This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :

And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Enter GoWER.

Gow. My sov'reign lord, bestow yourself with speed;
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.

K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now! [Tucket sounds.

Enter MONTJOY and ATTENDANTS.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king
Harry,

If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow.

K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now?

Mont. The Constable of France.

K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back;
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones..
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man, that once did sell the lion's skin

While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.—
Let me speak proudly;-Tell the Constable,
We are but warriors for the working day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field,
And time hath worn us into slovenry;

But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim:
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes; for they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads,
And turn them out of service.—

Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald;
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints:
Which, if they have, as I will leave'em to them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.

Mont. I shall, King Harry, and so fare thee well: Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

[Exit MONTJOY, with ATTENDANTS.
K. Hen. Now on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof,—
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts, from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument;
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest,

That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you:
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war.-And you, good yeo

men,

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.—
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!

[Charge, Shouts, Cannon, &c.]

Exeunt.

King of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowledge!

Bur. If the English had any apprehension, they

would run away.

Dau. That they lack; for, if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.

Const. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.

Dau. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten apples! You may as well say,—that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

Bur. 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 great meals of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.

Const. Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we about it?

Dau. I stay but for my guard :-On, to the field; I will the banner from a trumpet take,

And use it for my haste. Come, come away!
The sun is high; and we out-wear the day.

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.—Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

KING HENRY'S Tent.

A March.

Enter GLOSTER, Bedford, Exeter, WestmoreLAND, FLUELLEN, and all the ENGLISH ARMY.

Glost. Where is the king?

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle.

F

But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.

Enter EXEter.

Exe. The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.

K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? Thrice, within this hour,

I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting;
From helmet to the spur, all blood he was.

Exe. In which array (brave soldier !) doth he lie,
Larding the plain: and by his bloody side
(Yokefellow to his honour-owing wounds),
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.

Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face,
And cries aloud,-" Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heav'n;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast;
As, in this glorious and well-foughten field,
We kept together in our chivalry!"

Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up:
He smil❜d me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says,-" Dear, my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign."

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd

Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not so much of man in me,

But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

K. Hen. I blame you not;

For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

[Charge-Cannon

But hark! what new alarum is this same ?
The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men;
Then every soldier kill his prisoners:

Give the word through.

[Charge, &c.-Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Another Part of the Field.

Alarums continued.

Enter FLUELLEN, and GOWER.

Flu. Kill the poys, and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the law of arms. "Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offer'd in the 'orld in your conscience now, is it not?

Gow. 'Tis certain, the French have not left a boy alive; and the cowardly rascals that ran away from the battle, have done this slaughter: besides, they have burned, and carried away, all that was in the king's tent wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!

Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower: What call you the town's name, where Alexander the pig was porn?

Gow. Alexander the great.

Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.

Gow. I think Alexander the great was born in Macedon; his father was called-Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

Flu. I think it is in Macedon, where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of