2237Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham 2238with all his host, Salisbury, and 2239Westmorland. Where is the king?
The king himself is rode to view their
2242battle.
Of fighting men they have full threescore
2244thousand.
There's five to one, besides they all are fresh.
God's arm strike with us! 'Tis a fearful odds.
4.3.62247God b'wi'you, princes all. I'll to my charge.
4.3.72248If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
4.3.82249Then joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford,
4.3.92250My dear lord Gloucester, and my good lord Exeter,
4.3.102251And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu.
Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee.
[To Salisbury] Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today.
4.3.132253And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
4.3.142254For thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.
[Exit Salisbury.]
He is as full of valor as of kindness,
Princely in both. Oh, that we now had here
4.3.172260But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work today. What's he that wishes so?
4.3.192263My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin,
4.3.222266The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
4.3.232267God's will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
4.3.262270It earns me not if men my garments wear;
4.3.272271Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
4.3.302274No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
4.3.312275God's peace, I would not lose so great an honor
4.3.322276As one man more methinks would share from me
4.3.332277For the best hope I have. Oh, do not wish one more.
4.3.342278Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host
4.3.352279That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
4.3.362280Let him depart. His passport shall be made
4.3.372281And crowns for convoy put into his purse.
4.3.392283That fears his fellowship to die with us.
4.3.402284This day is called the feast of Crispian.
4.3.412285He that outlives this day and comes safe home
4.3.422286Will stand a tiptoe when this day is named
4.3.442288He that shall see this day and live old age
4.3.452289Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors
4.3.472291Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
4.3.482292Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
4.3.502294What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
4.3.512295Familiar in his mouth as household words --
4.3.532297Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester --
4.3.542298Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
4.3.552299This story shall the good man teach his son,
4.3.572301From this day to the ending of the world,
4.3.592303We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
4.3.602304For he today that sheds his blood with me
4.3.612305Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
4.3.642308Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
4.3.652309And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
4.3.662310That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed.
4.3.682313The French are bravely in their battles set
4.3.692314And will with all expedience charge on us.
All things are ready if our minds be so.
Perish the man whose mind is backward now.
Thou dost not wish more help from England,
2318coz?
God's will, my liege, would you and I alone
4.3.742320Without more help could fight this royal battle!
Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men,
4.3.762322Which likes me better than to wish us one. --
4.3.772323You know your places. God be with you all.
2324Tucket. Enter Montjoy. Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
4.3.792326If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound
4.3.822329Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy
4.3.832330The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
4.3.842331Thy followers of repentance, that their souls
4.3.862333From off these fields where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must lie and fester. Who hath sent thee now?
The Constable of France.
I pray thee bear my former answer back:
4.3.902338Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
4.3.912339Good God, why should they mock poor fellows thus?
4.3.922340The man that once did sell the lion's skin
4.3.932341While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him.
4.3.952343Find native graves, upon the which I trust
4.3.962344Shall witness live in brass of this day's work.
4.3.972345And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
4.3.982346Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
4.3.992347They shall be famed, for there the sun shall greet them
4.3.1012349Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
4.3.1022350The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
4.3.1042352That being dead, like to the bullets crazing,
4.3.1112359There's not a piece of feather in our host --
4.3.1142362But by the mass, our hearts are in the trim,
4.3.1162364They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
4.3.1172365The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads
4.3.1182366And turn them out of service. If they do this,
4.3.1192367As, if God please, they shall, my ransom then
4.3.1212370Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald.
4.3.1222371They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints,
4.3.1232372Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
4.3.1242373Shall yield them little. Tell the constable.
I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well.
Exit.
I fear thou wilt once more come for a
2377ransom.
[Kneeling] My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
Take it, brave York.
2382-- Now soldiers, march away,
4.3.1312383And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day.