The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 192
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in your tent tonight, are those stars or suns upon it?
CONSTABLE Stars, my lord.
DAUPHIN Some of them will fall tomorrow, I hope.
CONSTABLE And yet my sky shall not want.
DAUPHIN That may be, for you bear a many
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superfluously, and ’twere more honour some were
away.
CONSTABLE Even as your horse bears your praises, who
would trot as well were some of your brags
dismounted.
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DAUPHIN Would I were able to load him with his desert!
Will it never be day? I will trot tomorrow a mile, and
my way shall be paved with English faces.
CONSTABLE I will not say so, for fear I should be faced
out of my way. But I would it were morning, for I
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would fain be about the ears of the English.
RAMBURES Who will go to hazard with me for twenty
prisoners?
CONSTABLE You must first go yourself to hazard ere you
have them.
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DAUPHIN ’Tis midnight; I’ll go arm myself. Exit.
ORLEANS The Dauphin longs for morning.
RAMBURES He longs to eat the English.
CONSTABLE I think he will eat all he kills.
ORLEANS By the white hand of my lady, he’s a gallant
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prince.
CONSTABLE Swear by her foot, that she may tread out
the oath.
ORLEANS He is simply the most active gentleman of
France.
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CONSTABLE Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.
ORLEANS He never did harm that I heard of.
CONSTABLE Nor will do none tomorrow; he will keep
that good name still.
ORLEANS I know him to be valiant.
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CONSTABLE I was told that by one that knows him
better than you.
ORLEANS What’s he?
CONSTABLE Marry, he told me so himself, and he said
he cared not who knew it.
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ORLEANS He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him.
CONSTABLE By my faith, sir, but it is: never anybody
saw it but his lackey. ’Tis a hooded valour, and when it
appears it will bate.
ORLEANS ‘Ill will never said well.’
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CONSTABLE I will cap that proverb with ‘There is
flattery in friendship.’
ORLEANS And I will take up that with ‘Give the devil
his due.’
CONSTABLE Well placed: there stands your friend for
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the devil. Have at the very eye of that proverb with ‘A
pox of the devil.’
ORLEANS You are the better at proverbs by how much
‘A fool’s bolt is soon shot.’
CONSTABLE You have shot over.
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ORLEANS ’Tis not the first time you were overshot.
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER My lord High Constable, the English lie
within fifteen hundred paces of your tents.
CONSTABLE Who hath measured the ground?
MESSENGER The Lord Grandpré.
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CONSTABLE A valiant and most expert gentleman.
Exit Messenger.
Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England! He
longs not for the dawning as we do.
ORLEANS What a wretched and peevish fellow is this
King of England, to mope with his fat-brained
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followers so far out of his knowledge!
CONSTABLE If the English had any apprehension they
would run away.
ORLEANS That they lack, for if their heads had any
intellectual armour they could never wear such heavy
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headpieces.
RAMBURES That island of England breeds very valiant
creatures: their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
ORLEANS Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth
of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed like
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rotten apples. You may as well say that’s a valiant flea
that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
CONSTABLE Just, just; and the men do sympathize with
the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on,
leaving their wits with their wives. And then give them
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great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like
wolves and fight like devils.
ORLEANS Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
CONSTABLE Then shall we find tomorrow they have
only stomachs to eat and none to fight. Now is it time
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to arm; come, shall we about it?
ORLEANS It is now two o’clock; but, let me see, by ten
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. Exeunt.
4.0 Enter CHORUS.
CHORUS Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From camp to camp through the foul womb of night
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
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That the fixed sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other’s watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other’s umbered face.
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
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Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents
The armourers accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
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And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice,
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night
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Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently and inly ruminate
The morning’s danger; and their gesture sad,
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Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-torn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon
So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold
The royal captain of this ruined band
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
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Let him cry ‘Praise and glory on his head!’
For forth he goes and visits all his host,
Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,
And calls them brothers, friends and countrymen.
Upon his royal face there is no note
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How dread an army hath enrounded him,
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night,
But freshly looks and overbears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty,
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That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him plucks comfort from his looks.
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all
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Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night.
And so our scene must to the battle
fly,
Where – oh for pity! – we shall much disgrace
With four or five most vile and ragged foils
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Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous
The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
Minding true things by what their mockeries be.
Exit.
4.1 Enter the KING and GLOUCESTER, meeting BEDFORD.
KING Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger;
The greater therefore should our courage be. –
Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out:
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For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful and good husbandry.
Besides, they are our outward consciences
And preachers to us all, admonishing
That we should dress us fairly for our end.
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Thus may we gather honey from the weed
And make a moral of the devil himself.
Enter ERPINGHAM.
Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham.
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
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ERPINGHAM
Not so, my liege, this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say ‘Now lie I like a king.’
KING ’Tis good for men to love their present pains
Upon example: so the spirit is eased,
And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt
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The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave and newly move
With casted slough and fresh legerity.
Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. – Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
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Do my good morrow to them, and anon
Desire them all to my pavilion.
GLOUCESTER We shall, my liege.
ERPINGHAM Shall I attend your grace?
KING No, my good knight;
Go with my brothers to my lords of England.
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I and my bosom must debate awhile,
And then I would no other company.
ERPINGHAM
The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
Exeunt all but the King.
KING God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak’st cheerfully.
Enter PISTOL.
PISTOL Che vous là?
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KING A friend.
PISTOL Discuss unto me, art thou officer,
Or art thou base, common and popular?
KING I am a gentleman of a company.
PISTOL Trail’st thou the puissant pike?
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KING Even so. What are you?
PISTOL As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
KING Then you are a better than the King.
PISTOL The King’s a bawcock and a heart of gold,
A lad of life, an imp of Fame,
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Of parents good, of fist most valiant.
I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string
I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
KING Harry le Roy.
PISTOL Le Roy?
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A Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew?
KING No, I am a Welshman.
PISTOL Know’st thou Fluellen?
KING Yes.
PISTOL Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate
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Upon Saint Davy’s day.
KING Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day,
lest he knock that about yours.
PISTOL Art thou his friend?
KING And his kinsman too.
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PISTOL The fico for thee then!
KING I thank you. God be with you!
PISTOL My name is Pistol called. Exit.
KING It sorts well with your fierceness.
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER, separately.
GOWER Captain Fluellen!
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FLUELLEN ’So! In the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer.
It is the greatest admiration in the universal world
when the true and anchient prerogatifs and laws of the
wars is not kept. If you would take the pains but to
examine the wars of Pompey the Great you shall find,
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I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor
pibble-pabble in Pompey’s camp. I warrant you, you
shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of
it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the
modesty of it, to be otherwise.