That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on them,
The vapor of our valor will o'erturn them.

'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,

That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants,—

Who in unnecessary action swarm

About our squares of battle,-were enough
To purge this field of such a hilding foe;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by,
Took stand for idle speculation:

But that our honors must not.
A very little little let us do,

What's to say?

And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
The tucket-sonuance,' and the note to mount;
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall crouch down in fear, and yield.

Enter GRANdpre.

Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of
France?

Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favoredly become the morning field.

Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggared host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.

Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,*

1 The tucket-sonuance was a flourish on the trumpet as a signal to prepare to march. The phrase is derived from the Italian toccata, a prelude or flourish, and suonanza, a sound, a resounding. Thus in the Devil's Law Case, 1623, two tuckets by two several trumpets.

2 "Yon island carrions." The description of the English is founded on Holinshed's melancholy account, speaking of the march from Harfleur to Agincourt:- -"The Englishmen were brought into great misery in this journey; their victual was in a manner all spent, and now could they get none:-rest none could they take, for their enemies were ever at hand to give them allarmes: daily it rained, and nightly it freezed; of fewel there was great scarcity, but of fluxes great plenty; money they had enough, but wares to bestow it upon, for their releife or comforte, had they little or none."

3 Their ragged curtains are their colors.

4 Ancient candlesticks were often in the form of human figures, holding the socket for the lights in their extended hands.

With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips;
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes;
And in their pale, dull mouths the gimmal1 bit
Lies foul with chewed grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words,
To démonstrate the life of such a battle,
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.

Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.

Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh

suits,

And give their fasting horses provender,

And after fight with them?

Con. I stay but for my guard.2 On, to the field; I will the banner from a trumpet take,

And use it for my haste.

Come, come, away! The sun is high, and we outwear the day.

SCENE III. The English Camp.

[Exeunt.

Enter the English Host; GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND.

Glo. Where is the king?

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. West. Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.

Exe. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh. Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds. God be with you, princes all; I'll to my charge. If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven,

1 The gimmal bit was probably a bit in which two parts or links were united, as in the gimmal ring, so called because they were double linked; from gemellus, Lat.

2 "I stay but for my guard." Dr. Johnson and Mr. Steevens were of opinion that guard here means rather something of ornament, than an attendant or attendants.

Then, joyfully,-my noble lord of Bedford,-
My dear lord Gloster, and my good lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman,'-warriors all, adieu!

Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!

Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day.
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.

[Exit SALISBURY. Bed. He is as full of valor, as of kindness; Princely in both.

West.

O that we now had here

Enter KING HENRY.

But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That do no work to-day!

K. Hen.

What's he that wishes so?

My cousin Westmoreland ??—No, my fair cousin.
If we are marked to die, we are enough

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold;

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns3 me not, if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But, if it be a sin to covet honor,

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor,
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

1 " And my kind kinsman." This is addressed to Westmoreland by the speaker, who was Thomas Montacute, earl of Salisbury: he was not, in point of fact, related to Westmoreland; there was only a kind of connection by marriage between their families.

2 In the quarto this speech is addressed to Warwick. 3 To yearn is to grieve or vex.

Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called-the feast of Crispian:1
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tiptoe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
And say-To-morrow is Saint Crispian;
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars,
And say, These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,

What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words-
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to-day, that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :

2

And gentlemen in England, now abed,

Shall think themselves accursed, they were not here: And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

1 "The feast of Crispian." The battle of Agincourt was fought upon the 25th of October, 1415.

2 i. e. shall advance him to the rank of a gentleman. King Henry V. inhibited any person, but such as had a right by inheritance or grant, from bearing coats of arms, except those who fought with him at the battle of Agincourt; and these last were allowed the chief seats at all feasts and public meetings.

Enter SALISBURY.

Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed; The French are bravely in their battles set,

And will with all expedience charge on us.

K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so.
West. Perish the man whose mind is backward

now!

K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin?

West. God's will, my liege, 'would you and I alone, Without more help, might fight this battle out!

K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men ;1

Which likes me better, than to wish us one.

You know your places.

God be with you all!

Tucket. Enter MONTJOY.

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 2

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;

thou hast unwished five thousand men." By wishing only thyself and me, thou hast wished five thousand men away. The Poet, inattentive to numbers, puts five thousand; but in the last scene the French are said to be full threescore thousand, which Exeter declares to be five to one; the numbers of the English are variously stated; Holinshed makes them fifteen thousand, others but nine thousand.

2 i. e. remind.