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About this text

  • Title: Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: James Mardock
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-409-7

    Copyright James Mardock. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: James Mardock
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)

    Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham
    with all his Hoast: Salisbury, and
    2240Glouc. Where is the King?
    Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Bat-
    West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thou-
    2245Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh.
    Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes.
    God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge:
    If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen;
    Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,
    2250My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
    And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu.
    Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee:
    And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
    For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour.
    2255Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day.
    Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse,
    Princely in both.
    Enter the King.
    West. O that we now had here
    2260But one ten thousand of those men in England,
    That doe no worke to day.
    King. What's he that wishes so?
    My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin:
    If we are markt to dye, we are enow
    2265To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue,
    The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
    Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
    By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold,
    Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost:
    2270It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare;
    Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
    But if it be a sinne to couet Honor,
    I am the most offending Soule aliue.
    No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England:
    2275Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor,
    As one man more me thinkes would share from me,
    For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more:
    Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast,
    That he which hath no stomack to this fight,
    2280Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made,
    And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse:
    We would not dye in that mans companie,
    That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs.
    This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian:
    2285He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
    And rowse him at the Name of Crispian.
    He that shall see this day, and liue old age,
    Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours,
    2290And say, to morrow is Saint Cri{s}pian.
    Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres:
    Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot:
    But hee'le remember, with aduantages,
    What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names,
    2295Familiar in his mouth as household words,
    Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
    Be in their flowing Cups freshly remembred.
    This story shall the good man teach his sonne:
    2300And Crispine Cri{s}pian shall ne're goe by,
    From this day to the ending of the World,
    But we in it shall be remembred;
    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
    For he to day that sheds his blood with me,
    2305Shall be my brother: be he ne're so vile,
    This day shall gentle his Condition.
    And Gentlemen in England, now a bed,
    Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not here;
    And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes,
    2310That fought with vs vpon Saint Crispines day.
    Enter Salisbury.
    Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed:
    The French are brauely in their battailes set,
    And will with all expedience charge on vs.
    2315King. All things are ready, if our minds be so.
    West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now.
    King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from England,
    West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone,
    2320Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile.
    King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men:
    Which likes me better, then to wish vs one.
    You know your places: God be with you all.
    Tucket. Enter Montioy.
    2325Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry,
    If for thy Ransome thou wilt now compound,
    Before thy most assured Ouerthrow:
    For certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe,
    Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy
    2330The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind
    Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules
    May make a peacefull and a sweet retyre
    From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies
    Must lye and fester.
    2335King. Who hath sent thee now?
    Mont. The Constable of France.
    King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back:
    Bid them atchieue me, and then sell my bones.
    Good God, why should they mock poore fellowes thus?
    2340The man that once did sell the Lyons skin
    While the beast liu'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
    A many of our bodyes shall no doubt
    Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust
    Shall witnesse liue in Brasse of this dayes worke.
    2345And those that leaue their valiant bones in France,
    Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills,
    They shall be fam'd: for there the Sun shall greet them,
    And draw their honors reeking vp to Heauen,
    Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme,
    2350The smell whereof shall breed a Plague in France.
    Marke then abounding valour in our English:
    That being dead, like to the bullets crasing,
    Breake out into a second course of mischiefe,
    Killing in relapse of Mortalitie.
    2355Let me speake prowdly: Tell the Constable,
    We are but Warriors for the working day:
    Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht
    With raynie Marching in the painefull field.
    There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast:
    2360Good argument (I hope) we will not flye:
    And time hath worne vs into slouenrie.
    But by the Masse, our hearts are in the trim:
    And my poore Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night,
    They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will pluck
    2365The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads,
    And turne them out of seruice. If they doe this,
    As if God please, they shall; my Ransome then
    Will soone be leuyed.
    Herauld, saue thou thy labour:
    2370Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld,
    They shall haue none, I sweare, but these my ioynts:
    Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them,
    Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable.
    Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
    2375Thou neuer shalt heare Herauld any more.
    King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a
    Enter Yorke.
    Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge
    2380The leading of the Vaward.
    King. Take it, braue Yorke.
    Now Souldiers march away,
    And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.