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About this text

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

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

    Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)

    The Life of Henry the Fift. 81
    vp with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Ge-
    neralls Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe a-
    1525mong foming Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonder-
    full to be thought on: but you must learne to know such
    slanders of the age, or else you may be maruellously mi-
    Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue
    1530hee is not the man that hee would gladly make shew to
    the World hee is: if I finde a hole in his Coat, I will tell
    him my minde: hearke you, the King is comming, and I
    must speake with him from the Pridge.

    Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his
    1535poore Souldiers.
    Flu. God plesse your Maiestie.
    King. How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge?
    Flu. I, so please your Maiestie: The Duke of Exeter
    ha's very gallantly maintain'd the Pridge; the French is
    1540gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and most praue
    passages: marry, th'athuersarie was haue possession of
    the Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of
    Exeter is Master of the Pridge: I can tell your Maiestie,
    the Duke is a praue man.
    1545King. What men haue you lost, Fluellen?
    Flu. The perdition of th'athuersarie hath beene very
    great, reasonnable great: marry for my part, I thinke the
    Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to be exe-
    cuted for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Maie-
    1550stie know the man: his face is all bubukles and whelkes,
    and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes at his
    nose, and it is like a coale of fire, sometimes plew, and
    sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's
    1555King. Wee would haue all such offendors so cut off:
    and we giue expresse charge, that in our Marches through
    the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from the Vil-
    lages; nothing taken, but pay'd for: none of the French
    vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language; for when
    1560Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the gentler
    Gamester is the soonest winner.

    Tucket. Enter Mountioy.
    Mountioy. You know me by my habit.
    King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of
    Mountioy. My Masters mind.
    King. Vnfold it.
    Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry
    of England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe:
    1570Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him,
    wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee
    thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full
    ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is im-
    periall: England shall repent his folly, see his weake-
    1575nesse, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore con-
    sider of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we
    haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we
    haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his petti-
    nesse would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is
    1580too poore; for th'effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his
    Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
    owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worth-
    lesse satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for
    conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose con-
    1585demnation is pronounc't: So farre my King and Master;
    so much my Office.

    King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie.
    Mount. Mountioy.
    King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe,
    1590And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now,
    But could be willing to march on to Callice,
    Without impeachment: for to say the sooth,
    Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much
    Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage,
    1595My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled,
    My numbers lessen'd: and those few I haue,
    Almost no better then so many French;
    Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald,
    I thought, vpon one payre of English Legges
    1600Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue me God,
    That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France
    Hath blowne that vice in me. I must repent:
    Goe therefore tell thy Master, heere I am;
    My Ransome, is this frayle and worthlesse Trunke;
    1605My Army, but a weake and sickly Guard:
    Yet God before, tell him we will come on,
    Though France himselfe, and such another Neighbor
    Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountioy.
    Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe.
    1610If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred,
    We shall your tawnie ground with your red blood
    Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well.
    The summe of all our Answer is but this:
    We would not seeke a Battaile as we are,
    1615Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it:
    So tell your Master.
    Mount. I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your High-
    Glouc. I hope they will not come vpon vs now.
    1620King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs:
    March to the Bridge, it now drawes toward night,
    Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our selues,
    And on to morrow bid them march away. Exeunt.

    Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs,
    1625Orleance, Dolphin, with others.

    Const. Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World:
    would it were day.
    Orleance. You haue an excellent Armour: but let my
    Horse haue his due.
    1630Const. It is the best Horse of Europe.
    Orleance. Will it neuer be Morning?
    Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Con-
    stable, you talke of Horse and Armour?
    Orleance. You are as well prouided of both, as any
    1635Prince in the World.
    Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change
    my Horse with any that treades but on foure postures:
    ch'ha: he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were
    hayres: le Cheual volante, the Pegasus, ches les narines de
    1640feu. When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he trots
    the ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest
    horne of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of
    Orleance. Hee's of the colour of the Nutmeg.
    1645Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beast
    for Perseus: hee is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Ele-
    ments of Earth and Water neuer appeare in him, but on-
    ly in patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts him: hee
    is indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call
    i Const. In-