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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 Teftimony and Witnefs, and will avouchment, that this is the Glove of Alonfon, that your Majefty is give me, in your Confcience

now.

K. Henry. Give me thy Glove, Soldier; Look, here is the fellow of it:

'Twas I indeed thou promisedft to ftrike. And thou haft given me most bitter terms.

Flu. And please your Majefty, let his Neck answer for it, if there is any Marshal Law in the World.

K. Henry. How canft thou make me Satisfaction? Will. 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.

Will. Your Majefty came not like your felf; you appear'd to me but as a common Man; witnefs the Night, your Garments, your Lowlinefs; and what your Highnefs fuffer'd under that fhape, I befeech you take it for your fault, and not mine; for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore I beseech your Highness 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 Body; hold, there is twelve-pence for you, and I pray you ferve God, and keep you out of prawls and prabbles, and quarrels and diffentions, and I warrant you it is the better for you.

Will. I will none of your Mony.

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

VOL. III.

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Enter

Enter Herald.

K. Henry. Now Herald, are the dead numbred?
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 Bouchiquald:

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
That in the Field lye flain; of Princes in this number,
And Nobles bearing Banners, there lye dead
One hundred twenty fix; added to thefe,
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 lye dead:
Charles Delabreth, High Conftable of France,
Jaques of Chatilion, Admiral of France,

The Mafter of the Crofs-Bows, Lord Rambures,

Great Mafter of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dauphin,
John Duke of Alenfon, Anthonio Duke of Brabant,
The Brother to the Duke of Burgundy,

And Edward Duke of Barr: Of lufty Earls,
Grandpree and Rouffie, Faulconbridge and Foyes,
Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Leftrale.
Here was a Royal Fellowship of Death.
Where is the number of our English dead?
Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam Efquire;
None elfe of Name; and of all other Men,
But five and twenty.

O God, thy Arm was here:

And not to us, but to thy Arm alone,
Afcribe we all. When, without ftratagem,
But in plain fhock, and even play of Battel,
Was ever known fo great and little Lofs?

On

On one part and on th' other, take it, God,
For it is none's, but 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.

Fly. Is it not lawful, and please your Majefty, to tell 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 Rights;

Let there be fung Nox nobis, and Te Deum,
The dead with charity enclos'd in Clay:

And then to Calais, and to England then,

Where ne'er from France arrived more happy Men. [Exeunt.

V%

ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter Chorus.

Ouchfafe to thofe that have not read the Story,
That I may prompt them; and of 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 prefented. Now we bear the King

Toward Calais: Grant him there; and there being feen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the Sea: Behold the English beach
Pales in the flood, with Men, with Wives, and Boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd Sea
Which like a mighty Whiffler 'fore the King
Seems to prepare his way; So 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 born
His bruised Helmet, and his bended Sword
Cc 2

Before

Before him, through the City; he forbids it;
Being free from Vainnets, and felt-glorious Pride:
Giving full Trophy, Signal, and Oftent, ·
Quite from himself, to God. But now behold,
In the quick Forge and working-houfe of Thought,
How London doth pour out her Citizens,
The Mayor, and all his Brethren in best fort
Like to the Senators of th' antique Rome,
With the Plebeians (warming at their Heels,
Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Cafar in :
As by a lower, but loving likelihood,
Were now the General of our gracious, Emprefs,
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.
yet the Lamentation of the French

As

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, what ever chanc'd,
'Till Harry's back return again to France:
There mult we bring him; and my self have play'd
The Interim, by remembring you 'tis paft.

Then brook Abridgement, and your Eyes advance,
After your Thoughts, ftraight back again to France. [Exit.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gow. Nay, 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 affe a Friend, Captain Gower; the rafcally, fauld, 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 Salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my Leek; it was in a place were I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be fo pold as to wear it in my Cap 'till I fee him once again, and then I wilktell him a little piece of my defires.

Enter

Enter Piftol.

Gow. Why, here he comes, fwelling like a Tuiky-cock. Flu. 'Tis no matter for his fwelling, nor his Turky-cocks. God pleffe you aunchient Piftol: You fcurvy lowfie Knave, God pleffe you.

Pift. Ha! art thou Bedlam? Doft thou thirst, base Trojan, to have me fold up Parcas fatal Web? Hence; I am qualmish at the fmell of a Leek.

Flu. I befeech you heartily, fcurvy lowfie Knave, at my Defires, and my Requests, and my Petitions, to eat, look you, this Leek, because, look you, you do not love it, nor your Affections, and your Appetites, and your Digestions does not agree with it; I would defire you to eat it.

Pift. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats.
Flu. There is a Goat for you,

[Strikes him. Will you be fo good, fcald Knave, as eat it? Pift. Bale Trojan, thou shalt dye.

Flu. You fay very true, fcald Knave, when God's will is: I will defire you to live in the mean time, and eat your Vi &ua's; come, there is Sawce for it. You call'd me yesterday Mountain-Squire, but I will make you to day a Squire of low degree. I pray you fall to; if you can mock a Leek, you can eat a Leek.

Gow. Enough, Captain, you have aftonish'd him.

Flu. I fay I will make him eat fome part of my Leek, or I will peat his Pate four days: Pite, I pray you, it is good for your green Wound, and your ploody Coxcomb. Pift. Muft I bite?

Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question too, and ambiguities.

Pift. By this Leek, I will moft horribly revenge; I eat, and eat.I fwear---

Flu. Eat, I pray you; will you have fome more Sawce to your Leek: There is not enough Leek to fwear by. Pift. Quiet thy Cudgel, thou doft fee I eat.

Flu. Much good do you, fcald Knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away, the Skin is good for your broken Coxcomb: When you take occafions to fee Leeks hereafter I pray you mock at 'em, that's all.

Pift. Good.

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