look your Grace, has ftruck the glove, which your Majesty is take out of the helmet of Alanfon.

Wil. My Liege, this was my glove, here is the fellow of it; and he, that I gave it to in change, promis'd to wear it in his cap; I promis'd to ftrike him, if he did; I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.

Flu. Your Majefty hear now, faving your Majefty's manhood, what an arrant, rafcally, beggarly, lowfie, knave it is. I hope, your Majefty is pear me teftimonies, and witneffes, and avouchments, that this is the glove of Alanfon that your Majefty is give me, in your confcience now.

K. Henry. Give me thy glove, foldier; look, here is the fellow of it: 'twas me, indeed, thou promised'st to strike, and thou haft given me most bitter terms.

Flu. An please your Majefty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world.

K. Henry. How canft thou make me fatisfaction? Wil. All Offences, my lord, come from the heart; never came any from mine, that might offend your Majefty.

K. Henry. It was our felf thou didst abuse.

Wil. Your Majefty came not like your felf; you appear'd to me, but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowlinefs; and what your Highness fuffer'd under that shape, I beseech you, take it for your fault and not mine; for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I befeech your Highnefs, pardon me.

K. Henry. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with

crowns,

And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow;
And wear it for an honour in thy cap,

Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns:
And, captain, you must needs be friends with him.

Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his pelly; hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to ferve God, and keep you out of

prawls

prawls and prabbles, and quarrels and diffentions, and, I warrant you, it is the better for you.

Wil. I will none of your mony.

Flu. It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will ferve you to mend your fhoes; come, wherefore should you be fo pafhful; your fhoes is not fo good; 'tis a good filling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

Enter Herald.

K. Henry. Now, Herald, are the dead number'd? Her. Here is the number of the flaughter'd French. K. Henry. What prifoners of good fort are taken,

uncle ?

Exe. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King; John Duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouchiqualt: Of other Lords, and Barons, Knights, and 'Squires, Full fifteen hundred, befides common men.

K. Henry. This note doth tell me of ten thousand
French

Slain in the field; of Princes in this number,
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty fix; added to these,
Of Knights, Efquires, and gallant Gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which,
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd Knights;
So that in these ten thousand they have loft,
There are but fixteen hundred mercenaries :

The reft are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, 'Squires,
And gentlemen of blood and quality.

The names of those their nobles, that lie dead,
Charles Delabreth, high conftable of France;
Jaques of Chatilion, admiral of France;

The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures;

Great mafter of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dauphir;
John Duke of Alanfon, Anthony Duke of Brabant
The brother to the Duke of Burgundy,

And Edward Duke of Bar: Of lufty Earls,
Grandpree and Rouffie, Faulconbridge and Foyes,
Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Leftrale.

Here

Here was a royal fellowship of death!

Where is the number of our English dead?

Exe. Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam Efquire;
None else of name; and of all other men,
But five and twenty.

K. Henry. O God, thy arm was here!
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Afcribe we all. When, without ftratagem,
But in plain shock and ev'n play of battle,
Was ever known fo great, and little lofs,
On one part, and on th' other? take it, God,
For it is only thine.

Exe. 'Tis wonderful!

K. Henry. Come, go we in proceffion to the village: And be it death proclaimed through our hoft,

To boaft of this, or take that praise from God,
Which is his only.

Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your Majefty, to tel how many is kill'd?

K.Henry. Yes, captain, but with this acknowledgment, That God fought for us.

Flu. Yes, my confcience, he did us great good.
K. Henry. Do we all holy rites ;

Let there be fung Non nobis, and Te deum :

The dead with charity enclos'd in clay;

And then to Calais; and to England then ;
Where ne'r from France arriv'd more happy men. [Exe.
Enter Chorus.

Vouchfafe, to those that have not read the flory,
That I may prompt them; and to fuch as have,
I humbly pray them to admit th' excufe

Of time, of numbers, and due course of things;
Which cannot in their huge and proper life

Be here presented. Now we bear the King

Tow'rd Calais: grant him there; and there being feen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts

Athwart the fea: behold, the English beach

Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys,

Q.5

Whofe

Whofe fhouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd fea;
Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the King,
Seems to prepare his way; fo let him land,
And folemnly fee him fet on to London.
So fwift a pace hath thought, that even now
You may imagine him upon Black-heath:
Where that his lords defire him to have borne
His bruifed helmet, and his bended sword,
Before him through the city, he forbids it;
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride:
Giving full trophy, fignal, and oftent,

Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens:
The Mayor and all his brethren in best fort,
Like to the fenators of antique Rome,
With the Plebeians fwarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Cæfar in.
As by a low, but loving likelihood,

Were now the General of our gracious Empress
(As in good time he may) from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword;
How many would the peaceful city quit,

To welcome him? much more (and much more caufe)
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
(As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites 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 chanc'd,
'Till Harry's back return again to France:
There must we bring him; and my felf have play'd
The int'rim, by remembring you, 'tis past.
Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, ftraight back again to France.

ACT

A

CT V.

SCENE, the English Camp in France.

N

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

GoWER.

AY, that's right: but why wear you your Leek to day? St. David's day is paft.

Flu. There is occafions and caufes why and wherefore in all things; I will tell you as a friend, captain Gower; the rafcally, fcauld, beggarly, lowfie, pragging knave, Piftol, which you and your felf and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow (look you now) of no merits; he is come to me and prings me pread and falt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my Leek. It was in a place where I could breed no contentions with him; but I will be fo pold as to wear it in my cap, 'till I fee him once again; and then I will tell him a little piece of my defires.

Enter Pistol.

Gow. Why, here he comes fwelling like a Turky-cock. Flu. 'Tis no matter for his fwelling, nor his Turkycocks. God pleffe you, aunchient Piftol: you scurvy lowfie knave, God pleffe you.

Pift. Ha! art thou bedlam? doft thou thirst, base
Trojan,

To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence, I am qualmish at the fmell of leek.

Flu. I pefeech you heartily, fcurvy lowfie knave, at my defires, and my requests and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: becaufe, look you, you do not love it; and your affections, and your appetites, and your digeftions, does not agree with it; I would defire you to eat it.