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Will yearly on the Vigil feast his Neighbours,
Brother; be he ne'er so vile,
K. Henry. All things are ready, if our Minds be fo.
K. Henry. Thou doft not with more help from England, Coz?
Weft., God's will, my Liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this Royal Battel.
K. Henry. Why now thou hast unwilh'd five thousand Men:: Which likes me better than to wish us one. You know your Places: God be with
all." A Tucket fonds. Enter Mountjoy. Mount. Once niore I come to know of thee, King Harry, If for thy Ransom thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assured Overthrow : For certainly thou art so near the Gulf, -
needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
K. Henry. Who hath sent thee now?
K. Henry. I pray thee bear my former Answer back.
Herald, save thou thy labour :
Mon. I shall, King Harry: And so fare thee well.
[Exit. Ķ. Henry. I fear thou wilt once more come again for a Ransom.
K. Henry. Take it, brave York.
Fr. Sol. Je pense que vous estes le Gentil-home de bone quas Zité.
Pift. Quality calmy.cufture me, Art thou a Gentleman? What is thy Name? discuss.
Fr. Sol. O Seigneur Dieu!
Pii. o Signiềur Dewe should be a Gentleman: Perpend my words, O Signieur Dewe, and mark:0-Siġnieur Dewe, thou dieft on point of
Fox, except; O Signeur, thou do give to me egregious Ransom.: 13
Fr. Sol. O frensez mifericorde, ayez pitie de moy.':
Pift. Moy Thall not ferve, I will have forty Moys; for I will fetch thy rym out at thy Throat, in drops of Crimson Blood.
Fr. Sol. Et-il impossible d'efebapper la force de ton bras?
Pift. Brass, Cur? thou damned and luxurious MountainaGoat, offer'lt me Brass?,.
Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy..
Pift. Say't thou me fo? is that a Ton of Noys?
Boy. Escoute, comment eftes vous appellé ?
Pift. Mr. Fer! I'll fer him, and ferk him, and ferret him; Discuss the fame 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.
Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous vous teniez prest, car ce foldat icy est dispofée tout a cette heure de couper vostre gorge.
Pift. Owy, cuppele gorge parmafoy pesant, unless thou give me Crowns, brave Crowns, or mangled shalt thou be by this
Sword. Fr. Sol. o je vous fupplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner, je suis Gentilhome de bonne maison, garde ma vie, con Je vous donneray deux cents escus.
Pift. What are his words?
Boy. He prays you to save his Life, he is a Gentleman of a gaod House, and for his Ransom he will give you two hundred Crowns.
Pif. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crowns will take.
Fr. Sol. Petit Monsieur que dit-il ?
Boy. Encore qu'il est contre fon furement, de pardonner aucun prisonnier: neant moins pour les escus que vout l'ay pro. mettez, il eft content de vous donner la liberté de franchise.
Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je voux dome millesremerciemens,
je me eftime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un Chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant, es tres effimée Signiwr d'Angleterre.
Pift. Expound unto me, Boy.
Boy. He gives you upon his knees a thoufand thanks, and esteems himself happy, that he hath faln into the hands of one, as he thinks, the moft brave, valorous, and thriceworthy Signeur of England.
Pift. As I suck Blood, I will fome mercy Thew. Follow me.
Boy. Suivez le grand Capitain. I did r.ever know so, wofui a Voice issue from fo empty a Heart; but the song is true, The empty Vessel makes the greatest found, Bardalf and Nim bad ten times more Va
lour than this roaring Devil i'th' old Play, that every one may pair his Nails with a wooden Dagger, and they are both Hang'd, and so would this be, if he durst steal
any thing adventurously. I must stay with the Lackies, 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. Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin and Rambures.
Con. O Diable !
Dau. Mort de ma vie, all is confounded, all,
[A foort Alarm O meschante Fortue, do not run away.
Con. Why, all our Raoks are broke.
Dau. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selves :
Orl. Is this the King we sent to for his Ransom ?
Bour. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, Friend us now,
Orl. We are enow yet living in the Field,
Bour. The Devil take Order now, I'll to the throng;
Alarum. Enter the King and his Train, with Prisoners.
K. Henry. Well have we done, thrice valiant Countrymen,
Exe. The Duke of York commends bim to your Majesty.