West. God's will! my liege, would you and
I alone,

Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five

thousand men ;

Which likes me better than to wish us one.

You know your places: God be with you all!

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee,

King Harry,

If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,

Before thy most assured overthrow:

For certainly thou art so near the gulf,

Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind

Thy followers of repentance; that their souls

May make a peaceful and a sweet retire

From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor

bodies

Must lie and fester.

K. Hen.

Who hath sent thee now?

Mont. The Constable of France.

K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer

back:

Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. Good God! why should they mock poor fellows

thus ?

The man that once did sell the lion's skin

While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him.

A many of our bodies shall no doubt

76. five thousand men; i.e. roundly, a host; it is not necessary to accuse Shakespeare

of miscalculation.

83. englutted, swallowed.
86. retire, retreat.

80

90

Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work :
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet
them,

And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark then abounding valour in our English,
That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.

Let me speak proudly: tell the constable
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host—
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly-
And time hath worn us into slovenry:
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers'
heads

And turn them out of service. If they do this,—
As, if God please, they shall,—my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy

labour;

Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald : They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;

96. native, i.e. English.

102. clime, air.

104. abounding; used with a consciousness of the (false) etymology from 'bound.'

Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.

Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee
well:

Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

[Exit. K. Hen. I fear thou 'lt once more come again for ransom.

Enter YORK.

York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward.

K. Hen. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers,

march away:

And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

130

Pist. Qualtitie caline custure me! a gentleman? what is thy name? discuss.

128. York. Edward, Duke of York, the Aumerle of Richard II. Holinshed mentions that he was appointed to lead the van, but not that he sought this honour. This was, however, described in almost identical words by Lydgate, and the tradition may have reached Shakespeare's ear.

3. Qualtitie caline custure me! Pistol, confronted with the Frenchman's 'gibberish,' caps

Art thou

it with an Irish refrain of somewhat similar sound, which we know to have been current in Elizabethan song-books. It is there written Calen o custure me,' or 'Callino casturame,'both phonetic reproductions of the Irish Colleen, oge astore,' young girl, my treasure. The Ff give calmie,' which the Camb. and other editors adopt. But it is more likely the Ff blundered in the strange word.

Fr. Sol. O Seigneur Dieu !

Pist. O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman : Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark; O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, Except, O signieur, thou do give to me

Egregious ransom.

Fr. Sol. O, prenez miséricorde! ayez pitié de moi !

Pist. Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys;

Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat

In drops of crimson blood.

Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d'échapper la force de ton bras?

Pist. Brass, cur!

Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat,
Offer'st me brass?

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moi !

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys? Come hither, boy: ask me this slave in French What is his name.

Boy. Écoutez: comment êtes-vous appelé ?

Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.

Boy. He says his name is Master Fer.

Pist. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him,

10

20

and ferret him: discuss the same in French unto 30 him.

Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.

Pist. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat.
Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur?

Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous

9. fox, the English broadsword.

13. moy, a measure (commonly of wheat); according to Douce 27 moys made 2 tons.

15. rim, midriff.

29. fer, probably a meaningless play upon Le Fer's

name.

29. firk, druh, beat.

faites vous prêt; car ce soldat ici est disposé tout
à cette heure de couper votre gorge.
Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy,
Peasant, unless thou give me

crowns;

crowns, brave

Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus.

Pist. What are his words?

Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of a good house; and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.

Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I The crowns will take.

Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il ?

Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier, néanmoins, pour les écus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

40

50

Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercîmens; et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et très distingué seigneur 60 d'Angleterre.

Pist. Expound unto me, boy.

Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.

Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me!

Boy. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [Exeunt 70 Pistol, and French Soldier.] I did never know