Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated, Returns us-that his powers are not yet ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread 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.

K. Hen. Open your gates.- Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French: Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, The winter coming on, and sickness growing Upon our soldiers,-we'll retire to Calais. To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest; To-morrow for the march are we addrest.'

[Flourish. The King, &c. enter the Town.

SCENE IV.

Roüen. A Room in the Palace.

Enter the French King, the Dauphin, Duke of BOURBON, the Constable of France, and others.

Fr. King. 'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Some.

Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France: let us quit all, And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. Dau. Shall a few sprays of us,

Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,

Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,

And overlook their grafters?

Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!

Mort de ma vie! if they march along

Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,

To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm

In that nook-shotten" isle of Albion.

Con. Dieu de battailes! where have they this mettle?

Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-rein'd' jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles

Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people

Poor

Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields; we may call them, in their native lords. Dau. By faith and honour,

Our madams mock at us.

Bour. They bid us to the English dancingschools,

And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos;
Saying, our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.

Fr. King. Where is Montjoy, the herald? speed him hence;

Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.-
Up, princes; and, with spirit of honour edg'd,
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillion, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knight,
For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
7 Over-ridden.

6 Shooting into promontories.
8 Dances.

9

With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur:
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow

Upon the vallies;

You have power enough,

And in a captive chariot, into Roüen

Bring him our prisoner.

Con.

This becomes the great.

Sorry am I, his numbers are so few,

His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march;
For, I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And, for achievement, offer us his ransome.
Fr. King. Therefore, lord constable, haste on
Montjoy :

And let him say to England, that we send
To know what willing ransome he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Roüen.
Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty.

Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with

us.

Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all;
And quickly bring us word of England's fall.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The English Camp in Picardy.

Enter GoWER and FLUEllen.

Gow. How now, captain Fluellen ? come you from the bridge?

Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent service committed at the pridge.

Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe?

Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honour

with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and my livings, and my uttermost powers: he is not, (God be praised, and plessed!) any hurt in the 'orld; but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at the pridge, I think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no estimation in the 'orld: but I did see him do gallant service.

Gow. What do you call him?

Flu. He is called ancient Pistol.

Gow. I know him not.

Enter PISTOL,

Flu. Do you not know him? Here comes the

man.

Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours : The duke of Exeter doth love thee well.

Flu. Ay, and I have merited some love at his hands.

Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart, Of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate,

And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,

That stands upon the rolling restless stone,

-

Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is painted plind, with a muffler' before her eyes, to signify to you that fortune is plind: And she is painted also with a wheel; to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and variations, and mutabilities: and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls; - In good truth, the poet is make a most excellent description of fortune: fortune, look you, is an excellent moral.

Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;

A fold of linen which partially covered the face.

For he hath stol'n a pix', and hanged must 'a be.
Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate:
But Exeter hath given the doom of death,
For pix of little price.

Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy voice;
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord, and vile reproach:
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
Flu. Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your
meaning.

Pist. Why then rejoice therefore.

Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be used. Pist. A figo for thy friendship!

Flu. It is well.

Pist. The fig of Spain 3!

Flu. Very good.

[Exit PISTOL.

Gow. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember him now; a cutpurse.

Flu. I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at the pridge, as you shall see in a summer's day: But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve.

Gow. Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself, at his return into London, under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in great commanders' names and they will learn you by rote, where services were done; - at such and such a sconce1, at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms

* A small box in which were kept the consecrated wafers. 3 An allusion to the custom in Spain and Italy of giving poisoned figs.

+ An entrenchment hastily thrown up.