The English camp.
[Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER,
ERPINGHAM, with all his host: SALISBURY
and WESTMORELAND]
GLOUCESTER Where is the king?
BEDFORD The king himself is rode to view their battle.
WESTMORELAND Of fighting men
they have full three score thousand.
EXETER There’s five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY God’s arm strike with us! ’tis a fearful odds.
God be wi’ you, princes all; I’ll to my charge:
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!
BEDFORD Farewell,
good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!
EXETER Farewell, kind lord…
[Exit SALISBURY]
[Enter the KING]
WESTMORELAND O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
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:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the 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 neighbours,
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 his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
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 remember’d;
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,
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
[Re-enter SALISBURY]
SALISBURY My sovereign lord,
bestow yourself with speed:
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
KING HENRY V All things are ready, if our minds be so.
WESTMORELAND Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
KING HENRY V Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
WESTMORELAND God’s will! my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
KING HENRY V You know your places: God be with you all!
[Tucket. Enter MONTJOY]
MONTJOY Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow:
KING HENRY V Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY The Constable of France.
KING HENRY V I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion’s skin
While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day’s work:
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Let me speak proudly: tell the constable
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch’d
With rainy marching in the painful field;
And time hath worn us into slovenry:
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have as I will leave ’em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.
MONTJOY I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
[Exit]
KING HENRY V Now, soldiers, march away:
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
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