The confident and overlusty French

Do the low-rated English play at dice,

And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,

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,

Investing lank lean cheeks and war-worn coats,

Presented 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,

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

How dread an army hath enrounded him;

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

Unto the weary and all-watchèd night,

But freshly looks and overbears attaint

With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty,

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 everyone,

Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all

Behold, as may unworthiness define,

A little touch of Harry in the night.

And so our scene must to the battle fly,

Where O for pity, we shall much disgrace,

With four or five most vile and ragged foils,

Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous,

The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,

Minding true things by what their mock’ries be. Exit

4.1 Enter King Harry and the Duke of Gloucester, then the Duke of ⌈Clarence⌉

KING HARRY

Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger;

The greater therefore should our courage be.

Good morrow, brother Clarence. God Almighty!

There is some soul of goodness in things evil,

Would men observingly distil it out—

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.

Thus may we gather honey from the weed

And make a moral of the devil himself.

Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham.

A good soft pillow for that good white head

Were better than a churlish turf of France.

ERPINGHAM

Not so, my liege. This lodging likes me better,

Since I may say, ‘Now lie I like a king.’

KING HARRY

’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

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.

He puts on Erpingham’s cloak

Brothers both,

Commend me to the princes in our camp.

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 HARRY No, my good knight. Go with my brothers to my lords of England. I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company.

ERPINGHAM The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry.

KING HARRY

God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak’st cheerfully.

Exeunt all but King Harry

Enter Pistol ⌈to him⌉

PISTOL Qui vous là?

KING HARRY A friend.

PISTOL

Discuss unto me: art thou officer,

Or art thou base, common, and popular?

KING HARRY I am a gentleman of a company.

PISTOL Trail’st thou the puissant pike?

KING HARRY Even so. What are you?

PISTOL

As good a gentleman as the Emperor.

KING HARRY 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,

Of parents good, of fist most valiant.

I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heartstring

I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?

KING HARRY Harry le roi.

PISTOL Leroi? A Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?

KING HARRY No, I am a Welshman.

PISTOL Know’st thou Fluellen?

KING HARRY Yes.

PISTOL

Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate

Upon Saint Davy’s day.

KING HARRY Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.

PISTOL Art thou his friend?

KING HARRY And his kinsman too.

PISTOL The fico for thee then.

KING HARRY I thank you. God be with you.

PISTOL My name is Pistol called.

KING HARRY It sorts well with your fierceness.

Exit Pistol Enter Captains Fluellen and Gower ⌈severally⌉. King Harry stands apart

GOWER Captain Fluellen!

FLUELLEN So! In the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and ancient 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, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-babble 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.

GOWER Why, the enemy is loud. You hear him all night.

FLUELLEN If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? In your own conscience now?