Yet, as we are, we fay, we will not fhun it-
So tell your mafter-

There is fomething extremely fine in Henry's reply to the French gafconading taunt above. It is uncommon to meet with fo much carelessness and courage in the fame character-There is no fuch defcription in hiftory, nor have many people, probably, ever been acquainted with it among the living manners of men; and yet the reprefentation of it appears to be fo perfectly natural, that we must greatly admire the talents of a writer, who could thus realize, in effect, a mere idea,

The bravery of Henry fcorned to deny the condition of his troops, either with regard to their health or numbers: thefe circumftances the enemy pretended to have been acquainted with already, or were determined to make an experiment of, at leaft; he therefore openly acknowledges the truth of his weak fituation; and this with the fame ease and humour, as he would have delivered himself to Falstaff, had he been his aid-du-camp for the day.

Upon his royal face there is no note,

How dread an army have enrounded him *;

But, at the fame time, he most refolutely declares his purpose of trying the event, at every hazard of life, claim, and liberty.

The contemptuous farcafms he throws out, in this fpeech, against the French nation, befides fhewing an admirable temper and compofure of mind in fuch difficult circumftances, convey alfo an apt repartee to the scornful infolence of the Dauphin, who, in return to Henry's demanding his right of fucceffion to the crown of France, fent him a parcel of tennis-balls to play with, in allufion to the flight repute of his former life and manners. Pertness is impertinence; but repartee has the lex talionis, or law of retaliation, on its fide.

Shakespeare has a great refemblance to Ariofto, whofe ftile had a mixture of humour, with fublimity in it. The late ingenious Mr. Hawkins fays of the latter, "His heroes are full of merriment in the "midst of danger, and he feldom defcribes a battle, without a jeft."

SCENE 11.

The fame magnanimity of character in Henry, is difplayed throughout this Play. One of the inftances of it we may fee in this Scene, out of which alfo fome other things worthy of notice may be picked up. The Reader will mark them as he peruses, The English camp at Agincourt.

Henry and Gloucefter.

Henry. Glo'fter, 'tis true, that we are in great danger;
The greater, therefore, fhould our courage be.

Enter Bedford.

Good-morrow, brother Bedford-God Almighty!
There is fome foul of goodness in things evil,
Would man obfervingly difil it out;

For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful, and good hufbandry.
Besides, they are our outward confciences,
And preachers to us all; admonishing,
That we fhould drefs us fairly for our end.
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 foft pillow for that good white head,
Were better than a churlish turf of France.

Erpinglam. Not fo, ny liege; this lodging likes me better;
Since I may fay, now lie i like a king.

H. 'Tis good for men to love their prefent pain,

Upon example; fo the fpirit is eafed ;

And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt,

The organs, though defanét and dead before,

Break up their drowfy grave, and newly move
With called flough, and freth legerity.

Saugh. The fin of a fnake, the cafting of which was thought formerly to renew its vigour,

Lend

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good morrow to them, and anon,
Defire them all to my pavilion.

Gloucefler. We fhall, my liege.
Erpingham. Shall I attend your grace ?
Henry. No, my good knight,

Go with my brothers to my lords of England,
I and my bofom muft debate awhile,

And then I would no other company.

Erpingbam. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
Henry. God a-mercy, old heart, thou speak'ft chearfully.

SCENE IV.

And again, his excellent compofure of mind is manifefted further, in this Scene; where he answers the challenges of the guards going their rounds, but without revealing himself. I fhall here prefent the intire paffage to the Reader, referring, as in the former instance, the feveral parts of it which deferve obfervation, to his own apprehenfion.

Henry going out, enter Bates and Williams, two Soldiers :

Williams. Who goes there?

Henry. A friend.

Williams. Under what Captain serve you?

Henry. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham,

Williams. A good old commander, and a moft kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our estate ?

Henry. Even as men wrecked upon a fand, that look to be washed off the next tide.

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king?

Henry. No; nor is it meet he should; for, though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I am-The violet fmells to him, as it doth to me; all his fenfes have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakednefs he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing; therefore, when he fees reafon of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the fame relish as ours are; yet in reafon no man fhould poffefs him with any appearance of fear, left he, by fhewing it, thould dishearten his

army.

Bates.

T

Bates. He may fhew what outward courage he will; but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could with himself in the Thames up to the neck; and fo I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, fo we were quit here.

Henry. By my troth, I will fpeak my confcience of the king ; I think he would not wish himself any where, but where he is.

Bates. Then would he were here alone; fo fhould he be fure to be ranfomed, and many poor men's lives faved.

Henry. I dare fay you love him not fo ill to wish him here alone, however you speak this to feel other men's minds. Methinks, I could not die any where fo contented, as in the king's company; his caufe being juft, and his quarrel honourable,

Williams. That's more than we know.

Bates. Ay, or more than we should feek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the king's fubjects; if his caufe be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us,

Williams. But if the caufe be not good, the king himself bath a heavy reckoning to make; when all thofe legs, and arms, and heads, chopped off in a battle, fhall join together at the latter day, and cry all, we died at fuch a place; fome fwearing, fome crying for a furgeon, fome upon their wives left poor behind them, fome upon the debts they owe, fome upon their children rawly left. I am afeared there are few die well, that fall in battle; for how can they charitably difpofe of any thing, when blood is their argument? Now, if thefe men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king, that led them to it, whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.

Henry. So, if a fon that is fent by his father about merchandize, do fall into fome lewd action, and mifcarry, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, fhould be impofed upon the father that fent him; or, if a fervant under his mafter's command, transporting a fum of money, be affailed by robbers, and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the bufinefs of the mafter the author of the fervant's damnation. But this is not fo-The king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his foldiers, the father of his fon, nor the master of his fervant; for they purpose not their deaths, when they purpofe their fervices. Befides, there is no king, be his cause never fo fpotlefs, if it come to the arbitrament of words, can try it with all unfpotted foldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; fome of beguiling virgins with the broken feals of perjury; fome making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bofom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if thefe men have defeated the law, and out-run native punishment, though they can out-ftrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle, war is his vengeance; fo that herein men are punifhed, for before-breach of the king's law, in the king's quarrel

ROW

now Where they feared death, they have borne life away; and where they would be fafe, they perifh. Then, if they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of their damnation, than he was before guilty of thofe impieties for which they are now vifited. Every fubject's duty is the king's, but every fubject's foul is his own. Therefore thould every foldier, in the wars, do as every fick man, in his bed, wath every moth out of his confcience; and, dying fo, death is to him an advantage; or, not dying, the time was bleffedly loft, wherein fuch preparation was gained; and to him that escapes, it were not fin to think that, making God fo free an offer, he let him out-live that day to fee his greatnefs, and to teach others how they should prepare.

Williams. 'Tis certain that every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his own head; the king is not to answer for it.

In the continuation of this Scene, Williams quarrels with the king, ftill unknown, and they exchange gages with each other, to fight on their next interview. Henry does all this in fport; and I fhould not have brought it forward to the Reader's view, but that this particular is alluded to, juft now, in the Sixteenth Scene of this Act.

SCENE V:

The following beautiful fpeech is replete with fine reflection, rich language, and poetical imagery. It immediately follows the above dialogue, when the foldiers quit the Scene, and is a meditation naturally arifing from the argument there difcuffed.

Henry folus.

Upon the king! let us our lives, our fouls,
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and
Our fins, lay on the king; he must bear all.
O hard condition, and twin-born with greatnefs,
Subject to breath of every fool, whofe fenfe
No more can feel, but his own wringing!
What infinite heart-ease muft kings neglect,
That private men enjoy! And what have kings,
That private have not too, fave ceremony ?
Save general ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of God art thou, that sufferest more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? What are thy comings in ?

O ceremony,