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The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

Page 189

by William Shakespeare


  To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,

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  Borne with th’invisible and creeping wind,

  Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea,

  Breasting the lofty surge. O do but think

  You stand upon the rivage and behold

  A city on th’inconstant billows dancing,

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  For so appears this fleet majestical,

  Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow!

  Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,

  And leave your England as dead midnight still,

  Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,

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  Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance.

  For who is he, whose chin is but enriched

  With one appearing hair, that will not follow

  These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?

  Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;

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  Behold the ordnance on their carriages,

  With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.

  Suppose th’ambassador from the French comes back,

  Tells Harry that the King doth offer him

  Katherine his daughter and with her, to dowry,

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  Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.

  The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner

  With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,

  [Alarum, and chambers go off.]

  And down goes all before them. Still be kind,

  And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit.

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  3.1 Alarum. Enter soldiers with scaling-ladders at Harfleur. Enter the KING, EXETER, BEDFORD and GLOUCESTER.

  KING

  Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,

  Or close the wall up with our English dead.

  In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man

  As modest stillness and humility;

  But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

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  Then imitate the action of the tiger:

  Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,

  Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.

  Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

  Let it pry through the portage of the head

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  Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it

  As fearfully as doth a galled rock

  O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,

  Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

  Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

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  Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

  To his full height. On, on, you noble English,

  Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,

  Fathers that like so many Alexanders

  Have in these parts from morn till even fought,

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  And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.

  Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

  That those whom you called fathers did beget you.

  Be copy now to men of grosser blood

  And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,

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  Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

  The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

  That you are worth your breeding – which I doubt not,

  For there is none of you so mean and base

  That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

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  I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

  Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot.

  Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

  Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

  Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.

  3.2 Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL and Boy.

  BARDOLPH On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the

  breach!

  NYM Pray thee, Corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot,

  and for mine own part I have not a case of lives. The

  humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of

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  it.

  PISTOL The plain-song is most just, for humours do

  abound.

  Knocks go and come, God’s vassals drop and die,

  And sword and shield

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  In bloody field

  Doth win immortal fame.

  BOY Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would

  give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.

  PISTOL And I.

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  If wishes would prevail with me

  My purpose should not fail with me,

  But thither would I hie.

  BOY As duly –

  But not as truly –

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  As bird doth sing on bough

  Enter FLUELLEN.

  FLUELLEN [Beats them.]

  Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions!

  PISTOL Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould!

  Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage,

  Abate thy rage, great duke!

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  Good bawcock, bate thy rage! Use lenity, sweet chuck!

  NYM These be good humours! Your honour runs bad

  humours! Exeunt all but Boy.

  BOY As young as I am, I have observed these three

  swashers. I am boy to them all three, but all they three,

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  though they would serve me, could not be man to me,

  for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man.

  For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced, by

  the means whereof ’a faces it out but fights not. For

  Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword, by

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  the means whereof a breaks words and keeps whole

  weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few

  words are the best men, and therefore he scorns to say

  his prayers lest ’a should be thought a coward: but his

  few bad words are matched with as few good deeds, for

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  ’a never broke any man’s head but his own, and that

  was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal

  anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-

  case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three-

  halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in

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  filching, and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel. I knew

  by that piece of service the men would carry coals.

  They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as

  their gloves or their handkerchiefs, which makes much

  against my manhood if I should take from another’s

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  pocket to put into mine, for it is plain pocketing up of

  wrongs. I must leave them and seek some better

  service; their villainy goes against my weak stomach,

  and therefore I must cast it up. Exit.

  Enter GOWER and FLUELLEN, meeting.

  GOWER Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to

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  the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with

  you.

  FLUELLEN To the mines? Tell you the Duke it is not so

  good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is

  not according to the disciplines of the wars; the

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  concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you,

  th’athversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look

  you, is digt himself four yard under the countermines.

  By Cheshu, I think ’a will plow up all, if there is not

  better directions.

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  GOWER The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of

  the siege is given, i
s altogether directed by an

  Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’faith.

  FLUELLEN It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?

  GOWER I think it be.

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  FLUELLEN By Cheshu, he is an ass, as any is in the

  world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no

  more directions in the true disciplines of the wars,

  look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-

  dog.

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  Enter MACMORRIS and JAMY.

  GOWER Here ’a comes, and the Scots captain, Captain

  Jamy, with him.

  FLUELLEN Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous

  gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and

  knowledge in th’anchient wars, upon my particular

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  knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will

  maintain his argument as well as any military man in

  the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the

  Romans.

  JAMY I say guid day, Captain Fluellen.

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  FLUELLEN God-den to your worship, good Captain

  James.

  GOWER How now, Captain Macmorris, have you quit

  the mines? Have the pioneers given o’er?

  MACMORRIS By Chrish, la, ’tish ill done; the work ish

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  give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand

  I swear, and my father’s soul, the work ish ill done; it

  ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so

  Chrish save me, la, in an hour. Oh, ’tish ill done, ’tish

  ill done; by my hand, ’tish ill done!

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  FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will

  you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with

  you as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of

  the wars, the Roman wars, in the way of argument,

  look you, and friendly communication? Partly to

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  satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look

  you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the

  military discipline, that is the point.

  JAMY It sall be vara guid, guid feith, guid captains baith,

  and I sall quit you, with guid leave, as I may pick

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  occasion; that sall I, marry.

  MACMORRIS It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save

  me. The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and

  the King, and the Dukes. It is no time to discourse, the

  town is besieched, and the trumpet call us to the

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  breach, and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing. ’Tis

  shame for us all, so God sa’ me, ’tis shame to stand

  still, it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be

  cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done,

  so Chrish sa’ me, la!

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  JAMY By the mess, ere these eyes of mine take

  themselves to slumber I’ll dae guid service, or I’ll lig

  i’th’ grund for it. I owe God a death, and I’ll pay’t as

  valorously as I may, that sall I surely do, that is the

  breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some

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  question ’tween you twa.

  FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under

  your correction, there is not many of your nation –

  MACMORRIS Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a

  villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal?

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  What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?

  FLUELLEN Look you, if you take the matter otherwise

  than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I

  shall think you do not use me with that affability as in

  discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as

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  good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war,

  and in the derivation of my birth, and in other

  particularities.

  MACMORRIS I do not know you so good a man as myself.

  So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.

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  GOWER Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

  JAMY Ah, that’s a foul fault. [A parley is sounded.]

  GOWER The town sounds a parley.

  FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, when there is more

  better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be

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  so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war, and

  there is an end. Exeunt.

  3.3 The Governor and others upon the walls. Enter the KING and all his train before the gates.

  KING How yet resolves the Governor of the town?

  This is the latest parle we will admit.

  Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves,

  Or like to men proud of destruction

  Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier,

 

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