Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Cry-God for Harry! England! and Saint George! [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off, within. Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy. Bard. 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. Pist. The plain-song is most just; for humours do abound: Knocks go and come; God's 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. Pist. And I: If wishes would prevail with me, 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. Flu. Up to the preach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions! [Driving them forward. Pist. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould! Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage! Abate thy rage, great duke! Good bawcock, bate thy rage! use lenity, sweet chuck! Nym. These be good humours!-your honour wins bad humours. [Exeunt NYM, PISTOL, and BARDOLPH, followed by FLUELLEN. For Boy. As young as I am, I have observed 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, three such antics do not amount to a man. Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced; 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 the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers lest 'a should be thought a coward: but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. 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 men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers: which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service: their villany goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. [Exit. Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following. Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloster would speak with you. Flu. To the mines! tell you the duke it is not so goot 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, th' athversary, you may discuss unto the duke, look you,—is digt himself four yard under the countermines: by Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better directions. Gow. The Duke of Gloster, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman,—a very valiant gentleman, i' faith. Flu. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? Gow. I think it be. Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld: I will verify as much in his peard: he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. Gow. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him. Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in the auncient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. Enter MACMORRIS and JAMY. Jamy. I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen. Flu. God-den to your worship, goot Captain Jamy. Gow. How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er? Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done: the work ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand, I swear, and by my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over: I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour: O, tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech 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 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 very gud, gud feith, gud captains bath: and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, mary. Mac. 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 beseeched, and the trumpet call us to the breach; and we talk and, by Chrish, do nothing: 'tis shame for us all: so God sa' 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 slumber, aile do gud service, or aile lig i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay 't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Mary, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you 'tway. Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation, Mac. Of my nation! What ish my nation? what ish my nation? Who talks of my nation ish a villain, and a basterd, and a knave, and a rascal. Flu. 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 goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities. Mac. I do not know you so good a man as myself: so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. Gow. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. Jamy. Au! that's a foul fault. [A parley sounded. Gow. The town sounds a parley. Flu. Captain Macmorris, when there is more petter opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so pold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Before the Gates of Harfleur. The Governor and some Citizens on the walls; the English Forces below. Enter KING HENRY and his Train. K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the town? 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,— 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 flesh'd soldier,―rough and hard of heart, — With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends,- What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause, What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the hill he holds his fierce career? As send précepts to the Leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, If not, why, in a moment look to see Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end: K. Hen. Open your gates.-Come, uncle Exeter, [Flourish. The KING, &c., enter the Town. SCENE III.-ROUEN. A Room in the Palace. Enter KATHARINE and ALICE. Kath. Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage. Alice. Un peu, madame. Kath. Je te prie m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglais? Alice. La main? elle est appelée de hand. Kath. De hand. Et les doigts? Alice. Les doigts? ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts? je pense qu'ils sont appelés de fingres; oui, de fingres. Kath. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon écolier; j'ai gagné deux mots d'Anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles? Alice. Les ongles? les appelons de nails. Kath. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi, si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails. Alice. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglais. |