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twg_000000018100 | of you at betting? PISTOL. Base is the slave that pays. NYM. That now I will have: thats the humour of it. PISTOL. As manhood shall compound. Push home. [_They draw._] BARDOLPH. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, Ill kill him; by this sword, I will. PISTOL. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018101 | BARDOLPH. Corporal Nym, and thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up. NYM. I shall have my eight shillings I won from you at betting? PISTOL. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018102 | Ill live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me. Is not this just? For I shall sutler be Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand. NYM. I shall have my noble? PISTOL. In cash most justly paid. NYM. Well, then, thats the humour oft. Enter Hostess. HOSTESS. As ever you come of women, come in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018103 | quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shakd of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. NYM. The King hath run bad humours on the knight; thats the even of it. PISTOL. Nym, thou hast spoke the right. His heart is fracted and corroborate. NYM. The King is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018104 | a good king; but it must be as it may; he passes some humours and careers. PISTOL. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Southampton. A council-chamber. Enter Exeter, Bedford and Westmorland. BEDFORD. Fore God, his Grace is bold, to trust these traitors. EXETER. They shall be apprehended by and by. WESTMORLAND. How smooth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018105 | and even they do bear themselves! As if allegiance in their bosoms sat Crowned with faith and constant loyalty. BEDFORD. The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of. EXETER. Nay, but the man that was his bed-fellow, Whom he hath dulld and cloyd with gracious favours, That he should, for a foreign | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018106 | purse, so sell His sovereigns life to death and treachery. Trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Scroop, Cambridge and Grey. KING HENRY. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham, And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts. Think you not that the powers we bear with us Will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018107 | cut their passage through the force of France, Doing the execution and the act For which we have in head assembled them? SCROOP. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. KING HENRY. I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded We carry not a heart with us from hence That grows not in a fair consent | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018108 | with ours, Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us. CAMBRIDGE. Never was monarch better feard and lovd Than is your Majesty. Theres not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government. GREY. True; those that were your fathers enemies Have steepd their | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018109 | galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal. KING HENRY. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness, And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner than quittance of desert and merit According to the weight and worthiness. SCROOP. So service shall with steeled sinews toil, And labour shall refresh itself with hope, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018110 | To do your Grace incessant services. KING HENRY. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter, Enlarge the man committed yesterday, That raild against our person. We consider It was excess of wine that set him on, And on his more advice we pardon him. SCROOP. Thats mercy, but too much security. Let him be punishd, sovereign, lest example Breed, by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018111 | his sufferance, more of such a kind. KING HENRY. O, let us yet be merciful. CAMBRIDGE. So may your Highness, and yet punish too. GREY. Sir, You show great mercy if you give him life After the taste of much correction. KING HENRY. Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons gainst this poor wretch! If | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018112 | little faults, proceeding on distemper, Shall not be winkd at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chewd, swallowd, and digested, Appear before us? Well yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care And tender preservation of our person, Would have him punishd. And now to our French causes. Who are the late | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018113 | commissioners? CAMBRIDGE. I one, my lord. Your Highness bade me ask for it today. SCROOP. So did you me, my liege. GREY. And I, my royal sovereign. KING HENRY. Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours; There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, sir knight, Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours. Read them, and know I know your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018114 | worthiness. My Lord of Westmorland, and uncle Exeter, We will aboard tonight.Why, how now, gentlemen! What see you in those papers that you lose So much complexion?Look ye, how they change! Their cheeks are paper.Why, what read you there, That have so cowarded and chasd your blood Out of appearance? CAMBRIDGE. I do confess my fault, And do submit me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018115 | to your Highness mercy. GREY, SCROOP. To which we all appeal. KING HENRY. The mercy that was quick in us but late, By your own counsel is suppressd and killd. You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy, For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. See you, my princes and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018116 | my noble peers, These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here, You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with an appertinents Belonging to his honour; and this man Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspird And sworn unto the practices of France To kill us here in Hampton; to the which This knight, no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018117 | less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature! Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knewst the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coind me into gold, Wouldst thou have practisd on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018118 | me for thy use, May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? Tis so strange, That, though the truth of it stands off as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to eithers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018119 | purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder; And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence; And other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018120 | and bungle up damnation With patches, colours, and with forms being fetchd From glistring semblances of piety. But he that temperd thee bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. If that same demon that hath gulld thee thus Should with his lion gait walk the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018121 | whole world, He might return to vasty Tartar back, And tell the legions, I can never win A soul so easy as that Englishmans. O, how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful? Why, so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned? Why, so didst thou. Come they of noble family? Why, so didst thou. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018122 | Seem they religious? Why, so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, Garnishd and deckd in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018123 | thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To mark the full-fraught man and best indued With some suspicion. I will weep for thee; For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like Another fall of man. Their faults are open. Arrest them to the answer of the law; And God acquit them of their practices! EXETER. I arrest thee | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018124 | of high treason, by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. SCROOP. Our purposes God justly hath discoverd, And I repent my fault more than my death, Which I beseech | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018125 | your Highness to forgive, Although my body pay the price of it. CAMBRIDGE. For me, the gold of France did not seduce, Although I did admit it as a motive The sooner to effect what I intended. But God be thanked for prevention, Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me. GREY. Never did | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018126 | faithful subject more rejoice At the discovery of most dangerous treason Than I do at this hour joy oer myself, Prevented from a damned enterprise. My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. KING HENRY. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence. You have conspird against our royal person, Joind with an enemy proclaimd, and from his coffers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018127 | Received the golden earnest of our death; Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, His princes and his peers to servitude, His subjects to oppression and contempt, And his whole kingdom into desolation. Touching our person seek we no revenge; But we our kingdoms safety must so tender, Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws We | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018128 | do deliver you. Get you therefore hence, Poor miserable wretches, to your death, The taste whereof God of his mercy give You patience to endure, and true repentance Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence. [_Exeunt Cambridge, Scroop and Grey, guarded._] Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. We doubt not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018129 | of a fair and lucky war, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous treason lurking in our way To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way. Then forth, dear countrymen! Let us deliver Our puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to sea! The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018130 | signs of war advance! No king of England, if not king of France! [_Flourish. Exeunt._] SCENE III. London. Before a tavern. Enter Pistol, Nym, Bardolph, Boy and Hostess. HOSTESS. Prithee, honey, sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines. PISTOL. No; for my manly heart doth yearn. Bardolph, be blithe; Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins; Boy, bristle thy courage up; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018131 | for Falstaff he is dead, And we must yearn therefore. BARDOLPH. Would I were with him, wheresomeer he is, either in heaven or in hell! HOSTESS. Nay, sure, hes not in hell. Hes in Arthurs bosom, if ever man went to Arthurs bosom. A made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child. A parted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018132 | even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a babbled of green fields. How now, Sir John! quoth I; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018133 | what, man! be o good cheer. So a cried out, God, God, God! three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of God; I hopd there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a bade me lay more clothes on his feet. I put my hand into the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018134 | bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone. Then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone. NYM. They say he cried out of sack. HOSTESS. Ay, that a did. BARDOLPH. And of women. HOSTESS. Nay, that a did not. BOY. Yes, that a did; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018135 | said they were devils incarnate. HOSTESS. A could never abide carnation; twas a colour he never liked. BOY. A said once, the devil would have him about women. HOSTESS. A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talkd of the whore of Babylon. BOY. Do you not remember, a saw a flea stick upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018136 | Bardolphs nose, and a said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire? BARDOLPH. Well, the fuel is gone that maintaind that fire. Thats all the riches I got in his service. NYM. Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton. PISTOL. Come, lets away. My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattels and my movables. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018137 | Let senses rule; the word is Pitch and Pay. Trust none; For oaths are straws, mens faiths are wafer-cakes And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck; Therefore, _Caveto_ be thy counsellor. Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms, Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! BOY. And thats but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018138 | unwholesome food, they say. PISTOL. Touch her soft mouth, and march. BARDOLPH. Farewell, hostess. [_Kissing her._] NYM. I cannot kiss; that is the humour of it; but, adieu. PISTOL. Let housewifery appear. Keep close, I thee command. HOSTESS. Farewell; adieu. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. France. The Kings palace. Flourish. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the Dukes of Berry and Brittany, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018139 | the Constable and others. FRENCH KING. Thus comes the English with full power upon us, And more than carefully it us concerns To answer royally in our defences. Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Brittany, Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch, To line and new repair our towns of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018140 | war With men of courage and with means defendant; For England his approaches makes as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf. It fits us then to be as provident As fears may teach us out of late examples Left by the fatal and neglected English Upon our fields. DAUPHIN. My most redoubted father, It is most meet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018141 | we arm us gainst the foe; For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, Though war nor no known quarrel were in question, But that defences, musters, preparations, Should be maintaind, assembled, and collected, As were a war in expectation. Therefore, I say, tis meet we all go forth To view the sick and feeble parts of France. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018142 | let us do it with no show of fear; No, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance; For, my good liege, she is so idly kingd, Her sceptre so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, That fear attends her not. CONSTABLE. O peace, Prince Dauphin! You are too much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018143 | mistaken in this king. Question your Grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with noble counsellors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly; As gardeners do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018144 | with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring and be most delicate. DAUPHIN. Well, tis not so, my Lord High Constable; But though we think it so, it is no matter. In cases of defence tis best to weigh The enemy more mighty than he seems, So the proportions of defence are filld; Which, of a weak and niggardly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018145 | projection, Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting A little cloth. FRENCH KING. Think we King Harry strong; And, Princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. The kindred of him hath been fleshd upon us; And he is bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. Witness our too much memorable shame | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018146 | When Cressy battle fatally was struck, And all our princes captivd by the hand Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales; Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain standing, Up in the air, crownd with the golden sun, Saw his heroical seed, and smild to see him, Mangle the work of nature and deface The patterns that by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018147 | God and by French fathers Had twenty years been made. This is a stem Of that victorious stock; and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. Ambassadors from Harry King of England Do crave admittance to your Majesty. FRENCH KING. Well give them present audience. Go, and bring them. [_Exeunt Messenger and certain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018148 | Lords._] You see this chase is hotly followd, friends. DAUPHIN. Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head. Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018149 | sin As self-neglecting. Enter Exeter. FRENCH KING. From our brother of England? EXETER. From him; and thus he greets your Majesty: He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, longs To him and to his heirs; namely, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018150 | the crown And all wide-stretched honours that pertain By custom and the ordinance of times Unto the crown of France. That you may know Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim Pickd from the worm-holes of long-vanishd days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion rakd, He sends you this most memorable line, In every branch truly demonstrative; Willing you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018151 | overlook this pedigree; And when you find him evenly derivd From his most famd of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger. FRENCH KING. Or else what follows? EXETER. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018152 | rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, That, if requiring fail, he will compel; And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head Turning | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018153 | the widows tears, the orphans cries, The dead mens blood, the pining maidens groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threatning, and my message; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too. FRENCH KING. For us, we will consider of this further. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018154 | Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England. DAUPHIN. For the Dauphin, I stand here for him. What to him from England? EXETER. Scorn and defiance. Slight regard, contempt, And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an if your fathers Highness Do not, in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018155 | grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty, Hell call you to so hot an answer of it That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance. DAUPHIN. Say, if my father render fair return, It is against my will; for I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018156 | desire Nothing but odds with England. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls. EXETER. Hell make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe; And, be assurd, youll find a difference, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018157 | greener days And these he masters now. Now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain. That you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France. FRENCH KING. Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full. [_Flourish._] EXETER. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018158 | footed in this land already. FRENCH KING. You shall be soon dispatchd with fair conditions. A night is but small breath and little pause To answer matters of this consequence. [_Exeunt._] ACT III Flourish. Enter Chorus. CHORUS. Thus with imagind wing our swift scene flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018159 | The well-appointed king at Hampton pier Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. Play with your fancies; and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give To sounds confusd; behold the threaden sails, Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018160 | through the furrowd sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on the inconstant billows dancing; For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018161 | old women, Either past or not arrivd to pith and puissance. For who is he, whose chin is but enrichd With one appearing hair, that will not follow These culld and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose the ambassador | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018162 | from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, [_Alarum, and chambers go off._] And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018163 | with your mind. [_Exit._] SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur. Alarum. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloucester and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders. KING HENRY. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace theres nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018164 | in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favourd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow oerwhelm it As fearfully as does a galled rock Oerhang and jutty his confounded | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018165 | base, Swilld with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheathd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018166 | their swords for lack of argument. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you calld fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018167 | your breeding, which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The games afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry, God for Harry! England and Saint George! [_Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018168 | off._] SCENE II. The same. Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol and Boy. BARDOLPH. On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach! NYM. Pray thee, corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too hot; that is the very plain-song of it. PISTOL. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018169 | The plain-song is most just, for humours do abound. Knocks go and come; Gods vassals drop and die; And sword and shield, In bloody field, Doth win immortal fame. BOY. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. PISTOL. And I. If wishes would prevail with me, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018170 | My purpose should not fail with me, But thither would I hie. BOY. As duly, But not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough. Enter Fluellen. FLUELLEN. Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions! [_Driving them forward._] PISTOL. Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould. Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, Abate thy rage, great | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018171 | Duke! Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck! NYM. These be good humours! Your honour wins bad humours. [_Exeunt all but Boy._] BOY. As young as I am, I have observd these three swashers. I am boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018172 | three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liverd and red-facd; by the means whereof a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018173 | the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest a should be thought a coward. But his few bad words are matchd with as few good deeds; for a never broke any mans head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018174 | a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel. I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with mens pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers; which makes much against my manhood, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018175 | if I should take from anothers pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. [_Exit._] Enter Gower and Fluellen. GOWER. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines. The Duke of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018176 | Gloucester would speak with you. FLUELLEN. To the mines! Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, the athversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018177 | four yard under the countermines. By Cheshu, I think a will plow up all, if there is not better directions. GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i faith. FLUELLEN. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? GOWER. I think it be. FLUELLEN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018178 | By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. Enter Macmorris and Captain Jamy. GOWER. Here a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him. FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018179 | is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition and knowledge in the anchient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. JAMY. I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen. FLUELLEN. God-den to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018180 | your worship, good Captain James. GOWER. How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the mines? Have the pioneers given oer? MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la! tish ill done! The work ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my fathers soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over. I would have blowed up | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018181 | the town, so Chrish save me, la! in an hour. O, tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018182 | you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline; that is the point. JAMY. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath: and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, marry. MACMORRIS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018183 | It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the Dukes. It is no time to discourse. The town is beseechd, and the trumpet call us to the breach, and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing. Tis shame for us all. So God sa | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018184 | me, tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa me, la! JAMY. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, Ill de gud service, or Ill lig i the grund for it; ay, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018185 | or go to death; and Ill payt as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question tween you tway. FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation MACMORRIS. Of my nation! What ish my nation? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018186 | Ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation? FLUELLEN. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018187 | a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities. MACMORRIS. I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. GOWER. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. JAMY. Ah! thats a foul fault. [_A parley sounded._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018188 | GOWER. The town sounds a parley. FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Before the gates. The Governor and some citizens on the walls; the English forces below. Enter King | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018189 | Henry and his train. KING HENRY. How yet resolves the governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit; Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves, Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018190 | battery once again, I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the fleshd soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh fair virgins and your flowring infants. What is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018191 | it then to me, if impious War, Arrayd in flames like to the prince of fiends, Do with his smirchd complexion all fell feats Enlinkd to waste and desolation? What ist to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018192 | hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people, Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command, Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018193 | grace Oerblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. If not, why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dashd to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018194 | the mad mothers with their howls confusd Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herods bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid, Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroyd? GOVERNOR. Our expectation hath this day an end. The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, Returns us that his powers are yet not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018195 | ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; For we no longer are defensible. KING HENRY. Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, And fortify it strongly gainst the French. Use mercy to them | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018196 | all. For us, dear uncle, The winter coming on, and sickness growing Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest; Tomorrow for the march are we addrest. Flourish. The King and his train enter the town. SCENE IV. The French Kings palace. Enter Katharine and Alice, an old Gentlewoman. KATHARINE. _Alice, tu | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018197 | as t en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage._ ALICE. _Un peu, madame._ KATHARINE. _Je te prie, menseignez; il faut que japprenne parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en anglais?_ ALICE. _La main? Elle est appele_ de hand. KATHARINE. De hand. _Et les doigts?_ ALICE. _Les doigts? Ma foi, joublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018198 | quils sont appels_ de fingres; _oui_, de fingres. KATHARINE. _La main_, de hand; _les doigts_, de fingres. _Je pense que je suis le bon colier; jai gagn deux mots danglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles?_ ALICE. _Les ongles? Nous les appelons_ de nails. KATHARINE. De nails. _coutez; dites-moi, si je parle bien:_ de hand, de fingres, _et_ de nails. ALICE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018199 | _Cest bien dit, madame; il est fort bon anglais._ KATHARINE. _Dites-moi langlais pour le bras._ ALICE. De arm, _madame._ KATHARINE. _Et le coude?_ ALICE. Delbow. KATHARINE. Delbow. _Je men fais la rptition de tous les mots que vous mavez appris ds prsent._ ALICE. _Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense._ KATHARINE. _Excusez-moi, Alice. coutez:_ dhand, de fingres, de nails, | 60 | gutenberg |
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