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Enter Gloucefter.

· Glou. My Lieges

K. Henry. My brother Glo'sier's voice?
I know thy errand, I will go with thee,
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

[Excunt.

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TH

Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and Beaumont. Orl. THE Sun does gild our armour ; up, my

Lords. Dau. Montez Cheval: my horse, valet, lacquay : ha!

Orl. O brave spirit !
Dau. Via!--les eaux & la terre.
Orl. Rien puis ! le air & feu.
Day. Ciel ! Cousin Orleans.

Entér Confiable. Now, my Lord Constable !

Con. Hark, how our Steeds for présent service neigh.

better; for his comment is to not mean to represent the king me less intelligible than the text. as abandoned and reprobate. I know not what he thinks of the The old reading is in my opi. king's penitence, whether com- nion easy and right. I do all ing in consequence of call, it is fuf. this, says the King, thugh all cient; or whether coming when that I can do is nothing worth, is calls have cealed, it is ineffe&ual. so far from an adequate expiaThe first fense will suit but ill tion of the crime, that penitence with the position, that all which comes after all, imploring pardon he can do is notbing worth, and both of the crime and the expiathe latter as ill with the intention tion. of Shakespeare, who certainly does

Dau.

Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And daunt them with superAuous courage : ha! Ram. What, will you have them weep our Horses'

blood ? How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a Messenger Mell. The English are embatteld, you French Peers,

Con. To horse ! you gallant Princes, strait to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band, And your

fair shew shall suck away their souls;
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their fickly veins
To give each naked curtle-ax a stain;
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport. Let's but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis positive 'gainst all exception, Lords,

That our fuperfuous lacqueys and our peasants,
Who in unnecessary action swarm
About our squares of battle, were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding foe;
Tho'we, upon this mountain's basis by,
Took stand for idle speculation;
But that our honours nust not. What's to say
A very little, litt!e, let us do ;
And all is done. Then let the trumpets found

The cucket sonance, and the note to mount,
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.

* The tucket-fonance, &c.] He air, they are terrified from rising, uses terms of the field as if they so that they will be sometimes were going out only to the chale taken by the hand. for sport. To dare the field is a Such an easy capture the lords phrale in falconry. Birds are expected to make of the Eng. dared when, by the falcon in the lifh.

Entor

Enter Grandpree.

Grand. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of

France ? Yon Inand carrions, desp'rate of their bones, IIl-favour'dly become the morning field : Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, And our air shakes them passing scornfully. Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, And faintly through a rusty bever peeps. The horsemen fit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-Itaves in their hand; and their poor jades Lob down their heads, dropping the hide and hips : The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes; And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bitt? Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless: And their executors, the knavish Crows, Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. Description cannot suit itself in words, To demonstrate the life of such a battle, In life so liveless as it shews itself. Con. 'They've said their prayers, and they stay for

death. Dau. Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits, And give their fasting Horses provender, And, after, fight with them?

Con. + I stay but for my guard : on, to the field ; I will the banner from a trumpet take, And use it for my haste. Come, come, away! The sun is high, and we out-wear the day. (Exeunt.

Gimmal is in the western Aeth. countries a ring ; a gimmal bit is 4 I say but for my guard.) It therefore a bit of which the parts seems, by what follows, that were one within another.

guard in this place means rather 3 Ibeir executors, ibe knavis something of ornament or of

crows] The crows who are distinction than a body of attento have the disposal of what they dants. fhall leave, cheir hides and their

SCENE

W .

S CE N E VIII.

The English CANIP.
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham,

with all the lojt ; Salisbury end Weltmorland. Glou. THERE is the King ?

Bed. The King himself is rode to view

their battle. Weft. Of fighting men they have full threescore

thousand. Exe. There's five to one ; besides, they all are fresh.

Sal. God's arm strike with us, 'tis a fearful odds ! God be wi’you, Princes all; I'll to my charge. If we no more meet till we meet in heav'n, Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, My dear Lord Gloʻsier, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu ! Bed. Farewel, good Salisbury, and good luck go

with thee! Exe, to Sal. Farewel, kind Lord; fight valiantly

to-day : And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valcur.

[Exit Sal. Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness; Princely in both.

Enter King Henry.
Weft. O, that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That do no work to day!
s In the old editions :

does he do Salif!rry Wrong to Bed. Farere, gepd Salisbury, with him good iuck? The inand good Luck

80

uith thee, genious Dr. I kırli, prescribd to And yet I do thee ui

me the Transposition of the thie of ili

Verses, which I have made in For thou art fram’d of the firm the Text: and the old Quarto's

Trutb of Valour. plainly lead to such a RegulaExe. Far, wel, kind Lord: fight tion.

THEOBALD. valiantly te-da;.] What!

K. Henry.

urong to mind

K. Henry. What's he, that wishes fo? My cousin Westmorland ? No, my fair cousin, If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. * By Jove, I am not covetous of gold, Nor care I, who doth feed upon my coft, It yerns me not, if men my garments wear, Such outward things dwell not in my desires; But if it be a Gin to cover honour, I am the most offending foul alive. No, faith, my Lord, wish not a man froņi England : God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour, As one man more, methinks, would share from me, For the best hopes I have. Don't with one more ; Rather proclaim it (Westmorland) through my host, That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart: his pass-port shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse : We would not die in that man's company, That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that out-lives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, And rouze him at the name of Crifpian; He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil fealt his neighbours, And say, to-morrow is Saint Crispian; Then will he strip his Neeve, and shew his scars. Old men forget ; yet shall not all forget, But they'll remember, t with advantages, What feats they did that day. Then shall our nam:s,..

By Jove ] The king prays ber their fears of this day, and like a christian, and swears like a remembor to tell them with ad. heatheni

vantage. Age is commonly boutt + With advantages.} Old men, ful, and inclined to magnity past notwithstanding the natural for acts and past times. getfu'ness of age, shall rememVOL. IV.

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