fubject's foul is his own. Therefore fhould every foldier in the wars do as every fick man in his bed, wash every moth out of his confcience: and dying fo, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was well spent wherein fuch preparation was gained and in him that escapes it were not fin to think, that making God fo free an offer, he let him out-live that day to fee his greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare. : Will. 'Tis certain every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his own head, the King is not to answer for it. Bates. I do not defire he fhould answer for me, and yet I determine to fight luftily for him. K. Henry. I my self heard the King fay he would not be ranfom'd. Will, Ay, he faid fo to make us fight chearfully; but when our throats are cut, he may be ranfom'd, and we ne'er the wifer. K. Henry. If I live to fee it, I will never truft his word after. Will. You pay him then; that's a perilous fhot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and private difpleasure can do against a Monarch! you may as well go about to turn the fun to ice, with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather you'll never truft his word after! come, 'tis a foolish faying. K. Henry. Your reproof is fomething too round; I fhould be angry with you, if the time were convenient. Will. Let it be a quarrel between us if you live. K. Henry. I embrace it. Will. How fhall I know thee again? K. Henry. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet: then if ever thou dar'ft acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel. Will. Here's my glove; give me another of thine. Will. This will I alfo wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me and fay after to-morrow, This is my glove; by this hand, I will give thee a box on the ear. K. Henry. If ever I live to fee it, I will challenge it. K, Henry, K. Henry. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company. Will. Keep thy word: fare thee well. we Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; have French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to rec kon. SCENE IV. * [Exeunt Soldierse K. Henry. Upon the King! let us our lives, our fouls,' Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing. Art thou ought elfe but place, degree and form, Wherein thou art lefs happy, being fear'd, Than they in fearing. What drink'ft thou oft, inftead of homage sweet, Will it give place to flexure and low bending? SCENE IV. K. Henry. Indeed the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beat us, for they bear them upon their fhoulders; but it is no English treafon to cut French crowns, and to-morrow the King himself will be a clipper. Upon the King! I am a King that find thee; and I know Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched flave, Winding up days with toil, and nights with fleep, What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace, SCENE V. Enter Erpingham. Erp. My Lord, your Nobles jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you. K. Henry. Good old Knight, Collect them all together at my tent: I'll be before thee. Erp. I fhall do't, my Lord. [Exit. K. Henry, O God of battels! fteel my foldiers hearts, Poffefs them not with fear: take from them now The fenfe of reck'ning of th'oppofed numbers Which ftand before them! Not to-day, O Lord, O not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in compaffing the crown! I Richard's body have interred new, VOL. V. U And And on it have beftow'd more contrite tears, Glou. My Liege ! Enter Gloucefter. K. Henry. My brother Glofter's voice ? I know thy errand, I will go with thee: The day, my friends, and all things ftay for me. [Exeunt, SCENE VI. The French Camp. Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and Beaumont, And your fair fhew fhall fuck away their fouls, That our French gallants fhall to-day draw out, up, my Lords. Dau. Monte Cheval: my horfe, valet, lacquay: ha! Orl. O brave fpirit! Dau. Via! les eaux & la terre. Orl. Rien puis! le air & feu. Enter Conftable. Now, my Lord Conftable! Con. Hark how our steeds for prefent fervice neigh. That their hot blood may fpin in English eyes, And daunt them with fuperfluous courage: ha! Ram. What, will you have them weep our horfes blood? Enter Meffenger. Meff. The English are embattell'd, you French Peers. Con. To horfe -- The The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them. About our fquares of battel, were enow But that our honours muft not. What's to fay? Then let the trumpets found The tucket-fonuance, and the note to mount : Grand. Why do you ftay fo long, my Lords of France? With torch-ftaves in their hand; and their poor jades Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. The life of fuch a battle to demonftrate, In life fo livelefs as it fhews it felf. Con. They've faid their prayers, and they ftay for death. Dau. Shall we go fend them dinners and fresh futes, And give their fafting horfes provender, And after fight with them? Con, I ftay but for my guard on to the field I will the banner from a trumpet take, U 2 And |