The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 167

CONSTABLE. Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back.

DAUPHIN. So perhaps did yours.

CONSTABLE. Mine was not bridled.

DAUPHIN. O, then belike she was old and gentle; and you rode like a kern of Ireland, your French hose off and in your strait strossers.

CONSTABLE. You have good judgment in horsemanship.

DAUPHIN. Be warn'd by me, then: they that ride so, and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my horse to my mistress.

CONSTABLE. I had as lief have my mistress a jade.

DAUPHIN. I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his own hair.

CONSTABLE. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to my mistress.

DAUPHIN. 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomiss.e.m.e.nt, et la truie lavee au bourbier.' Thou mak'st use of anything.

CONSTABLE. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such proverb so little kin to the purpose.

RAMBURES. My Lord Constable, the armour that I saw in your tent to-night- are those stars or suns upon it?

CONSTABLE. Stars, my lord.

DAUPHIN. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.

CONSTABLE. And yet my sky shall not want.

DAUPHIN. That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and 'twere more honour some were away.

CONSTABLE. Ev'n as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as well were some of your brags dismounted.

DAUPHIN. Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces.

CONSTABLE. I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out of my way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the ears of the English.

RAMBURES. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners?

CONSTABLE. You must first go yourself to hazard ere you have them.

DAUPHIN. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. Exit ORLEANS. The Dauphin longs for morning.

RAMBURES. He longs to eat the English.

CONSTABLE. I think he will eat all he kills.

ORLEANS. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince.

CONSTABLE. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.

ORLEANS. He is simply the most active gentleman of France.

CONSTABLE. Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.

ORLEANS. He never did harm that I heard of.

CONSTABLE. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that good name still.

ORLEANS. I know him to be valiant.

CONSTABLE. I was told that by one that knows him better than you.

ORLEANS. What's he?

CONSTABLE. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said he car'd not who knew it.

ORLEANS. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.

CONSTABLE. By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody saw it but his lackey.

'Tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will bate.

ORLEANS. Ill-wind never said well.

CONSTABLE. I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship.'

ORLEANS. And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'

CONSTABLE. Well plac'd! There stands your friend for the devil; have at the very eye of that proverb with 'A pox of the devil!'

ORLEANS. You are the better at proverbs by how much 'A fool's bolt is soon shot.'

CONSTABLE. You have shot over.

ORLEANS. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot.

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. My Lord High Constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents.

CONSTABLE. Who hath measur'd the ground?

MESSENGER. The Lord Grandpre.

CONSTABLE. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were day!

Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning as we do.

ORLEANS. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so far out of his knowledge!

CONSTABLE. If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.

ORLEANS. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.

RAMBURES. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.

ORLEANS. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crush'd like rotten apples! You may as well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

CONSTABLE. Just, just! and the men do sympathise with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their wives; and then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel; they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.

ORLEANS. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.

CONSTABLE. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we about it?

ORLEANS. It is now two o'clock; but let me see- by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. Exeunt

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ACT IV. PROLOGUE.

Enter CHORUS

CHORUS. Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch.

Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber'd face; Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents The armourers accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country c.o.c.ks do crow, the clocks do ton, And the third hour of drowsy morning name.

Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and over-l.u.s.ty French Do the low-rated English play at dice; And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp So tediously away. The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently and inly ruminate The morning's danger; and their gesture sad Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats Presenteth them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruin'd band Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!'

For forth he goes and visits all his host; Bids them good morrow with a modest smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.

Upon his royal face there is no note How dread an army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all-watched night; But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks; A largess universal, like the sun, His liberal eye doth give to every one, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Harry in the night.

And so our scene must to the battle fly; Where- O for pity!- we shall much disgrace With four or five most vile and ragged foils, Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. Exit

SCENE I.

France. The English camp at Agincourt

Enter the KING, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER

KING HENRY. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be.

Good morrow, brother Bedford. G.o.d Almighty!

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out; For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and good husbandry.

Besides, they are our outward consciences And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should dress us fairly for our end.

Thus may we gather honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself.

Enter ERPINGHAM

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham: A good soft pillow for that good white head Were better than a churlish turf of France.

ERPINGHAM. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.'