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Familiar in their mouth as houshold words,
Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,
Be in their flowing cups frelhly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son,
And Crispin Crispian Thall ne'er go by,
* From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall * 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 speaks,
That fought with us upon St. Crispian's day t.

Enter Salisbury,
Sal. My sov'reign Lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The French are? bravely in their barcles fet,
And will with all expedience charge on us.

K. Henry. All things are ready, if our minds be fo.
Welt. Perish the man, whose mind is backward

now !
K. Henry. Thou dost not wish more help from Eng-

land, cousin ? West. God's will, my Liege. 'Would you and I alone Without more help could fight this royal battle!

From this day to the ending.] * Gentle bis condition.) This le may be observed that we are day shall advance him to the rank apt to promise to ourlelves a of a gentleman. more lasting memory than the + Upon St. Crispian's day.] changing state of human things This speech, like many others of admits. This prediction is not the declamatory kind, is too long. verified; the feast of Griffin paf- Had it been contracted to about fes by, without any mention of half the number of lines, it might Agincourt. Late events oblice have gained force, and loft none rate the former: the civil wars of the sentiments. have left in this nation scarcely ? Bravely is splendidly, efterso any tradition of more ancient tat icusly. hiltory.

K. Henry

K. Henry. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thou.

fand men 8, Which likes me better than to wish us one. - You know your places. God be with you all !

S CE N E IX.

A Tucket founds. Enter Mountjoy.
Mount. Once more I come to know of thee, King

Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured over-throw;
For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must be engluteed. Thus, in mercy,
The Constable desires thee. Thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance, that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must lie and fester.

K. Henry. Who hath sent thee now?
Mount. The Constable of France.

K. Henry. I pray thee, bear my former answer back. Bid them atchieve me, and then sell my bones. Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?

The man, that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv’d, was kill'd with hunting him.
And many of our bodies shall, no doubt,
Find native graves ; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work.
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, tho'buried in your dunghills,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heav'n,
8 Thou haft unuifi'd five tbou- the French are said to be full

Jand men.] By wishing only threescore thousand, which Exeter thyself and me, thou hast wished declares to be five to one ; but, five thousand men away. Shake- by the King's account, they are speare never thinks on such trifies twelve to one. as numbers. In the last scene

Leave

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Leaving their earthly parts to choak your clime,

The íniell whereof Mall breed a plague in France, ? Merkilen a bounding valour in our English: That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing, Breaks out into a second course of mischief,

Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly ; tell the Constable, We are but ? warriors for the working day : Our gayness, and our guilt, are all be-mirch'd With rainy marching in the painful field. There's not a piece of feather in our host, Good argument, I hope, we will not fiy, And time hach worn us into Novenry. But, by the mass, our hearts are in the crim : And niy poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night 'I ley'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads; And turn them out of service. If they do, As, if God please, they shall, my ranion them Till soon be levy’d. Herald, save thy labour, Come thou no more, for ransom, gentle herald ; They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints : 6 Mark then abounding Va. That is, continuing to kill when

lour in our English.] Thus they are the reliques that death the Old Folio's. The Quarto's, has left behind it. more erroneously fill,

That the allufion is, as Mr. Mark then aboundant.

Theobald thinks, exceedingly beauMr. Pose degraded the Paffige tiful, I am afraid few readers will in Loch his Editions, becaule, I discover. The valeur of a pu. presume, he did not undeilland trid body, that deliroys by the it. I have reformed the Texi, funch, is one of the thoughis and the Allusion is exceedingly that do no great honour to the beautiful; comparing the Revi- poet. Perhaps from this putrid val of the indiji Valour to the valour Dryden might borrow the retounding of a Cannon-ball. posthumous empire of Dea

T : Ev BALD. Setasiian, who was 10 jeigu Killing in relapse of 120rawherefoever his atoms fhould be

1:13. What ic is to hili in fcattered. relutje of mor ality', I do no: 2 Warriors for the working know. I lulpect that it fiould derz.) We are soldiers but be read,

coarsely dressed; we have not on Killing in reliques of mortality. our holiday appucl.

Which if they have, as I will leave 'em them
Shall yield them little. “Tell the Constable.

Mount. I hill King Harry, and so fare thee well. Thou never hall hear herald any more. [Exit. K. Hlinry. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for

Ransom.

Enter York.

York. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward. K. Henry. Take it brave York; now, foldiers, march

away. And how thou pleafest, God, dispose the day! [Exeunt.

- SCEN E X.

Ur.

The Field of Battl.
Alarm, Excurficus. Enter Pillol, French foldier,

and Boy. Pijl. VIELD, cur. l i r. Sol. Je pense, que vous ejtes le gentil

bonime de bonne qualité. Pijl. Quality, calmy, culture me, art thou a une tleman ? 3 what is thy name? discuss.

Fr, Sol. O Seigneur Dieu !

Pilt. (), Signieur Dewe should be a gentleman. Perpend my words, O Signieur Dewe, and mark; O Signieur Dewe, 4 thou dieit on point of fox,

3 Quali?,, CALMY, CUSTURE 4 Thou dieft on point of fox.] mo, arickor oth in an? We Point of fox is an expreflion Thould read thus noniense thus, which, if the editors understood

Quality,CALITY-CONSTRUE it, they should have explained, me, are thou a gentl man?. I suppoíc we may better read, i.e. tell me, let me understand whether thou be't a gen:leman. On point of faulchion. WARJUK TON.

except

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Except, o Signieur, thou do give to me ..
Egregious ranlom.

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde, ayez pitié de moy.

Pijt. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys; · For I will fetch thy rym out at thy throat, In drops of crimson blood.

Fr. Sol. Eft-il imposible d'eschapper la force de ton bras?

Pijt. Brass, cur.
Thou damned and luxurious mountain Goat,
Offer'it me brass ?

Fr: Şol. O pardonnez moy.

Pift. Say'st thou me lo ? is that a ton of 6 moys ? Come hither, Boy, ask me this slave in French, What is his name?

Boy. Escoutez, comment elles vous appellé ?
Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.
Boy. He says his name is Mr. Fer.

Pijt. Mr. Fer! I'll fer him, and ferk him, and ferrer him : discuss the same in French unto him.

Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and ferk.

Pift. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. · Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, Monsieur ?

Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous vous teniez prest ; car ce foldat icy est disposé tout à cette beure de couper vostre gorge.

Pist. Owy, cuppelle gorg, paramafoy, pefant,
Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns,
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner ; je juis gentilhomme de bonne maison, gardez ma vie, & je vous donneray deux cent estus.

s For I-will fetch thy rym] to suppose that it stands for some we hould read,

monofyllable; and besides, ranOr I will such thy RANSOM fome is a word not likely to have out of thy throat. Ward. been corrupted,

I know not what to do with Mey is a piece of money, 7:17. The measure gives realon whence Moi d'or, or m01 of gold.

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