Then will he strip his fleeve, and fhew his fears:
Old men forget; yet fhall not all forget,

But they'll remember, with advantages,

What feats they did that day. Then fhall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as houfhold words,
Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glofter,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crifpin Crifpian fhall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it fhall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he, to day that fheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er fo vile,
This day fhall gentle his condition.

And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any fpeaks,
That fought with us upon St. Crifpian's day.

Enter Salisbury.

;

Sal. My fov'reign lord, beftow your felf with speed: The French are bravely in their battels fet, And will with all expedience charge on us.

K. Henry. All things are ready, if our minds be fo. Weft. Perish the man, whofe mind is backward now ! K. Henry. Thou doft not wish more help from England, coufin?

Weft. God's will, my Liege, would you and I alone Without more help could fight this royal battle!

K. Henry. Why, now thou haft unwifh'd five thoufand men :

Which likes me better than to wish us one.

You know your places: God be with you all!

A Tucket founds. Enter Mountjoy.

Mount. Once more I come to know of thee, King If for thy ranfom thou wilt now compound,

Before thy most affured over-throw :

[Harry,

For, certainly, thou art fo near the gulf,
Thou needs must be englutted. Thus, in mercy,
The Constable defires thee, thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance; that their fouls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire

From off these fields; where, wretches, their poor bodies
Muft lye and fester.

K. Henry. Who hath fent thee now?

Mount. The Conftable of France.

K. Henry. I pray thee, bear my former answer back. Bid them atchieve me, and then fell my bones.

Good God! why fhould they mock poor fellows thus?
The man, that once did fell the Lion's skin
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
And many of our bodies fhall, no doubt,
Find native graves; upon the which, I truft,
Shall witness live in brafs of this day's work.
And thofe that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, tho' buried in your dunghils,
They shall be fam'd; for there the fun fhall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heav'n;
Leaving their earthly parts to choak your clime,
The smell whereof fhall breed a plague in France.
Mark then a bounding valour in our English: (35)
That being dead, like to the bullets grafing,
Breaks out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapfe of mortality.

Let me fpeak proudly; tell the Constable,
We are but warriors for the working day;
Our gaynefs, and our gilt, are all be-fmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field.
There's not a piece of feather in our hoft;

(35) Mark then abounding Valour in our English:] Thus the Old Folio's. The 4to's, more erroneously still,

Mark then aboundant

Mr. Pope degraded the Paffage in both his Editions, because, I prefume, he did not understand it. I corrected it sometime ago in Print, as I have now reform'd the Text, and the Allufion is exceedingly beautifull; comparing the Revival of the English Valour to the rebounding of a Cannonball.

(Good argument, I hope, we will not fly :)
And time hath worn us into flovenry.
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim :
And my poor foldiers tell me, yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French foldiers heads;
And turn them out of fervice. If they do,
(As, if God please, they fhall) my ransom then
Will foon be levy'd. Herald, fave thy labour.
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald;
They fhall have none, I fwear, but these my joints:
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Conftable.

Mount. I fhall, King Harry: and so fare thee well.

Thou never fhalt hear herald any more.

[Exit. K. Henry. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for

Ranfom.

Enter York.

York. My lord, moft humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward.

[away. K. Henry. Take it, brave York; now, foldiers, march And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! [Exeunt.

SCENE, the Field of Battle.

Alarm, Excurfions. Enter Pistol, French foldier, and boy. IELD, cur.

Pist.

Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous eftes le gentlehomme de bonne qualité.

Pift. Quality, calmy, cufture me, art thou a gentleman? what is thy name? difcufs.

Fr. Sol. O Seignieur Dieu!

Pift. O, Signieur Dewe fhould be a gentleman :
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dewe, and mark;
O Signieur Dewe, thou dieft on point of fox,
Except, O Signeur, thou do give to me
Egregious ranfom.

Fr. Sol. O, prennez mifericorde, ayez pitie de moy.

Pist. Moy fhall not ferve, I will have forty moys; for I will fetch thy rym out at thy throat, in drops of crimfon blood.

Fr. Sol. Eft-il impoffible d' efchapper la force de ton bras? Pift. Brafs, cur?

[brafs? Thou damned and luxurious mountain Goat, offer'st me Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy.

Pift. Say'st thou me fo? is that a ton of moys?
Come hither, Boy; ask me this flave in French,
What is his name?

Boy. Efcoutez, comment eftes vous appellé ?
Fr. Sol. Monfieur le Fer.

Boy. He fays, his name is Mr. Fer.

Pift. Mr. Fer! I'll fer him, and ferk him, and ferret

him difcufs the fame in French unto him.

[ferk. Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and Pift. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, Monfieur?

Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous vous teniez preft; car ce foldat icy eft difpofé tout a cette heure de couper voftre gorge.

Pift. Owy, cuppelle gorge, parmafoy, pefant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns: or mangled fhalt thou be by this my fword.

Fr. Sol. O, je vous fupplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner; je fuis gentilhomme de bonne maifon, gardez ma vie, & je vous donneray deux cents efcus.

Pift. What are his words?

Boy. He prays, you to fave his life, he is a gentleman of a good houfe, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.

Pift. Tell him, my fury fhall abate, and I the crowns will take.

Fr. Sol. Petit Monfieur, que dit-il ?

Boy. Encore qu'il eft contre fon jurement, de pardonner aucun prifonnier : neantmoins pour les efcus que vous l'avez promettes, il eft content de vous donner la liberté, le franchifement.

Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne milles remerciemens, &je me eftime beureux que je fuis tombé entre les mains d'un

Chevalier,

Chevalier, je penfe, le plus brave, valiant, & tres eftimé Signeur d'Angleterre.

Pift. Expound unto me, boy.

Boy. He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and esteems himself happy, that he hath fall'n into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy Signieur of England.

Pift. As I fuck blood, I will fome mercy fhew. Follow me, cur.

Boy. Suivez le grand capitain. [Ex. Pift. and Fr. Sol. I did never know fo full a voice iffue from fo empty a heart; (36) but the faying is true, The empty veffel makes the greatest found. Bardolph and Nim had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i'th' old play; every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger: yet they are both hang'd; and fo would this be, if he durft steal any thing advent❜roufly. I must stay with the lacqueys, with the luggage of our camp; the French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it but boys.

[Exit.

SCENE, Another part of the Field of Battle.

Enter Conftable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin and Rambures.

Orl. O Signeur! le jour eft perdu, tout eft perdu. Dau. Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame

Sits mocking in our plumes.

O mefchante fortune!do not run away.
Con. Why, all our ranks are broke.

[A fhort alarm.

(36) I did never know fo wofull a Voice iffue from fo empty a Heart ;] This corrupted Reading, which both Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope have efpoufed, took its Rife from a Blunder of the 2d Edition in Folio. But why, wofull? Piftol was all Bounce and Noife. Befides, where's the Antithefis? We muft certainly read with the firft Folio,-I did never know fo full a Voice -But then the arch Boy immediately corrects himself from the old Saying, The empty Veel makes the greatest Sound.

Dau.