So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, 'squires, The names of those their nobles that lie dead,- The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures; John duke of Alençon; Antony duke of Brabant, The brother to the duke of Burgundy; And Edward duke of Bar: of lusty earls, Grandpré, and Roussi, Fauconberg, and Foix, Where is the number of our English dead? [Herald presents another Paper. Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk, But five and twenty. O God! thy arm was here, Ascribe we all.-When, without stratagem, K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the village: And be it death proclaimed through our host, To boast of this, or take that praise from God, Which is his only. Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how many is killed? K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgment, That God fought for us. Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot. Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum. The dead with charity enclos'd in clay, And then to Calais; and to England then, Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. ACT V. [Exeunt. Enter CHORUS. Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, That I may prompt them: and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, sea, Which, like a mighty whiffler' 'fore the king So swift a pace hath thought, that even now 8 second. WITH Wives,] With," wanting in the first folio, was supplied in the 9 a mighty wHIffler-] Douce correctly states that a "whiffler" is properly a fifer. "In process of time (he adds) the word whiffler,' which had always been used in the sense of fifer, came to signify any person who went before in a procession." "Illustrations of Shakespeare," vol. i. p. 507. You may imagine him upon Blackheath; Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him! much more, and much more cause, Invites the king of England's stay at home: 1 To order peace between them; and omit All the occurrences,] The construction is not easy, although the meaning is evident:-As yet the lamentations of the French invite or induce the king of England to remain in his own country: omit (understood) the coming of the emperor Sigismond, to procure peace between England and France, and omit besides all the occurrences, &c. SCENE I. France. An English Court of Guard. Enter FLUELLEN and GoWER. Gow. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint Davy's day is past. Flu. There is occasions, and causes, why and wherefore, in all things: I will tell you, as my friend, captain Gower. The rascally, scald, beggarly, lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and yourself, and all the world, know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention. with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey cock. Enter PISTOL. Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkeycocks.-Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Got pless you! Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy lowsy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats. VOL. IV. 0 0 Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it? Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die. Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got's will is. I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. [Striking him again.] You called me yesterday, mountain-squire, but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree2. I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. Gow. Enough, captain: you have astonished him. Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days.-Pite, I pray you; it is goot for your green wound, and your ploody coxcomb. Pist. Must I bite? Flu. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question too, and ambiguities. Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge. I eat, and eat I swear Flu. Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leck? there is not enough leek to swear by. Pist. Quiet thy cudgel: thou dost see, I eat. Flu. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at 'em; that is all. Pist. Good. Flu. Ay, leeks is goot.-Hold you; there is a groat to heal your pate. 2 a squire of low degree.] An expression, derived from the title of an old popular romance, called "The Squyre of Lowe Degre," printed by W. Copland, formerly among Garrick's Plays in the British Museum, but now properly separated from that collection, and bound by itself. It was reprinted by Ritson in vol. iii. of his Collection. He was of opinion that it was of English origin, and that the author was not indebted to any foreign source for the story, or the treatment of it. |