PISTOL

’The plainsong’ is most just, for humours do abound.

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

⌈sings⌉ And sword and shield

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 ⌈sings⌉ And I.

If wishes would prevail with me

My purpose should not fail with me

But thither would I hie.

BOY ⌈sings⌉ As duly

But not as truly

As bird doth sing on bough.

Enter Captain Fluellen and beats them in

FLUELLEN God’s plud! Up to the breaches, 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. Good bawcock, bate

Thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck.

NIM These be good humours! ⌈Fluellen begins to beat Nim⌉ Your honour runs bad humours.

Exeunt all but ⌈the Boy⌉

BOY As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them all three, but all they three, though they should 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 the means whereof a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nim, 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 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. Nim and Bardolph are sworn brothers in 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 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

3.3 Enter Captain Gower ⌈and Captain Fluellen, meeting⌉

GOWER Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to 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 war. The concavities of it is not sufficient. For look you, th’thversary, 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.

GOWER The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’faith.

FLUELLEN It is Captain MacMorris, is it not?

GOWER I think it be.

FLUELLEN By Cheshu, he is an ass, as 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.

Enter Captain MacMorris and Captain 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’anciant wars, upon my particular 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 gud day, Captain Fluellen.

FLUELLEN Good e’en 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 law, ‘tish ill done. The work ish give over, the trumpet 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 law, in an hour. O ’tish ill done, ‘tish ill done, by my hand ’tish ill done.

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 war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication? Partly to 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 vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath, and I sall quite you with gud leve, as I may pick 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. An the trumpet call us to the 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 law.

JAMY By the mess, ere these eyes of mine take themselves to slumber, ay’ll de gud service, or I’ll lig i‘th’ grund for it. Ay owe Got a death, and I’ll pay’t as valorously as I may, that sall I suirely do, that is the brief and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question ’tween you twae.

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? 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 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.

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 so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war. And there is an end.

Exit

[Flourish.] Enter King Harry and all his train before the gates

KING HARRY

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,

A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,

If I begin the batt‘ry once again

I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur

Till in her ashes she lie buried.

The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,