the Boy

  Boy

  Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hostess: he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan. Faith, he’s very ill.

  Bardolph