King Henry V. Or The Conquest of France :: :: University of Virginia Library

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 living, and my uttermost power. He is not,
Heav'n be praised and plessed, any hurt in the world.
He is maintain the pridge, most valiantly, with excellent
discipline. There is an ancient lieutenant there,
I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man
as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no estimation
in the orld; but I did see him do gallant services.

Gower.
What do you call him?

Flu.
He is call'd ancient Pistol.

Gower.
I know him not.

Enter Pistol.
Flu.
Here is the man.

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

Flu.

I, I praise Heav'n, and I have merited some
love at his hands.

Pist.
Bardolph, a soldier firm, and sound of heart,
And 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 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 mutabilities
and variations; and her foot, look you, is
fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and
rolls. In good truth, the poet makes most excellent
description of it. Fortune is an excellent moral.

Pist.
Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
For he hath stoln a Pix, and hanged must be, o damned death!

Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
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 good pleasure, and put him to
executions; for disciplines ought to be used.

Pist.

Die and be damn'd, and figo for thy friendship.

Flu.

It is well.

Pist.

The fig of Spain—

[Exit.
Flu.

Very good.

Gower.

Why this is an arrant counterfeit rascal, I
remember him, now, a bawd, a cut-purse.

Flu.

I'll assure you, he utter'd as prave words 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.

Gower.

Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now
and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return
to London, under the form of a soldier. But
you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or
else you may be marvellously mistook.

Flu.

I tell you what, Captain Gower; I do perceive
he is not the man that he would gladly make shew to
the world he is; if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell
him my mind.— [Flourish.]
Hear you, the King is
coming, and I must speak with him from the pridge.

A March.
Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, Gloucester, Westmorland, Attendants, and his poor Soldiers.
Flu.

Cot bless your Majesty.

K. Henry.

How now, Fluellen; cam'st thou from
the bridge?

Flu.

I, so please your Majesty. The Duke of Exeter
has very gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the
French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and
most prave passages; marry, th' athversary was have
possession of the pridge, but he is inforced to retire,
and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I
can tell your majesty, the duke is a prave man.

K. Henry.

What men have you lost, Fluellen?

Flu.

The perdition of th' athversary hath been
very great, very reasonable great. Marry, for my
part, I think the duke hath lost never a man, but one
that is like to be executed for robbing a church; one
Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man; his face is
all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of
fire, and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a
coal of fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes red; but
his nose is executed, and his fire's out.

Trumpet sounds. Enter Mountjoy.
K. Henry.
Now, what shall I know of thee?

Mount.
My master's mind.

K. Henry.
Unfold it.

Mount.
Thus says my king; Say thou to Harry England,
Although we seemed dead, we did but sleep:
Tell him, we could at Harfleur have rebuk'd him;
But that we thought not good to bruise an injury,
Till it were ripe. Now, speak we on our cue,
With voice imperial: England shall repent
His folly, see his weakness, and admire
Our suff'rance. Bid him therefore to consider,
What must the ransom be, which must proportion
The losses we have borne, the subjects we
Have lost, and the disgrace we have digested.

First, for our loss, too poor is his exchequer;
For the effusion of our blood, his army
Too faint a number; and for our disgrace,
Ev'n his own person, kneeling at our feet,
A weak and worthless satisfaction.
To this, defiance add; and for conclusion,
Tell him he hath betray'd his followers,
Whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far
My king and master; and so much my office.

K. Henry.
Thou do'st thy office fairly. Turn thee back,
And tell thy king, I do not seek him now;
But could be willing to march on to Calais,
Without impeachment. For to say the sooth,
(Tho' tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage)
My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have,
Almost no better than so many French;
Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
I thought, upon one pair of English legs,
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, Heav'n,
That I do brag thus; this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army but a weak and sickly guard;
Yet, Heav'n before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountjoy,
Go, bid thy master well advise himself;
If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour.—
The sum of all our answer is but this;
We would not seek a battle, as we are,

Yet, as we are, we say, we will not shun it:
So tell your master.

Mount.
I shall deliver so: thanks to your Highness.

[Exit.
Glou.
I hope they will not come upon us, now.

K. Henry.
We are in Heav'n's hand, brother, not in theirs:
March to the bridge, it now draws toward night;
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
And on to-morrow bid them march away.

[Exeunt.