HENRY V

HENRY V THE Chorus to Act 5 of Henry V contains an uncharacteristic, direct topical reference: Were now the General of our gracious Empress— As in good time he may—from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him! ‘The General’ must be the Earl of Essex, whose ‘Empress’—Queen Elizabeth—had sent him on an Irish campaign on 27 March 1599; he returned, disgraced, on 28 September. Plans for his campaign had been known at least since the previous November; the idea that he might return in triumph would have been meaningless after September 1599, and it seems likely that Shakespeare completed his play during 1599, probably in the spring. It appeared in print, in a short and debased text, in (probably) August 1600, when it was said to have ‘been sundry times played by the Right Honourable the Lord Chamberlain his servants’. Although this text (which omits the Choruses) seems to have been put together from memory by actors playing in an abbreviated adaptation, the Shakespearian text behind it appears to have been in a later state than the generally superior text printed from Shakespeare’s own papers in the 1623 Folio. Our edition draws on the 1600 quarto in the attempt to represent the play as acted by Shakespeare’s company. The principal difference is the reversion to historical authenticity in the substitution at Agincourt of the Duke of Bourbon for the Dauphin. As in the two plays about Henry IV, Shakespeare is indebted to The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth (printed 1598). Other Elizabethan plays about Henry V, now lost, may have influenced him; he certainly used the chronicle histories of Edward Hall (1542) and Holinshed (1577, revised and enlarged in 1587). From the ‘civil broils’ of the earlier history plays, Shakespeare turns to portray a country united in war against France. Each act is prefaced by a Chorus, speaking some of the play’s finest poetry, and giving it an epic quality. Henry V, ‘star of England’, is Shakespeare’s most heroic warrior king, but (like his predecessors) has an introspective side, and is aware of the crime by which his father came to the throne. We are reminded of his ‘wilder days’, and see that the transition from ‘madcap prince’ to the ‘mirror of all Christian kings’ involves loss: although the epilogue to 2 Henry IV had suggested that Sir John would reappear, he is only, though poignantly, an off-stage presence. Yet Shakespeare’s infusion of comic form into historical narrative reaches its natural conclusion in this play. Sir John’s cronies, Pistol, Bardolph, Nim, and Mistress Quickly, reappear to provide a counterpart to the heroic action, and Shakespeare invents comic episodes involving an Englishman (Gower), a Welshman (Fluellen), an Irishman (MacMorris), and a Scot (Jamy). The play also has romance elements, in the almost incredible extent of the English victory over the French and in the disguised Henry’s comradely mingling with his soldiers, as well as in his courtship of the French princess. The play’s romantic and heroic aspects have made it popular especially in times of war and have aroused accusations of jingoism, but the horrors of war are vividly depicted, and the Chorus’s closing speech reminds us that Henry died young, and that his son’s protector ‘lost France and made his England bleed’.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

The Life of Henry the Fifth Prologue Enter Chorus as Prologue CHORUS O for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention: A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene. Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars, and at his heels, Leashed in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, The flat unraisèd spirits that hath dared On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object. Can this cock-pit hold The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt? O pardon: since a crooked figure may Attest in little place a million, And let us, ciphers to this great account, On your imaginary forces work. Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confined two mighty monarchies, Whose high uprearèd and abutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder. Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts: Into a thousand parts divide one man, And make imaginary puissance. Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them, Printing their proud hoofs i‘th’ receiving earth; For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, Carry them here and there, jumping o’er times, Turning th’accomplishment of many years Into an hourglass—for the which supply, Admit me Chorus to this history, Who Prologue-like your humble patience pray Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. Exit

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely
CANTERBURY	My lord, I’ll tell you. That self bill is urged Which in th’eleventh year of the last king’s reign Was like, and had indeed against us passed, But that the scrambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther question.
ELY	But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
CANTERBURY	It must be thought on. If it pass against us, We lose the better half of our possession, For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament have given to the Church Would they strip from us—being valued thus: As much as would maintain, to the King’s honour, Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; And, to relief of lazars and weak age, Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil, A hundred almshouses right well supplied; And to the coffers of the King beside A thousand pounds by th’ year. Thus runs the bill.
ELY	This would drink deep.
CANTERBURY	’Twould drink the cup and all.
ELY	But what prevention?
CANTERBURY	The King is full of grace and fair regard.
ELY	And a true lover of the holy Church.
CANTERBURY	The courses of his youth promised it not. The breath no sooner left his father’s body But that his wildness, mortified in him, Seemed to die too. Yea, at that very moment Consideration like an angel came And whipped th‘offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise T’envelop and contain celestial spirits. Never was such a sudden scholar made; Never came reformation in a flood With such a heady currance scouring faults; Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness So soon did lose his seat—and all at once— As in this king.
ELY	We are blessed in the change.
CANTERBURY	Hear him but reason in divinity And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the King were made a prelate; Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all-in-all his study; List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rendered you in music; Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter—that when he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men’s ears To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences: So that the art and practic part of life Must be the mistress to this theoric. Which is a wonder how his grace should glean it, Since his addiction was to courses vain, His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow, His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports, And never noted in him any study, Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity.
ELY	The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighboured by fruit of baser quality; And so the Prince obscured his contemplation Under the veil of wildness—which, no doubt, Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
CANTERBURY	It must be so, for miracles are ceased, And therefore we must needs admit the means How things are perfected.
ELY	But, my good lord, How now for mitigation of this bill Urged by the Commons? Doth his majesty Incline to it, or no?
CANTERBURY	He seems indifferent, Or rather swaying more upon our part Than cherishing th’exhibitors against us; For I have made an offer to his majesty, Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand, Which I have opened to his grace at large: As touching France, to give a greater sum Than ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal.
ELY	How did this offer seem received, my lord?
CANTERBURY	With good acceptance of his majesty, Save that there was not time enough to hear, As I perceived his grace would fain have done, The severals and unhidden passages Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms, And generally to the crown and seat of France, Derived from Edward, his great-grandfather.
ELY	What was th’impediment that broke this off?
CANTERBURY	The French ambassador upon that instant Craved audience—and the hour I think is come To give him hearing. Is it four o’clock?
ELY	It is. 95
CANTERBURY	Then go we in, to know his embassy— Which I could with a ready guess declare Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.
ELY	I’ll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry, the Dukes of Gloucester, Clarence, and Exeter, and the Earls of Warwick and Westmorland
KING HARRY	Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury?
EXETER	Not here in presence.
KING HARRY	Send for him, good uncle.
WESTMORLAND	Shall we call in th’ambassador, my liege?
KING HARRY	Not yet, my cousin. We would be resolved, Before we hear him, of some things of weight That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.
(didascalia)	Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely
CANTERBURY	God and his angels guard your sacred throne, And make you long become it.
KING HARRY	Sure we thank you. My learnèd lord, we pray you to proceed, And justly and religiously unfold Why the law Salic that they have in France Or should or should not bar us in our claim. And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge your understanding soul With opening titles miscreate, whose right Suits not in native colours with the truth; For God doth know how many now in health Shall drop their blood in approbation Of what your reverence shall incite us to. Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, How you awake our sleeping sword of war; We charge you in the name of God take heed. For never two such kingdoms did contend Without much fall of blood, whose guiltless drops Are every one a woe, a sore complaint ’Gainst him whose wrongs gives edge unto the swords That makes such waste in brief mortality. Under this conjuration speak, my lord, For we will hear, note, and believe in heart That what you speak is in your conscience washed As pure as sin with baptism.
CANTERBURY	Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers That owe your selves, your lives, and services To this imperial throne. There is no bar To make against your highness’ claim to France But this, which they produce from Pharamond: ‘In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant’— ’No woman shall succeed in Salic land’— Which ‘Salic land’ the French unjustly gloss To be the realm of France, and Pharamond The founder of this law and female bar. Yet their own authors faithfully affirm That the land Salic is in Germany, Between the floods of Saale and of Elbe, Where, Charles the Great having subdued the Saxons, There left behind and settled certain French Who, holding in disdain the German women For some dishonest manners of their life, Established there this law: to wit, no female Should be inheritrix in Salic land— Which Salic, as I said, ’twixt Elbe and Saale, Is at this day in Germany called Meissen. Then doth it well appear the Salic Law Was not devised for the realm of France. Nor did the French possess the Salic land Until four hundred one-and-twenty years After defunction of King Pharamond, Idly supposed the founder of this law, Who died within the year of our redemption Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French Beyond the river Saale, in the year Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, King Pépin, which deposed Childéric, Did, as heir general—being descended Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clotaire— Make claim and title to the crown of France. Hugh Capet also—who usurped the crown Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great— To fine his title with some shows of truth, Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught, Conveyed himself as heir to th’ Lady Lingard, Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son To Louis the Emperor, and Louis the son Of Charles the Great. Also, King Louis the Ninth, Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, Could not keep quiet in his conscience, Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengarde, Daughter to Charles, the foresaid Duke of Lorraine; By the which marriage, the line of Charles the Great Was reunited to the crown of France. So that, as clear as is the summer’s sun, King Pépin’s title and Hugh Capet’s claim, King Louis his satisfaction, all appear To hold in right and title of the female; So do the kings of France unto this day, Howbeit they would hold up this Salic Law To bar your highness claiming from the female, And rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to embar their crooked titles, Usurped from you and your progenitors.
KING HARRY	May I with right and conscience make this claim?
CANTERBURY	The sin upon my head, dread sovereign. For in the Book of Numbers is it writ, ‘When the son dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter.’ Gracious lord, Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag; Look back into your mighty ancestors. Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb, From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, And your great-uncle’s, Edward the Black Prince, Who on the French ground played a tragedy, Making defeat on the full power of France, Whiles his most mighty father on a hill Stood smiling to behold his lion’s whelp Forage in blood of French nobility. no O noble English, that could entertain With half their forces the full pride of France, And let another half stand laughing by, All out of work, and cold for action.
ELY	Awake remembrance of those valiant dead, And with your puissant arm renew their feats. You are their heir, you sit upon their throne, The blood and courage that renowned them Runs in your veins—and my thrice-puissant liege Is in the very May-morn of his youth, Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.
EXETER	Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself As did the former lions of your blood.
WESTMORLAND	They know your grace hath cause; and means and might, So hath your highness. Never king of England Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England And lie pavilioned in the fields of France.
CANTERBURY	O let their bodies follow, my dear liege, With blood and sword and fire, to win your right. In aid whereof, we of the spiritualty Will raise your highness such a mighty sum As never did the clergy at one time Bring in to any of your ancestors.
KING HARRY	We must not only arm t’invade the French, But lay down our proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make raid upon us With all advantages.
CANTERBURY	They of those marches, gracious sovereign, Shall be a wall sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
KING HARRY	We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, But fear the main intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us. For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never unmasked his power unto France But that the Scot on his unfurnished kingdom Came pouring like the tide into a breach With ample and brim fullness of his force Galling the gleaned land with hot assays, Girding with grievous siege castles and towns, That England, being empty of defence, Hath shook and trembled at the bruit thereof.
CANTERBURY	She hath been then more feared than harmed, my liege. 155 For hear her but exampled by herself: When all her chivalry hath been in France And she a mourning widow of her nobles, She hath herself not only well defended But taken and impounded as a stray The King of Scots, whom she did send to France To fill King Edward’s fame with prisoner kings And make your chronicle as rich with praise As is the ooze and bottom of the sea With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries.
(didascalia)	A LORD
CANTERBURY	But there’s a saying very old and true: ‘If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin.’ For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To ’tame and havoc more than she can eat.
EXETER	It follows then the cat must stay at home. Yet that is but a crushed necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, Th’advisèd head defends itself at home. For government, though high and low and lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music.
CANTERBURY	True. Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion; To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, Obedience. For so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king, and officers of sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home; Others like merchants venture trade abroad; Others like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent royal of their emperor, Who busied in his majesty surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens lading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum Delivering o’er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. I this infer: That many things, having full reference To one consent, may work contrariously. As many arrows, loosed several ways, Fly to one mark, as many ways meet in one town, As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea, As many lines close in the dial’s centre, So may a thousand actions once afoot End in one purpose, and be all well borne Without defect. Therefore to France, my liege. Divide your happy England into four, Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. If we with thrice such powers left at home Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let us be worried, and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy.
KING HARRY	Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
KING HARRY	Now are we well resolved, and by God’s help And yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours we’ll bend it to our awe, Or break it all to pieces. Or there we’ll sit, Ruling in large and ample empery O’er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them. Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.
(didascalia)	Enter Ambassadors of France, with a tun
KING HARRY	Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure Of our fair cousin Dauphin, for we hear Your greeting is from him, not from the King.
AMBASSADOR	May’t please your majesty to give us leave Freely to render what we have in charge, Or shall we sparingly show you far off The Dauphin’s meaning and our embassy?
KING HARRY	We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, Unto whose grace our passion is as subject As is our wretches fettered in our prisons. Therefore with frank and with uncurbèd plainness Tell us the Dauphin’s mind.
AMBASSADOR	Thus then in few: Your highness lately sending into France Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. In answer of which claim, the Prince our master Says that you savour too much of your youth, And bids you be advised, there’s naught in France That can be with a nimble galliard won: You cannot revel into dukedoms there. He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, This tun of treasure, and in lieu of this Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
KING HARRY	What treasure, uncle?
EXETER	(opening the tun) Tennis balls, my liege.
KING HARRY	We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us. His present and your pains we thank you for. When we have matched our rackets to these balls, We will in France, by God’s grace, play a set Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard. Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler That all the courts of France will be disturbed With chases. And we understand him well, How he comes o‘er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them. We never valued this poor seat of England, And therefore, living hence, did give ourself To barbarous licence—as ’tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness When I do rouse me in my throne of France. For that have I laid by my majesty And plodded like a man for working days, But I will rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, Yea strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his Hath turned his balls to gunstones, and his soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly from them—for many a thousand widows Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands, Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; Ay, some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin’s scorn. But this lies all within the will of God, To whom I do appeal, and in whose name Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on To venge me as I may, and to put forth My rightful hand in a well-hallowed cause. So get you hence in peace. And tell the Dauphin His jest will savour but of shallow wit When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.— Convey them with safe conduct.—Fare you well.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Ambassadors
EXETER	This was a merry message.
KING HARRY	We hope to make the sender blush at it. Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour That may give furth’rance to our expedition; For we have now no thought in us but France, Save those to God, that run before our business. Therefore let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected, and all things thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness add More feathers to our wings; for, God before, We’ll chide this Dauphin at his father’s door. Therefore let every man now task his thought, That this fair action may on foot be brought.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 0

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man. They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, Following the mirror of all Christian kings With winged heels, as English Mercuries. For now sits expectation in the air And hides a sword from hilts unto the point With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets, Promised to Harry and his followers. The French, advised by good intelligence Of this most dreadful preparation, Shake in their fear, and with pale policy Seek to divert the English purposes. O England!—model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart, What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural? But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out: A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men— One, Richard, Earl of Cambridge; and the second Henry, Lord Scrope of Masham; and the third Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland— Have, for the gilt of France—O guilt indeed!— Confirmed conspiracy with fearful France; And by their hands this grace of kings must die, If hell and treason hold their promises, Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton. Linger your patience on, and we’ll digest Th’abuse of distance, force—perforce—a play. The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed, The King is set from London, and the scene Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton. There is the playhouse now, there must you sit, And thence to France shall we convey you safe, And bring you back, charming the narrow seas To give you gentle pass—for if we may We’ll not offend one stomach with our play. But till the King come forth, and not till then, Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. Exit

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Corporal Nim and Lieutenant Bardolph
BARDOLPH	Well met, Corporal Nim.
NIM	Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	What, are Ensign Pistol and you friends yet?
NIM	For my part, I care not. I say little, but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles—but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one, but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold, as another man’s sword will—and there’s an end.
BARDOLPH	I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France. Let’t be so, good Corporal Nim.
NIM	Faith, I will live so long as I may, that’s the certain of it, and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my rest, that is the rendezvous of it.
BARDOLPH	It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.
NIM	I cannot tell. Things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time, and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may. Though Patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. Enter Ensign Pistol and Hostess Quickly
BARDOLPH	Good morrow, Ensign Pistol. (To Nim) Here comes Ensign Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be patient here.
(didascalia)	NIM How now, mine host Pistol?
PISTOL	Base tick, call’st thou me host? Now by Gad’s lugs I swear I scorn the term. Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
(didascalia)	HOSTESS No, by my troth, not long, for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. Nim draws his sword O well-a-day, Lady! If he be not hewn now, we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. 36 Pistol draws his sword
BARDOLPH	Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing here.
NIM	Pish.
PISTOL	Pish for thee, Iceland dog. Thou prick-eared cur of Iceland.
HOSTESS	Good Corporal Nim, show thy valour, and put up your sword. They sheathe their swords
NIM	Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
PISTOL	‘Solus’, egregious dog? O viper vile! The solus in thy most marvellous face, The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea in thy maw pardie— And which is worse, within thy nasty mouth. I do retort the solus in thy bowels, For I can take, and Pistol’s cock is up, And flashing fire will follow.
NIM	I am not Barbason, you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may, and that’s the humour of it.
PISTOL	O braggart vile, and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape and doting death is near. Therefore ex-hale. Pistol and Nim draw their swords
BARDOLPH	Hear me, hear me what I say.
(didascalia)	He draws his sword
BARDOLPH	He that strikes the first stroke, I’ll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.
PISTOL	An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
(didascalia)	They sheathe their swords
PISTOL	(To Nim) Give me thy fist, thy forefoot to me give. 65 Thy spirits are most tall.
NIM	I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms, that is the humour of it.
PISTOL	Couple a gorge, That is the word. I thee defy again. O hound of Crete, think‘st thou my spouse to get? No, to the spital go, And from the powd’ring tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind, Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse. I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly For the only she, and—pauca, there’s enough. Go to.
(didascalia)	Enter the Boy running
BOY	Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hostess. He is very sick, and would to bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan.—Faith, he’s very ill.
BARDOLPH	Away, you rogue!
(didascalia)	HOSTESS By my troth, he’ll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. The King has killed his heart. Good husband, come home presently. Exit with Boy
BARDOLPE	Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together. Why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another’s throats?
PISTOL	Let floods o‘erswell, and fiends for food howl on!
NIM	You’ll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?
PISTOL	Base is the slave that pays.
NIM	That now I will have. That’s the humour of it.
PISTOL	As manhood shall compound. Push home. Pistol and Nim draw their swords
(didascalia)	BARDOLPH drawing his sword By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I’ll kill him. By this sword, I will.
PISTOL	Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
(didascalia)	He sheathes his sword
BARDOLPH	Corporal Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be friends. An thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up.
NIM	I shall have my eight shillings?
PISTOL	A noble shalt thou have, and present pay, And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood. I’ll live by Nim, and Nim shall live by me. Is not this just? For I shall sutler be Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand.
NIM	I shall have my noble?
PISTOL	In cash, most justly paid.
(didascalia)	NIM Well then, that’s the humour of’t. Nim and Bardolph sheathe their swords. Enter Hostess Quickly
(didascalia)	HOSTESS As ever you come of women, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart, he is so shaked of a burning quotidian-tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. Exit
NIM	The King hath run bad humours on the knight, that’s the even of it.
PISTOL	Nim, thou hast spoke the right. His heart is fracted and corroborate.
NIM	The King is a good king, but it must be as it may. He passes some humours and careers.
PISTOL	Let us condole the knight—for, lambkins, we will live. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Exeter and Gloucester, and the Earl of Westmorland
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER
(didascalia)	Fore God, his grace is bold to trust these traitors.
EXETER	They shall be apprehended by and by.
WESTMORLAND	How smooth and even they do bear themselves, As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER
WESTMORLAND	The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of.
EXETER	Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dulled and cloyed with gracious favours— That he should for a foreign purse so sell His sovereign’s life to death and treachery.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets. Enter King Harry, Lord Scrope, the
EXETER	Earl of Cambridge, and Sir Thomas Grey
KING HARRY	Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of Masham, And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts. Think you not that the powers we bear with us Will cut their passage through the force of France, Doing the execution and the act For which we have in head assembled them?
SCROPE	No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.
KING HARRY	I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded We carry not a heart with us from hence That grows not in a fair consent with ours, Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us.
CAMBRIDGE	Never was monarch better feared and loved Than is your majesty. There’s not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government.
GREY	True. Those that were your father’s enemies Have steeped their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
KING HARRY	We therefore have great cause of thankfulness, And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner than quittance of desert and merit, According to their weight and worthiness.
SCROPE	So service shall with steelèd sinews toil, And labour shall refresh itself with hope, To do your grace incessant services.
KING HARRY	We judge no less.—Uncle of Exeter, Enlarge the man committed yesterday That railed against our person. We consider It was excess of wine that set him on, And on his more advice we pardon him.
SCROPE	That’s mercy, but too much security. Let him be punished, sovereign, lest example Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
KING HARRY	O let us yet be merciful.
CAMBRIDGE	So may your highness, and yet punish too.
GREY	Sir, you show great mercy if you give him life, After the taste of much correction.
KING HARRY	Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons ’gainst this poor wretch. If little faults proceeding on distemper Shall not be winked at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested, Appear before us? We’ll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scrope, and Grey, in their dear care And tender preservation of our person, Would have him punished. And now to our French causes. Who are the late commissioners?
CAMBRIDGE	I one, my lord. Your highness bade me ask for it today.
SCROPE	So did you me, my liege.
GREY	And I, my royal sovereign.
KING HARRY	Then Richard, Earl of Cambridge, there is yours; There yours, Lord Scrope of Masham, and sir knight, Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours. Read them, and know I know your worthiness.— My lord of Westmorland, and Uncle Exeter, We will aboard tonight.—Why, how now, gentlemen? What see you in those papers, that you lose So much complexion?—Look ye how they change: Their cheeks are paper.—Why, what read you there That have so cowarded and chased your blood Out of appearance?
CAMBRIDGE	I do confess my fault, And do submit me to your highness’ mercy.
GREY	and SCROPE To which we all appeal.
KING HARRY	The mercy that was quick in us but late By your own counsel is suppressed and killed. You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy, For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.— See you, my princes and my noble peers, These English monsters? My lord of Cambridge here, You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with all appurtenants Belonging to his honour; and this vile man Hath for a few light crowns lightly conspired And sworn unto the practices of France To kill us here in Hampton. To the which This knight, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But O What shall I say to thee, Lord Scrope, thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knew‘st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst ha’ coined me into gold Wouldst thou ha’ practised on me for thy use: May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? ’Tis so strange That though the truth of it stands off as gross As black on white, my eye will scarcely see it. Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either’s purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, ‘gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder. And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence. And other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch and bungle up damnation With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetched From glist’ring semblances of piety; But he that tempered thee, bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. If that same demon that hath gulled thee thus Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, He might return to vasty Tartar back And tell the legions, ‘I can never win A soul so easy as that Englishman’s.’ O how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance. Show men dutiful? Why so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned? Why so didst thou. Come they of noble family? Why so didst thou. Seem they religious? Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger, Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, Garnished and decked in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such, and so finely boulted, didst thou seem. And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To mark the full-fraught man, and best endowed, With some suspicion. I will weep for thee, For this revolt of thine methinks is like Another fall of man.—Their faults are open. Arrest them to the answer of the law, And God acquit them of their practices.
EXETER	I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard, Earl of Cambridge.—I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry, Lord Scrope of Masham.—I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland.
SCROPE	Our purposes God justly hath discovered, And I repent my fault more than my death, Which I beseech your highness to forgive Although my body pay the price of it.
CAMBRIDGE	For me, the gold of France did not seduce, Although I did admit it as a motive The sooner to effect what I intended. But God be thankèd for prevention, Which heartily in sufferance will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
GREY	Never did faithful subject more rejoice At the discovery of most dangerous treason Than I do at this hour joy o’er myself, Prevented from a damned enterprise. My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
KING HARRY	God ’quit you in his mercy. Hear your sentence. You have conspired against our royal person, Joined with an enemy proclaimed and fixed, And from his coffers Received the golden earnest of our death, Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, His princes and his peers to servitude, His subjects to oppression and contempt, And his whole kingdom into desolation. Touching our person seek we no revenge, But we our kingdom’s safety must so tender, Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws We do deliver you. Get ye therefore hence, Poor miserable wretches, to your death; The taste whereof, God of his mercy give You patience to endure, and true repentance Of all your dear offences.—Bear them hence.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the traitors, guarded
KING HARRY	Now lords for France, the enterprise whereof Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous treason lurking in our way To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way. Then forth, dear countrymen. Let us deliver Our puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to sea, the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ensign Pistol, Corporal Nim, Lieutenant Bardolph, Boy, and Hostess Quickly
HOSTESS	Prithee, honey, sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.
PISTOL	No, for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph, Be blithe; Nim, rouse thy vaunting veins; boy, bristle Thy courage up. For Falstaff he is dead, And we must earn therefore.
BARDOLPH	Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is, either in heaven or in hell.
HOSTESS	Nay, sure he’s not in hell. He’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child. A parted ev’n just between twelve and one, ev’n at the turning o‘th’ tide—for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his finger’s end, I knew there was but one way. For his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a babbled of green fields. ‘How now, Sir John?’ quoth I. ‘What, man! Be o’ good cheer.’ So a cried out, ‘God, God, God’, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a bade me lay more clothes on his feet. I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone. Then I felt to his knees, and so up’ard and up’ard, and all was as cold as any stone.
NIM	They say he cried out of sack.
HOSTESS	Ay, that a did.
BARDOLPH	And of women.
HOSTESS	Nay, that a did not.
BOY	Yes, that a did, and said they were devils incarnate.
HOSTESS	A could never abide carnation, ’twas a colour he never liked.
BOY	A said once the devil would have him about women.
HOSTESS	A did in some sort, indeed, handle women—but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the Whore of Babylon.
BOY	Do you not remember, a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph’s nose, and a said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire.
BARDOLPH	Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire. That’s all the riches I got in his service.
NIM	Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton.
PISTOL	Come, let’s away.—My love, give me thy lips. He kisses her Look to my chattels and my movables. Let senses rule. The word is ‘Pitch and pay’. Trust none, for oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer-cakes, And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck. Therefore caveto be thy counsellor. Go, clear thy crystals.—Yokefellows in arms, Let us to France, like horseleeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!
BOY	(aside) And that’s but unwholesome food, they say.
PISTOL	Touch her soft mouth, and march.
BARDOLPH	Farewell, hostess. He kisses her
NIM	I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it, but adieu.
PISTOL	(to Hostess) Let housewifery appear. Keep close, I thee command.
HOSTESS	Farewell! Adieu! Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Charles the Sixth of France, the Dauphin, the Constable, and the Dukes of Berri and Bourbon
KING CHARLES	Thus comes the English with full power upon us, And more than carefully it us concerns To answer royally in our defences. Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Bourbon, Of Brabant and of Orléans shall make forth, And you Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch To line and new-repair our towns of war With men of courage and with means defendant. For England his approaches makes as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf. It fits us then to be as provident As fear may teach us, out of late examples Left by the fatal and neglected English Upon our fields.
DAUPHIN	My most redoubted father, It is most meet we arm us ‘gainst the foe, For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom— Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in question— But that defences, musters, preparations Should be maintained, assembled, and collected As were a war in expectation. Therefore, I say, ’tis meet we all go forth To view the sick and feeble parts of France. And let us do it with no show of fear, No, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris dance. For, my good liege, she is so idly kinged, Her sceptre so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, That fear attends her not.
CONSTABLE	O peace, Prince Dauphin. You are too much mistaken in this king. Question your grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with aged counsellors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly, As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring and be most delicate.
DAUPHIN	Well, ‘tis not so, my Lord High Constable. But though we think it so, it is no matter. In cases of defence ’tis best to weigh The enemy more mighty than he seems. So the proportions of defence are filled— Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting A little cloth.
KING CHARLES	Think we King Harry strong. And princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. The kindred of him hath been fleshed upon us, And he is bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. Witness our too-much-memorable shame When Crécy battle fatally was struck, And all our princes captived by the hand Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales, Whiles that his mountant sire, on mountain standing, Up in the air, crowned with the golden sun, Saw his heroical seed and smiled to see him Mangle the work of nature and deface The patterns that by God and by French fathers Had twenty years been made. This is a stem Of that victorious stock, and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Ambassadors from Harry, King of England, Do crave admittance to your majesty.
KING CHARLES	We’ll give them present audience. Go and bring them.
(didascalia)	Exit Messenger
KING CHARLES	You see this chase is hotly followed, friends.
DAUPHIN	Turn head and stop pursuit. For coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head. Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin As self-neglecting.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Exeter, attended
KING CHARLES	From our brother England?
EXETER	From him, and thus he greets your majesty: He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself and lay apart The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, ‘longs To him and to his heirs, namely the crown, And all wide-stretched honours that pertain By custom and the ordinance of times Unto the crown of France. That you may know ’Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, Picked from the worm-holes of long-vanished days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, He sends you this most memorable line, In every branch truly demonstrative, Willing you over-look this pedigree, And when you find him evenly derived From his most famed of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger.
KING CHARLES	Or else what follows?
EXETER	Bloody constraint. For if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, That if requiring fail, he will compel; And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head Turns he the widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries, The dead men’s blood, the pining maidens’ groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers That shall be swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat’ning, and my message— Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too.
KING CHARLES	For us, we will consider of this further. Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother England.
DAUPHIN	For the Dauphin, I stand here for him. What to him from England?
EXETER	Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt; And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an if your father’s highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, He’ll call you to so hot an answer for it That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance.
DAUPHIN	Say if my father render fair return It is against my will, for I desire Nothing but odds with England. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls.
EXETER	He’ll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe. And be assured, you’ll find a diff’rence, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now: now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain. That you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France.
(didascalia)	KING CHARLES rising
EXETER	Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full.
(didascalia)	Flourish
EXETER	Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay— For he is footed in this land already.
KING CHARLES	You shall be soon dispatched with fair conditions. A night is but small breath and little pause To answer matters of this consequence.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt
KING CHARLES	3.0 Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed king at Dover pier Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. Play with your fancies, and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, Borne with th‘invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on th’inconstant billows dancing— For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance. For who is he, whose chin is but enriched With one appearing hair, that will not follow These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege. Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose th’ambassador from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Catherine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not, and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
(didascalia)	Alarum, and chambers go off
CHORUS	And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Harry and the English army, with scaling ladders
KING HARRY	Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility, But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger. Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage. Then lend the eye a terrible aspect, Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon, let the brow o‘erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock O’erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof, Fathers that like so many Alexanders Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you called fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding—which I doubt not, For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot. Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry, ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’
(didascalia)	Alarum, and chambers go off. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Nim, Bardolph, Ensign Pistol, and Boy
BARDOLPH	On, on, on, on, oh! To the breach, to the breach!
NIM	Pray thee corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot, and for mine own part I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too hot, that is the very plainsong of it. 6
PISTOL	’The plainsong’ is most just, for humours do abound. Knocks go and come, God’s vassals drop and die,
(didascalia)	sings And sword and shield
PISTOL	In bloody field Doth win immortal fame.
BOY	Would I were in an alehouse in London. I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.
(didascalia)	PISTOL sings And I.
BOY	If wishes would prevail with me My purpose should not fail with me But thither would I hie.
(didascalia)	BOY sings As duly
BOY	But not as truly As bird doth sing on bough.
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Fluellen and beats them in
FLUELLEN	God’s plud! Up to the breaches, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions!
PISTOL	Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould. Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, Abate thy rage, great duke. Good bawcock, bate Thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck.
(didascalia)	NIM These be good humours! Fluellen begins to beat Nim Your honour runs bad humours.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but the Boy
BOY	As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them all three, but all they three, though they should serve me, could not be man to me, for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced—by the means whereof a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword—by the means whereof a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nim, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest a should be thought a coward. But his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds—for a never broke any man’s head but his own, and that was against a post, when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it ‘purchase’. Bardolph stole a lute case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nim and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire shovel. I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as their gloves or their handkerchiefs—which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another’s pocket to put into mine, for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Gower and Captain Fluellen, meeting
GOWER	Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines. The Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
FLUELLEN	To the mines? Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come to the mines. For look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient. For look you, th’thversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself, four yard under, the countermines. By Cheshu, I think a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.
GOWER	The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’faith.
FLUELLEN	It is Captain MacMorris, is it not?
GOWER	I think it be.
FLUELLEN	By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you—of the Roman disciplines—than is a puppy dog.
(didascalia)	Enter Captain MacMorris and Captain Jamy
GOWER	Here a comes, and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.
FLUELLEN	Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th’anciant wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.
JAMY	I say gud day, Captain Fluellen.
FLUELLEN	Good e’en to your worship, good Captain James.
GOWER	How now, Captain MacMorris, have you quit the mines? Have the pioneers given o’er?
MACMORRIS	By Chrish law, ‘tish ill done. The work ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my father’s soul, the work ish ill done, it ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me law, in an hour. O ’tish ill done, ‘tish ill done, by my hand ’tish ill done.
FLUELLEN	Captain MacMorris, I beseech you now, will you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication? Partly to satisfy my opinion and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind. As touching the direction of the military discipline, that is the point.
JAMY	It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath, and I sall quite you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion. That sall I, marry.
MACMORRIS	It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather and the wars and the King and the dukes. It is no time to discourse. The town is besieched. An the trumpet call us to the breach, and we talk and, be Chrish, do nothing, ‘tis shame for us all. So God sa’ me, ’tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my hand. And there is throats to be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me law.
JAMY	By the mess, ere these eyes of mine take themselves to slumber, ay’ll de gud service, or I’ll lig i‘th’ grund for it. Ay owe Got a death, and I’ll pay’t as valorously as I may, that sall I suirely do, that is the brief and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question ’tween you twae.
FLUELLEN	Captain MacMorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation—
MACMORRIS	Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain and a bastard and a knave and a rascal? What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?
FLUELLEN	Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain MacMorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.
MACMORRIS	I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
GOWER	Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
JAMY	Ah, that’s a foul fault. A parley is sounded
GOWER	The town sounds a parley.
FLUELLEN	Captain MacMorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war. And there is an end.
(didascalia)	Exit
FLUELLEN	[Flourish.] Enter King Harry and all his train before the gates
KING HARRY	How yet resolves the Governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit. Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves, Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst. For as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the batt‘ry once again I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the fleshed soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh fair virgins and your flow’ring infants. What is it then to me if impious war Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends Do with his smirched complexion all fell feats Enlinked to waste and desolation? What is’t to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon th‘enragèd soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command, Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. If not—why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod’s bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid? Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroyed?
(didascalia)	Enter Governor [on the wall]
GOVERNOR	Our expectation hath this day an end. The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, Returns us that his powers are yet not ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread King, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
(didascalia)	Enter our gates, dispose of us and ours,
GOVERNOR	For we no longer are defensible.
KING HARRY	Open your gates. [Exit Governor] 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 will retire to Calais. Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest; Tomorrow for the march are we addressed. [The gates are opened.] Flourish, and they enter the town

Atto 3, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Princess Catherine and Alice, an old gentlewoman
CATHERINE	Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu bien parles le langage.
ALICE	Un peu, madame.
CATHERINE	Je te prie, m‘enseignez. Il faut que j’apprenne à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en anglais?
ALICE	La main? Elle est appelée de hand.
CATHERINE	De hand. Et les doigts?
ALICE	Les doigts? Ma foi, j‘oublie les doigts, mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts—je pense qu’ils sont appelés de fingres. Oui, de fingres.
CATHERINE	La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis la bonne écolière; j‘ai gagné deux mots d’anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles? ALICE Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails.
CATHERINE	De nails. Écoutez—dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails.
ALICE	C’est bien dit, madame. Il est fort bon anglais.
CATHERINE	Dites-moi l’anglais pour le bras.
ALICE	De arma, madame.
CATHERINE	Et le coude?
ALICE	D’elbow.
CATHERINE	D‘elbow. Je m’en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m’avez appris dès a present.
ALICE	Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
CATHERINE	Excusez-moi, Alice. Écoutez: d‘hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, de bilbow.
ALICE	D’elbow, madame.
CATHERINE	O Seigneur Dieu, je m‘en oublie! D’elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?
ALICE	De nick, madame.
CATHERINE	De nick. Et le menton?
ALICE	De chin.
CATHERINE	De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.
ALICE	Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en vérité vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d’Angleterre.
CATHERINE	Je ne doute point d’apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.
ALICE	N’avez-vous y déjà oublié ce que je vous ai enseigné?
CATHERINE	Non, et je réciterai à vous promptement: d’hand, de fingre, de mailès—
ALICE	De nails, madame.
CATHERINE	De nails, de arma, de ilbow—
ALICE	Sauf votre honneur, d’elbow.
CATHERINE	Ainsi dis-je. D’elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous les pieds et la robe?
ALICE	De foot, madame, et de cown.
CATHERINE	De foot et de cown? O Seigneur Dieu! Ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d‘honneur d’user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh! De foot et de cown! Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble. D‘hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, d’elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de cown.
ALICE	Excellent, madame!
CATHERINE	C’est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous à diner.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Charles the Sixth of France, the Dauphin, the Constable, the Duke of Bourbon, and others
KING CHARLES	‘Tis certain he hath passed the River Somme.
CONSTABLE	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.
DAUPHIN	O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us, The emptying of our fathers’ luxury, Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds And over-look their grafters?
(didascalia)	BOURBON
DAUPHIN	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 slobb’ry and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
CONSTABLE	Dieu de batailles! 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-reined 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 Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields— ‘Poor’ may we call them, in their native lords.
DAUPHIN	By faith and honour, Our madams mock at us and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth, To new-store France with bastard warriors.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
DAUPHIN	They bid us, ‘To the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos’— Saying our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways.
KING CHARLES	Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence. Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. Up, princes, and with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field. Charles Delabret, High Constable of France, You Dukes of Orléans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy, Jaques Châtillion, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrelles, Boucicault, and Charolais, High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, For your great seats now quit you of great shames. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur; Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon. Go down upon him, you have power enough, And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner.
CONSTABLE	This becomes the great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famished in their march, For I am sure when he shall see our army He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear And, fore achievement, offer us his ransom.
KING CHARLES	Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy, And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give.— Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
DAUPHIN	Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
KING CHARLES	Be patient, for you shall remain with us.— Now forth, Lord Constable, and princes all, And quickly bring us word of England’s fall.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 3, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captains Gower and Fluellen, meeting
GOWER	How now, Captain Fluellen, come you from the bridge?
FLUELLEN	I assure you there is very excellent services committed at the bridge.
GOWER	Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
FLUELLEN	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 live and my living and my uttermost power. He is not, God be praised and blessed, any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an ensign lieutenant there at the pridge, 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 world, but I did see him do as gallant service.
GOWER	What do you call him?
FLUELLEN	He is called Ensign Pistol.
GOWER	I know him not.
(didascalia)	Enter Ensign Pistol
FLUELLEN	Here is the man.
PISTOL	Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours. The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
FLUELLEN	Ay, I praise God, and I have merited some love at his hands.
PISTOL	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—
FLUELLEN	By your patience, Ensign Pistol: Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind. 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 mutability and variation. And her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls and rolls and rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description of it; Fortune is an excellent moral.
PISTOL	Fortune is Bardolph’s foe and frowns on him, For he hath stol’n a pax, and hangèd must a be. A damned death— Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate. But Exeter hath given the doom of death For pax 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.
FLUELLEN	Ensign Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
PISTOL	Why then rejoice therefor.
FLUELLEN	Certainly, ensign, 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 discipline ought to be used.
PISTOL	Die and be damned! and fico for thy friendship.
FLUELLEN	It is Well.
PISTOL	The fig of Spain.
FLUELLEN	Very good.
PISTOL	I say the fig within thy bowels and thy dirty maw.
(didascalia)	Exit
FLUELLEN	Captain Gower, cannot you hear it lighten and thunder?
GOWER	Why, is this the ensign you told me of? I remember him now. A bawd, a cutpurse.
FLUELLEN	I’ll assure you, a uttered 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 into London under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders’ names, and they will learn you by rote where services were done—at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy, who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on—and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths. And what a beard of the General’s cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits is wonderful to be thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.
FLUELLEN	I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is. If I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind. A drum is heard Hark you, the King is coming, and I must speak with him from the pridge.
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry and his poor soldiers, with drum and colours
FLUELLEN	God pless your majesty.
KING HARRY	How now, Fluellen, com’st thou from the bridge?
FLUELLEN	Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained 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 enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I can tell your majesty, the Duke is a prave man.
KING HARRY	What men have you lost, Fluellen?
FLUELLEN	The perdition of th’athversary hath been very great, 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 bubuncles and whelks and knobs and flames o’ 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.
KING HARRY	We would have all such offenders so cut off, and we here give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language. For when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. Tucket. Enter Montjoy
MONTJOY	You know me by my habit.
KING HARRY	Well then, I know thee. What shall I know of thee?
MONTJOY	My master’s mind.
KING HARRY	Unfold it.
MONTJOY	Thus says my King: ‘Say thou to Harry of England, though we seemed dead, we did but sleep. Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him, we could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial. England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested—which in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for th’ffusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance, and tell him for conclusion he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced.’ So far my King and master; so much my office.
KING HARRY	What is thy name? I know thy quality.
MONTJOY	Montjoy.
KING HARRY	Thou dost 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— Though ’tis no wisdom to confess so much Unto an enemy of craft and vantage— My people are with sickness much enfeebled, My numbers lessened, 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, God, 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, God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himself and such another neighbour Stand in our way. There’s for thy labour, Montjoy. Go bid thy master well advise himself. If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour. And so, Montjoy, fare you well. The sum of all our answer is but this: We would not seek a battle as we are, Nor as we are we say we will not shun it. So tell your master.
MONTJOY	I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness. Exit
GLOUCESTER	I hope they will not come upon us now.
KING HARRY	We are in God’s hand, brother, not in theirs. March to the bridge. It now draws toward night. Beyond the river we’ll encamp ourselves, And on tomorrow bid them march away. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable, Lord Rambures, the Dukes of Orléans and Bourbon, with others
CONSTABLE	Tut, I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day.
ORLEANS	You have an excellent armour. But let my horse have his due.
CONSTABLE	It is the best horse of Europe. ORLÉANS Will it never be morning?
(didascalia)	BOURBON My lord of Orléans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of horse and armour?
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world.
(didascalia)	BOURBON What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ah ha! He bounds from the earth as if his entrails were hares-le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk; he trots the air, the earth sings when he touches it, the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS He’s of the colour of the nutmeg.
(didascalia)	BOURBON And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus. He is pure air and fire, and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.
CONSTABLE	Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse.
(didascalia)	BOURBON It is the prince of palfreys. His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS No more, cousin.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb vary deserved praise on my palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea. Turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all. ‘Tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign’s sovereign to ride on, and for the world, familiar to us and unknown, to lay apart their particular functions, and wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus: ‘Wonder of nature!—’
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS I have heard a sonnet begin so to one’s mistress.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Then did they imitate that which I composed to my courser, for my horse is my mistress.
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS Your mistress bears well.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Me well, which is the prescribed praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress.
CONSTABLE	Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back.
(didascalia)	BOURBON So perhaps did yours.
CONSTABLE	Mine was not bridled.
(didascalia)	BOURBON 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 judgement in horsemanship.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Be warned 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.
(didascalia)	BOURBON 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.
(didascalia)	BOURBON ‛Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, et la truie lavée au bourbier.’ Thou makest 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 tonight, are those stars or suns upon it?
CONSTABLE	Stars, my lord.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Some of them will fall tomorrow, I hope.
CONSTABLE	And yet my sky shall not want.
(didascalia)	BOURBON That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and ’twere more honour some were away.
CONSTABLE	Even as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as well were some of your brags dismounted.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot tomorrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces.
CONSTABLE	I will not say so, for fear I should be faced 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.
(didascalia)	BOURBON ’Tis midnight. I’ll go arm myself. Exit
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS The Duke of Bourbon longs for morning.
RAMBURES	He longs to eat the English.
CONSTABLE	I think he will eat all he kills. ORLÉANS By the white hand of my lady, he’s a gallant prince.
CONSTABLE	Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath. ORLÉANS He is simply the most active gentleman of France.
CONSTABLE	Doing is activity, and he will still be doing. ORLÉANS He never did harm that I heard of.
CONSTABLE	Nor will do none tomorrow. He will keep that good name still. ORLÉANS I know him to be valiant.
CONSTABLE	I was told that by one that knows him better than you. ORLÉANS What’s he?
CONSTABLE	Marry, he told me so himself, and he said he cared not who knew it. ORLÉANS 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. ORLÉANS ‘Ill will never said well.’ no
CONSTABLE	I will cap that proverb with ‘There is flattery in friendship.’ ORLÉANS And I will take up that with ‘Give the devil his due.’
CONSTABLE	Well placed! There stands your friend for the devil. Have at the very eye of that proverb with ‘A pox of the devil!’ ORLÉANS You are the better at proverbs by how much ‘a fool’s bolt is soon shot’.
CONSTABLE	You have shot over. ORLÉANS ’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 measured the ground?
MESSENGER	The Lord Grandpré.
CONSTABLE	A valiant and most expert gentleman.
(didascalia)	Exit Messenger
CONSTABLE	Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England. He longs not for the dawning as we do. ORLÉANS What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowledge.
CONSTABLE	If the English had any apprehension, they would run away. ORLÉANS That they lack—for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy headpieces.
RAMBURES	That island of England breeds very valiant creatures. Their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. ORLÉANS Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed 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 sympathize 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. ORLÉANS Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
CONSTABLE	Then shall we find tomorrow they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we about it? ORLÉANS It is now two o’clock. But let me see—by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 0

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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 fixed 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 umbered 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 cocks do crow, the clocks do toll And the third hour of drowsy morning name. Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and overlusty 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, Presented them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruined 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-watchèd night, But freshly looks and overbears 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 everyone, 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-disposed in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mock’ries be. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry and the Duke of Gloucester, then the Duke of Clarence
KING HARRY	Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be. Good morrow, brother Clarence. God 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham
KING HARRY	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.’
KING HARRY	’Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example. So the spirit is eased, And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move With casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. He puts on Erpingham’s cloak Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp. Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my pavilion.
GLOUCESTER	We shall, my liege.
ERPINGHAM	Shall I attend your grace?
KING HARRY	No, my good knight. Go with my brothers to my lords of England. I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company.
ERPINGHAM	The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry.
KING HARRY	God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak’st cheerfully.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but King Harry
(didascalia)	Enter Pistol to him
PISTOL	Qui vous là?
KING HARRY	A friend.
PISTOL	Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular?
KING HARRY	I am a gentleman of a company.
PISTOL	Trail’st thou the puissant pike?
KING HARRY	Even so. What are you?
PISTOL	As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
KING HARRY	Then you are a better than the King.
PISTOL	The King’s a bawcock and a heart-of-gold, A lad of life, an imp of fame, Of parents good, of fist most valiant. I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heartstring I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
KING HARRY	Harry le roi.
PISTOL	Leroi? A Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?
KING HARRY	No, I am a Welshman.
PISTOL	Know’st thou Fluellen?
KING HARRY	Yes.
PISTOL	Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate Upon Saint Davy’s day.
KING HARRY	Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.
PISTOL	Art thou his friend?
KING HARRY	And his kinsman too.
PISTOL	The fico for thee then.
KING HARRY	I thank you. God be with you.
PISTOL	My name is Pistol called.
KING HARRY	It sorts well with your fierceness.
(didascalia)	Exit Pistol Enter Captains Fluellen and Gower severally. King Harry stands apart
GOWER	Captain Fluellen!
FLUELLEN	So! In the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and ancient prerogatifs and laws of the wars is not kept. If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-babble in Pompey’s camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
GOWER	Why, the enemy is loud. You hear him all night.
FLUELLEN	If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? In your own conscience now?
GOWER	I will speak lower.
FLUELLEN	I pray you and beseech you that you will.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Fluellen and Gower
KING HARRY	Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welshman.
(didascalia)	Enter three soldiers: John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams
COURT	Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?
BATES	I think it be. But we have no great cause to desire the approach of day.
WILLIAM	We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it.—Who goes there?
KING HARRY	A friend.
WILLIAM	Under what captain serve you?
KING HARRY	Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
WILLIAM	A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?
KING HARRY	Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide.
BATES	He hath not told his thought to the King?
KING HARRY	No, nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man, as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me. All his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man, and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are. Yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.
BATES	He may show what outward courage he will, but I believe, as cold a night as ’tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck. And so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.
KING HARRY	By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King. I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.
BATES	Then I would he were here alone. So should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men’s lives saved.
KING HARRY	I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men’s minds. Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King’s company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable.
WILLIAMS	That’s more than we know.
BATES	Ay, or more than we should seek after. For we know enough if we know we are the King’s subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.
WILLIAMS	But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads chopped off in a battle shall join together at the latter day, and cry all, ‘We died at such a ptace’—some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it—who to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.
KING HARRY	So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father, that sent him. Or if a servant, under his master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant’s damnation. But this is not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant, for they purpose not their deaths when they propose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrament of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle. War is his vengeance. So that here men are punished for before-breach of the King’s laws, in now the King’s quarrel. Where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the King’s, but every subject’s soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed: wash every mote out of his conscience. And dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained. And in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, he let him outlive that day to see his greatness and to teach others how they should prepare.
(didascalia)	BATES ’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head. The King is not to answer it. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
KING HARRY	I myself heard the King say he would not be ransomed.
WILLIAMS	Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully, but when our throats are cut he may be ransomed, and we ne’er the wiser.
KING HARRY	If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
WILLIAMS	You pay him then! That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch. You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his word after! Come, ’tis a foolish saying.
KING HARRY	Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
WILLIAMS	Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
KING HARRY	I embrace it.
WILLIAM	How shall I know thee again?
KING HARRY	Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet. Then if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.
WILLIAMS	Here’s my glove. Give me another of thine.
KING HARRY	There. They exchange gloves
WILLIAM	This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me and say, after tomorrow, ‘This is my glove’, by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear.
KING HARRY	If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
WILLIAM	Thou darest as well be hanged.
KING HARRY	Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King’s company.
WILLIAMS	Keep thy word. Fare thee well.
BATES	Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to reckon.
KING HARRY	Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders. But it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and tomorrow the King himself will be a clipper. Exeunt soldiers Upon the King. ‘Let us our lives, our souls, our debts, our care-full wives, Our children, and our sins, lay on the King.’ We must bear all. O hard condition, Twin-born with greatness: subject to the breath Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel But his own wringing. What infinite heartsease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy? And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer‘st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? O ceremony, show me but thy worth. What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men? Wherein thou art less happy, being feared, Than they in fearing. What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery? O be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure. Think‘st thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s knee, Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream That play‘st so subtly with a king’s repose; I am a king that find thee, and I know ’Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world—No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave Who with a body filled and vacant mind Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread; Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, But like a lackey from the rise to set Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse, And follows so the ever-running year With profitable labour to his grave. And but for ceremony such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the forehand and vantage of a king. The slave, a member of the country’s peace, Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace, Whose hours the peasant best advantages. Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham
ERPINGHAM	My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you.
KING HARRY	Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent. I’ll be before thee.
ERPINGHAM	I shall do’t, my lord. Exit
KING HARRY	O God of battles, steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear. Take from them now The sense of reck‘ning, ere th’opposèd numbers Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord, O not today, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown. I Richard’s body have interred new, And on it have bestowed more contrite tears Than from it issued forced drops of blood. Five hundred poor have I in yearly pay Who twice a day their withered hands hold up Toward heaven to pardon blood. And I have built Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do, Though all that I can do is nothing worth, Since that my penitence comes after ill, Imploring pardon.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Gloucester
GLOUCESTER	My liege.
KING HARRY	My brother Gloucester’s voice? Ay. I know thy errand, I will go with thee. The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Bourbonand Orléans, and Lord
(didascalia)	Rambures ORLÉANS The sun doth gild our armour. Up, my lords!
(didascalia)	BOURBONMonte cheval! My horse! Varlet, lacquais! Ha!
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS O brave spirit!
(didascalia)	BOURBON Via les eaux et terre!
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS Rien plus? L’air et feu!
(didascalia)	BOURBON Cieux, cousin Orléans!
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable
(didascalia)	Now, my Lord Constable!
CONSTABLE	Hark how our steeds for present service neigh.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONSTABLE	Mount them and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes And dout them with superfluous courage. Ha!
RAMBURES	What, will you have them weep our horses’ blood? How shall we then behold their natural tears?
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	The English are embattled, you French peers.
CONSTABLE	To horse, you gallant princes, straight to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck away their souls, Leaving them but the shells and husks of men. There is not work enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins To give each naked curtal-axe a stain That our French gallants shall today draw out And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them, The vapour of our valour 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 honours must not. What’s to say? A very little little let us do And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound The tucket sonance and the note to mount, For our approach shall so much dare the field That England shall couch down in fear and yield.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Grandpré
CONSTABLE	GRANDPRÉ Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-favouredly 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. The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks With torchstaves in their hands, and their poor jades Lob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips, The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes, And in their palled dull mouths the gimmaled 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 demonstrate the life of such a battle In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
CONSTABLE	They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONSTABLE	Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits And give their fasting horses provender, And after fight with them?
CONSTABLE	I stay but for my guidon. 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. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Gloucester, Clarence, and Exeter, the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, and Sir Thomas Erpingham, with all the host
GLOUCESTER	Where is the King?
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
GLOUCESTER	The King himself is rode to view their battle. [WARWICK] Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.
EXETER	There’s five to one. Besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY	God’s arm strike with us! ‘Tis a fearful odds. God b’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 Clarence, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And (to Warwick) my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu.
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
SALISBURY	Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee.
EXETER	Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today— And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.
(didascalia)	Exit Salisbury
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
EXETER	He is as full of valour as of kindness, Princely in both.
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry, behind
(didascalia)	WARWICK
EXETER	O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work today.
KING HARRY	What’s he that wishes so? My cousin Warwick? 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 honour. 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 ernes me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour 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 honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more. Rather proclaim it presently 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-tiptoe when this day is named And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day and live t‘old age Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours And say, ’Tomorrow 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 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 today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed 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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of 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 HARRY	All things are ready if our minds be so.
(didascalia)	WARWICK Perish the man whose mind is backward now.
KING HARRY	Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
(didascalia)	WARWICK
KING HARRY	God’s will, my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle.
KING HARRY	Why now thou hast unwished five thousand men, Which likes me better than to wish us one.— You know your places. God be with you all.
(didascalia)	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. For certainly thou art so near the gulf Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy The Constable desires thee thou wilt mind 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.
KING HARRY	Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY	The Constable of France.
KING HARRY	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. 95 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. Mark then abounding valour in our English, That, being dead, like to the bullets grazing Break out into a second course of mischief, Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly. Tell the Constable We are but warriors for the working day. Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched With rainy marching in the painful field. There’s not a piece of feather in our host— Good argument, I hope, we will not fly— And time hath worn us into slovenry. But by the mass, our hearts are in the trim. And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night They’ll be in fresher robes, as they will pluck The gay new coats o‘er your French soldiers’ heads, And turn them out of service. If they do this— As if God please, they shall—my ransom then Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour. 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.
KING HARRY	I fear thou wilt once more come for a ransom.
(didascalia)	Exit Montjoy
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
YORK	My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vanguard.
KING HARRY	Take it, brave York.—Now soldiers, march away, And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistol, a French soldier, and the Boy
PISTOL	Yield, cur.
FRENCH SOLDIER	je pense que vous êtes le gentilhomme de bon qualité.
PISTOL	Qualité? ‘Calin o custure me!’ Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name? Discuss.
FRENCH SOLDIER	O Seigneur Dieu!
(didascalia)	PISTOL aside
FRENCH SOLDIER	O Seigneur Dew should be a gentleman.— Perpend my words, O Seigneur Dew, and mark: O Seigneur Dew, thou diest, on point of fox, Except, O Seigneur, thou do give to me Egregious ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER	O prenez miséricorde! Ayez pitie de moi!
PISTOL	‘Moy’ shall not serve, I will have forty ‘moys’, Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat In drops of crimson blood.
FRENCH SOLDIER	Est-il impossible d’échapper la force de ton bras?
PISTOL	Brass, cur? Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, Offer’st me brass?
FRENCH SOLDIER	O pardonne-moi!
PISTOL	Sayst thou me so? Is that a ton of moys?— Come hither boy. Ask me this slave in French What is his name.
BOY	Écoutez: comment êtes-vous appelé?
FRENCH SOLDIER	Monsieur le Fer.
BOY	He says his name is Master Fer.
PISTOL	Master Fer? I’ll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him. Discuss the same in French unto him.
BOY	I do not know the French for fer and ferret and firk.
PISTOL	Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.
FRENCH SOLDIER	Que dit-il, monsieur?
BOY	Il me commande à vous dire que vous faites vous prêt, car ce soldat ici est dispose tout à cette heure de couper votre gorge. 35
PISTOL	Oui, couper la gorge, par ma foi, Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
FRENCH SOLDIER	O je vous supplie, pour l’amour de Dieu, me pardonner. Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus.
PISTOL	What are his words?
BOY	He prays you to save his life. He is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.
PISTOL	Tell him, my fury shall abate, and I the crowns will take.
FRENCH SOLDIER	Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
BOY	Encore qu’il est centre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier; neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous lui ci promettez, il est content à vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.
FRENCH SOLDIER	(kneeling to Pistol) Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remerciements, et je m‘estime heureux que j’ai tombe entre les mains d‘un chevalier, comme je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et treis-distingué seigneur d’Angleterre. PISTOL Expound unto me, boy.
BOY	He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seigneur of England.
PISTOL	As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me.
BOY	Suivez-vous le grand capitaine.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Pistol and French Soldier
BOY	I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart. But the saying is true: ‘The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.’ Bardolph and Nim had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i’th’ old play, that everyone may pare his nails with a wooden dagger, and they are both hanged, and so would this be, if he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable, the Dukes of
(didascalia)	Orléans and Bourbon, and Lord Rambures
CONSTABLE	O diable! ORLÉANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONSTABLE	Mort de ma vie! All is confounded, all. Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. A short alarum O mechante fortune!– (To Rambures) Do not run away.
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS
CONSTABLE	We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON	The devil take order. Once more back again! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand Like a base leno hold the chamber door Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE	Disorder that hath spoiled us friend us now. Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.
BOURBON	I’ll to the throng. Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Harry and his train, with prisoners
KING HARRY	Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen. But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field. [Enter the Duke of Exeter]
EXETER	The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.
KING HARRY	Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down, thrice up again and fighting. From helmet to the spur, all blood he was.
EXETER	In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, Larding the plain. And by his bloody side, Yokefellow to his honour-owing wounds, The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over, Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawn upon his face, And cries aloud, ‘Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk. My soul shall thine keep company to heaven. Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry.’ Upon these words I came and cheered him up. He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand, And with a feeble grip says, ‘Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.’ So did he turn, and over Suffolk’s neck He threw his wounded arm, and kissed his lips, And so espoused to death, with blood he sealed A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forced Those waters from me which I would have stopped. But I had not so much of man in me, And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
KING HARRY	I blame you not, For hearing this I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.
(didascalia)	Alarum
KING HARRY	But hark, what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforced their scattered men. Then every soldier kill his prisoners. [The soldiers kill their prisoners] Give the word through.
(didascalia)	PISTOL Coup’ la gorge.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captains Fluellen and Gower
FLUELLEN	Kill the poys and the luggage! ‘Tis expressly against the law of arms. ’Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offert. In your conscience now, is it not?
GOWER	‘Tis certain there’s not a boy left alive. And the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha’ done this slaughter. Besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the King’s tent; wherefore the King most worthily hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner’s throat. O ’tis a gallant king.
FLUELLEN	Ay, he was porn at Monmouth. Captain Gower, what call you the town’s name where Alexander the Pig was born?
GLOWER	Alexander the Great.
FLUELLEN	Why I pray you, is not ‘pig’ great? The pig or the great or the mighty or the huge or the magnanimous are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.
GOWER	I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon. His father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.
FLUELLEN	I think it is e‘en Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the world I warrant you sail find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon, and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river—but ’tis all one, ’tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander’s life well, Harry of Monmouth’s life is come after it indifferent well. For there is figures in all things. Alexander, God knows, and you know, in his rages and his furies and his wraths and his cholers and his moods and his displeasures and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend Cleitus—
GOWER	Our King is not like him in that. He never killed any of his friends.
FLUELLEN	It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth ere it is made an end and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it. As Alexander killed his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgements, turned away the fat knight with the great-belly doublet—he was full of jests and gipes and knaveries and mocks—I have forgot his name.
GOWER	Sir John Falstaff.
FLUELLEN	That is he. I’ll tell you, there is good men porn at Monmouth.
GOWER	Here comes his majesty.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Harry and the English army, with the Duke of Bourbon, the Duke of Orléans, and other prisoners. Flourish
KING HARRY	I was not angry since I came to France Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald; Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill. If they will fight with us, bid them come down, Or void the field: they do offend our sight. If they’ll do neither, we will come to them, And make them skirr away as swift as stones Enforced from the old Assyrian slings. Besides, we’ll cut the throats of those we have, And not a man of them that we shall take Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
(didascalia)	Enter Montjoy
EXETER	Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
GLOUCESTER	His eyes are humbler than they used to be.
KING HARRY	How now, what means this, herald? Know‘st thou not That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom? Com’st thou again for ransom?
MONTJOY	No, great King. I come to thee for charitable licence, That we may wander o’er this bloody field To book our dead and then to bury them, To sort our nobles from our common men— For many of our princes, woe the while, Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood. So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes, and our wounded steeds Fret fetlock-deep in gore, and with wild rage Jerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing them twice. O give us leave, great King, To view the field in safety, and dispose Of their dead bodies.
KING HARRY	I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horsemen peer And gallop o’er the field.
MONTJOY	The day is yours.
KING HARRY	Praised be God, and not our strength, for it. What is this castle called that stands hard by?
MONTJOY	They call it Agincourt.
KING HARRY	Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crispin Crispian.
FLUELLEN	Your grandfather of famous memory, an’t please your majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.
KING HARRY	They did, Fluellen.
FLUELLEN	Your majesty says very true. If your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps, which your majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the service. And I do believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy’s day.
KING HARRY	I wear it for a memorable honour, For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
FLUELLEN	All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty’s Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that. God pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases his grace, and his majesty too.
KING HARRY	Thanks, good my countryman.
FLUELLEN	By Jeshu, I am your majesty’s countryman. I care not who know it, I will confess it to all the world. I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be God, so long as your majesty is an honest man.
KING HARRY	God keep me so.
(didascalia)	Enter Williams with a glove in his cap
KING HARRY	Our heralds go with him. Bring me just notice of the numbers dead On both our parts.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Montjoy, Gower,and an English herald
KING HARRY	Call yonder fellow hither.
EXETER	(to Williams) Soldier, you must come to the King.
KING HARRY	Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap?
WILLIAM	An’t please your majesty, ’tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive.
KING HARRY	An Englishman?
WILLIAMS	An’t please your majesty, a rascal, that swaggered with me last night—who, if a live, and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box o’th’ ear; or if I can see my glove in his cap—which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear if a lived—I will strike it out soundly.
KING HARRY	What think you, Captain Fluellen? Is it fit this soldier keep his oath?
FLUELLEN	He is a craven and a villain else, an’t please your majesty, in my conscience.
KING HARRY	It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, quite from the answer of his degree.
FLUELLEN	Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifer and Beelzebub himself, it is necessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath. If he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack-sauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God’s ground and his earth, in my conscience, law.
KING HARRY	Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.
WILLIAMS	So I will, my liege, as I live.
KING HARRY	Who serv’st thou under?
WILLIAM	Under Captain Gower, my liege.
FLUELLEN	Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in the wars.
KING HARRY	Call him hither to me, soldier.
WILLIAM	I will, my liege. Exit
KING HARRY	(giving him Williams’s other glove) Here, Fluellen, wear thou this favour for me and stick it in thy cap. When Alençon and myself were down together, I plucked this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alençon and an enemy to our person. If thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.
FLUELLEN	Your grace does me as great honours as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but I would fain see it once. An’t please God of his grace, that I would see.
KING HARRY	Know’st thou Gower?
FLUELLEN	He is my dear friend, an’t please you.
KING HARRY	Pray thee, go seek him and bring him to my tent. 165
FLUELLEN	I will fetch him. Exit
KING HARRY	My lord of Warwick and my brother Gloucester, Follow Fluellen closely at the heels. The glove which I have given him for a favour May haply purchase him a box o’th’ ear. It is the soldier’s. I by bargain should Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick. If that the soldier strike him, as I judge By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, Some sudden mischief may arise of it, For I do know Fluellen valiant And touched with choler, hot as gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury. Follow, and see there be no harm between them. Go you with me, uncle of Exeter.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 4, Scena 8

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Gower and Williams
WILLIAMS	I warrant it is to knight you, captain. Enter Captain Fluellen
FLUELLEN	God’s will and his pleasure, captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the King. There is more good toward you, peradventure, than is in your knowledge to dream of.
WILLIAM	Sir, know you this glove?
FLUELLEN	Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove.
WILLIAM	Fplucking the glove from Fluellen’s cap] I know this, and thus I challenge it. He strikes Fluellen
FLUELLEN	God’s plood, and his! An arrant traitor as any’s in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
GOWER	(to Williams) How now, sir? You villain!
WILLIAM	Do you think I’ll be forsworn?
FLUELLEN	Stand away, Captain Gower. I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you. Williams I am no traitor.
FLUELLEN	That’s a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his majesty’s name, apprehend him. He’s a friend of the Duke Alençon’s.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Gloucester
WARWICK	How now, how now, what’s the matter?
FLUELLEN	My lord of Warwick, here is—praised be God for it—a most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer’s day.
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry and the Duke of Exeter Here is his majesty.
KING HARRY	How now, what is the matter?
FLUELLEN	My liege, here is a villain and a traitor that, look your grace, has struck the glove which your majesty is take out of the helmet of Alençon.
WILLIAMS	My liege, this was my gtove—here is the fellow of it—and he that I gave it to in change promised to wear it in his cap. I promised to strike him, if he did. I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.
FLUELLEN	Your majesty hear now, saving your majesty’s manhood, what an arrant rascally beggarly lousy knave it is. I hope your majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will avouchment that this is the glove of Alençon that your majesty is give me, in your conscience now.
KING HARRY	Give me thy glove, soldier. Look, here is the fellow of it. ‘Twas I indeed thou promisèd’st to strike, And thou hast given me most bitter terms.
FLUELLEN	An’t please your majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world.
KING HARRY	How canst thou make me satisfaction?
WILLIAMS	All offences, my lord, come from the heart. Never came any from mine that might offend your majesty.
KING HARRY	It was ourself thou didst abuse.
WILLIAMS	Your majesty came not like yourself. You appeared to me but as a common man. Witness the night, your garments, your lowliness. And what your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you take it for your own fault, and not mine, for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence. Therefore I beseech your highness pardon me.
KING HARRY	Here, Uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns And give it to this fellow.—Keep it, fellow, And wear it for an honour in thy cap Till I do challenge it.—Give him the crowns. —And captain, you must needs be friends with him.
FLUELLEN	By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his betty.—Ho[d, there is twelve pence for you, and I pray you to serve God, and keep you out of prawls and prabbles and quarrels and dissensions, and I warrant you it is the better for you.
WILLIAMS	I will none of your money.
FLUELLEN	It is with a good will. I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? Your shoes is not so good. ’Tis a good shilling, I warrant you, or I will change it.
(didascalia)	Enter an English Herald
KING HARRY	Now, herald, are the dead numbered?
HERALD	Here is the number of the slaughtered French.
KING HARRY	What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
EXETER	Charles, Duke of Orléans, nephew to the King; Jean, Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Boucicault; Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
KING HARRY	This note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lie slain. Of princes in this number And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead One hundred twenty-six; added to these, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred, of the which Five hundred were but yesterday dubbed knights. So that in these ten thousand they have lost There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality. The names of those their nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabret, High Constable of France; Jaques of Châtillon, Admiral of France; The Master of the Crossbows, Lord Rambures; Great-Master of France, the brave Sir Guiscard Dauphin; Jean, Duke of Alençon; Antony, Duke of Brabant, The brother to the Duke of Burgundy; And Édouard, Duke of Bar; of lusty earls, Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrelles. Here was a royal fellowship of death. Where is the number of our English dead? He is given another paper Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Keighley, Davy Gam Esquire; None else of name, and of all other men But five-and-twenty. O God, thy arm was here, And not to us, but to thy arm alone Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem, But in plain shock and even play of battle, Was ever known so great and little loss On one part and on th’other? Take it God, For it is none but thine.
EXETER	’Tis wonderful.
KING HARRY	Come, go we in procession to the village, And be it death proclaimed through our host To boast of this, or take that praise from God Which is his only.
FLUELLEN	Is it not lawful, an’t please your majesty, to tell how many is killed?
KING HARRY	Yes, captain, but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for us.
FLUELLEN	Yes, in my conscience, he did us great good.
KING HARRY	Do we all holy rites: Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum, The dead with charity enclosed in clay; And then to Calais, and to England then, Where ne’er from France arrived more-happy men.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 0

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story That I may prompt them—and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit th‘excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life Be here presented. Now we bear the King Toward Calais. Grant him there; there seen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach Pales-in the flood, with men, maids, wives, and boys, Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouthed sea, Which like a mighty whiffler fore the King Seems to prepare his way. So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace hath thought, that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath, Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city; he forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride, Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens. The Mayor and all his brethren, in best sort, Like to the senators of th’antique Rome With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conqu’ring Caesar in— As, by a lower but high-loving likelihood, Were now the General of our gracious Empress— As in good time he may—from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; As yet the lamentation of the French Invites the King of England’s stay at home. The Emperor’s coming in behalf of France,
(didascalia)	To order peace between them
(didascalia)	and omit
CHORUS	All the occurrences, whatever chanced, Till Harry’s back-return again to France. There must we bring him, and myself have played The interim by rememb‘ring you ’tis past. Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance, After your thoughts, straight back again to France.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Gower and Captain Fluellen, with a leek in his cap and a cudgel
GOWER	Nay, that’s right. But why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy’s day is past.
FLUELLEN	There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I will tell you, ass my friend, Captain Gower. The rascally scald beggarly lousy pragging knave Pistot—which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits—he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him, but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
(didascalia)	Enter Ensign Pistol
GOWER	Why, here a comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
FLUELLEN	‘Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. —God pless you Ensign Pistol, you scurvy lousy knave, God pless you.
PISTOL	Ha, art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
FLUELLEN	I peseech you heartily, scurvy lousy knave, at my desires and my requests and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek. Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. 26
PISTOL	Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
FLUELLEN	There is one goat for you. (He strikes Pistol) Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?
PISTOL	Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
FLUELLEN	You say very true, scald knave, when God’s will is. I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals. Come, there is sauce for it. (He strikes him) You called me yesterday ‘mountain-squire’, but I will make you today a ‘squire of low degree’. I pray you, fall to. If you can mock a leek you can eat a leek.
(didascalia)	He strikes him
GOWER	Enough, captain, you have astonished him.
FLUELLEN	By Jesu, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days and four nights.—Bite, I pray you. It is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.
PISTOL	Must I bite?
FLUELLEN	Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities.
PISTOL	By this leek, I will most horribly revenge—
(didascalia)	Fluellen threatens him I eat and eat—I swear—
FLUELLEN	Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.
PISTOL	Quiet thy cudgel, thou dost see I eat.
FLUELLEN	Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away. The skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at ’em, that is all.
PISTOL	Good.
FLUELLEN	Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
PISTOL	Me, a groat?
FLUELLEN	Yes, verity, and in truth you shall take it, or I have another leek in my pocket which you shall eat.
PISTOL	I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
FLUELLEN	If I owe you anything, I will pay you in cudgels. You shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God b’wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate. Exit
PISTOL	All hell shall stir for this.
GOWER	Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel. You find it otherwise. And henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well.
(didascalia)	Exit
PISTOL	Doth Fortune play the hussy with me now? News have I that my Nell is dead I’th’ spital of a malady of France, And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs Honour is cudgelled. Well, bawd I’ll turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and there I’ll steal, And patches will I get unto these cudgelled scars, And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter at one door King Harry, the Dukes of Exeter and Clarence, the Earl of Warwick, and other lords; at another, King Charles the Sixth of France, Queen Isabel, the Duke of Burgundy, and other French, among them Princess Catherine and Alice
KING HARRY	Peace to this meeting, wherefor we are met. Unto our brother France and to our sister, Health and fair time of day. joy and good wishes To our most fair and princely cousin Catherine; And as a branch and member of this royalty, By whom this great assembly is contrived, We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy. And princes French, and peers, health to you all.
KING CHARLES	Right joyous are we to behold your face. Most worthy brother England, fairly met. So are you, princes English, every one.
QUEEN ISABEL	So happy be the issue, brother England, Of this good day and of this gracious meeting, As we are now glad to behold your eyes— Your eyes which hitherto have borne in them, Against the French that met them in their bent, The fatal balls of murdering basilisks. The venom of such looks we fairly hope Have lost their quality, and that this day Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
KING HARRY	To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
QUEEN ISABEL	You English princes all, I do salute you.
BURGUNDY	My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and England. That I have laboured With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, To bring your most imperial majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. Since, then, my office hath so far prevailed That face to face and royal eye to eye You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand, before this royal view, What rub or what impediment there is Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? Alas, she hath from France too long been chased, And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, Corrupting in it own fertility. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unprunèd dies; her hedges even-plashed Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair Put forth disordered twigs; her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery. The even mead—that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover— Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility. An all our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective in their natures, grow to wildness, Even so our houses and ourselves and children Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, The sciences that should become our country, But grow like savages—as soldiers will That nothing do but meditate on blood— To swearing and stern looks, diffused attire, And everything that seems unnatural. Which to reduce into our former favour You are assembled, and my speech entreats That I may know the let why gentle peace Should not expel these inconveniences And bless us with her former qualities.
KING HARRY	If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace Whose want gives growth to th’imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full accord to all our just demands, Whose tenors and particular effects You have enscheduled briefly in your hands.
BURGUNDY	The King hath heard them, to the which as yet There is no answer made.
KING HARRY	Well then, the peace, Which you before so urged, lies in his answer.
KING CHARLES	I have but with a cursitory eye O’erglanced the articles. Pleaseth your grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more, with better heed To re-survey them, we will suddenly Pass our accept and peremptory answer.
KING HARRY	Brother, we shall.—Go, Uncle Exeter And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester; Warwick and Huntingdon, go with the King, And take with you free power to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see advantageable for our dignity, Anything in or out of our demands, And we’ll consign thereto.—Will you, fair sister, Go with the princes, or stay here with us?
QUEEN	Our gracious brother, I will go with them. Haply a woman’s voice may do some good When articles too nicely urged be stood on.
KING HARRY	Yet leave our cousin Catherine here with us. She is our capital demand, comprised
(didascalia)	Within the fore-rank of our articles.
QUEEN	She hath good leave.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but King Harry, Catherine, and Alice
KING HARRY	Fair Catherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady’s ear And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
CATHERINE	Your majesty shall mock at me. I cannot speak your England.
KING HARRY	O fair Catherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
CATHERINE	Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is ‘like me’.
KING HARRY	An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
CATHERINE	(to Alice) Que dit-il?—que je suis semblable à les anges?
ALICE	Oui, vraiment—sauf votre grâce—ainsi dit-il.
KING HARRY	I said so, dear Catherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.
CATHERINE	O bon Dieu! Les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
KING HARRY	What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of deceits?
ALICE	Oui, dat de tongeus of de mans is be full of deceits—dat is de Princess.
KING HARRY	The Princess is the better Englishwoman. I‘faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding. I am glad thou canst speak no better English, for if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, ‘I love you’; then if you urge me farther than to say, ‘Do you in faith?’, I wear out my suit. Give me your answer, i’faith do, and so clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady?
CATHERINE	Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.
KING HARRY	Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why, you undid me. For the one I have neither words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in measure—yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jackanapes, never off. But before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation—only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: if thou canst love me for this, take me. If not, to say to thee that I shall die, is true—but for thy love, by the Lord, no. Yet I love thee, too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy, for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places. For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, they do always reason themselves out again. What! A speaker is but a prater, a rhyme is but a ballad; a good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye will wax hollow, but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon—or rather the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what sayst thou then to my love? Speak, my fair—and fairly, I pray thee.
CATHERINE	Is it possible dat I sould love de ennemi of France?
KING HARRY	No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate. But in loving me, you should love the friend of France, for I love France so well that I will not part with a village of it, I will have it all mine; and Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine.
CATHERINE	I cannot tell vat is dat.
KING HARRY	No, Kate? I will tell thee in French—which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband’s neck, hardly to be shook off. le quand suis le possesseur de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi—let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!—donc vôtre est France, et vous êtes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much more French. I shall never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.
CATHERINE	Sauf votre honneur, le français que vous parlez, il est meilleur que l’anglais lequel je parle.
KING HARRY	No, faith, is’t not, Kate. But thy speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly-falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. But Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?
CATHERINE	I cannot tell.
KING HARRY	Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I’ll ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me, and at night when you come into your closet you’ll question this gentlewoman about me, and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart. But good Kate, mock me mercifully—the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be’st mine, Kate—as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt—I get thee with scrambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half-French half-English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard? Shall we not? What sayst thou, my fair flowerde-luce?
CATHERINE	I do not know dat.
KING HARRY	No, ’tis hereafter to know, but now to promise. Do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy, and for my English moiety take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Catherine du monde, mon très chere et divine deésse?
CATHERINE	Your majesté ’ave faux French enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France.
KING HARRY	Now fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate. By which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father’s ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies I fright them. But in faith, Kate, the elder I wax the better I shall appear. My comfort is that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst, and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better; and therefore tell me, most fair Catherine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes, avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress, take me by the hand and say, ‘Harry of England, I am thine’—which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud, ‘England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine’—who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music—for thy voice is music and thy English broken. Therefore, queen of all, Catherine, break thy mind to me in broken English: wilt thou have me?
CATHERINE	Dat is as it shall please de roi mon père.
KING HARRY	Nay, it will please him well, Kate. It shall please him, Kate.
CATHERINE	Den it sail also content me.
KING HARRY	Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen.
CATHERINE	Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez votre grandeur en baisant la main d’une de votre seigneurie indigne serviteur. Excusezmoi, je vous supplie, mon treis-puissant seigneur.
KING HARRY	Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. 255
CATHERINE	Les dames et demoiselles pour être baisées devant leurs noces, il n’est pas la coutume de France.
KING HARRY	(to Alice) Madam my interpreter, what says she?
ALICE	Dat it is not be de façon pour les ladies of France—I cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish.
KING HARRY	To kiss.
ALICE	Your majesté entend bettre que moi.
KING HARRY	It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say? 265 ALICE Oui, vraiment.
KING HARRY	O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country’s fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate, and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss. Therefore, patiently and yielding. (He kisses her) You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate. There is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French Council, and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father Enter King Charles, Queen Isabel, the Duke of Burgundy, and the French and English lords
BURGUNDY	God save your majesty. My royal cousin, teach you our princess English?
KING HARRY	I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her, and that is good English.
BURGUNDY	Is she not apt?
KING HARRY	Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth, so that having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her that he will appear in his true likeness.
BURGUNDY	Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you blame her then, being a maid yet rosed over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign to.
KING HARRY	Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.
BURGUNDY	They are then excused, my lord, when they see not what they do.
KING HARRY	Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.
BURGUNDY	I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach her to know my meaning. For maids, well summered and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide: blind, though they have their eyes. And then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on.
KING HARRY	This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer, and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too.
BURGUNDY	As love is, my lord, before that it loves.
KING HARRY	It is so. And you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way.
KING CHARLES	Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into a maid—for they are all girdled with maiden walls that war hath never entered.
KING HARRY	Shall Kate be my wife?
KING CHARLES	So please you.
KING HARRY	I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her: so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will.
KING CHARLES	We have consented to all terms of reason.
KING HARRY	Is’t so, my lords of England?
(didascalia)	WARWICKI
KING HARRY	The King hath granted every article: His daughter first, and so in sequel all, According to their firm proposed natures.
EXETER	Only he hath not yet subscribed this: where your majesty demands that the King of France, having any occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your highness in this form and with this addition:
(didascalia)	reads in French, Notre très
EXETER	cher fils Henri, Roi d’Angleterre, Heritier de France, and thus in Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae et Haeres Franciae.
KING CHARLES	Nor this I have not, brother, so denied, But your request shall make me let it pass.
KING HARRY	I pray you then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest, And thereupon give me your daughter.
KING CHARLES	Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other’s happiness, May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword ’twixt England and fair France.
(didascalia)	ALL Amen.
KING HARRY	Now welcome, Kate, and bear me witness all That here I kiss her as my sovereign Queen.
(didascalia)	Flourish
QUEEN ISABEL	God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one. As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be there ‘twixt your kingdoms such a spousal That never may ill office or fell jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms To make divorce of their incorporate league; That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other, God speak this ‘Amen’.
ALL	Amen.
KING HARRY	Prepare we for our marriage. On which day, My lord of Burgundy, we’ll take your oath, And all the peers‘, for surety of our leagues. Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me, And may our oaths well kept and prosp’rous be.
(didascalia)	Sennet. Exeunt
KING HARRY	Epilogue
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Thus far with rough and all-unable pen Our bending author hath pursued the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. Fortune made his sword, By which the world’s best garden he achieved, And of it left his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crowned king Of France and England, did this king succeed, Whose state so many had the managing That they lost France and made his England bleed, Which oft our stage hath shown—and, for their sake, In your fair minds let this acceptance take. Exit
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	The Dauphin/Bourbon variant, which usually involves only the alteration of speech-prefixes, has several consequences for the dialogue and structure of 4.5. There follow edited texts of the Folio and Quarto versions of this scene.
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, the Dauphin, and Rambures
CONSTABLE	O diable! ORLÉANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu.
DAUPHIN	Mort de ma vie! All is confounded, all. Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. A short alarum O méchante fortune! Do not run away.
(didascalia)	Exit Rambures
CONSTABLE	Why, all our ranks are broke.
DAUPHIN	O perdurable shame! Let’s stab ourselves: Be these the wretches that we played at dice for? ORLÉANS Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
BOURBON	Shame, an eternall shame, nothing but shame! Let us die in pride. In once more, back again! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand Like a base leno hold the chamber door, Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE	Disorder that hath spoiled us, friend us now, Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. ORLÉANS We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON	The devil take order now. I’ll to the throng. Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter the four French lords: the Constable, Orléans, Bourbon, and Gebon
GEBON	O diabello!
CONSTABLE	Mort de ma vie! ORLÉANS O what a day is this!
BOURBON	O jour de honte, all is gone, all is lost.
CONSTABLE	We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON	A plague of order! Once more to the field! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand, Like a base leno hold the chamber door, Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE	Disorder that hath spoiled us, right us now. Come we in heaps, we’ll offer up our lives Unto these English, or else die with fame.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Come, come along.
CONSTABLE	Let’s die with honour, our shame doth last too long.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
ON	21 September 1599 a Swiss doctor, Thomas Platter, saw what can only have been Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar ‘very pleasingly performed’ in the newly built Globe Theatre—‘the straw-thatched house’—on the south side of the Thames. Francis Meres does not mention the play in Palladis Tamia of 1598, and minor resemblances with works printed in the early part of 1599 suggest that Shakespeare wrote it during that year. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio. Julius Caesar shows Shakespeare turning from English to Roman history, which he had last used in Titus Andronicus and The Rape of Lucrece. Caesar was regarded as perhaps the greatest ruler in the history of the world, and his murder by Brutus as one of the foulest crimes: but it was also recognized that Caesar had faults and Brutus virtues. Other plays, some now lost, had been written about Caesar and may have influenced Shakespeare; but there is no question that he made extensive use (for the first time in this play) of Sir Thomas North’s great translation (based on Jacques Amyot’s French version and published in 1579) of Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans by the Greek historian Plutarch, who lived from about AD 50 to 130. Shakespeare was interested in the aftermath of Caesar’s death as well as in the events leading up to it, and in the public and private motives of those responsible for it. So, although the Folio calls the play The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Caesar is dead before the play is half over; Brutus, Cassius, and Antony have considerably longer roles, and Brutus is portrayed with a degree of introspection which links him more closely to Shakespeare’s other tragic heroes. Shakespeare draws mainly on the last quarter of Plutarch’s Life of Caesar, showing his fall; he also uses the Lives of Antony and Brutus for the play’s first sweep of action, showing the rise of the conspiracy against Caesar, its leaders’ efforts to persuade Brutus to join them, the assassination itself, and its immediate aftermath as Antony incites the citizens to revenge. The second part, showing the formation of the triumvirate of Antony, Lepidus, and Octavius Caesar, the uneasy alliance of Brutus and Cassius, and the battles in which Caesar’s spirit revenges itself, depends mainly on the Life of Brutus. Facts are often altered and rearranged in the interests of dramatic economy and effectiveness. Although Shakespeare wrote the play at a point in his career at which he was tending to use a high proportion of prose, Julius Caesar is written mainly in verse; as if to suit the subject matter, the style is classical in its lucidity and eloquence, reaching a climax of rhetorical effectiveness in the speeches over Caesar’s body (3.2). The play’s stage-worthiness has been repeatedly demonstrated; it offers excellent opportunities in all its main roles, and the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius (4.2) has been admired ever since Leonard Digges, a contemporary of Shakespeare, praised it at the expense of Ben Jonson: So have I seen, when Caesar would appear, And on the stage at half-sword parley were Brutus and Cassius; O, how the audience Were ravished, with what wonder they went thence, When some new day they would not brook a line Of tedious though well-laboured Catiline.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely
CANTERBURY	My lord, I’ll tell you. That self bill is urged Which in th’eleventh year of the last king’s reign Was like, and had indeed against us passed, But that the scrambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther question.
ELY	But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
CANTERBURY	It must be thought on. If it pass against us, We lose the better half of our possession, For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament have given to the Church Would they strip from us—being valued thus: As much as would maintain, to the King’s honour, Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; And, to relief of lazars and weak age, Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil, A hundred almshouses right well supplied; And to the coffers of the King beside A thousand pounds by th’ year. Thus runs the bill.
ELY	This would drink deep.
CANTERBURY	’Twould drink the cup and all.
ELY	But what prevention?
CANTERBURY	The King is full of grace and fair regard.
ELY	And a true lover of the holy Church.
CANTERBURY	The courses of his youth promised it not. The breath no sooner left his father’s body But that his wildness, mortified in him, Seemed to die too. Yea, at that very moment Consideration like an angel came And whipped th‘offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise T’envelop and contain celestial spirits. Never was such a sudden scholar made; Never came reformation in a flood With such a heady currance scouring faults; Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness So soon did lose his seat—and all at once— As in this king.
ELY	We are blessed in the change.
CANTERBURY	Hear him but reason in divinity And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the King were made a prelate; Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all-in-all his study; List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rendered you in music; Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter—that when he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men’s ears To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences: So that the art and practic part of life Must be the mistress to this theoric. Which is a wonder how his grace should glean it, Since his addiction was to courses vain, His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow, His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports, And never noted in him any study, Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity.
ELY	The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighboured by fruit of baser quality; And so the Prince obscured his contemplation Under the veil of wildness—which, no doubt, Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
CANTERBURY	It must be so, for miracles are ceased, And therefore we must needs admit the means How things are perfected.
ELY	But, my good lord, How now for mitigation of this bill Urged by the Commons? Doth his majesty Incline to it, or no?
CANTERBURY	He seems indifferent, Or rather swaying more upon our part Than cherishing th’exhibitors against us; For I have made an offer to his majesty, Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand, Which I have opened to his grace at large: As touching France, to give a greater sum Than ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal.
ELY	How did this offer seem received, my lord?
CANTERBURY	With good acceptance of his majesty, Save that there was not time enough to hear, As I perceived his grace would fain have done, The severals and unhidden passages Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms, And generally to the crown and seat of France, Derived from Edward, his great-grandfather.
ELY	What was th’impediment that broke this off?
CANTERBURY	The French ambassador upon that instant Craved audience—and the hour I think is come To give him hearing. Is it four o’clock?
ELY	It is. 95
CANTERBURY	Then go we in, to know his embassy— Which I could with a ready guess declare Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.
ELY	I’ll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano l’Arcivescovo di Canterbury e il Vescovo di Ely
CANTERBURY	Mio signore, ve lo dirò. Quel medesimo decreto si ripropone che nell’undicesimo anno del regno dell’ultimo re stava per passare, e in verità passò contro di noi, se non che il tumultuoso e inquieto tempo lo respinse fuori da ogni ulteriore dibattito.
ELY	Ma come, mio signore, potremo resistervi ora?
CANTERBURY	Bisogna pensarci. Se passa contro di noi, perdiamo la miglior metà dei nostri beni, ché tutte le terre temporali che uomini devoti per testamento hanno donato alla Chiesa ci verrebbero strappate—e sono stimate così: quanto basterebbe a mantenere, ad onore del Re, ben quindici conti e millecinquecento cavalieri, seimiladuecento buoni scudieri; e, a sollievo dei lebbrosi e della debole vecchiaia, di anime indigenti e fiacche, incapaci d’ogni fatica del corpo, cento ospizi assai ben provveduti; e alle casse del Re per giunta mille sterline all’anno. Così recita il decreto.
ELY	Sarebbe un lungo sorso.
CANTERBURY	Berrebbe la coppa e tutto quanto.
ELY	Ma quale rimedio?
CANTERBURY	Il Re è pieno di grazia e di giusto riguardo.
ELY	E vero amante della santa Chiesa.
CANTERBURY	Il corso della sua giovinezza non lo prometteva. Non appena il respiro lasciò il corpo di suo padre, la sua sfrenatezza, mortificata in lui, parve morire anch’essa. Sì, in quel medesimo istante la Riflessione venne come un angelo e flagellò fuori di lui l’Adamo peccatore, lasciando il suo corpo come un paradiso ad avvolgere e contenere spiriti celesti. Mai si fece dotto uno così d’un tratto; mai venne riforma in tale piena con corrente sì impetuosa a lavare le colpe; né mai ostinazione dalle teste d’Idra perdette così presto il proprio seggio—e tutto in una volta— come in questo re.
ELY	Siamo benedetti nel mutamento.
CANTERBURY	Udite solo il suo ragionare di teologia e, pieni d’ammirazione, con intimo voto desidereresti che il Re fosse fatto prelato; uditelo discutere d’affari di stato, direste che sono stati il suo unico studio; ascoltate il suo discorso di guerra, e udirete una tremenda battaglia resa in musica; volgetelo a qualsiasi questione di governo, e ne scioglierà il nodo gordiano, familiare come la sua giarrettiera—sicché quando parla l’aria, libertina senza legge, si fa immobile, e la muta meraviglia s’annida negli orecchi degli uomini per rubare le sue dolci e mielate sentenze: tanto che l’arte e la parte pratica della vita dev’essere maestra a questa teoria. Il che è una meraviglia: come mai sua grazia l’abbia colta, poiché la sua inclinazione era a vane occupazioni, le sue compagnie illetterate, rozze e superficiali, le sue ore colme di baldorie, banchetti, giochi, e mai gli si notò studio alcuno, alcun ritiro, alcuna separazione dai luoghi aperti e dalla folla.
ELY	La fragola cresce sotto l’ortica, e le bacche salubri prosperano e maturano meglio vicine a frutti di più bassa qualità; e così il Principe oscurò la sua contemplazione sotto il velo della sfrenatezza—la quale, senza dubbio, crebbe come l’erba d’estate, più rapida di notte, inosservata, eppure crescente nella sua virtù.
CANTERBURY	Dev’essere così, ché i miracoli sono cessati, e perciò ci tocca ammettere i mezzi per cui le cose si compiono.
ELY	Ma, mio buon signore, che ne è ora della mitigazione di questo decreto sollecitato dai Comuni? Sua maestà vi propende, o no?
CANTERBURY	Sembra indifferente, o piuttosto piegare più dalla nostra parte che favorire i proponenti contro di noi; ché io ho fatto un’offerta a sua maestà, in nome della nostra convocazione spirituale e in riguardo alle cause ora in corso, che ho esposto ampiamente a sua grazia: quanto alla Francia, di dare una somma maggiore di quanta mai in una sola volta il clero finora abbia ceduto ai suoi predecessori.
ELY	Come parve accolta quest’offerta, mio signore?
CANTERBURY	Con buon gradimento di sua maestà, se non che non vi fu tempo bastante per udire, come mi accorsi che sua grazia avrebbe volentieri fatto, i particolari e i passaggi manifesti dei suoi veri titoli a certi ducati, e in generale alla corona e al seggio di Francia, derivati da Edoardo, suo bisavolo.
ELY	Quale fu l’impedimento che troncò tutto questo?
CANTERBURY	L’ambasciatore di Francia in quell’istante chiese udienza—e l’ora credo sia giunta di dargli ascolto. Sono le quattro all’orologio?
ELY	Lo sono. 95
CANTERBURY	Andiamo dunque dentro, a conoscere la sua ambasciata— che io potrei con pronta congettura dichiarare prima che il Francese ne dica una parola.
ELY	Vi accompagnerò, e ardo dal desiderio di udirla. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry, the Dukes of Gloucester, Clarence, and Exeter, and the Earls of Warwick and Westmorland
KING HARRY	Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury?
EXETER	Not here in presence.
KING HARRY	Send for him, good uncle.
WESTMORLAND	Shall we call in th’ambassador, my liege?
KING HARRY	Not yet, my cousin. We would be resolved, Before we hear him, of some things of weight That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.
(didascalia)	Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely
CANTERBURY	God and his angels guard your sacred throne, And make you long become it.
KING HARRY	Sure we thank you. My learnèd lord, we pray you to proceed, And justly and religiously unfold Why the law Salic that they have in France Or should or should not bar us in our claim. And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge your understanding soul With opening titles miscreate, whose right Suits not in native colours with the truth; For God doth know how many now in health Shall drop their blood in approbation Of what your reverence shall incite us to. Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, How you awake our sleeping sword of war; We charge you in the name of God take heed. For never two such kingdoms did contend Without much fall of blood, whose guiltless drops Are every one a woe, a sore complaint ’Gainst him whose wrongs gives edge unto the swords That makes such waste in brief mortality. Under this conjuration speak, my lord, For we will hear, note, and believe in heart That what you speak is in your conscience washed As pure as sin with baptism.
CANTERBURY	Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers That owe your selves, your lives, and services To this imperial throne. There is no bar To make against your highness’ claim to France But this, which they produce from Pharamond: ‘In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant’— ’No woman shall succeed in Salic land’— Which ‘Salic land’ the French unjustly gloss To be the realm of France, and Pharamond The founder of this law and female bar. Yet their own authors faithfully affirm That the land Salic is in Germany, Between the floods of Saale and of Elbe, Where, Charles the Great having subdued the Saxons, There left behind and settled certain French Who, holding in disdain the German women For some dishonest manners of their life, Established there this law: to wit, no female Should be inheritrix in Salic land— Which Salic, as I said, ’twixt Elbe and Saale, Is at this day in Germany called Meissen. Then doth it well appear the Salic Law Was not devised for the realm of France. Nor did the French possess the Salic land Until four hundred one-and-twenty years After defunction of King Pharamond, Idly supposed the founder of this law, Who died within the year of our redemption Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French Beyond the river Saale, in the year Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, King Pépin, which deposed Childéric, Did, as heir general—being descended Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clotaire— Make claim and title to the crown of France. Hugh Capet also—who usurped the crown Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great— To fine his title with some shows of truth, Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught, Conveyed himself as heir to th’ Lady Lingard, Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son To Louis the Emperor, and Louis the son Of Charles the Great. Also, King Louis the Ninth, Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, Could not keep quiet in his conscience, Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengarde, Daughter to Charles, the foresaid Duke of Lorraine; By the which marriage, the line of Charles the Great Was reunited to the crown of France. So that, as clear as is the summer’s sun, King Pépin’s title and Hugh Capet’s claim, King Louis his satisfaction, all appear To hold in right and title of the female; So do the kings of France unto this day, Howbeit they would hold up this Salic Law To bar your highness claiming from the female, And rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to embar their crooked titles, Usurped from you and your progenitors.
KING HARRY	May I with right and conscience make this claim?
CANTERBURY	The sin upon my head, dread sovereign. For in the Book of Numbers is it writ, ‘When the son dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter.’ Gracious lord, Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag; Look back into your mighty ancestors. Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb, From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, And your great-uncle’s, Edward the Black Prince, Who on the French ground played a tragedy, Making defeat on the full power of France, Whiles his most mighty father on a hill Stood smiling to behold his lion’s whelp Forage in blood of French nobility. no O noble English, that could entertain With half their forces the full pride of France, And let another half stand laughing by, All out of work, and cold for action.
ELY	Awake remembrance of those valiant dead, And with your puissant arm renew their feats. You are their heir, you sit upon their throne, The blood and courage that renowned them Runs in your veins—and my thrice-puissant liege Is in the very May-morn of his youth, Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.
EXETER	Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself As did the former lions of your blood.
WESTMORLAND	They know your grace hath cause; and means and might, So hath your highness. Never king of England Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England And lie pavilioned in the fields of France.
CANTERBURY	O let their bodies follow, my dear liege, With blood and sword and fire, to win your right. In aid whereof, we of the spiritualty Will raise your highness such a mighty sum As never did the clergy at one time Bring in to any of your ancestors.
KING HARRY	We must not only arm t’invade the French, But lay down our proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make raid upon us With all advantages.
CANTERBURY	They of those marches, gracious sovereign, Shall be a wall sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
KING HARRY	We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, But fear the main intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us. For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never unmasked his power unto France But that the Scot on his unfurnished kingdom Came pouring like the tide into a breach With ample and brim fullness of his force Galling the gleaned land with hot assays, Girding with grievous siege castles and towns, That England, being empty of defence, Hath shook and trembled at the bruit thereof.
CANTERBURY	She hath been then more feared than harmed, my liege. 155 For hear her but exampled by herself: When all her chivalry hath been in France And she a mourning widow of her nobles, She hath herself not only well defended But taken and impounded as a stray The King of Scots, whom she did send to France To fill King Edward’s fame with prisoner kings And make your chronicle as rich with praise As is the ooze and bottom of the sea With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries.
(didascalia)	A LORD
CANTERBURY	But there’s a saying very old and true: ‘If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin.’ For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To ’tame and havoc more than she can eat.
EXETER	It follows then the cat must stay at home. Yet that is but a crushed necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, Th’advisèd head defends itself at home. For government, though high and low and lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music.
CANTERBURY	True. Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion; To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, Obedience. For so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king, and officers of sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home; Others like merchants venture trade abroad; Others like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent royal of their emperor, Who busied in his majesty surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens lading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum Delivering o’er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. I this infer: That many things, having full reference To one consent, may work contrariously. As many arrows, loosed several ways, Fly to one mark, as many ways meet in one town, As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea, As many lines close in the dial’s centre, So may a thousand actions once afoot End in one purpose, and be all well borne Without defect. Therefore to France, my liege. Divide your happy England into four, Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. If we with thrice such powers left at home Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let us be worried, and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy.
KING HARRY	Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
KING HARRY	Now are we well resolved, and by God’s help And yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours we’ll bend it to our awe, Or break it all to pieces. Or there we’ll sit, Ruling in large and ample empery O’er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them. Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.
(didascalia)	Enter Ambassadors of France, with a tun
KING HARRY	Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure Of our fair cousin Dauphin, for we hear Your greeting is from him, not from the King.
AMBASSADOR	May’t please your majesty to give us leave Freely to render what we have in charge, Or shall we sparingly show you far off The Dauphin’s meaning and our embassy?
KING HARRY	We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, Unto whose grace our passion is as subject As is our wretches fettered in our prisons. Therefore with frank and with uncurbèd plainness Tell us the Dauphin’s mind.
AMBASSADOR	Thus then in few: Your highness lately sending into France Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. In answer of which claim, the Prince our master Says that you savour too much of your youth, And bids you be advised, there’s naught in France That can be with a nimble galliard won: You cannot revel into dukedoms there. He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, This tun of treasure, and in lieu of this Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
KING HARRY	What treasure, uncle?
EXETER	(opening the tun) Tennis balls, my liege.
KING HARRY	We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us. His present and your pains we thank you for. When we have matched our rackets to these balls, We will in France, by God’s grace, play a set Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard. Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler That all the courts of France will be disturbed With chases. And we understand him well, How he comes o‘er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them. We never valued this poor seat of England, And therefore, living hence, did give ourself To barbarous licence—as ’tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness When I do rouse me in my throne of France. For that have I laid by my majesty And plodded like a man for working days, But I will rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, Yea strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his Hath turned his balls to gunstones, and his soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly from them—for many a thousand widows Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands, Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; Ay, some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin’s scorn. But this lies all within the will of God, To whom I do appeal, and in whose name Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on To venge me as I may, and to put forth My rightful hand in a well-hallowed cause. So get you hence in peace. And tell the Dauphin His jest will savour but of shallow wit When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.— Convey them with safe conduct.—Fare you well.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Ambassadors
EXETER	This was a merry message.
KING HARRY	We hope to make the sender blush at it. Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour That may give furth’rance to our expedition; For we have now no thought in us but France, Save those to God, that run before our business. Therefore let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected, and all things thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness add More feathers to our wings; for, God before, We’ll chide this Dauphin at his father’s door. Therefore let every man now task his thought, That this fair action may on foot be brought.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Re Harry, i Duchi di Gloucester, Clarence ed Exeter, e i Conti di Warwick e di Westmorland
RE HARRY	Dov’è il mio grazioso signore di Canterbury?
EXETER	Non è qui presente.
RE HARRY	Mandate a chiamarlo, buon zio.
WESTMORLAND	Facciamo entrare l’ambasciatore, mio sovrano?
RE HARRY	Non ancora, cugino. Vogliamo essere risolti, prima di udirlo, su certe cose di peso che occupano il nostro pensiero, riguardo a noi e alla Francia.
(didascalia)	Entrano l’Arcivescovo di Canterbury e il Vescovo di Ely
CANTERBURY	Dio e i suoi angeli custodiscano il vostro sacro trono, e a lungo ve ne facciano degno.
RE HARRY	Certo, vi ringraziamo. Mio dotto signore, vi preghiamo di procedere, e con giustizia e religione spiegare perché la legge Salica che vigono in Francia debba o non debba sbarrarci nella nostra pretesa. E Dio non voglia, mio caro e fedele signore, che voi foggiate, torciate o pieghiate la vostra lettura, o gravaste con sottigliezza la vostra anima consapevole esponendo titoli malnati, il cui diritto non s’accorda nei colori nativi con la verità; ché Dio sa quanti ora in salute verseranno il loro sangue a conferma di ciò a cui la vostra reverenza ci spingerà. Perciò badate a come impegnate la nostra persona, a come destate la nostra spada dormiente di guerra; vi ingiungiamo nel nome di Dio: badate. Ché mai due tali regni contesero senza gran caduta di sangue, le cui gocce innocenti sono ognuna un lutto, un’aspra querela contro colui i cui torti danno filo alle spade che fanno tale strage nella breve mortalità. Sotto questo scongiuro parlate, mio signore, ché udiremo, noteremo e crederemo in cuore che quanto dite è nella vostra coscienza lavato puro come il peccato dal battesimo.
CANTERBURY	Uditemi dunque, grazioso sovrano, e voi pari che dovete voi stessi, le vostre vite e i vostri servigi a questo trono imperiale. Non v’è ostacolo da opporre alla pretesa di vostra altezza sulla Francia se non questo, che essi traggono da Faramondo: ‘In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant’— ’Nessuna donna succeda in terra Salica’— e quella ‘terra Salica’ i Francesi ingiustamente chiosano essere il regno di Francia, e Faramondo il fondatore di questa legge e dell’esclusione femminile. Eppure i loro stessi autori fedelmente affermano che la terra Salica è in Germania, tra i fiumi Saale ed Elba, dove, avendo Carlo Magno soggiogato i Sassoni, vi lasciò indietro e vi stabilì certi Franchi i quali, tenendo a sdegno le donne germaniche per certi disonesti costumi della loro vita, vi stabilirono questa legge: cioè, nessuna femmina fosse erede in terra Salica— e quella Salica, come dissi, tra Elba e Saale, è oggidì chiamata in Germania Meissen. Appare dunque bene che la Legge Salica non fu concepita per il regno di Francia. Né i Francesi possedettero la terra Salica se non quattrocentoventun anni dopo la morte di Re Faramondo, oziosamente supposto il fondatore di questa legge, il quale morì nell’anno della nostra redenzione quattrocentoventisei; e Carlo Magno soggiogò i Sassoni, e insediò i Franchi oltre il fiume Saale, nell’anno ottocentocinque. Inoltre, i loro scrittori dicono, Re Pipino, che depose Childerico, fece, come erede generale—essendo disceso da Blitilde, che era figlia di Re Clotario— pretesa e titolo alla corona di Francia. Anche Ugo Capeto—che usurpò la corona di Carlo Duca di Lorena, unico erede maschio della vera linea e stirpe di Carlo Magno— per raffinare il suo titolo con qualche parvenza di verità, benché in pura verità fosse corrotto e nullo, si spacciò per erede di Madonna Lingarda, figlia di Carlomanno, che era figlio di Luigi l’Imperatore, e Luigi figlio di Carlo Magno. Anche Re Luigi Nono, che era unico erede dell’usurpatore Capeto, non poté quietarsi nella sua coscienza, portando la corona di Francia, finché non fu certo che la bella Regina Isabella, sua nonna, discendeva per retta linea da Madonna Ermengarda, figlia di Carlo, il predetto Duca di Lorena; per il quale matrimonio, la linea di Carlo Magno fu riunita alla corona di Francia. Sicché, chiaro come il sole d’estate, il titolo di Re Pipino e la pretesa di Ugo Capeto, e la soddisfazione di Re Luigi, tutti appaiono reggersi sul diritto e sul titolo della femmina; e così fanno i re di Francia fino a questo giorno, per quanto vogliano innalzare questa Legge Salica per sbarrare a vostra altezza il pretendere dalla femmina, e scelgano piuttosto di nascondersi in una rete che di sbarrare apertamente i loro storti titoli, usurpati a voi e ai vostri progenitori.
RE HARRY	Posso con diritto e coscienza avanzare questa pretesa?
CANTERBURY	Il peccato sul mio capo, temuto sovrano. Ché nel Libro dei Numeri sta scritto: ‘Quando il figlio muore, che l’eredità discenda alla figlia.’ Grazioso signore, fatevi valere per il vostro; spiegate il vostro vessillo sanguigno; volgete lo sguardo ai vostri possenti antenati. Andate, mio temuto signore, alla tomba del vostro bisavolo, da cui traete la pretesa; invocate il suo spirito guerriero, e quello del vostro prozio, Edoardo il Principe Nero, che sul suolo francese recitò una tragedia, facendo scempio di tutta la potenza di Francia, mentre il suo possentissimo padre su una collina stava sorridendo a veder il cucciolo del suo leone far preda nel sangue della nobiltà francese. no O nobili Inglesi, che poterono trattenere con metà delle loro forze tutta la superbia di Francia, e lasciar l’altra metà starsene lì a ridere, senza far nulla, e fredda per mancanza d’azione.
ELY	Destate la memoria di quei valorosi morti, e col vostro braccio possente rinnovate le loro imprese. Voi siete il loro erede, sedete sul loro trono, il sangue e il coraggio che li resero famosi scorrono nelle vostre vene—e il mio tre volte possente sovrano è nel mattino stesso di maggio della sua giovinezza, maturo per imprese e poderose gesta.
EXETER	I vostri fratelli re e i monarchi della terra tutti s’attendono che vi destiate come fecero i leoni antichi del vostro sangue.
WESTMORLAND	Sanno che vostra grazia ha ragione; e mezzi e forza, li ha pure vostra altezza. Mai re d’Inghilterra ebbe nobili più ricchi e sudditi più leali, i cui cuori hanno lasciato i loro corpi qui in Inghilterra e stanno attendati nei campi di Francia.
CANTERBURY	Oh, che i loro corpi seguano, mio caro sovrano, con sangue e spada e fuoco, a conquistare il vostro diritto. In aiuto di che, noi della spiritualità leveremo a vostra altezza una somma sì poderosa quale mai il clero in una sola volta portò ad alcuno dei vostri antenati.
RE HARRY	Non solo dobbiamo armarci per invadere i Francesi, ma disporre le nostre forze a difenderci contro lo Scozzese, che ci piomberà addosso con ogni vantaggio.
CANTERBURY	Quelli delle marche, grazioso sovrano, saranno muro bastante a difendere il nostro interno dai predoni di confine.
RE HARRY	Non intendiamo i soli ladruncoli scorridori, ma temiamo il disegno principale dello Scozzese, che ci fu sempre vicino incostante. Ché leggerete che il mio bisavolo mai scoprì la sua potenza verso la Francia senza che lo Scozzese sul suo regno sguarnito venisse riversandosi come la marea in una breccia con ampia e traboccante pienezza della sua forza tormentando la terra spogliata con caldi assalti, stringendo di grave assedio castelli e città, sicché l’Inghilterra, vuota di difesa, tremò e vacillò al rumore di ciò.
CANTERBURY	Fu allora più temuta che danneggiata, mio sovrano. 155 Ché udite solo l’esempio ch’ella diede di sé: quando tutta la sua cavalleria era in Francia ed ella vedova in lutto dei suoi nobili, non solo si difese bene da sé ma prese e chiuse in stalla come bestia randagia il Re di Scozia, che mandò in Francia a colmar la fama di Re Edoardo di re prigionieri e a far la vostra cronaca ricca di lode quanto è la melma e il fondo del mare di relitti affondati e tesori innumerevoli.
(didascalia)	A LORD
CANTERBURY	Ma c’è un detto assai antico e vero: ‘Se vuoi la Francia conquistare, dalla Scozia devi cominciare.’ Ché una volta che l’aquila Inghilterra è a caccia, al suo nido incustodito la donnola Scozzese viene di soppiatto, e così le succhia le uova regali, facendo il topo in assenza del gatto, a manomettere e sciupare più di quanto possa mangiare.
EXETER	Ne segue dunque che il gatto deve restare a casa. Ma questa è necessità forzata, giacché abbiamo serrature a custodire il necessario e graziose trappole a prender i piccoli ladri. Mentre la mano armata combatte all’estero, la testa avveduta si difende a casa. Ché il governo, per quanto in alto, in basso e più in basso, diviso in parti, si mantiene in un solo accordo, concordando in una cadenza piena e naturale, come musica.
CANTERBURY	Vero. Perciò il cielo divide lo stato dell’uomo in diverse funzioni, ponendo l’operare in moto continuo; e ad esse è fissata, come mira o bersaglio, l’obbedienza. Così infatti operano le api del miele, creature che per una regola di natura insegnano l’atto dell’ordine a un regno popoloso. Hanno un re, e ufficiali d’ogni sorta, dove alcuni come magistrati correggono in casa; altri come mercanti avventurano il commercio all’estero; altri come soldati, armati dei loro pungiglioni, fanno bottino sui vellutati boccioli d’estate, e tale preda con lieta marcia recano a casa alla tenda regale del loro imperatore, che, affaccendato nella sua maestà, sorveglia i muratori canterini che costruiscono tetti d’oro, i cittadini civili che stivano il miele, i poveri portatori artigiani che ammassano i loro pesanti carichi alla sua stretta porta, il giudice dall’occhio triste col suo arcigno ronzio consegnando a pallidi carnefici il pigro fuco sbadigliante. Io ne inferisco questo: che molte cose, avendo pieno riferimento a un solo accordo, possono operare per vie contrarie. Come molte frecce, scoccate per diverse vie, volano a un solo bersaglio, come molte strade s’incontrano in una città, come molte fresche correnti s’incontrano in un solo mare salato, come molte linee si chiudono nel centro della meridiana, così mille azioni una volta avviate possono finire in un solo scopo, ed essere tutte ben condotte senza difetto. Perciò in Francia, mio sovrano. Dividete in quattro la vostra felice Inghilterra, e di essa portate un quarto in Francia, e con ciò farete tremare tutta la Gallia. Se noi con tre volte tali forze lasciate a casa non sappiamo difendere le nostre porte dal cane, che siamo azzannati, e la nostra nazione perda il nome di ardimento e di accortezza.
RE HARRY	Fate entrare i messaggeri mandati dal Delfino.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
RE HARRY	Ora siamo ben risoluti, e con l’aiuto di Dio e il vostro, nobili nervi della nostra potenza, essendo nostra la Francia la pieghremo al nostro timore, o la spezzeremo tutta in pezzi. O là siederemo, regnando in largo e ampio impero sulla Francia e su tutti i suoi ducati quasi regali, o deporremo queste ossa in un’urna indegna, senza tomba, senza memoria sopra di esse. O la nostra storia a piena bocca parlerà liberamente dei nostri atti, oppure la nostra tomba, come muto turco, avrà bocca senza lingua, non onorata neppure d’un epitaffio di cera.
(didascalia)	Entrano gli Ambasciatori di Francia, con una botte
RE HARRY	Ora siamo ben preparati a conoscere il piacere del nostro bel cugino Delfino, ché udiamo che il vostro saluto viene da lui, non dal Re.
AMBASCIATORE	Piaccia a vostra maestà darci licenza di riferire liberamente ciò che abbiamo in carico, o dovremo con parsimonia mostrarvi da lontano l’intendimento del Delfino e la nostra ambasciata?
RE HARRY	Non siamo un tiranno, ma un re cristiano, alla cui grazia la nostra passione è soggetta quanto i nostri miserabili incatenati nelle nostre prigioni. Perciò con franca e sfrenata schiettezza diteci la mente del Delfino.
AMBASCIATORE	Dunque, in breve: vostra altezza, mandando di recente in Francia, reclamò certi ducati, in nome del diritto del vostro gran predecessore, Re Edoardo Terzo. In risposta a tale pretesa, il Principe nostro signore dice che sapete troppo della vostra giovinezza, e vi consiglia di considerare che nulla v’è in Francia che si possa vincere con un’agile gagliarda: non potete danzando entrare in possesso di ducati là. Vi manda perciò, più conveniente al vostro spirito, questa botte di tesoro, e in cambio di ciò desidera che lasciate i ducati che pretendete non udir più nulla di voi. Questo dice il Delfino.
RE HARRY	Quale tesoro, zio?
EXETER	(aprendo la botte) Palle da tennis, mio sovrano.
RE HARRY	Siamo lieti che il Delfino sia così faceto con noi. Del suo dono e della vostra fatica vi ringraziamo. Quando avremo accordato le nostre racchette a queste palle, giocheremo in Francia, per grazia di Dio, una partita che scaglierà la corona di suo padre nel rischio. Ditegli che ha fatto partita con un tale attaccabrighe che tutte le corti di Francia saranno sconvolte dai rimbalzi. E lo comprendiamo bene, come ci rinfaccia i nostri giorni più sfrenati, senza misurare quale uso ne facemmo. Non demmo mai valore a questo povero seggio d’Inghilterra, e perciò, vivendo lontano di qui, ci abbandonammo a barbara licenza—come è sempre comune che gli uomini sono più allegri quando sono fuori casa. Ma dite al Delfino che manterrò il mio stato, sarò come un re, e spiegherò la vela della mia grandezza quando mi leverò sul mio trono di Francia. Per questo ho deposto la mia maestà e ho arrancato come un uomo dei giorni feriali, ma là mi leverò con sì piena gloria che abbaglierò tutti gli occhi di Francia, sì, accecherò il Delfino a guardarci. E dite al faceto Principe che questa sua beffa ha mutato le sue palle in palle da cannone, e la sua anima starà gravemente accusata per la rovinosa vendetta che da esse volerà—ché molte migliaia di vedove questa sua beffa beffando priverà dei loro cari mariti, beffando madri dei loro figli, beffando giù castelli; sì, alcuni non sono ancora concepiti né nati che avranno ragione di maledire lo scherno del Delfino. Ma tutto questo sta nella volontà di Dio, al quale mi appello, e nel cui nome dite voi al Delfino che io sto venendo a vendicarmi come posso, e a stendere la mia mano legittima in una causa ben santificata. Andatevene dunque in pace. E dite al Delfino che il suo motto saprà solo di povero ingegno quando migliaia piangeranno più di quanti ne risero.— Scortateli con salvacondotto.—State bene.
(didascalia)	Escono gli Ambasciatori
EXETER	Questo fu un allegro messaggio.
RE HARRY	Speriamo di farne arrossire il mittente. Perciò, miei signori, non tralasciate ora propizia che possa dare impulso alla nostra spedizione; ché ora non abbiamo in noi altro pensiero che la Francia, salvo quelli a Dio, che precedono i nostri affari. Perciò le nostre forze per queste guerre siano presto raccolte, e ogni cosa considerata che possa con ragionevole rapidità aggiungere più penne alle nostre ali; ché, con Dio innanzi, rimprovereremo questo Delfino alla porta di suo padre. Perciò ogni uomo ora impegni il suo pensiero, affinché questa bella impresa sia messa in cammino.
(didascalia)	Squilli di tromba. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man. They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, Following the mirror of all Christian kings With winged heels, as English Mercuries. For now sits expectation in the air And hides a sword from hilts unto the point With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets, Promised to Harry and his followers. The French, advised by good intelligence Of this most dreadful preparation, Shake in their fear, and with pale policy Seek to divert the English purposes. O England!—model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart, What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural? But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out: A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men— One, Richard, Earl of Cambridge; and the second Henry, Lord Scrope of Masham; and the third Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland— Have, for the gilt of France—O guilt indeed!— Confirmed conspiracy with fearful France; And by their hands this grace of kings must die, If hell and treason hold their promises, Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton. Linger your patience on, and we’ll digest Th’abuse of distance, force—perforce—a play. The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed, The King is set from London, and the scene Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton. There is the playhouse now, there must you sit, And thence to France shall we convey you safe, And bring you back, charming the narrow seas To give you gentle pass—for if we may We’ll not offend one stomach with our play. But till the King come forth, and not till then, Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Coro
CORO	Ora tutta la gioventù d’Inghilterra è in fiamme, e i molli trastulli di seta giacciono nel guardaroba; ora prosperano gli armaioli, e il pensiero dell’onore regna solo nel petto d’ogni uomo. Vendono ora il pascolo per comprare il cavallo, seguendo lo specchio di tutti i re cristiani con talloni alati, come Mercuri inglesi. Ché ora siede l’attesa nell’aria e nasconde una spada dall’elsa fino alla punta con corone imperiali, corone e coroncine, promesse ad Harry e ai suoi seguaci. I Francesi, avvertiti da buone spie di questo terribilissimo apparato, tremano nel loro timore, e con pallida astuzia cercano di sviare i disegni inglesi. O Inghilterra!—modello alla tua interiore grandezza, come piccolo corpo con possente cuore, che potresti fare, che l’onore ti farebbe fare, se tutti i tuoi figli fossero buoni e naturali? Ma vedi, la Francia ha scoperto in te il tuo difetto: un nido di petti vuoti, che essa riempie di corone traditrici; e tre uomini corrotti— uno, Riccardo, Conte di Cambridge; e il secondo Enrico, Lord Scrope di Masham; e il terzo Sir Thomas Grey, cavaliere, del Northumberland— hanno, per l’oro di Francia—oh colpa davvero!— concluso congiura con la Francia paurosa; e per le loro mani questa grazia dei re deve morire, se inferno e tradimento manterranno le loro promesse, prima ch’egli prenda la nave per la Francia, e a Southampton. Protraete la vostra pazienza, e noi digeriremo l’abuso della distanza, forzando—per forza—una scena. La somma è pagata, i traditori sono d’accordo, il Re è partito da Londra, e la scena ora è trasportata, gentili signori, a Southampton. Là è ora il teatro, là dovete sedere, e di là in Francia vi condurremo salvi, e vi riporteremo indietro, incantando gli stretti mari a darvi dolce passaggio—ché se possiamo non offenderemo alcuno stomaco col nostro spettacolo. Ma finché il Re non venga innanzi, e non prima, a Southampton spostiamo la nostra scena. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Corporal Nim and Lieutenant Bardolph
BARDOLPH	Well met, Corporal Nim.
NIM	Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	What, are Ensign Pistol and you friends yet?
NIM	For my part, I care not. I say little, but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles—but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one, but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold, as another man’s sword will—and there’s an end.
BARDOLPH	I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France. Let’t be so, good Corporal Nim.
NIM	Faith, I will live so long as I may, that’s the certain of it, and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my rest, that is the rendezvous of it.
BARDOLPH	It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.
NIM	I cannot tell. Things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time, and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may. Though Patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. Enter Ensign Pistol and Hostess Quickly
BARDOLPH	Good morrow, Ensign Pistol. (To Nim) Here comes Ensign Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be patient here.
(didascalia)	NIM How now, mine host Pistol?
PISTOL	Base tick, call’st thou me host? Now by Gad’s lugs I swear I scorn the term. Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
(didascalia)	HOSTESS No, by my troth, not long, for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. Nim draws his sword O well-a-day, Lady! If he be not hewn now, we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. 36 Pistol draws his sword
BARDOLPH	Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing here.
NIM	Pish.
PISTOL	Pish for thee, Iceland dog. Thou prick-eared cur of Iceland.
HOSTESS	Good Corporal Nim, show thy valour, and put up your sword. They sheathe their swords
NIM	Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
PISTOL	‘Solus’, egregious dog? O viper vile! The solus in thy most marvellous face, The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea in thy maw pardie— And which is worse, within thy nasty mouth. I do retort the solus in thy bowels, For I can take, and Pistol’s cock is up, And flashing fire will follow.
NIM	I am not Barbason, you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may, and that’s the humour of it.
PISTOL	O braggart vile, and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape and doting death is near. Therefore ex-hale. Pistol and Nim draw their swords
BARDOLPH	Hear me, hear me what I say.
(didascalia)	He draws his sword
BARDOLPH	He that strikes the first stroke, I’ll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.
PISTOL	An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
(didascalia)	They sheathe their swords
PISTOL	(To Nim) Give me thy fist, thy forefoot to me give. 65 Thy spirits are most tall.
NIM	I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms, that is the humour of it.
PISTOL	Couple a gorge, That is the word. I thee defy again. O hound of Crete, think‘st thou my spouse to get? No, to the spital go, And from the powd’ring tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind, Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse. I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly For the only she, and—pauca, there’s enough. Go to.
(didascalia)	Enter the Boy running
BOY	Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hostess. He is very sick, and would to bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan.—Faith, he’s very ill.
BARDOLPH	Away, you rogue!
(didascalia)	HOSTESS By my troth, he’ll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. The King has killed his heart. Good husband, come home presently. Exit with Boy
BARDOLPE	Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together. Why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another’s throats?
PISTOL	Let floods o‘erswell, and fiends for food howl on!
NIM	You’ll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?
PISTOL	Base is the slave that pays.
NIM	That now I will have. That’s the humour of it.
PISTOL	As manhood shall compound. Push home. Pistol and Nim draw their swords
(didascalia)	BARDOLPH drawing his sword By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I’ll kill him. By this sword, I will.
PISTOL	Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
(didascalia)	He sheathes his sword
BARDOLPH	Corporal Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be friends. An thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up.
NIM	I shall have my eight shillings?
PISTOL	A noble shalt thou have, and present pay, And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood. I’ll live by Nim, and Nim shall live by me. Is not this just? For I shall sutler be Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand.
NIM	I shall have my noble?
PISTOL	In cash, most justly paid.
(didascalia)	NIM Well then, that’s the humour of’t. Nim and Bardolph sheathe their swords. Enter Hostess Quickly
(didascalia)	HOSTESS As ever you come of women, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart, he is so shaked of a burning quotidian-tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. Exit
NIM	The King hath run bad humours on the knight, that’s the even of it.
PISTOL	Nim, thou hast spoke the right. His heart is fracted and corroborate.
NIM	The King is a good king, but it must be as it may. He passes some humours and careers.
PISTOL	Let us condole the knight—for, lambkins, we will live. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Caporale Nim e il Luogotenente Bardolph
BARDOLPH	Ben trovato, Caporale Nim. Well
NIM	Buon giorno, Luogotenente Bardolph.
BARDOLPH	Ebbene, siete già amici, voi e l’Alfiere Pistola?
NIM	Per parte mia, non me ne curo. Dico poco, ma quando il tempo sarà propizio, ci saranno sorrisi—ma sarà come sarà. Non oso battermi, ma strizzerò gli occhi e sguainerò il mio ferro. È un ferro semplice, ma che importa? Servirà ad abbrustolire il formaggio, e sopporterà il freddo come la spada di qualunque altro—e basta così.
BARDOLPH	Offrirò io una colazione per farvi amici, e saremo tutti e tre fratelli giurati verso la Francia. Che sia così, buon Caporale Nim.
NIM	In fede mia, vivrò finché potrò, questo è certo, e quando non potrò più vivere, farò come potrò. Questa è la mia posta, questo è il mio appuntamento.
BARDOLPH	È certo, caporale, che egli ha sposato Nell Quickly, e certamente essa vi ha fatto torto, ché eravate a lei promesso con giuramento.
NIM	Non so dire. Le cose devono essere come possono. Gli uomini possono dormire, e possono avere addosso la loro gola in quel momento, e alcuni dicono che i coltelli hanno il filo. Dev’essere come può. Benché la Pazienza sia una giumenta stanca, pure arranca. Ci devono essere conclusioni. Insomma, non so dire. Entrano l’Alfiere Pistola e l’Ostessa Quickly
BARDOLPH	Buon giorno, Alfiere Pistola. (A Nim) Ecco che vengono l’Alfiere Pistola e sua moglie. Buon Caporale, siate paziente ora.
(didascalia)	NIM Ebbene, mio oste Pistola?
PISTOLA	Vile zecca, mi chiami tu oste? Ora per le orecchie di Dio giuro che sdegno il titolo. Né la mia Nell terrà pensionanti.
(didascalia)	OSTESSA No, in fede mia, non a lungo, ché non possiamo alloggiare e nutrire una dozzina o quattordici gentildonne che vivono onestamente della punta dei loro aghi, senza che si pensi subito che teniamo un postribolo. Nim sguaina la spada Oh povera me, Signora! Se non viene fatto a pezzi ora, vedremo commettere adulterio volontario e omicidio. 36 Pistola sguaina la spada
BARDOLPH	Buon luogotenente, buon caporale, non tentate nulla qui.
NIM	Puah.
PISTOLA	Puah a te, cane d’Islanda. Tu botolo dalle orecchie aguzze d’Islanda.
OSTESSA	Buon Caporale Nim, mostra il tuo valore, e riponi la tua spada. Rinfoderano le spade
NIM	Volete scostarvi? Vi vorrei solus.
PISTOLA	‘Solus’, cane egregio? O vipera vile! Il solus nella tua meravigliosissima faccia, il solus nei tuoi denti, e nella tua gola, e nei tuoi odiosi polmoni, sì, nel tuo ventre pardie— e, ciò ch’è peggio, dentro la tua sozza bocca. Io ti ritorco il solus nelle budella, ché so infiammarmi, e il cane di Pistola è alzato, e fuoco lampeggiante seguirà.
NIM	Non sono Barbason, non potete scongiurarmi. Ho l’umore di bastonarvi discretamente bene. Se vi guastate con me, Pistola, vi ripulirò con la mia spada, come potrò, in buoni termini. Se voleste allontanarvi, vi pungerei un poco le budella, in buoni termini, come potrò, e questo è l’umore della faccenda.
PISTOLA	O vile spaccone, e dannato furioso essere! La tomba spalanca la bocca e la morte rimbambita è vicina. Perciò esala. Pistola e Nim sguainano le spade
BARDOLPH	Ascoltatemi, ascoltate ciò che dico.
(didascalia)	Sguaina la spada
BARDOLPH	Chi vibra il primo colpo, lo infilzerò fino all’elsa, com’è vero che sono un soldato.
PISTOLA	Giuramento di gran potenza, e il furore si placherà.
(didascalia)	Rinfoderano le spade
PISTOLA	(A Nim) Dammi il tuo pugno, la tua zampa anteriore dammi. 65 I tuoi spiriti sono altissimi.
NIM	Ti taglierò la gola una volta o l’altra, in buoni termini, questo è l’umore della faccenda.
PISTOLA	Couple a gorge, questa è la parola. Ti sfido di nuovo. O segugio di Creta, pensi tu d’aver la mia sposa? No, all’ospedale va’, e dalla tinozza dell’infamia tira fuori il nibbio lebbroso della razza di Cressida, Doll Tearsheet di nome, e sposala. Io ho, e terrò, la già Quickly per la sola donna, e—pauca, basta così. Suvvia.
(didascalia)	Entra il Ragazzo di corsa
RAGAZZO	Mio oste Pistola, dovete venire dal mio padrone, e voi pure, ostessa. È molto malato, e vorrebbe andare a letto.—Buon Bardolph, metti la tua faccia fra le sue lenzuola, e fa’ l’ufficio dello scaldaletto.—In fede mia, sta molto male.
BARDOLPH	Via, furfante!
(didascalia)	OSTESSA In fede mia, darà da mangiare al corvo uno di questi giorni. Il Re gli ha ucciso il cuore. Buon marito, vieni subito a casa. Esce col Ragazzo
BARDOLPE	Su, volete che vi faccia amici voi due? Dobbiamo andare in Francia insieme. Perché diavolo dovremmo tenere coltelli per tagliarci la gola l’un l’altro?
PISTOLA	Straripino i diluvi, e i demoni ululino per il cibo!
NIM	Mi pagherete gli otto scellini che vi ho vinto alla scommessa?
PISTOLA	Vile è lo schiavo che paga.
NIM	Ora li voglio. Questo è l’umore della faccenda.
PISTOLA	Come la virilità deciderà. Spingi a fondo. Pistola e Nim sguainano le spade
(didascalia)	BARDOLPH sguainando la spada Per questa spada, chi porta la prima stoccata, lo uccido. Per questa spada, lo farò.
PISTOLA	Spada è un giuramento, e i giuramenti devono avere il loro corso.
(didascalia)	Rinfodera la spada
BARDOLPH	Caporale Nim, se vuoi essere amico, sii amico. Se non vuoi, ebbene, sii nemico anche mio. Ti prego, riponi.
NIM	Avrò i miei otto scellini?
PISTOLA	Un nobile avrai, e pagamento immediato, e liquore parimenti ti darò, e l’amicizia ci unirà, e la fratellanza. Io vivrò di Nim, e Nim vivrà di me. Non è giusto questo? Ché io sarò vivandiere del campo, e i profitti verranno. Dammi la mano.
NIM	Avrò il mio nobile?
PISTOLA	In contanti, pagato giustissimamente.
(didascalia)	NIM Sta bene allora, questo è l’umore della faccenda. Well Nim e Bardolph rinfoderano le spade. Entra l’Ostessa Quickly
(didascalia)	OSTESSA Se mai siete nati da donna, venite presto da Sir John. Ah, povero cuore, è così scosso da una febbre quotidiana-terzana ardente, che è cosa lamentevolissima a vedersi. Cari uomini, andate da lui. Esce
NIM	Il Re ha riversato cattivi umori sul cavaliere, questo è il netto della faccenda.
PISTOLA	Nim, hai detto giusto. Il suo cuore è fratturato e corroborato.
NIM	Il Re è un buon re, ma dev’essere come può. Ha certi umori e certe corse.
PISTOLA	Compiangiamo il cavaliere—ché, agnellini, noi vivremo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Exeter and Gloucester, and the Earl of Westmorland
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER
(didascalia)	Fore God, his grace is bold to trust these traitors.
EXETER	They shall be apprehended by and by.
WESTMORLAND	How smooth and even they do bear themselves, As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER
WESTMORLAND	The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of.
EXETER	Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dulled and cloyed with gracious favours— That he should for a foreign purse so sell His sovereign’s life to death and treachery.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets. Enter King Harry, Lord Scrope, the
EXETER	Earl of Cambridge, and Sir Thomas Grey
KING HARRY	Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of Masham, And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts. Think you not that the powers we bear with us Will cut their passage through the force of France, Doing the execution and the act For which we have in head assembled them?
SCROPE	No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.
KING HARRY	I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded We carry not a heart with us from hence That grows not in a fair consent with ours, Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us.
CAMBRIDGE	Never was monarch better feared and loved Than is your majesty. There’s not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government.
GREY	True. Those that were your father’s enemies Have steeped their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
KING HARRY	We therefore have great cause of thankfulness, And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner than quittance of desert and merit, According to their weight and worthiness.
SCROPE	So service shall with steelèd sinews toil, And labour shall refresh itself with hope, To do your grace incessant services.
KING HARRY	We judge no less.—Uncle of Exeter, Enlarge the man committed yesterday That railed against our person. We consider It was excess of wine that set him on, And on his more advice we pardon him.
SCROPE	That’s mercy, but too much security. Let him be punished, sovereign, lest example Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
KING HARRY	O let us yet be merciful.
CAMBRIDGE	So may your highness, and yet punish too.
GREY	Sir, you show great mercy if you give him life, After the taste of much correction.
KING HARRY	Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons ’gainst this poor wretch. If little faults proceeding on distemper Shall not be winked at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested, Appear before us? We’ll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scrope, and Grey, in their dear care And tender preservation of our person, Would have him punished. And now to our French causes. Who are the late commissioners?
CAMBRIDGE	I one, my lord. Your highness bade me ask for it today.
SCROPE	So did you me, my liege.
GREY	And I, my royal sovereign.
KING HARRY	Then Richard, Earl of Cambridge, there is yours; There yours, Lord Scrope of Masham, and sir knight, Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours. Read them, and know I know your worthiness.— My lord of Westmorland, and Uncle Exeter, We will aboard tonight.—Why, how now, gentlemen? What see you in those papers, that you lose So much complexion?—Look ye how they change: Their cheeks are paper.—Why, what read you there That have so cowarded and chased your blood Out of appearance?
CAMBRIDGE	I do confess my fault, And do submit me to your highness’ mercy.
GREY	and SCROPE To which we all appeal.
KING HARRY	The mercy that was quick in us but late By your own counsel is suppressed and killed. You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy, For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.— See you, my princes and my noble peers, These English monsters? My lord of Cambridge here, You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with all appurtenants Belonging to his honour; and this vile man Hath for a few light crowns lightly conspired And sworn unto the practices of France To kill us here in Hampton. To the which This knight, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But O What shall I say to thee, Lord Scrope, thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knew‘st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst ha’ coined me into gold Wouldst thou ha’ practised on me for thy use: May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? ’Tis so strange That though the truth of it stands off as gross As black on white, my eye will scarcely see it. Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either’s purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, ‘gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder. And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence. And other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch and bungle up damnation With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetched From glist’ring semblances of piety; But he that tempered thee, bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. If that same demon that hath gulled thee thus Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, He might return to vasty Tartar back And tell the legions, ‘I can never win A soul so easy as that Englishman’s.’ O how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance. Show men dutiful? Why so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned? Why so didst thou. Come they of noble family? Why so didst thou. Seem they religious? Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger, Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, Garnished and decked in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such, and so finely boulted, didst thou seem. And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To mark the full-fraught man, and best endowed, With some suspicion. I will weep for thee, For this revolt of thine methinks is like Another fall of man.—Their faults are open. Arrest them to the answer of the law, And God acquit them of their practices.
EXETER	I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard, Earl of Cambridge.—I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry, Lord Scrope of Masham.—I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland.
SCROPE	Our purposes God justly hath discovered, And I repent my fault more than my death, Which I beseech your highness to forgive Although my body pay the price of it.
CAMBRIDGE	For me, the gold of France did not seduce, Although I did admit it as a motive The sooner to effect what I intended. But God be thankèd for prevention, Which heartily in sufferance will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
GREY	Never did faithful subject more rejoice At the discovery of most dangerous treason Than I do at this hour joy o’er myself, Prevented from a damned enterprise. My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
KING HARRY	God ’quit you in his mercy. Hear your sentence. You have conspired against our royal person, Joined with an enemy proclaimed and fixed, And from his coffers Received the golden earnest of our death, Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, His princes and his peers to servitude, His subjects to oppression and contempt, And his whole kingdom into desolation. Touching our person seek we no revenge, But we our kingdom’s safety must so tender, Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws We do deliver you. Get ye therefore hence, Poor miserable wretches, to your death; The taste whereof, God of his mercy give You patience to endure, and true repentance Of all your dear offences.—Bear them hence.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the traitors, guarded
KING HARRY	Now lords for France, the enterprise whereof Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous treason lurking in our way To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way. Then forth, dear countrymen. Let us deliver Our puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to sea, the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i Duchi di Exeter e di Gloucester, e il Conte di Westmorland
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER
(didascalia)	Davanti a Dio, sua grazia è ardito a fidarsi di questi traditori.
EXETER	Saranno arrestati fra poco.
WESTMORLAND	Come lisci e composti si portano, quasi che la fedeltà sedesse nei loro petti, coronata di fede e di costante lealtà.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER
WESTMORLAND	Il Re ha notizia di tutto ciò che tramano, per intercettazione che essi non sognano nemmeno.
EXETER	Anzi, ma l’uomo che gli fu compagno di letto, che egli ha saziato e stuccato di graziosi favori— che costui per una borsa straniera così venda la vita del suo sovrano alla morte e al tradimento.
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano Re Harry, Lord Scrope, il
EXETER	Conte di Cambridge, e Sir Thomas Grey
RE HARRY	Ora il vento si fa propizio, e noi c’imbarcheremo. Mio signore di Cambridge, e mio caro signore di Masham, e voi, mio gentile cavaliere, datemi i vostri pensieri. Non credete voi che le forze che portiamo con noi si apriranno il passo attraverso la potenza di Francia, compiendo l’esecuzione e l’atto per cui le abbiamo radunate sotto un solo capo?
SCROPE	Nessun dubbio, mio sovrano, se ognuno farà del suo meglio.
RE HARRY	Non ne dubito, poiché siamo ben persuasi di non portare con noi di qui un solo cuore che non cresca in giusto accordo col nostro, né di lasciarne dietro alcuno che non auguri successo e conquista ad accompagnarci.
CAMBRIDGE	Mai monarca fu meglio temuto e amato di vostra maestà. Non v’è, io credo, suddito che sieda in pena di cuore e in inquietudine sotto la dolce ombra del vostro governo.
GREY	Vero. Quelli che furono nemici di vostro padre hanno intinto nel miele il loro fiele, e vi servono con cuori creati di dovere e di zelo.
RE HARRY	Abbiamo dunque gran motivo di gratitudine, e dimenticheremo l’ufficio della nostra mano prima che il compenso al merito e al valore, secondo il loro peso e la loro degnità.
SCROPE	Così il servizio si affaticherà con nervi d’acciaio, e la fatica si ristorerà con la speranza, per rendere a vostra grazia incessanti servigi.
RE HARRY	Non giudichiamo di meno.—Zio di Exeter, liberate l’uomo imprigionato ieri che inveì contro la nostra persona. Riteniamo che fu eccesso di vino a spingerlo, e ora che è tornato in sé lo perdoniamo.
SCROPE	Questa è misericordia, ma troppa sicurezza. Sia punito, sovrano, che l’esempio non generi, per la sua impunità, altri di tal razza.
RE HARRY	Oh, lasciateci pur essere misericordiosi.
CAMBRIDGE	Può esserlo vostra altezza, e pur tuttavia punire.
GREY	Signore, mostrate gran misericordia se gli lasciate la vita, dopo il gusto di molta correzione.
RE HARRY	Ahimè, il vostro troppo amore e la cura di me sono preghiere pesanti contro questo povero disgraziato. Se piccole colpe che vengono da intemperanza non si dovranno chiudere gli occhi, come apriremo lo sguardo quando delitti capitali, masticati, inghiottiti e digeriti, ci appariranno innanzi? Libereremo pur quell’uomo, benché Cambridge, Scrope e Grey, nella loro cara cura e tenera conservazione della nostra persona, lo vorrebbero punito. E ora alle nostre cause francesi. Chi sono i commissari ultimamente nominati?
CAMBRIDGE	Io per uno, mio signore. Vostra altezza mi ordinò di chiederlo oggi.
SCROPE	Così faceste con me, mio sovrano.
GREY	E con me, mio regale sovrano.
RE HARRY	Allora Riccardo, Conte di Cambridge, ecco il vostro; ecco il vostro, Lord Scrope di Masham, e voi, signor cavaliere, Grey del Northumberland, questo stesso è il vostro. Leggeteli, e sappiate che io conosco il vostro valore.— Mio signore di Westmorland, e zio Exeter, c’imbarcheremo stanotte.—Ebbene, che c’è, signori? Che vedete in quelle carte, che perdete tanto colore?—Guardate come mutano: le loro guance son carta.—Ebbene, che leggete là che ha così impaurito e cacciato il vostro sangue fuori dall’apparenza?
CAMBRIDGE	Confesso la mia colpa, e mi rimetto alla misericordia di vostra altezza.
GREY	e SCROPE Alla quale tutti ci appelliamo.
RE HARRY	La misericordia che poc’anzi era viva in noi dal vostro stesso consiglio è soppressa e uccisa. Non dovete osare, per vergogna, di parlar di misericordia, ché le vostre stesse ragioni si volgono contro i vostri petti, come cani contro i loro padroni, azzannandovi.— Vedete, miei principi e miei nobili pari, questi mostri inglesi? Il mio signore di Cambridge qui, sapete quanto pronto fu il nostro amore ad accordarsi a fornirlo di tutto ciò che spettava al suo onore; e quest’uomo vile ha per poche leggere corone leggermente congiurato e giurato alle macchinazioni di Francia di ucciderci qui in Hampton. Al che questo cavaliere, non meno per generosità a noi legato di quanto lo sia Cambridge, ha parimenti giurato. Ma oh, che dirò a te, Lord Scrope, tu crudele, ingrata, selvaggia e inumana creatura? Tu che portavi la chiave di tutti i miei consigli, che conoscevi il fondo stesso della mia anima, che quasi avresti potuto coniarmi in oro se avessi voluto servirti di me a tuo uso: può esser possibile che un soldo straniero potesse estrarre da te una sola scintilla di male capace di offendere il mio dito? È così strano che, benché la verità di ciò risalti grossolana come nero su bianco, il mio occhio a stento la vede. Tradimento e omicidio sempre stettero insieme, come due demoni aggiogati e giurati al fine l’uno dell’altro, operando così grossolanamente in una causa naturale che l’ammirazione non gridava loro dietro; ma tu, contro ogni proporzione, hai fatto entrare la Meraviglia a servire il tradimento e l’omicidio. E qualunque astuto demonio sia stato che ha operato su di te così mostruosamente ha in inferno il vanto dell’eccellenza. E gli altri diavoli che suggeriscono tradimenti rattoppano e raffazzonano la dannazione con pezze, colori e forme, tratte da luccicanti apparenze di pietà; ma colui che temprò te, ti disse d’alzarti, non ti diede alcun pretesto per tradire, se non per fregiarti del nome di traditore. Se quel medesimo demone che t’ha così gabbato dovesse col suo passo di leone percorrere il mondo intero, potrebbe tornare al vasto Tartaro e dire alle legioni: ‘Non potrò mai guadagnare un’anima così facile come quella dell’Inglese.’ Oh come hai tu con la gelosia infettato la dolcezza della fiducia. Si mostrano uomini fedeli? Anche tu lo fosti. Sembrano gravi e dotti? Anche tu lo fosti. Vengono da nobile famiglia? Anche tu. Sembrano religiosi? Anche tu. O sono sobri nel cibo, liberi da grossolane passioni, di allegria o d’ira, costanti nello spirito, non travolti dal sangue, ornati e adorni di modesta compostezza, non operando con l’occhio senza l’orecchio, e non fidando di nessuno dei due se non con giudizio purgato? Tale, e così finemente vagliato, tu sembravi. E così la tua caduta ha lasciato una specie di macchia a segnare l’uomo più compiuto, e meglio dotato, con qualche sospetto. Io piangerò per te, ché questa tua rivolta mi pare simile a un’altra caduta dell’uomo.—Le loro colpe sono manifeste. Arrestateli perché rispondano alla legge, e Dio li assolva delle loro macchinazioni.
EXETER	Ti arresto per alto tradimento, in nome di Riccardo, Conte di Cambridge.—Ti arresto per alto tradimento, in nome di Enrico, Lord Scrope di Masham.—Ti arresto per alto tradimento, in nome di Thomas Grey, cavaliere, del Northumberland.
SCROPE	I nostri disegni Dio giustamente ha svelato, e mi pento della mia colpa più che della mia morte, che supplico vostra altezza di perdonare benché il mio corpo ne paghi il prezzo.
CAMBRIDGE	Quanto a me, l’oro di Francia non mi sedusse, benché l’abbia accolto come un motivo per effettuare più presto ciò che intendevo. Ma sia ringraziato Dio d’averlo impedito, del che di cuore gioirò nel patire, supplicando Dio e voi di perdonarmi.
GREY	Mai suddito fedele più gioì alla scoperta d’un pericolosissimo tradimento di quanto io in quest’ora gioisca di me stesso, salvato da un’impresa dannata. La mia colpa, ma non il mio corpo, perdonate, sovrano.
RE HARRY	Dio vi assolva nella sua misericordia. Udite la vostra sentenza. Avete congiurato contro la nostra regale persona, uniti a un nemico proclamato e dichiarato, e dai suoi forzieri avete ricevuto la caparra d’oro della nostra morte, con la quale avreste venduto il vostro re al macello, i suoi principi e i suoi pari alla servitù, i suoi sudditi all’oppressione e al disprezzo, e tutto il suo regno alla desolazione. Quanto alla nostra persona non cerchiamo vendetta, ma dobbiamo così proteggere la salvezza del nostro regno, la cui rovina avete cercato, che alle sue leggi vi consegniamo. Andatevene dunque di qui, poveri miserabili sciagurati, alla vostra morte; il cui gusto, Dio nella sua misericordia vi dia pazienza a sopportare, e vero pentimento di tutte le vostre gravi offese.—Portateli via.
(didascalia)	Escono i traditori, sotto scorta
RE HARRY	Ora, signori, in Francia, la cui impresa sarà a voi, come a noi, ugualmente gloriosa. Non dubitiamo d’una guerra bella e fortunata, poiché Dio così graziosamente ha portato alla luce questo pericoloso tradimento appiattato sul nostro cammino per impedire i nostri inizi. Non dubitiamo ora che ogni intoppo sia spianato sulla nostra via. Dunque avanti, cari compatrioti. Consegniamo la nostra potenza nella mano di Dio, ponendola subito in movimento. Allegramente al mare, si levino le insegne di guerra: nessun re d’Inghilterra, se non re di Francia.
(didascalia)	Squilli di tromba. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Ensign Pistol, Corporal Nim, Lieutenant Bardolph, Boy, and Hostess Quickly
HOSTESS	Prithee, honey, sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.
PISTOL	No, for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph, Be blithe; Nim, rouse thy vaunting veins; boy, bristle Thy courage up. For Falstaff he is dead, And we must earn therefore.
BARDOLPH	Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is, either in heaven or in hell.
HOSTESS	Nay, sure he’s not in hell. He’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child. A parted ev’n just between twelve and one, ev’n at the turning o‘th’ tide—for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his finger’s end, I knew there was but one way. For his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a babbled of green fields. ‘How now, Sir John?’ quoth I. ‘What, man! Be o’ good cheer.’ So a cried out, ‘God, God, God’, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a bade me lay more clothes on his feet. I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone. Then I felt to his knees, and so up’ard and up’ard, and all was as cold as any stone.
NIM	They say he cried out of sack.
HOSTESS	Ay, that a did.
BARDOLPH	And of women.
HOSTESS	Nay, that a did not.
BOY	Yes, that a did, and said they were devils incarnate.
HOSTESS	A could never abide carnation, ’twas a colour he never liked.
BOY	A said once the devil would have him about women.
HOSTESS	A did in some sort, indeed, handle women—but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the Whore of Babylon.
BOY	Do you not remember, a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph’s nose, and a said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire.
BARDOLPH	Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire. That’s all the riches I got in his service.
NIM	Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton.
PISTOL	Come, let’s away.—My love, give me thy lips. He kisses her Look to my chattels and my movables. Let senses rule. The word is ‘Pitch and pay’. Trust none, for oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer-cakes, And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck. Therefore caveto be thy counsellor. Go, clear thy crystals.—Yokefellows in arms, Let us to France, like horseleeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!
BOY	(aside) And that’s but unwholesome food, they say.
PISTOL	Touch her soft mouth, and march.
BARDOLPH	Farewell, hostess. He kisses her
NIM	I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it, but adieu.
PISTOL	(to Hostess) Let housewifery appear. Keep close, I thee command.
HOSTESS	Farewell! Adieu! Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano l’Alfiere Pistola, il Caporale Nim, il Luogotenente Bardolph, il Ragazzo e l’Ostessa Quickly
OSTESSA	Ti prego, mio dolce, caro marito, lascia che t’accompagni fino a Staines.
PISTOLA	No, ché il mio virile cuore si strugge. Bardolph, sii lieto; Nim, ridesta le tue vene millantatrici; ragazzo, rizza il tuo coraggio. Ché Falstaff è morto, e dobbiamo perciò lagnarci.
BARDOLPH	Vorrei essere con lui, dovunque egli sia, o in cielo o all’inferno.
OSTESSA	No, di certo non è all’inferno. È nel seno d’Artù, se mai uomo andò nel seno d’Artù. Fece una fine più bella, e se ne andò come fosse stato un bambino appena battezzato. Se ne partì proprio tra le dodici e l’una, proprio al volgere della marea—ché quando lo vidi armeggiare con le lenzuola, e giocare coi fiori, e sorridere alla punta delle dita, seppi che non c’era che una via. Ché il suo naso era aguzzo come una penna, e farfugliava di verdi prati. ‘Ebbene, Sir John?’ dico io. ‘Suvvia, uomo! Fatevi coraggio.’ E lui gridò: ‘Dio, Dio, Dio’, tre o quattro volte. Allora io, per confortarlo, gli dissi che non doveva pensare a Dio; speravo non ci fosse ancora bisogno di darsi pena di simili pensieri. Allora mi disse di mettergli più panni sui piedi. Cacciai la mano nel letto e glieli toccai, ed erano freddi come pietra. Poi tastai fino alle ginocchia, e su e su, e tutto era freddo come pietra.
NIM	Dicono che gridasse contro il vino di Spagna.
OSTESSA	Sì, questo lo fece.
BARDOLPH	E contro le donne.
OSTESSA	No, questo non lo fece.
RAGAZZO	Sì, lo fece, e disse che erano diavoli incarnati.
OSTESSA	Non poté mai soffrire l’incarnato, era un colore che non gli piacque mai.
RAGAZZO	Disse una volta che il diavolo l’avrebbe avuto a causa delle donne.
OSTESSA	Trattò in un certo senso, davvero, le donne—ma allora era reumatico, e parlava della Meretrice di Babilonia.
RAGAZZO	Non ricordate, vide una pulce posarsi sul naso di Bardolph, e disse che era un’anima nera che bruciava nel fuoco dell’inferno.
BARDOLPH	Ebbene, se n’è andato il combustibile che manteneva quel fuoco. Ecco tutta la ricchezza che ho tratto dal suo servizio.
NIM	Ce ne andiamo? Il Re sarà partito da Southampton.
PISTOLA	Su, andiamo.—Amore mio, dammi le tue labbra. La bacia Bada ai miei beni e alle mie masserizie. Regni il buon senso. La parola d’ordine è ‘Sborsa e paga’. Non fidarti di nessuno, ché i giuramenti son paglia, le fedi degli uomini son cialde, e Tienstretto è il solo cane, anatrella mia. Perciò caveto ti sia consigliere. Va’, asciuga i tuoi cristalli.—Compagni d’arme aggiogati, andiamo in Francia, come sanguisughe, ragazzi miei, a succhiare, a succhiare, il sangue stesso a succhiare!
RAGAZZO	(a parte) E quello è cibo malsano, dicono.
PISTOLA	Tocca la sua morbida bocca, e marcia.
BARDOLPH	Addio, ostessa. La bacia
NIM	Io non so baciare, questo è l’umore della faccenda, ma addio.
PISTOLA	(all’Ostessa) Si mostri la buona massaia. Statti chiusa in casa, te lo comando.
OSTESSA	Addio! Adieu! Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Charles the Sixth of France, the Dauphin, the Constable, and the Dukes of Berri and Bourbon
KING CHARLES	Thus comes the English with full power upon us, And more than carefully it us concerns To answer royally in our defences. Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Bourbon, Of Brabant and of Orléans shall make forth, And you Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch To line and new-repair our towns of war With men of courage and with means defendant. For England his approaches makes as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf. It fits us then to be as provident As fear may teach us, out of late examples Left by the fatal and neglected English Upon our fields.
DAUPHIN	My most redoubted father, It is most meet we arm us ‘gainst the foe, For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom— Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in question— But that defences, musters, preparations Should be maintained, assembled, and collected As were a war in expectation. Therefore, I say, ’tis meet we all go forth To view the sick and feeble parts of France. And let us do it with no show of fear, No, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris dance. For, my good liege, she is so idly kinged, Her sceptre so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, That fear attends her not.
CONSTABLE	O peace, Prince Dauphin. You are too much mistaken in this king. Question your grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with aged counsellors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly, As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring and be most delicate.
DAUPHIN	Well, ‘tis not so, my Lord High Constable. But though we think it so, it is no matter. In cases of defence ’tis best to weigh The enemy more mighty than he seems. So the proportions of defence are filled— Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting A little cloth.
KING CHARLES	Think we King Harry strong. And princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. The kindred of him hath been fleshed upon us, And he is bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. Witness our too-much-memorable shame When Crécy battle fatally was struck, And all our princes captived by the hand Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales, Whiles that his mountant sire, on mountain standing, Up in the air, crowned with the golden sun, Saw his heroical seed and smiled to see him Mangle the work of nature and deface The patterns that by God and by French fathers Had twenty years been made. This is a stem Of that victorious stock, and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Ambassadors from Harry, King of England, Do crave admittance to your majesty.
KING CHARLES	We’ll give them present audience. Go and bring them.
(didascalia)	Exit Messenger
KING CHARLES	You see this chase is hotly followed, friends.
DAUPHIN	Turn head and stop pursuit. For coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head. Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin As self-neglecting.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Exeter, attended
KING CHARLES	From our brother England?
EXETER	From him, and thus he greets your majesty: He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself and lay apart The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, ‘longs To him and to his heirs, namely the crown, And all wide-stretched honours that pertain By custom and the ordinance of times Unto the crown of France. That you may know ’Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, Picked from the worm-holes of long-vanished days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, He sends you this most memorable line, In every branch truly demonstrative, Willing you over-look this pedigree, And when you find him evenly derived From his most famed of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger.
KING CHARLES	Or else what follows?
EXETER	Bloody constraint. For if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, That if requiring fail, he will compel; And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head Turns he the widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries, The dead men’s blood, the pining maidens’ groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers That shall be swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat’ning, and my message— Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too.
KING CHARLES	For us, we will consider of this further. Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother England.
DAUPHIN	For the Dauphin, I stand here for him. What to him from England?
EXETER	Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt; And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an if your father’s highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, He’ll call you to so hot an answer for it That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance.
DAUPHIN	Say if my father render fair return It is against my will, for I desire Nothing but odds with England. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls.
EXETER	He’ll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe. And be assured, you’ll find a diff’rence, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now: now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain. That you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France.
(didascalia)	KING CHARLES rising
EXETER	Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full.
(didascalia)	Flourish
EXETER	Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay— For he is footed in this land already.
KING CHARLES	You shall be soon dispatched with fair conditions. A night is but small breath and little pause To answer matters of this consequence.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt
KING CHARLES	3.0 Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed king at Dover pier Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. Play with your fancies, and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, Borne with th‘invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on th’inconstant billows dancing— For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance. For who is he, whose chin is but enriched With one appearing hair, that will not follow These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege. Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose th’ambassador from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Catherine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not, and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
(didascalia)	Alarum, and chambers go off
CHORUS	And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli di tromba. Entrano Re Carlo Sesto di Francia, il Delfino, il Conestabile, e i Duchi di Berry e di Borbone
RE CARLO	Così viene l’Inglese con piena forza contro di noi, e più che accuratamente ci riguarda rispondere regalmente nelle nostre difese. Perciò i Duchi di Berry e di Borbone, di Brabante e d’Orléans si mettano in marcia, e voi Principe Delfino, con ogni rapida sollecitudine, a presidiare e riparare a nuovo le nostre piazzeforti con uomini di coraggio e con mezzi di difesa. Ché l’Inghilterra fa i suoi approcci feroci come le acque al risucchio d’un gorgo. Ci conviene dunque essere previdenti quanto la paura può insegnarci, dai recenti esempi lasciati dai fatali e trascurati Inglesi sui nostri campi.
DELFINO	Mio temutissimo padre, è convenientissimo che ci armiamo contro il nemico, ché la pace stessa non dovrebbe così intorpidire un regno— anche se guerra, o alcuna nota contesa, non fosse in questione— senza che difese, leve, apparecchi siano mantenuti, radunati e raccolti come se una guerra fosse attesa. Perciò, dico, è conveniente che tutti muoviamo a ispezionare le parti malate e deboli di Francia. E facciamolo senza mostra di paura, no, con non più che se udissimo che l’Inghilterra fosse occupata in una morisca di Pentecoste. Danza Ché, mio buon sovrano, essa ha un re così ozioso, il suo scettro è portato così stravagantemente da un giovane vano, sventato, superficiale e capriccioso, che nessuna paura l’accompagna.
CONESTABILE	Oh, tacete, Principe Delfino. Vi ingannate troppo su questo re. Interroghi vostra grazia gli ultimi ambasciatori con quale gran contegno egli udì la loro ambasciata, quanto ben fornito di anziani consiglieri, quanto modesto nell’obiettare, e insieme quanto terribile in ferma risoluzione, e troverete che le sue vanità passate erano solo l’esteriorità del romano Bruto, che copre la prudenza con un manto di follia, come i giardinieri col letame nascondono quelle radici che per prime germoglieranno e saranno più delicate.
DELFINO	Ebbene, non è così, mio Lord Gran Conestabile. Ma anche se lo pensiamo, non importa. Nei casi di difesa è meglio stimare il nemico più potente di quanto appaia. Così le proporzioni della difesa sono colmate— ché, con una previsione debole e spilorcia, si fa come l’avaro che rovina il proprio abito lesinando un po’ di stoffa.
RE CARLO	Riteniamo forte Re Harry. E voi, principi, armatevi forte per affrontarlo. La sua stirpe s’è già insanguinata su di noi, ed egli è generato da quel sangue sanguinario che ci perseguitò nei nostri sentieri familiari. Ne fa fede la nostra troppo memorabile vergogna quando la battaglia di Crécy fu fatalmente combattuta, e tutti i nostri principi furono catturati dalla mano di quel nero nome, Edoardo, Principe Nero di Galles, mentre il suo padre torreggiante, ritto su un monte, lassù nell’aria, coronato dal sole d’oro, vide il suo eroico germoglio e sorrise a vederlo straziare l’opera della natura e sfigurare i modelli che da Dio e da padri francesi erano stati fatti in vent’anni. Questo è un ramo di quel ceppo vittorioso, e temiamo la nativa possanza e il destino di lui.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Ambasciatori di Harry, Re d’Inghilterra, chiedono d’essere ammessi da vostra maestà.
RE CARLO	Daremo loro immediata udienza. Andate e conduceteli.
(didascalia)	Esce il Messaggero
RE CARLO	Vedete che questa caccia è incalzata a caldo, amici.
DELFINO	Voltate la testa e fermate l’inseguimento. Ché i cani vigliacchi più abbaiano quando ciò che sembrano minacciare corre assai lontano davanti a loro. Mio buon sovrano, tenete corto l’Inglese, e fategli sapere di quale monarchia siete il capo. L’amor di Self proprio, mio sovrano, non è peccato così vile amore quanto il trascurare sé stessi.
(didascalia)	Entra il Duca di Exeter, col seguito
RE CARLO	Da parte di nostro fratello d’Inghilterra?
EXETER	Da lui, e così saluta vostra maestà: vi vuole, nel nome di Dio Onnipotente, spogliarvi e deporre da parte le glorie prese a prestito che per dono del cielo, per legge di natura e delle genti, spettano a lui e ai suoi eredi, cioè la corona, e tutti i vasti onori che appartengono per consuetudine e per ordinamento dei tempi alla corona di Francia. Perché sappiate che non è pretesa sinistra né malfondata, raccolta dai fori dei tarli di giorni da lungo svaniti, né rastrellata dalla polvere d’antica dimenticanza, vi manda questa memorabilissima genealogia, in ogni ramo veramente dimostrativa, volendo che scorriate questo albero, e quando lo troviate discendere per retta linea dal più famoso dei suoi famosi antenati, Edoardo Terzo, allora v’ingiunge di rinunciare alla vostra corona e al regno, indirettamente tenuti da lui, il nativo e vero rivendicatore.
RE CARLO	E se no, che segue?
EXETER	Sanguinosa costrizione. Ché se nascondete la corona perfino nei vostri cuori, là egli la cercherà rastrellando. Perciò in fiera tempesta egli viene, fra tuoni e terremoti, come un Giove, sicché se il chiedere fallisce, egli costringerà; e v’ingiunge, per le viscere del Signore, di consegnare la corona, e d’aver misericordia delle povere anime per cui questa guerra affamata apre le sue vaste fauci; e sul vostro capo egli volge le lacrime delle vedove, le grida degli orfani, il sangue dei morti, i gemiti delle fanciulle che si struggono per mariti, padri e amanti promessi che saranno inghiottiti in questa contesa. Questa è la sua pretesa, la sua minaccia, e il mio messaggio— a meno che il Delfino non sia qui presente, al quale espressamente reco anche un saluto.
RE CARLO	Quanto a noi, considereremo oltre la cosa. Domani porterete la nostra piena intenzione a nostro fratello d’Inghilterra.
DELFINO	Quanto al Delfino, io sto qui per lui. Che c’è per lui dall’Inghilterra?
EXETER	Scherno e sfida, poco riguardo, disprezzo; e tutto ciò che non sconvenga al possente mittente, tanto egli vi stima. Così dice il mio re: se l’altezza di vostro padre non addolcisce, concedendo per intero ogni domanda, l’amara beffa che mandaste a sua maestà, egli ve ne chiederà conto così ardentemente che caverne e ventrute volte di Francia rimprovereranno il vostro fallo e vi renderanno la beffa nel secondo accento delle sue artiglierie.
DELFINO	Dite che se mio padre rende bella risposta è contro la mia volontà, ché io desidero null’altro che discordia con l’Inghilterra. A tal fine, come cosa adatta alla sua giovinezza e vanità, gli feci dono delle palle di Parigi.
EXETER	Ne farà tremare il vostro Louvre di Parigi, fosse pure la corte sovrana della possente Europa. E siatene certo, troverete una differenza, quale noi suoi sudditi con meraviglia abbiamo trovato, fra la promessa dei suoi giorni più verdi e questi ch’egli ora padroneggia: ora pesa il tempo fino all’ultimo granello. Il che leggerete nelle vostre stesse perdite, s’egli resta in Francia.
(didascalia)	RE CARLO alzandosi
EXETER	Domani conoscerete appieno la nostra mente.
(didascalia)	Squilli di tromba
EXETER	Congedateci con ogni prestezza, che il nostro re non venga qui in persona a chieder conto del nostro indugio— ché egli ha già posto piede in questa terra.
RE CARLO	Sarete presto congedati con eque condizioni. Una notte è ben poco respiro e breve pausa per rispondere a cose di tale conseguenza.
(didascalia)	Squilli di tromba. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed king at Dover pier Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. Play with your fancies, and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, Borne with th‘invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on th’inconstant billows dancing— For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance. For who is he, whose chin is but enriched With one appearing hair, that will not follow These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege. Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose th’ambassador from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Catherine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not, and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
(didascalia)	Alarum, and chambers go off
CHORUS	And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Coro
CORO	Così con ala immaginata la nostra rapida scena vola con moto di non minore celerità di quello del pensiero. Supponete d’aver visto il ben equipaggiato re al molo di Dover imbarcare la sua regalità, e la sua prode flotta coi vessilli di seta che ventilano il giovane Febo. Giocate con le vostre fantasie, e in esse mirate sul sartiame di canapa i mozzi arrampicarsi; nave udite il fischio acuto, che dà ordine a suoni confusi; mirate le vele di tela, portate dall’invisibile e strisciante vento, trascinare le enormi carene per il mare solcato, fendendo l’alto flutto. Oh, pensate soltanto di stare sulla riva e di mirare una città danzare sui flutti incostanti— ché tale appare questa flotta maestosa, che tiene la rotta verso Harfleur. Seguite, seguite! Aggrappate le vostre menti alla poppa di questa armata, e lasciate la vostra Inghilterra, immobile come mezzanotte, custodita da nonni, da bimbi e da vecchie, o passati o non giunti a midollo e vigore. Ché chi è colui, il cui mento è appena arricchito da un solo pelo spuntato, che non voglia seguire questi scelti e selezionati cavalieri in Francia? Lavorate, lavorate i vostri pensieri, e in essi vedete un assedio. Mirate le artiglierie sui loro affusti, con fatali bocche spalancate sulla cinta di Harfleur. Supponete che l’ambasciatore torni dai Francesi, e dica a Harry che il Re gli offre Caterina sua figlia, e con lei, in dote, alcuni meschini e improduttivi ducati. L’offerta non piace, e l’agile artigliere col miccione ora tocca il diabolico cannone,
(didascalia)	Allarme, e sparano i mortaretti
CORO	E tutto crolla davanti a loro. Siate ancora benigni, e supplite alla nostra recita con la vostra mente. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Harry and the English army, with scaling ladders
KING HARRY	Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility, But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger. Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage. Then lend the eye a terrible aspect, Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon, let the brow o‘erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock O’erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof, Fathers that like so many Alexanders Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you called fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding—which I doubt not, For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot. Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry, ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’
(didascalia)	Alarum, and chambers go off. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Entrano Re Harry e l’esercito inglese, con scale d’assalto
RE HARRY	Ancora una volta alla breccia, cari amici, ancora una volta, o chiudete il muro coi nostri morti inglesi. In pace nulla si addice tanto a un uomo quanto la modesta quiete e l’umiltà, ma quando il soffio della guerra ci rugge negli orecchi, allora imitate l’azione della tigre. Irrigidite i nervi, evocate il sangue, travestite la bella natura con truce furore. Poi date all’occhio un aspetto terribile, che scruti attraverso le feritoie del capo come il cannone di bronzo, e la fronte lo sovrasti tremendamente come una rupe corrosa sporge e strapiomba sulla sua base sconvolta, flagellata dall’oceano selvaggio e devastatore. Ora serrate i denti e dilatate le narici, trattenete forte il fiato, e tendete ogni spirito alla sua piena altezza. Avanti, avanti, nobilissimi Inglesi, il cui sangue viene da padri provati in guerra, padri che come tanti Alessandri hanno in queste terre dal mattino alla sera combattuto, e rinfoderato le spade per mancanza d’avversari. Non disonorate le vostre madri; ora attestate che coloro che chiamaste padri vi generarono. Siate ora modello a uomini di sangue più grossolano, e insegnate loro a guerreggiare. E voi, buoni fantaccini, le cui membra furono fatte in Inghilterra, mostrateci qui la tempra del vostro pascolo; lasciateci giurare che siete degni della vostra stirpe—del che non dubito, ché non ve n’è alcuno fra voi tanto meschino e vile che non abbia nobile lucentezza negli occhi. Vi vedo stare come levrieri al guinzaglio, tesi allo scatto. La caccia è aperta. Seguite il vostro spirito, e a questo assalto gridate: ‘Dio per Harry! Inghilterra e San Giorgio!’
(didascalia)	Allarme, e sparano i mortaretti. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Nim, Bardolph, Ensign Pistol, and Boy
BARDOLPH	On, on, on, on, oh! To the breach, to the breach!
NIM	Pray thee corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot, and for mine own part I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too hot, that is the very plainsong of it. 6
PISTOL	’The plainsong’ is most just, for humours do abound. Knocks go and come, God’s vassals drop and die,
(didascalia)	sings And sword and shield
PISTOL	In bloody field Doth win immortal fame.
BOY	Would I were in an alehouse in London. I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.
(didascalia)	PISTOL sings And I.
BOY	If wishes would prevail with me My purpose should not fail with me But thither would I hie.
(didascalia)	BOY sings As duly
BOY	But not as truly As bird doth sing on bough.
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Fluellen and beats them in
FLUELLEN	God’s plud! Up to the breaches, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions!
PISTOL	Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould. Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, Abate thy rage, great duke. Good bawcock, bate Thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck.
(didascalia)	NIM These be good humours! Fluellen begins to beat Nim Your honour runs bad humours.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but the Boy
BOY	As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them all three, but all they three, though they should serve me, could not be man to me, for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced—by the means whereof a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword—by the means whereof a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nim, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest a should be thought a coward. But his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds—for a never broke any man’s head but his own, and that was against a post, when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it ‘purchase’. Bardolph stole a lute case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nim and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire shovel. I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as their gloves or their handkerchiefs—which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another’s pocket to put into mine, for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Nim, Bardolph, l’Alfiere Pistola e il Ragazzo
BARDOLPH	Avanti, avanti, avanti, avanti, oh! Alla breccia, alla breccia!
NIM	Ti prego, caporale, fermati. Le botte sono troppo calde, e per parte mia non ho una custodia piena di vite. L’umore della faccenda è troppo caldo, questo è il canto piano della faccenda. 6
PISTOLA	’Il canto piano’ è giustissimo, ché gli umori abbondano. Le botte vanno e vengono, i vassalli di Dio cadono e muoiono,
(didascalia)	canta E la spada e lo scudo
PISTOLA	Nel campo insanguinato si guadagnano fama immortale.
RAGAZZO	Vorrei essere in una birreria a Londra. Darei tutta la mia fama per un boccale di birra, e per la salvezza.
(didascalia)	PISTOLA canta E io pure.
RAGAZZO	Se i desideri valessero con me il mio proposito non mancherebbe con me ma là mi affretterei.
(didascalia)	Il RAGAZZO canta Con altrettanta puntualità
RAGAZZO	Ma non con altrettanta verità di quanta ne canta l’uccello sul ramo.
(didascalia)	Entra il Capitano Fluellen e li caccia dentro a bastonate
FLUELLEN	Sancue di Dio! Su alle precce, cani! Via di qui, canaglie!
PISTOLA	Sii misericordioso, gran duca, con uomini di creta. Modera la tua rabbia, modera la tua virile rabbia, modera la tua rabbia, gran duca. Bel galletto, modera la tua rabbia. Usa clemenza, dolce pulcino.
(didascalia)	NIM Questi sì che sono buoni umori! Fluellen comincia a bastonare Nim Il vostro onore riversa cattivi umori.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne il Ragazzo
RAGAZZO	Per giovane che io sia, ho osservato questi tre spacconi. Sono ragazzo di tutti e tre, ma tutti e tre, quand’anche servissero me, non basterebbero a farmi un uomo, ché in verità tre tali buffoni non sommano a un uomo solo. Quanto a Bardolph, ha il fegato bianco e la faccia rossa—per cui fa il gradasso, ma non combatte. Quanto a Pistola, ha lingua che uccide e spada che tace—per cui spezza le parole, e serba intatte le armi. Quanto a Nim, ha sentito dire che gli uomini di poche parole sono i migliori, e perciò sdegna di dire le sue preghiere, per non essere creduto un vigliacco. Ma alle sue poche cattive parole s’accompagnano altrettante poche buone azioni—ché non ha mai rotto la testa a nessuno se non a sé stesso, e fu contro un palo, quand’era ubriaco. Ruberebbero qualunque cosa, e la chiamano ‘acquisto’. Bardolph rubò una custodia di liuto, la portò per dodici leghe, e la vendette per tre mezzi penny. Nim e Bardolph sono fratelli giurati nel rubacchiare, e a Calais rubarono una paletta da fuoco. Da quel servigio capii che quegli uomini avrebbero portato carboni. Vorrebbero che io fossi familiare con le tasche altrui quanto lo sono i loro guanti o i loro fazzoletti—il che va molto contro la mia virilità, se dovessi prendere dalla tasca d’un altro per mettere nella mia, ché è puro intascare torti. Devo lasciarli, e cercare qualche miglior servizio. La loro villania va contro il mio debole stomaco, e perciò devo vomitarla. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Gower and Captain Fluellen, meeting
GOWER	Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines. The Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
FLUELLEN	To the mines? Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come to the mines. For look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient. For look you, th’thversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself, four yard under, the countermines. By Cheshu, I think a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.
GOWER	The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’faith.
FLUELLEN	It is Captain MacMorris, is it not?
GOWER	I think it be.
FLUELLEN	By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you—of the Roman disciplines—than is a puppy dog.
(didascalia)	Enter Captain MacMorris and Captain Jamy
GOWER	Here a comes, and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.
FLUELLEN	Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th’anciant wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.
JAMY	I say gud day, Captain Fluellen.
FLUELLEN	Good e’en to your worship, good Captain James.
GOWER	How now, Captain MacMorris, have you quit the mines? Have the pioneers given o’er?
MACMORRIS	By Chrish law, ‘tish ill done. The work ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my father’s soul, the work ish ill done, it ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me law, in an hour. O ’tish ill done, ‘tish ill done, by my hand ’tish ill done.
FLUELLEN	Captain MacMorris, I beseech you now, will you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication? Partly to satisfy my opinion and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind. As touching the direction of the military discipline, that is the point.
JAMY	It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath, and I sall quite you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion. That sall I, marry.
MACMORRIS	It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather and the wars and the King and the dukes. It is no time to discourse. The town is besieched. An the trumpet call us to the breach, and we talk and, be Chrish, do nothing, ‘tis shame for us all. So God sa’ me, ’tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my hand. And there is throats to be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me law.
JAMY	By the mess, ere these eyes of mine take themselves to slumber, ay’ll de gud service, or I’ll lig i‘th’ grund for it. Ay owe Got a death, and I’ll pay’t as valorously as I may, that sall I suirely do, that is the brief and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question ’tween you twae.
FLUELLEN	Captain MacMorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation—
MACMORRIS	Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain and a bastard and a knave and a rascal? What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?
FLUELLEN	Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain MacMorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.
MACMORRIS	I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
GOWER	Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
JAMY	Ah, that’s a foul fault. A parley is sounded
GOWER	The town sounds a parley.
FLUELLEN	Captain MacMorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war. And there is an end.
(didascalia)	Exit
FLUELLEN	[Flourish.] Enter King Harry and all his train before the gates
KING HARRY	How yet resolves the Governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit. Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves, Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst. For as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the batt‘ry once again I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the fleshed soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh fair virgins and your flow’ring infants. What is it then to me if impious war Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends Do with his smirched complexion all fell feats Enlinked to waste and desolation? What is’t to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon th‘enragèd soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command, Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. If not—why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod’s bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid? Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroyed?
(didascalia)	Enter Governor [on the wall]
GOVERNOR	Our expectation hath this day an end. The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, Returns us that his powers are yet not ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread King, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
(didascalia)	Enter our gates, dispose of us and ours,
GOVERNOR	For we no longer are defensible.
KING HARRY	Open your gates. [Exit Governor] 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 will retire to Calais. Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest; Tomorrow for the march are we addressed. [The gates are opened.] Flourish, and they enter the town

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Capitano Gower e il Capitano Fluellen, incontrandosi
GOWER	Capitano Fluellen, dovete venire subito alle mine. Il Duca di Gloucester vuole parlarvi.
FLUELLEN	Alle mine? Ditelo voi al Duca che non è tanto pene venire alle mine. Perché, vedete, le mine non sono secondo le discipline della guerra. Le concavità non sono sufficienti. Perché, vedete, l’avversario, potete esporlo al Duca, vedete, s’è scavato lui stesso, quattro iarde sotto, le contromine. Per Cesù, credo che farà saltare tutto, se non ci sono migliori direzioni.
GOWER	Il Duca di Gloucester, cui è affidata la direzione dell’assedio, è del tutto guidato da un Irlandese, un gentiluomo assai valoroso, in fede mia.
FLUELLEN	È il Capitano MacMorris, non è vero?
GOWER	Credo di sì.
FLUELLEN	Per Cesù, è un asino, come non ce n’è al mondo. Glielo verificherò sulla parpa. Non ha più direzioni nelle vere discipline delle guerre, vedete—delle discipline romane—di quante ne abbia un cucciolo di cane.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Capitano MacMorris e il Capitano Jamy
GOWER	Eccolo che viene, e con lui il capitano scozzese, il Capitano Jamy.
FLUELLEN	Il Capitano Jamy è un gentiluomo meravigliosamente faloroso, questo è certo, e di grande spedizione e conoscenza nelle guerre antiche, per mia particolare conoscenza delle sue direzioni. Per Cesù, sosterrà il suo argomento bene quanto qualsiasi uomo d’arme al mondo, nelle discipline delle guerre pristine dei Romani.
JAMY	Ve dico pon dì, Capitano Fluellen.
FLUELLEN	Puona sera a vossignoria, buon Capitano James.
GOWER	Ebbene, Capitano MacMorris, avete abbandonato le mine? I guastatori hanno smesso?
MACMORRIS	Per la lecce di Cristo, l’è mal fatto. Il lavoro l’è abbandonato, la tromba suona la ritirata. Per questa mano lo giuro, e per l’anima di mio padre, il lavoro l’è mal fatto, l’è abbandonato. Avrei fatto saltare la città, che Cristo mi salvi la lecce, in un’ora. Oh, l’è mal fatto, l’è mal fatto, per questa mano l’è mal fatto.
FLUELLEN	Capitano MacMorris, vi supplico ora, volete concedermi, vedete, qualche disputazione con voi, in parte toccante o concernente le discipline della guerra, le guerre romane, per via d’argomento, vedete, e di amichevole comunicazione? In parte per soddisfare la mia opinione e in parte per la soddisfazione, vedete, della mia mente. Quanto alla direzione della disciplina militare, questo è il punto.
JAMY	Sarrà molto puono, puona fede, puoni capitani tuttidue, e vi ricamperò con puona licenza, appena me ne colga l’occasione. Questo lo farrò, perdinci.
MACMORRIS	Non l’è tempo di discorrere, che Cristo mi salvi. La giornata l’è calda, e il tempo e le guerre e il Re e i duchi. Non l’è tempo di discorrere. La città l’è assediata. E la tromba ci chiama alla breccia, e noi chiacchieriamo e, per Cristo, non facciamo nulla, l’è vergogna per tutti noi. Che Dio mi salvi, l’è vergogna star fermi, l’è vergogna per questa mano. E ci son gole da tagliare, e lavori da fare, e non si fa nulla, che Cristo mi salvi la lecce.
JAMY	Per la messa, prima che questi miei occhi si mettano a sonnecchiare, farrò puon servizio, o ci resterrò sotto terra. Devo a Tio una morte, e la pagherò più valorosamente che potrò, questo lo farrò di sicuro, questo è il corto e il lungo. Perdinci, avrei ben volentieri sentito qualche questione fra voi tue.
FLUELLEN	Capitano MacMorris, credo, vedete, salva la vostra correzione, che non ci siano molti della vostra nazione—
MACMORRIS	Della mia nazione? Cos’è la mia nazione? È forse un furfante e un bastardo e un mascalzone e un briccone? Cos’è la mia nazione? Chi parla della mia nazione?
FLUELLEN	Vedete, se prendete la cosa altrimenti da come è intesa, Capitano MacMorris, per avventura penserò che non mi trattiate con quell’affabilità con cui in discrezione dovreste trattarmi, vedete, essendo io uomo buono quanto voi, sia nelle discipline della guerra sia nella derivazione della mia nascita, e in altre particolarità.
MACMORRIS	Non vi conosco uomo puono quanto me. Che Cristo mi salvi, vi taglierò la testa.
GOWER	Signori miei, vi fraintenderete l’un l’altro.
JAMY	Ah, questo è un brutto difetto. Si suona a parlamento
GOWER	La città suona a parlamento.
FLUELLEN	Capitano MacMorris, quando ci sarà da chiedere occasione più migliore, vedete, sarò tanto ardito da dirvi che io conosco le discipline della guerra. E basta così.
(didascalia)	Esce
FLUELLEN	[Squilli di tromba.] Entrano Re Harry e tutto il suo seguito davanti alle porte
RE HARRY	Come si risolve infine il Governatore della città? Questo è l’ultimo parlamento che ammetteremo. Perciò datevi alla nostra migliore misericordia, o, come uomini superbi della distruzione, sfidateci al nostro peggio. Ché, com’è vero che son soldato, nome che nei miei pensieri più mi si addice, se ricomincio una volta ancora la batteria non lascerò Harfleur mezzo conquistata finché non giaccia sepolta nelle sue ceneri. Le porte della misericordia saranno tutte serrate, e il soldato assetato di sangue, rude e duro di cuore, in libertà di mano sanguinaria scorrazzerà con coscienza larga come l’inferno, falciando come erba le vostre fresche belle vergini e i vostri infanti in fiore. Che m’importa allora se l’empia guerra vestita di fiamme come il principe dei demoni compia col suo volto affumicato tutte le crudeli imprese congiunte alla rovina e alla desolazione? Che m’importa, quando voi stessi ne siete causa, se le vostre pure fanciulle cadranno in mano di ardente e forzata violenza? Quale briglia può trattenere la licenziosa malvagità quando giù per la collina tiene la sua feroce corsa? Tanto varrebbe spendere invano il nostro comando sui soldati infuriati nel loro saccheggio quanto mandare precetti al leviatano perché venga a riva. Perciò, uomini di Harfleur, abbiate pietà della vostra città e della vostra gente mentre ancora i miei soldati sono ai miei ordini, mentre ancora il fresco e temperato vento della grazia disperde le sozze e contagiose nubi d’impetuoso assassinio, saccheggio e villania. Se no—ebbene, in un momento aspettatevi di vedere il soldato cieco e sanguinario con lorda mano profanare le chiome delle vostre figlie che stridono; i vostri padri presi per le barbe d’argento, e le loro venerabili teste sfracellate contro i muri; i vostri infanti nudi infilzati sulle picche, mentre le madri impazzite coi loro ululati confusi squarciano le nubi, come fecero le donne di Giudea ai sicari di Erode a caccia di sangue. Che dite? Vi arrendete, ed evitate tutto questo? O, colpevoli nel difendervi, sarete così distrutti?
(didascalia)	Entra il Governatore [sulle mura]
GOVERNATORE	La nostra attesa ha oggi fine. Il Delfino, al quale chiedemmo soccorsi, ci risponde che le sue forze non sono ancora pronte a levare un assedio così grande. Perciò, temuto Re, cediamo la nostra città e le nostre vite alla tua dolce misericordia.
(didascalia)	Entrate per le nostre porte, disponete di noi e del nostro,
GOVERNATORE	Ché non siamo più in grado di difenderci.
RE HARRY	Aprite le vostre porte. [Esce il Governatore] Venite, zio Exeter, andate voi ed entrate in Harfleur. Là restate, e fortificatela fortemente contro i Francesi. Usate misericordia con tutti loro. Quanto a noi, caro zio, venendo l’inverno, e crescendo la malattia fra i nostri soldati, ci ritireremo a Calais. Stanotte in Harfleur saremo vostro ospite; domani siamo pronti per la marcia. [Le porte vengono aperte.] Squilli di tromba, ed entrano nella città

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Princess Catherine and Alice, an old gentlewoman
CATHERINE	Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu bien parles le langage.
ALICE	Un peu, madame.
CATHERINE	Je te prie, m‘enseignez. Il faut que j’apprenne à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en anglais?
ALICE	La main? Elle est appelée de hand.
CATHERINE	De hand. Et les doigts?
ALICE	Les doigts? Ma foi, j‘oublie les doigts, mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts—je pense qu’ils sont appelés de fingres. Oui, de fingres.
CATHERINE	La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis la bonne écolière; j‘ai gagné deux mots d’anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles? ALICE Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails.
CATHERINE	De nails. Écoutez—dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails.
ALICE	C’est bien dit, madame. Il est fort bon anglais.
CATHERINE	Dites-moi l’anglais pour le bras.
ALICE	De arma, madame.
CATHERINE	Et le coude?
ALICE	D’elbow.
CATHERINE	D‘elbow. Je m’en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m’avez appris dès a present.
ALICE	Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
CATHERINE	Excusez-moi, Alice. Écoutez: d‘hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, de bilbow.
ALICE	D’elbow, madame.
CATHERINE	O Seigneur Dieu, je m‘en oublie! D’elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?
ALICE	De nick, madame.
CATHERINE	De nick. Et le menton?
ALICE	De chin.
CATHERINE	De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.
ALICE	Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en vérité vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d’Angleterre.
CATHERINE	Je ne doute point d’apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.
ALICE	N’avez-vous y déjà oublié ce que je vous ai enseigné?
CATHERINE	Non, et je réciterai à vous promptement: d’hand, de fingre, de mailès—
ALICE	De nails, madame.
CATHERINE	De nails, de arma, de ilbow—
ALICE	Sauf votre honneur, d’elbow.
CATHERINE	Ainsi dis-je. D’elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous les pieds et la robe?
ALICE	De foot, madame, et de cown.
CATHERINE	De foot et de cown? O Seigneur Dieu! Ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d‘honneur d’user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh! De foot et de cown! Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble. D‘hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, d’elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de cown.
ALICE	Excellent, madame!
CATHERINE	C’est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous à diner.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Principessa Caterina e Alice, una vecchia gentildonna
CATERINA	Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu bien parles le langage.
ALICE	Un peu, madame.
CATERINA	Je te prie, m‘enseignez. Il faut que j’apprenne à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en anglais?
ALICE	La main? Elle est appelée de hand.
CATERINA	De hand. Et les doigts?
ALICE	Les doigts? Ma foi, j‘oublie les doigts, mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts—je pense qu’ils sont appelés de fingres. Oui, de fingres.
CATERINA	La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis la bonne écolière; j‘ai gagné deux mots d’anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles? ALICE Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails.
CATERINA	De nails. Écoutez—dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails.
ALICE	C’est bien dit, madame. Il est fort bon anglais.
CATERINA	Dites-moi l’anglais pour le bras.
ALICE	De arma, madame.
CATERINA	Et le coude?
ALICE	D’elbow.
CATERINA	D‘elbow. Je m’en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m’avez appris dès a present.
ALICE	Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
CATERINA	Excusez-moi, Alice. Écoutez: d‘hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, de bilbow.
ALICE	D’elbow, madame.
CATERINA	O Seigneur Dieu, je m‘en oublie! D’elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?
ALICE	De nick, madame.
CATERINA	De nick. Et le menton?
ALICE	De chin.
CATERINA	De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.
ALICE	Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en vérité vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d’Angleterre.
CATERINA	Je ne doute point d’apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.
ALICE	N’avez-vous y déjà oublié ce que je vous ai enseigné?
CATERINA	Non, et je réciterai à vous promptement: d’hand, de fingre, de mailès—
ALICE	De nails, madame.
CATERINA	De nails, de arma, de ilbow—
ALICE	Sauf votre honneur, d’elbow.
CATERINA	Ainsi dis-je. D’elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous les pieds et la robe?
ALICE	De foot, madame, et de cown.
CATERINA	De foot et de cown? O Seigneur Dieu! Ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d‘honneur d’user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh! De foot et de cown! Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble. D‘hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, d’elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de cown.
ALICE	Excellent, madame!
CATERINA	C’est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous à diner.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Charles the Sixth of France, the Dauphin, the Constable, the Duke of Bourbon, and others
KING CHARLES	‘Tis certain he hath passed the River Somme.
CONSTABLE	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.
DAUPHIN	O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us, The emptying of our fathers’ luxury, Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds And over-look their grafters?
(didascalia)	BOURBON
DAUPHIN	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 slobb’ry and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
CONSTABLE	Dieu de batailles! 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-reined 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 Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields— ‘Poor’ may we call them, in their native lords.
DAUPHIN	By faith and honour, Our madams mock at us and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth, To new-store France with bastard warriors.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
DAUPHIN	They bid us, ‘To the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos’— Saying our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways.
KING CHARLES	Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence. Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. Up, princes, and with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field. Charles Delabret, High Constable of France, You Dukes of Orléans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy, Jaques Châtillion, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrelles, Boucicault, and Charolais, High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, For your great seats now quit you of great shames. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur; Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon. Go down upon him, you have power enough, And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner.
CONSTABLE	This becomes the great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famished in their march, For I am sure when he shall see our army He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear And, fore achievement, offer us his ransom.
KING CHARLES	Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy, And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give.— Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
DAUPHIN	Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
KING CHARLES	Be patient, for you shall remain with us.— Now forth, Lord Constable, and princes all, And quickly bring us word of England’s fall.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Re Carlo Sesto di Francia, il Delfino, il Conestabile, il Duca di Borbone e altri
RE CARLO	È certo, ha passato il fiume Somme.
CONESTABILE	E se non gli si dà battaglia, mio signore, non viviamo più in Francia; abbandoniamo tutto e diamo le nostre vigne a un popolo barbaro.
DELFINO	O Dieu vivant! Dovranno pochi rampolli nostri, lo scolo della lussuria dei nostri padri, i nostri innesti, posti in ceppo selvatico e rozzo, schizzare così d’un tratto fino alle nubi e sovrastare chi li innestò?
(didascalia)	BOURBON
DELFINO	Normanni, ma Normanni bastardi, bastardi Normanni! Mort de ma vie, se marciano oltre senza che si combatta, venderò il mio ducato per comprare una fattoria fangosa e sudicia in quell’isola tutta seni e insenature d’Albione.
CONESTABILE	Dieu de batailles! Donde viene loro questa tempra? Non è il loro clima nebbioso, crudo e greve, su cui, quasi per dispetto, il sole guarda pallido, uccidendo i loro frutti coi suoi cipigli? Può l’acqua bollita, beveraggio per rozze sfiancate—il loro brodo d’orzo— decuocere il loro freddo sangue a tale calore di valore? E il nostro vivo sangue, animato dal vino, parrà gelato? Oh, per l’onore della nostra terra, non pendiamo come ghiaccioli allungati sui tetti di paglia delle nostre case, mentre un popolo più gelido suda gocce di gagliarda gioventù nei nostri ricchi campi— ‘poveri’ possiamo chiamarli, quanto ai loro signori nativi.
DELFINO	Per la fede e per l’onore, le nostre dame ci schernisco e apertamente dicono che la nostra tempra è esaurita, e daranno i loro corpi alla libidine della gioventù inglese, per rifornire la Francia di guerrieri bastardi.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
DELFINO	Ci mandano: ‘Alle scuole di ballo inglesi, e insegnate le volte alte e le rapide correnti’— dicendo che la nostra grazia è tutta nei calcagni, e che siamo altissimi maestri di fuga.
RE CARLO	Dov’è Montjoy l’araldo? Affrettatelo via di qui. Che saluti l’Inghilterra con la nostra aspra sfida. Su, principi, e con spirito d’onore affilato più aguzzo delle vostre spade, correte al campo. Charles Delabret, Gran Conestabile di Francia, voi Duchi d’Orléans, di Borbone e di Berry, Alençon, Brabante, Bar e Borgogna, Jaques Châtillion, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi e Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrelles, Boucicault e Charolais, alti duchi, gran principi, baroni, signori e cavalieri, per i vostri gran seggi liberatevi ora da gran vergogne. Sbarrate Harry d’Inghilterra, che spazza per la nostra terra con pennoni dipinti nel sangue di Harfleur; piombate sulla sua schiera, come la neve disciolta sulle valli, sul cui basso seggio vassallo le Alpi sputano e vuotano il loro catarro. Scendete su di lui, avete forze bastanti, e in un carro da prigioniero, dentro Rouen, portatecelo nostro prigioniero.
CONESTABILE	Questo si addice ai grandi. Mi dispiace che i suoi numeri siano così scarsi, i suoi soldati malati e affamati nella marcia, ché son sicuro che quando vedrà il nostro esercito lascerà cadere il cuore nel pozzo della paura e, prima d’ogni impresa, ci offrirà il suo riscatto.
RE CARLO	Perciò, Lord Conestabile, sollecitate Montjoy, e ditegli di dire all’Inghilterra che mandiamo a sapere quale riscatto vorrà dare di buon grado.— Principe Delfino, voi resterete con noi a Rouen.
DELFINO	Non così, supplico vostra maestà.
RE CARLO	Siate paziente, ché resterete con noi.— Ora avanti, Lord Conestabile, e voi tutti principi, e presto recateci notizia della caduta d’Inghilterra.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captains Gower and Fluellen, meeting
GOWER	How now, Captain Fluellen, come you from the bridge?
FLUELLEN	I assure you there is very excellent services committed at the bridge.
GOWER	Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
FLUELLEN	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 live and my living and my uttermost power. He is not, God be praised and blessed, any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an ensign lieutenant there at the pridge, 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 world, but I did see him do as gallant service.
GOWER	What do you call him?
FLUELLEN	He is called Ensign Pistol.
GOWER	I know him not.
(didascalia)	Enter Ensign Pistol
FLUELLEN	Here is the man.
PISTOL	Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours. The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
FLUELLEN	Ay, I praise God, and I have merited some love at his hands.
PISTOL	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—
FLUELLEN	By your patience, Ensign Pistol: Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind. 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 mutability and variation. And her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls and rolls and rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description of it; Fortune is an excellent moral.
PISTOL	Fortune is Bardolph’s foe and frowns on him, For he hath stol’n a pax, and hangèd must a be. A damned death— Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate. But Exeter hath given the doom of death For pax 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.
FLUELLEN	Ensign Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
PISTOL	Why then rejoice therefor.
FLUELLEN	Certainly, ensign, 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 discipline ought to be used.
PISTOL	Die and be damned! and fico for thy friendship.
FLUELLEN	It is Well.
PISTOL	The fig of Spain.
FLUELLEN	Very good.
PISTOL	I say the fig within thy bowels and thy dirty maw.
(didascalia)	Exit
FLUELLEN	Captain Gower, cannot you hear it lighten and thunder?
GOWER	Why, is this the ensign you told me of? I remember him now. A bawd, a cutpurse.
FLUELLEN	I’ll assure you, a uttered 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 into London under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders’ names, and they will learn you by rote where services were done—at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy, who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on—and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths. And what a beard of the General’s cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits is wonderful to be thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.
FLUELLEN	I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is. If I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind. A drum is heard Hark you, the King is coming, and I must speak with him from the pridge.
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry and his poor soldiers, with drum and colours
FLUELLEN	God pless your majesty.
KING HARRY	How now, Fluellen, com’st thou from the bridge?
FLUELLEN	Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained 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 enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I can tell your majesty, the Duke is a prave man.
KING HARRY	What men have you lost, Fluellen?
FLUELLEN	The perdition of th’athversary hath been very great, 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 bubuncles and whelks and knobs and flames o’ 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.
KING HARRY	We would have all such offenders so cut off, and we here give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language. For when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. Tucket. Enter Montjoy
MONTJOY	You know me by my habit.
KING HARRY	Well then, I know thee. What shall I know of thee?
MONTJOY	My master’s mind.
KING HARRY	Unfold it.
MONTJOY	Thus says my King: ‘Say thou to Harry of England, though we seemed dead, we did but sleep. Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him, we could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial. England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested—which in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for th’ffusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance, and tell him for conclusion he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced.’ So far my King and master; so much my office.
KING HARRY	What is thy name? I know thy quality.
MONTJOY	Montjoy.
KING HARRY	Thou dost 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— Though ’tis no wisdom to confess so much Unto an enemy of craft and vantage— My people are with sickness much enfeebled, My numbers lessened, 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, God, 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, God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himself and such another neighbour Stand in our way. There’s for thy labour, Montjoy. Go bid thy master well advise himself. If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour. And so, Montjoy, fare you well. The sum of all our answer is but this: We would not seek a battle as we are, Nor as we are we say we will not shun it. So tell your master.
MONTJOY	I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness. Exit
GLOUCESTER	I hope they will not come upon us now.
KING HARRY	We are in God’s hand, brother, not in theirs. March to the bridge. It now draws toward night. Beyond the river we’ll encamp ourselves, And on tomorrow bid them march away. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i Capitani Gower e Fluellen, incontrandosi
GOWER	Ebbene, Capitano Fluellen, venite dal ponte?
FLUELLEN	Vi assicuro che al ponte si sono compiuti servigi eccellentissimi.
GOWER	Il Duca di Exeter è salvo?
FLUELLEN	Il Duca di Exeter è magnanimo quanto Agamennone, e un uomo che io amo e onoro con l’anima mia e col mio cuore e col mio dovere e con la mia vita e col mio vivere e con tutto il mio potere. Non ha, sia Dio lodato e benedetto, alcun male al mondo, ma tiene il ponte valorosissimamente, con eccellente disciplina. C’è là al ponte un alfiere luogotenente, e credo nella mia stessa coscienza che sia uomo valoroso quanto Marco Antonio, ed è uomo di nessuna stima al mondo, ma io l’ho visto compiere un servizio gagliardissimo.
GOWER	Come lo chiamate?
FLUELLEN	Si chiama l’Alfiere Pistola.
GOWER	Non lo conosco.
(didascalia)	Entra l’Alfiere Pistola
FLUELLEN	Ecco l’uomo.
PISTOLA	Capitano, ti supplico di farmi un favore. Il Duca di Exeter ti ama assai.
FLUELLEN	Sì, lodo Dio, e ho meritato qualche amore dalle sue mani.
PISTOLA	Bardolph, soldato fermo e sano di cuore, di prospero valore, per crudele destino e per la furiosa e volubile ruota della sventata Fortuna, quella dea cieca che sta sulla pietra rotolante e senza posa—
FLUELLEN	Con vostra pazienza, Alfiere Pistola: la Fortuna è dipinta cieca, con una benda davanti agli occhi, per significarvi che la Fortuna è cieca. Ed è dipinta anche con una ruota, per significarvi—e questa è la morale—che essa è girevole e incostante e mutevolezza e variazione. E il suo piede, vedete, è posato su una pietra sferica, che rotola e rotola e rotola. In buona verità, il poeta ne fa una descrizione eccellentissima; la Fortuna è un’eccellente morale.
PISTOLA	La Fortuna è nemica di Bardolph e lo guarda torva, ché ha rubato una pace, e impiccato dev’essere. Una morte dannata— si spalanchi la forca per il cane, e vada libero l’uomo, e la canapa non gli soffochi la gola. Ma Exeter ha dato la condanna a morte per una pace di poco prezzo. Perciò va’ a parlare, il Duca ascolterà la tua voce, e non lasciare che il filo vitale di Bardolph sia reciso dal taglio d’una corda da un soldo e da vile onta. Parla, capitano, per la sua vita, e io ti ricompenserò.
FLUELLEN	Alfiere Pistola, comprendo in parte il vostro intento.
PISTOLA	E allora rallegratene.
FLUELLEN	Certamente, alfiere, non è cosa di cui rallegrarsi. Ché se, vedete, fosse mio fratello, io desidererei che il Duca facesse il suo buon piacere, e lo mandasse alle esecuzioni. Ché la disciplina dev’essere usata.
PISTOLA	Muori e sii dannato! e un fico per la tua amicizia.
FLUELLEN	Sta bene.
PISTOLA	Il fico di Spagna.
FLUELLEN	Molto bene.
PISTOLA	Dico il fico dentro le tue budella e nel tuo sudicio ventre.
(didascalia)	Esce
FLUELLEN	Capitano Gower, non lo sentite lampeggiare e tuonare?
GOWER	Ebbene, è questo l’alfiere di cui mi parlavate? Ora me ne ricordo. Un ruffiano, un tagliaborse.
FLUELLEN	V’assicuro che ha pronunciato parole prave al ponte quante ne vedrete in un giorno d’estate. Ma sta molto bene. Ciò che m’ha detto, sta bene, ve lo garantisco, quando sarà tempo.
GOWER	Ebbene, è un gonzo, uno sciocco, un furfante, che di tanto in tanto va alle guerre, per farsi bello al suo ritorno a Londra sotto le sembianze d’un soldato. E simili tipi sono perfetti nei nomi dei grandi comandanti, e v’impareranno a memoria dove si compirono i servigi—a tale e tal ridotta, a tale breccia, a tale convoglio, chi se la cavò bravamente, chi fu colpito, chi svergognato, a quali condizioni stesse il nemico—e questo sanno perfettamente nel gergo di guerra, che infiorano con giuramenti di nuovo conio. E quel che una barba tagliata alla moda del Generale e un’orrida divisa da campo possano fare tra bottiglie spumeggianti e cervelli lavati dalla birra è meraviglioso a pensarsi. Ma dovete imparare a conoscere simili vergogne del secolo, altrimenti potreste ingannarvi mirabilmente.
FLUELLEN	Vi dico una cosa, Capitano Gower, mi accorgo che non è l’uomo che volentieri vorrebbe mostrare al mondo d’essere. Se trovo un buco nel suo abito, gli dirò il fatto mio. Si ode un tamburo Udite, il Re sta venendo, e devo parlargli del ponte.
(didascalia)	Entrano Re Harry e i suoi poveri soldati, con tamburo e insegne
FLUELLEN	Dio penedica vostra maestà.
RE HARRY	Ebbene, Fluellen, vieni dal ponte?
FLUELLEN	Sì, se piace a vostra maestà. Il Duca di Exeter ha tenuto il ponte gagliardissimamente. Il Francese s’è ritirato, vedete, e ci sono stati passaggi gagliardi e pravissimi. Perdinci, l’avversario aveva possesso del ponte, ma è stato costretto a ritirarsi, e il Duca di Exeter è padrone del ponte. Posso dire a vostra maestà, il Duca è un pravo uomo.
RE HARRY	Che uomini avete perduto, Fluellen?
FLUELLEN	La perdizione dell’avversario è stata grandissima, ragionevolmente grande. Perdinci, per parte mia credo che il Duca non abbia perduto un uomo solo, salvo uno che sta per essere giustiziato per aver derubato una chiesa, un certo Bardolph, se vostra maestà conosce l’uomo. La sua faccia è tutta pustole e bolle e bitorzoli e fiamme di fuoco, e le sue labbra soffiano sul suo naso, ed esso è come un carbone di fuoco, talora plu e talora rosso. Ma il suo naso è giustiziato, e il suo fuoco è spento.
RE HARRY	Vorremmo che tutti simili delinquenti fossero così recisi, e diamo qui espresso ordine che nelle nostre marce attraverso il paese nulla sia estorto ai villaggi, nulla preso senza pagarlo, nessuno dei Francesi rimproverato o maltrattato con parole sdegnose. Ché quando la clemenza e la crudeltà giocano per un regno, il giocatore più mite è il primo a vincere. Squillo di tromba. Entra Montjoy
MONTJOY	Mi conoscete dalla mia divisa.
RE HARRY	Ebbene, allora ti conosco. Che cosa saprò da te?
MONTJOY	La mente del mio signore.
RE HARRY	Esponila.
MONTJOY	Così dice il mio Re: ‘Di’ tu a Harry d’Inghilterra che, sebbene sembrassimo morti, non facevamo che dormire. Il vantaggio è soldato migliore dell’avventatezza. Digli che avremmo potuto respingerlo a Harfleur, se non che non stimammo bene schiacciare un livido finché non fosse ben maturo. Ora parliamo alla nostra battuta, e la nostra voce è imperiale. L’Inghilterra si pentirà della sua follia, vedrà la sua debolezza, e ammirerà la nostra tolleranza. Digli dunque di considerare il suo riscatto, che dovrà essere proporzionato alle perdite che abbiamo sostenuto, ai sudditi che abbiamo perduto, all’onta che abbiamo ingoiato—alla quale, se dovesse rispondere per intero, la sua piccolezza si piegherebbe. Per le nostre perdite, il suo erario è troppo povero; per l’effusione del nostro sangue, la leva del suo regno è numero troppo esiguo; e per la nostra onta, la sua stessa persona inginocchiata ai nostri piedi non è che debole e indegna soddisfazione. A ciò aggiungi la sfida, e digli per conclusione che ha tradito i suoi seguaci, la cui condanna è pronunciata.’ Fin qui il mio Re e signore; questo il mio ufficio.
RE HARRY	Qual è il tuo nome? Conosco il tuo grado.
MONTJOY	Montjoy.
RE HARRY	Fai il tuo ufficio onestamente. Torna indietro e di’ al tuo re che ora non lo cerco, ma sarei ben disposto a marciare fino a Calais senza impedimento, ché a dire il vero— benché non sia saggezza confessare tanto a un nemico d’astuzia e di vantaggio— la mia gente è molto indebolita dalla malattia, ridotti i miei numeri, e quei pochi che ho quasi non migliori d’altrettanti Francesi; i quali quando erano in salute—te lo dico, araldo, pensavo che un solo paio di gambe inglesi ne portasse tre di Francesi. Pure perdonami, Dio, che io mi vanti così. Quest’aria di Francia m’ha soffiato dentro tale vizio. Devo pentirmene. Va’, dunque, di’ al tuo signore che io sono qui; il mio riscatto è questo fragile e indegno tronco, il mio esercito solo una debole e malata guardia. Pure, con Dio innanzi, digli che verremo avanti, anche se la Francia stessa e un altro simile vicino ci stessero sulla via. Ecco per la tua fatica, Montjoy. Va’, di’ al tuo signore che ben consideri sé stesso. Se possiamo passare, passeremo; se saremo ostacolati, tingeremo il vostro suolo fulvo col vostro rosso sangue. E così, Montjoy, state bene. La somma di tutta la nostra risposta è solo questa: non cercheremmo battaglia come siamo, né, come siamo, diciamo che la sfuggiremo. Così di’ al tuo signore.
MONTJOY	Riferirò così. Grazie a vostra altezza. Esce
GLOUCESTER	Spero che non ci piombino addosso ora.
RE HARRY	Siamo nella mano di Dio, fratello, non nella loro. Marciate verso il ponte. Ora volge alla notte. Oltre il fiume ci accamperemo, e domani ordineremo loro di marciare via. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable, Lord Rambures, the Dukes of Orléans and Bourbon, with others
CONSTABLE	Tut, I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day.
ORLEANS	You have an excellent armour. But let my horse have his due.
CONSTABLE	It is the best horse of Europe. ORLÉANS Will it never be morning?
(didascalia)	BOURBON My lord of Orléans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of horse and armour?
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world.
(didascalia)	BOURBON What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ah ha! He bounds from the earth as if his entrails were hares-le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk; he trots the air, the earth sings when he touches it, the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS He’s of the colour of the nutmeg.
(didascalia)	BOURBON And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus. He is pure air and fire, and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.
CONSTABLE	Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse.
(didascalia)	BOURBON It is the prince of palfreys. His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS No more, cousin.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb vary deserved praise on my palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea. Turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all. ‘Tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign’s sovereign to ride on, and for the world, familiar to us and unknown, to lay apart their particular functions, and wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus: ‘Wonder of nature!—’
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS I have heard a sonnet begin so to one’s mistress.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Then did they imitate that which I composed to my courser, for my horse is my mistress.
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS Your mistress bears well.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Me well, which is the prescribed praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress.
CONSTABLE	Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back.
(didascalia)	BOURBON So perhaps did yours.
CONSTABLE	Mine was not bridled.
(didascalia)	BOURBON 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 judgement in horsemanship.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Be warned 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.
(didascalia)	BOURBON 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.
(didascalia)	BOURBON ‛Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, et la truie lavée au bourbier.’ Thou makest 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 tonight, are those stars or suns upon it?
CONSTABLE	Stars, my lord.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Some of them will fall tomorrow, I hope.
CONSTABLE	And yet my sky shall not want.
(didascalia)	BOURBON That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and ’twere more honour some were away.
CONSTABLE	Even as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as well were some of your brags dismounted.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot tomorrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces.
CONSTABLE	I will not say so, for fear I should be faced 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.
(didascalia)	BOURBON ’Tis midnight. I’ll go arm myself. Exit
CONSTABLE	ORLÉANS The Duke of Bourbon longs for morning.
RAMBURES	He longs to eat the English.
CONSTABLE	I think he will eat all he kills. ORLÉANS By the white hand of my lady, he’s a gallant prince.
CONSTABLE	Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath. ORLÉANS He is simply the most active gentleman of France.
CONSTABLE	Doing is activity, and he will still be doing. ORLÉANS He never did harm that I heard of.
CONSTABLE	Nor will do none tomorrow. He will keep that good name still. ORLÉANS I know him to be valiant.
CONSTABLE	I was told that by one that knows him better than you. ORLÉANS What’s he?
CONSTABLE	Marry, he told me so himself, and he said he cared not who knew it. ORLÉANS 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. ORLÉANS ‘Ill will never said well.’ no
CONSTABLE	I will cap that proverb with ‘There is flattery in friendship.’ ORLÉANS And I will take up that with ‘Give the devil his due.’
CONSTABLE	Well placed! There stands your friend for the devil. Have at the very eye of that proverb with ‘A pox of the devil!’ ORLÉANS You are the better at proverbs by how much ‘a fool’s bolt is soon shot’.
CONSTABLE	You have shot over. ORLÉANS ’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 measured the ground?
MESSENGER	The Lord Grandpré.
CONSTABLE	A valiant and most expert gentleman.
(didascalia)	Exit Messenger
CONSTABLE	Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England. He longs not for the dawning as we do. ORLÉANS What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowledge.
CONSTABLE	If the English had any apprehension, they would run away. ORLÉANS That they lack—for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy headpieces.
RAMBURES	That island of England breeds very valiant creatures. Their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. ORLÉANS Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed 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 sympathize 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. ORLÉANS Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
CONSTABLE	Then shall we find tomorrow they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we about it? ORLÉANS It is now two o’clock. But let me see—by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Conestabile, Lord Rambures, i Duchi d’Orléans e di Borbone, con altri
CONESTABILE	Puah, io ho la migliore armatura del mondo. Fosse già giorno.
ORLÉANS	Avete un’armatura eccellente. Ma si renda al mio cavallo il suo dovuto.
CONESTABILE	È il miglior cavallo d’Europa. ORLÉANS Non sarà mai mattino?
(didascalia)	BOURBON Mio signore d’Orléans e mio Lord Gran Conestabile, parlate di cavalli e d’armature?
CONESTABILE	ORLÉANS Siete ben provvisti d’entrambi quanto qualsiasi principe al mondo.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Che notte lunga è questa! Non cambierei il mio cavallo con nessuno che cammini su quattro pasturali. Ah ah! Balza da terra come se le sue viscere fossero di lepre—le cheval volant, il Pegaso, qui a les narines de feu! Quando lo inforco, io volo, sono un falco; trotta nell’aria, la terra canta quando la tocca, il corno più vile del suo zoccolo è più musicale del flauto d’Ermete.
CONESTABILE	ORLÉANS È del colore della noce moscata.
(didascalia)	BOURBON E del calore dello zenzero. È una bestia per Perseo. È puro aria e fuoco, e i greggi elementi della terra e dell’acqua non appaiono mai in lui, se non nella paziente immobilità mentre il cavaliere lo monta. Egli è davvero un cavallo, e tutte le altre rozze potete chiamarle bestie.
CONESTABILE	In verità, mio signore, è un cavallo assolutissimo ed eccellente.
(didascalia)	BOURBON È il principe dei palafreni. Il suo nitrito è come il comando d’un monarca, e il suo aspetto impone omaggio.
CONESTABILE	ORLÉANS Basta così, cugino.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Anzi, non ha ingegno l’uomo che non sappia, dal levarsi dell’allodola al ricovero dell’agnello, variare la meritata lode del mio palafreno. È un tema fluente come il mare. Mutate le sabbie in lingue eloquenti, e il mio cavallo è argomento per tutte. È soggetto su cui un sovrano può ragionare, e su cui il sovrano d’un sovrano può cavalcare, e per cui il mondo, a noi familiare e ignoto, deporrebbe le sue funzioni particolari, e ne farebbe meraviglia. Una volta scrissi un sonetto in sua lode, e cominciava così: ‘Meraviglia della natura!—’
CONESTABILE	ORLÉANS Ho udito un sonetto cominciare così per una dama.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Allora imitavano ciò che io composi al mio corsiero, ché il mio cavallo è la mia dama.
CONESTABILE	ORLÉANS La vostra dama porta bene.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Porta me bene, che è la lode prescritta e la perfezione d’una buona e particolare dama.
CONESTABILE	Anzi, ché mi parve ieri che la vostra dama vi scuotesse malamente la schiena.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Così forse fece la vostra.
CONESTABILE	La mia non era imbrigliata.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Oh, allora forse era vecchia e docile, e voi cavalcavate come un fante d’Irlanda, senza le vostre brache francesi, e nei vostri stretti calzoni.
CONESTABILE	Avete buon giudizio in fatto d’equitazione.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Prendete allora avviso da me: chi cavalca così, e non cavalca con cautela, cade in sozze paludi. Preferirei avere il mio cavallo per dama.
CONESTABILE	Preferirei altrettanto avere per dama una rozza.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Ti dico, Conestabile, che la mia dama porta i suoi propri capelli.
CONESTABILE	Potrei fare un vanto altrettanto vero, se avessi per dama una scrofa.
(didascalia)	BOURBON ‛Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, et la truie lavée au bourbier.’ Tu ti servi di qualunque cosa.
CONESTABILE	Eppure io non mi servo del mio cavallo per dama, né d’alcun proverbio così poco imparentato con lo scopo.
RAMBURES	Mio Lord Conestabile, l’armatura che ho visto stanotte nella vostra tenda, sono stelle o soli quelli che porta?
CONESTABILE	Stelle, mio signore.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Alcune di esse cadranno domani, spero.
CONESTABILE	E pure il mio cielo non ne mancherà.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Può darsi, ché ne portate molte superflue, e sarebbe più onore che alcune fossero tolte.
CONESTABILE	Proprio come il vostro cavallo porta le vostre lodi, il quale trotterebbe altrettanto bene se qualcuna delle vostre vanterie fosse smontata.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Potessi caricarlo del suo merito! Non sarà mai giorno? Domani trotterò per un miglio, e la mia via sarà lastricata di facce inglesi.
CONESTABILE	Io non lo dirò, per paura d’essere affrontato e sviato dalla mia strada. Ma vorrei che fosse mattino, ché volentieri sarei alle orecchie degli Inglesi.
RAMBURES	Chi vuol giocare ai dadi con me per venti prigionieri?
CONESTABILE	Dovete prima andare voi stesso a rischio, prima d’averli.
(didascalia)	BOURBON È mezzanotte. Vado ad armarmi. Esce
CONESTABILE	ORLÉANS Il Duca di Borbone anela al mattino.
RAMBURES	Anela a mangiare gli Inglesi.
CONESTABILE	Credo che mangerà tutti quelli che ucciderà. ORLÉANS Per la bianca mano della mia dama, è un gagliardo principe.
CONESTABILE	Giurate per il suo piede, ché possa calpestare il giuramento. ORLÉANS È semplicemente il gentiluomo più attivo di Francia.
CONESTABILE	Fare è attività, ed egli sarà sempre in faccende. ORLÉANS Non fece mai male alcuno, ch’io abbia udito.
CONESTABILE	Né ne farà domani. Manterrà sempre quel buon nome. ORLÉANS So che è valoroso.
CONESTABILE	Me lo disse uno che lo conosce meglio di voi. ORLÉANS Chi è costui?
CONESTABILE	Perdinci, me lo disse lui stesso, e disse che non gl’importava chi lo sapesse. ORLÉANS Non ne ha bisogno; non è virtù nascosta in lui.
CONESTABILE	Per la mia fede, signore, ma lo è. Nessuno mai la vide se non il suo lacchè. È un valore incappucciato, e quando apparirà si abbatterà. ORLÉANS ‘Il malanimo non disse mai bene.’ no
CONESTABILE	Coronerò quel proverbio con ‘C’è adulazione nell’amicizia.’ ORLÉANS E io ribatterò con ‘Al diavolo il suo dovuto.’
CONESTABILE	Ben messo! Ecco che il vostro amico sta per il diavolo. All’occhio stesso di quel proverbio con ‘Un accidente al diavolo!’ ORLÉANS Siete migliore nei proverbi tanto quanto ‘il dardo dello sciocco è presto scoccato’.
CONESTABILE	Avete tirato troppo lungo. ORLÉANS Non è la prima volta che siete stato sopravanzato. Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Mio Lord Gran Conestabile, gli Inglesi stanno a millecinquecento passi dalle vostre tende.
CONESTABILE	Chi ha misurato il terreno?
MESSAGGERO	Il Signore di Grandpré.
CONESTABILE	Un valoroso ed espertissimo gentiluomo.
(didascalia)	Esce il Messaggero
CONESTABILE	Fosse già giorno! Ahimè, povero Harry d’Inghilterra. Egli non anela all’alba come noi. ORLÉANS Che uomo miserabile e stizzoso è questo Re d’Inghilterra, a incupirsi coi suoi seguaci di grasso cervello così lontano dalla sua conoscenza.
CONESTABILE	Se gli Inglesi avessero un po’ di comprendonio, scapperebbero. ORLÉANS È quel che manca loro—ché se le loro teste avessero una qualche armatura intellettuale, non potrebbero mai portare elmi così pesanti.
RAMBURES	Quell’isola d’Inghilterra genera creature valorosissime. I loro mastini sono d’ineguagliabile coraggio. ORLÉANS Cani sciocchi, che corrono a occhi chiusi nelle fauci d’un orso russo, e si fanno schiacciare la testa come mele marce. Potreste altrettanto bene dire: ‘Ecco una pulce valorosa che osa fare colazione sul labbro d’un leone.’
CONESTABILE	Giusto, giusto. E gli uomini sono affini ai mastini nell’avanzare robusto e rude, lasciando il cervello con le mogli. E poi, dategli grandi pasti di manzo, e ferro e acciaio, e mangeranno come lupi e combatteranno come diavoli. ORLÉANS Sì, ma questi Inglesi sono maledettamente a corto di manzo.
CONESTABILE	Allora troveremo domani che hanno stomaco solo per mangiare, e nessuno per combattere. Ora è tempo d’armarsi. Su, ci mettiamo? ORLÉANS Ora sono le due all’orologio. Ma vediamo—per le dieci ne avremo ciascuno cento di Inglesi.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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 fixed 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 umbered 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 cocks do crow, the clocks do toll And the third hour of drowsy morning name. Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and overlusty 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, Presented them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruined 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-watchèd night, But freshly looks and overbears 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 everyone, 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-disposed in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mock’ries be. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Coro
CORO	Ora accogliete la congettura d’un tempo in cui strisciante mormorio e tenebra scrutante colmano l’ampio vaso dell’universo. Da campo a campo, per il sozzo grembo della notte, il ronzio dell’uno e dell’altro esercito sommesso risuona, sì che le sentinelle fisse quasi ricevono i segreti bisbigli della guardia avversa. Fuoco risponde a fuoco, e per le loro pallide fiamme ogni schiera vede dell’altra il volto ombrato. Destriero minaccia destriero, con alti e millantatori nitriti che trafiggono l’orecchio sordo della notte, e dalle tende gli armaioli, compiendo l’armatura ai cavalieri, con martelli affaccendati serrando i ribattini, danno tremenda nota dell’apparecchio. I galli di campagna cantano, gli orologi rintoccano e nominano la terza ora del sonnolento mattino. Superbi del loro numero e sicuri nell’anima, i Francesi fiduciosi e troppo baldanzosi giocano ai dadi gli Inglesi stimati poco, e rimproverano la notte zoppa dal passo tardo, che come una sozza e brutta strega arranca via così tediosamente. I poveri Inglesi condannati, come vittime sacrificali, presso i loro fuochi di guardia siedono pazienti e dentro ruminano il pericolo del mattino; e il loro gesto triste, vestendo guance scarne e smunte e casacche logore di guerra, li presentava alla luna che li mirava come tanti orridi fantasmi. Oh, ora, chi mirerà il regale capitano di questa schiera in rovina andare di posto in posto, di tenda in tenda, gridi: ‘Lode e gloria sul suo capo!’ Ché egli va innanzi e visita tutto il suo esercito, dà loro il buongiorno con un modesto sorriso e li chiama fratelli, amici e compatrioti. Sul suo volto regale non v’è segno di quale terribile esercito l’abbia circondato; né dedica un solo grano del suo colore alla notte stanca e vegliata tutta intera, ma appare fresco e vince il suo languore con sembiante lieto e dolce maestà, sì che ogni sciagurato, prima languente e pallido, mirandolo, trae conforto dal suo sguardo. Una larghezza universale, come il sole, il suo occhio generoso dona a ciascuno, sciogliendo la fredda paura, sicché umili e gentili tutti mirano, per quanto l’indegnità possa definirlo, un piccolo tocco di Harry nella notte. E così la nostra scena deve volare alla battaglia, dove, oh, per pietà, molto svergogneremo, con quattro o cinque fioretti vilissimi e sbrecciati, assai mal disposti in ridicola zuffa, il nome di Azincourt. Pure sedete e guardate, intendendo le cose vere da quel che ne sono le parodie. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry and the Duke of Gloucester, then the Duke of Clarence
KING HARRY	Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be. Good morrow, brother Clarence. God 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham
KING HARRY	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.’
KING HARRY	’Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example. So the spirit is eased, And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move With casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. He puts on Erpingham’s cloak Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp. Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my pavilion.
GLOUCESTER	We shall, my liege.
ERPINGHAM	Shall I attend your grace?
KING HARRY	No, my good knight. Go with my brothers to my lords of England. I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company.
ERPINGHAM	The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry.
KING HARRY	God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak’st cheerfully.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but King Harry
(didascalia)	Enter Pistol to him
PISTOL	Qui vous là?
KING HARRY	A friend.
PISTOL	Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular?
KING HARRY	I am a gentleman of a company.
PISTOL	Trail’st thou the puissant pike?
KING HARRY	Even so. What are you?
PISTOL	As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
KING HARRY	Then you are a better than the King.
PISTOL	The King’s a bawcock and a heart-of-gold, A lad of life, an imp of fame, Of parents good, of fist most valiant. I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heartstring I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
KING HARRY	Harry le roi.
PISTOL	Leroi? A Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?
KING HARRY	No, I am a Welshman.
PISTOL	Know’st thou Fluellen?
KING HARRY	Yes.
PISTOL	Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate Upon Saint Davy’s day.
KING HARRY	Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.
PISTOL	Art thou his friend?
KING HARRY	And his kinsman too.
PISTOL	The fico for thee then.
KING HARRY	I thank you. God be with you.
PISTOL	My name is Pistol called.
KING HARRY	It sorts well with your fierceness.
(didascalia)	Exit Pistol Enter Captains Fluellen and Gower severally. King Harry stands apart
GOWER	Captain Fluellen!
FLUELLEN	So! In the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and ancient prerogatifs and laws of the wars is not kept. If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-babble in Pompey’s camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
GOWER	Why, the enemy is loud. You hear him all night.
FLUELLEN	If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? In your own conscience now?
GOWER	I will speak lower.
FLUELLEN	I pray you and beseech you that you will.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Fluellen and Gower
KING HARRY	Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welshman.
(didascalia)	Enter three soldiers: John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams
COURT	Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?
BATES	I think it be. But we have no great cause to desire the approach of day.
WILLIAM	We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it.—Who goes there?
KING HARRY	A friend.
WILLIAM	Under what captain serve you?
KING HARRY	Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
WILLIAM	A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?
KING HARRY	Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide.
BATES	He hath not told his thought to the King?
KING HARRY	No, nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man, as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me. All his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man, and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are. Yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.
BATES	He may show what outward courage he will, but I believe, as cold a night as ’tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck. And so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.
KING HARRY	By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King. I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.
BATES	Then I would he were here alone. So should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men’s lives saved.
KING HARRY	I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men’s minds. Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King’s company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable.
WILLIAMS	That’s more than we know.
BATES	Ay, or more than we should seek after. For we know enough if we know we are the King’s subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.
WILLIAMS	But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads chopped off in a battle shall join together at the latter day, and cry all, ‘We died at such a ptace’—some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it—who to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.
KING HARRY	So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father, that sent him. Or if a servant, under his master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant’s damnation. But this is not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant, for they purpose not their deaths when they propose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrament of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle. War is his vengeance. So that here men are punished for before-breach of the King’s laws, in now the King’s quarrel. Where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the King’s, but every subject’s soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed: wash every mote out of his conscience. And dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained. And in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, he let him outlive that day to see his greatness and to teach others how they should prepare.
(didascalia)	BATES ’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head. The King is not to answer it. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
KING HARRY	I myself heard the King say he would not be ransomed.
WILLIAMS	Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully, but when our throats are cut he may be ransomed, and we ne’er the wiser.
KING HARRY	If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
WILLIAMS	You pay him then! That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch. You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his word after! Come, ’tis a foolish saying.
KING HARRY	Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
WILLIAMS	Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
KING HARRY	I embrace it.
WILLIAM	How shall I know thee again?
KING HARRY	Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet. Then if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.
WILLIAMS	Here’s my glove. Give me another of thine.
KING HARRY	There. They exchange gloves
WILLIAM	This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me and say, after tomorrow, ‘This is my glove’, by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear.
KING HARRY	If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
WILLIAM	Thou darest as well be hanged.
KING HARRY	Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King’s company.
WILLIAMS	Keep thy word. Fare thee well.
BATES	Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to reckon.
KING HARRY	Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders. But it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and tomorrow the King himself will be a clipper. Exeunt soldiers Upon the King. ‘Let us our lives, our souls, our debts, our care-full wives, Our children, and our sins, lay on the King.’ We must bear all. O hard condition, Twin-born with greatness: subject to the breath Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel But his own wringing. What infinite heartsease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy? And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer‘st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? O ceremony, show me but thy worth. What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men? Wherein thou art less happy, being feared, Than they in fearing. What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery? O be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure. Think‘st thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s knee, Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream That play‘st so subtly with a king’s repose; I am a king that find thee, and I know ’Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world—No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave Who with a body filled and vacant mind Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread; Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, But like a lackey from the rise to set Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse, And follows so the ever-running year With profitable labour to his grave. And but for ceremony such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the forehand and vantage of a king. The slave, a member of the country’s peace, Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace, Whose hours the peasant best advantages. Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham
ERPINGHAM	My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you.
KING HARRY	Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent. I’ll be before thee.
ERPINGHAM	I shall do’t, my lord. Exit
KING HARRY	O God of battles, steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear. Take from them now The sense of reck‘ning, ere th’opposèd numbers Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord, O not today, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown. I Richard’s body have interred new, And on it have bestowed more contrite tears Than from it issued forced drops of blood. Five hundred poor have I in yearly pay Who twice a day their withered hands hold up Toward heaven to pardon blood. And I have built Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do, Though all that I can do is nothing worth, Since that my penitence comes after ill, Imploring pardon.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Gloucester
GLOUCESTER	My liege.
KING HARRY	My brother Gloucester’s voice? Ay. I know thy errand, I will go with thee. The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Re Harry e il Duca di Gloucester, poi il Duca di Clarence
RE HARRY	Gloucester, è vero che siamo in gran pericolo; tanto maggiore perciò dev’essere il nostro coraggio. Buon giorno, fratello Clarence. Dio Onnipotente! V’è qualche anima di bene nelle cose cattive, se gli uomini con attenzione la sapessero distillare— ché il nostro cattivo vicino ci fa alzare per tempo, il che è insieme salutare e buona economia. Inoltre, essi sono le nostre coscienze esteriori, e predicatori a noi tutti, ammonendoci che dobbiamo vestirci degnamente per la nostra fine. Così possiamo cogliere miele dall’erbaccia e trarre una morale dal diavolo stesso.
(didascalia)	Entra Sir Thomas Erpingham
RE HARRY	Buon giorno, vecchio Sir Thomas Erpingham. Un buon morbido guanciale per quel buon capo bianco sarebbe meglio d’una zolla scortese di Francia.
ERPINGHAM	Non così, mio sovrano. Quest’alloggio mi piace di più, poiché posso dire: ‘Ora giaccio come un re.’
RE HARRY	È bene per gli uomini amare le presenti pene sull’esempio altrui. Così lo spirito è alleviato, e quando la mente si ravviva, senza dubbio gli organi, prima defunti e morti, rompono la loro sonnolenta tomba e di nuovo si muovono con la spoglia gettata e fresca agilità. Prestami il tuo mantello, Sir Thomas. Indossa il mantello di Erpingham Fratelli entrambi, raccomandatemi ai principi del nostro campo. Date loro il mio buongiorno, e fra poco invitateli tutti al mio padiglione.
GLOUCESTER	Lo faremo, mio sovrano.
ERPINGHAM	Debbo accompagnare vostra grazia?
RE HARRY	No, mio buon cavaliere. Andate coi miei fratelli dai miei signori d’Inghilterra. Io e il mio petto dobbiamo discutere un poco, e poi non vorrei altra compagnia.
ERPINGHAM	Il Signore in cielo ti benedica, nobile Harry.
RE HARRY	Dio ti renda grazia, vecchio cuore, parli con animo lieto.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Re Harry
(didascalia)	Entra Pistola verso di lui
PISTOLA	Qui vous là?
RE HARRY	Un amico.
PISTOLA	Esponimi: sei tu ufficiale, o sei tu vile, comune e popolano?
RE HARRY	Sono un gentiluomo d’una compagnia.
PISTOLA	Trascini tu la possente picca?
RE HARRY	Proprio così. E voi chi siete?
PISTOLA	Gentiluomo buono quanto l’Imperatore.
RE HARRY	Allora siete migliore del Re.
PISTOLA	Il Re è un bel galletto e un cuor d’oro, un ragazzo pieno di vita, un rampollo di fama, di buoni genitori, di pugno valorosissimo. Io bacio la sua scarpa sudicia, e con le corde del cuore amo quell’amabile bullo. Qual è il tuo nome?
RE HARRY	Harry le roi.
PISTOLA	Leroi? Nome di Cornovaglia. Sei tu della ciurma di Cornovaglia?
RE HARRY	No, sono un Gallese.
PISTOLA	Conosci Fluellen?
RE HARRY	Sì.
PISTOLA	Digli che gli sbatterò il suo porro sulla zucca il giorno di San Davide.
RE HARRY	Non portate voi il vostro pugnale in berretto quel giorno, che non ve lo sbatta sulla vostra.
PISTOLA	Sei tu suo amico?
RE HARRY	E anche suo parente.
PISTOLA	Allora un fico per te.
RE HARRY	Vi ringrazio. Dio sia con voi.
PISTOLA	Il mio nome si chiama Pistola.
RE HARRY	Si accorda bene con la vostra ferocia.
(didascalia)	Esce Pistola Entrano i Capitani Fluellen e Gower separatamente. Re Harry si tiene in disparte
GOWER	Capitano Fluellen!
FLUELLEN	Insomma! Nel nome di Gesù Cristo, parlate più piano. È la più grande ammirazione dell’universo mondo, quando le vere e antiche prerogatife e leggi delle guerre non sono osservate. Se voleste prendervi la pena d’esaminare le guerre di Pompeo Magno, troverete, ve lo garantisco, che non c’è nessun ciarlare né chiacchiericcio nel campo di Pompeo. Ve lo garantisco, troverete che le cerimonie delle guerre, e le cure di esse, e le forme di esse, e la sobrietà di esse, e la modestia di esse, sono altrimenti.
GOWER	Ebbene, il nemico è rumoroso. Lo sentite tutta la notte.
FLUELLEN	Se il nemico è un asino e uno sciocco e un ciarliero zerbinotto, è conveniente, credete voi, che anche noi, vedete, siamo un asino e uno sciocco e un ciarliero zerbinotto? Nella vostra stessa coscienza, ora?
GOWER	Parlerò più basso.
FLUELLEN	Ve ne prego e vi supplico.
(didascalia)	Escono Fluellen e Gower
RE HARRY	Benché appaia un po’ fuori moda, v’è molta cura e valore in questo Gallese.
(didascalia)	Entrano tre soldati: John Bates, Alexander Court e Michele Williams
COURT	Fratello John Bates, non è quello il mattino che spunta laggiù?
BATES	Credo di sì. Ma non abbiamo gran motivo di desiderare l’avvicinarsi del giorno.
WILLIAM	Vediamo laggiù il principio del giorno, ma credo che non ne vedremo mai la fine.—Chi va là?
RE HARRY	Un amico.
WILLIAM	Sotto quale capitano servite?
RE HARRY	Sotto Sir Thomas Erpingham.
WILLIAM	Un buon vecchio comandante e un gentiluomo assai cortese. Vi prego, che pensa egli della nostra condizione?
RE HARRY	Proprio come uomini naufragati su un banco di sabbia, che si aspettano d’essere spazzati via dalla prossima marea.
BATES	Non ha detto il suo pensiero al Re?
RE HARRY	No, né è conveniente che lo faccia. Ché, benché io lo dica a voi, penso che il Re non sia che un uomo, come sono io. La violetta odora per lui come odora per me; il cielo gli appare come appare a me. Tutti i suoi sensi hanno solo condizioni umane. Deposte le sue cerimonie, nella sua nudità non appare che un uomo, e benché i suoi affetti volino più alti dei nostri, pure quando calano, calano con simile ala. Perciò, quando egli vede ragione di temere, come la vediamo noi, i suoi timori, senza dubbio, sono dello stesso sapore dei nostri. Pure, a ragione, nessuno dovrebbe riempirlo d’alcuna apparenza di paura, perché egli, mostrandola, non scoraggi il suo esercito.
BATES	Può mostrare tutto il coraggio esteriore che vuole, ma io credo che, per fredda che sia questa notte, vorrebbe trovarsi nel Tamigi fino al collo. E così vorrei che vi fosse, e io accanto a lui, a ogni rischio, purché fossimo fuori di qui.
RE HARRY	In fede mia, dirò la mia coscienza riguardo al Re. Credo che non vorrebbe trovarsi in nessun luogo se non dov’è.
BATES	Allora vorrei che fosse qui solo. Così sarebbe sicuro d’essere riscattato, e si salverebbero le vite di molti poveri uomini.
RE HARRY	Oso dire che non lo amate così poco da desiderarlo qui solo, comunque diciate questo per sondare le menti altrui. Mi pare che non potrei morire in alcun luogo così contento come in compagnia del Re, essendo giusta la sua causa e onorevole la sua contesa.
WILLIAMS	Questo è più di quanto sappiamo.
BATES	Sì, o più di quanto dovremmo cercare. Ché sappiamo abbastanza se sappiamo d’essere sudditi del Re. Se la sua causa è ingiusta, la nostra obbedienza al Re cancella da noi il delitto.
WILLIAMS	Ma se la causa non è buona, il Re stesso ha un pesante conto da rendere, quando tutte quelle gambe e braccia e teste mozzate in battaglia si riuniranno insieme all’ultimo giorno, e grideranno tutte: ‘Siamo morti in tal luogo’—alcuni bestemmiando, alcuni gridando per un chirurgo, alcuni per le mogli lasciate povere dietro di loro, alcuni per i debiti che devono, alcuni per i figli lasciati acerbi. Temo che pochi muoiano bene fra quanti muoiono in battaglia, ché come possono disporre caritatevolmente di qualcosa, quando il sangue è il loro argomento? Ora, se questi uomini non muoiono bene, sarà nera faccenda per il Re che ve li condusse—al quale disobbedire sarebbe contro ogni proporzione di sudditanza.
RE HARRY	Così, se un figlio mandato da suo padre per traffici perisse peccaminosamente sul mare, l’imputazione della sua malvagità, secondo la vostra regola, dovrebbe essere imposta al padre che lo mandò. O se un servo, trasportando per comando del suo padrone una somma di denaro, fosse assalito da ladroni e morisse in molte iniquità non riconciliate, potreste chiamare l’affare del padrone l’autore della dannazione del servo. Ma non è così. Il Re non è tenuto a rispondere delle fini particolari dei suoi soldati, né il padre di quella del figlio, né il padrone di quella del servo, ché essi non si propongono la loro morte quando propongono i loro servigi. Inoltre, non v’è re, per immacolata che sia la sua causa, che, se si viene all’arbitrato delle spade, possa deciderla con soldati tutti immacolati. Alcuni, per avventura, hanno su di sé la colpa d’un omicidio premeditato e macchinato; alcuni d’aver ingannato vergini coi sigilli infranti dello spergiuro; alcuni, che fanno delle guerre il loro baluardo, avevano prima squarciato il gentile seno della pace col saccheggio e la rapina. Ora, se questi uomini hanno eluso la legge e sfuggito al castigo nativo, benché possano correre più veloci degli uomini, non hanno ali per fuggire da Dio. La guerra è il suo messo. La guerra è la sua vendetta. Sicché qui gli uomini sono puniti per la precedente violazione delle leggi del Re, nell’attuale contesa del Re. Là dove temettero la morte, hanno portato via la vita; e là dove vorrebbero essere salvi, periscono. Se dunque muoiono impreparati, il Re non è più colpevole della loro dannazione di quanto fosse prima colpevole di quelle empietà per le quali ora sono visitati. Il dovere d’ogni suddito è del Re, ma l’anima d’ogni suddito è sua propria. Perciò ogni soldato in guerra dovrebbe fare come ogni malato nel suo letto: lavar via ogni bruscolo dalla sua coscienza. E morendo così, la morte è per lui un vantaggio; o non morendo, fu beatamente perduto il tempo in cui si guadagnò tale preparazione. E in colui che scampa, non sarebbe peccato pensare che, avendo fatto a Dio un’offerta così libera, Egli l’abbia lasciato sopravvivere a quel giorno per vedere la sua grandezza e per insegnare agli altri come debbano prepararsi.
(didascalia)	BATES È certo, ogni uomo che muore male, il male ricada sul suo proprio capo. Il Re non ne deve rispondere. Non desidero che risponda per me, eppure son deciso a battermi gagliardamente per lui.
RE HARRY	Io stesso ho udito il Re dire che non si lascerà riscattare.
WILLIAMS	Sì, l’ha detto per farci combattere allegramente, ma quando le nostre gole saranno tagliate potrà farsi riscattare, e noi non ne sapremo nulla.
RE HARRY	Se vivrò per vederlo, non mi fiderò mai più della sua parola.
WILLIAMS	Bel modo di fargliela pagare! È un tiro pericoloso da uno schioppetto di sambuco, quello che un povero e privato dispiacere può fare contro un monarca. Potreste altrettanto bene tentare di mutare il sole in ghiaccio sventolandogli in faccia una penna di pavone. Non vi fiderete mai più della sua parola! Suvvia, è un detto sciocco.
RE HARRY	Il vostro rimprovero è alquanto troppo rude. Dovrei adirarmi con voi, se il tempo fosse opportuno.
WILLIAMS	Sia una contesa fra noi, se vivete.
RE HARRY	L’accolgo.
WILLIAM	Come ti riconoscerò di nuovo?
RE HARRY	Dammi un tuo pegno qualunque, e lo porterò nel mio berretto. Poi, se mai oserai riconoscerlo, ne farò la mia contesa.
WILLIAMS	Ecco il mio guanto. Dammene un altro del tuo.
RE HARRY	Ecco. Si scambiano i guanti
WILLIAM	Anch’io porterò questo nel mio berretto. Se mai vieni da me e dici, dopo domani, ‘Questo è il mio guanto’, per questa mano ti darò un ceffone.
RE HARRY	Se mai vivrò per vederlo, lo rivendicherò.
WILLIAM	Tanto varrebbe bene che tu osassi farti impiccare.
RE HARRY	Ebbene, lo farò, anche se ti trovassi in compagnia del Re.
WILLIAMS	Mantieni la parola. Sta’ bene.
BATES	Fate pace, sciocchi Inglesi, fate pace. Abbiamo contese francesi abbastanza, se sapeste far di conto.
RE HARRY	Davvero, i Francesi possono scommettere venti corone francesi contro una che ci batteranno, ché le portano sulle spalle. Ma non è tradimento inglese tosare corone francesi, e domani il Re stesso sarà un tosatore. Escono i soldati Sul Re. ‘Le nostre vite, le nostre anime, i nostri debiti, le nostre mogli piene d’affanno, i nostri figli e i nostri peccati, tutto poniamo sul Re.’ Noi dobbiamo portare tutto. O dura condizione, gemella della grandezza: soggetta al fiato d’ogni sciocco, il cui senso non può sentire altro che il proprio tormento. Quale infinita quiete del cuore devono i re trascurare, che gli uomini privati godono? E che hanno i re, che non abbiano anche i privati, salvo la cerimonia, salvo la generale cerimonia? E che sei tu, tu idolo cerimonia? Che sorta di dio sei tu, che soffri più dolori mortali dei tuoi adoratori? Quali sono le tue rendite? Quali i tuoi proventi? O cerimonia, mostrami soltanto il tuo valore. Qual è l’anima della tua adorazione? Sei tu altro che luogo, grado e forma, che generi soggezione e paura negli altri uomini? E in ciò sei meno felice, essendo temuta, di quanto lo siano essi nel temere. Che bevi tu spesso, invece di dolce omaggio, se non avvelenata adulazione? Oh, ammalati, gran grandezza, e ordina alla tua cerimonia di guarirti. Credi tu che la febbre ardente si spegnerà con titoli soffiati dall’adulazione? Cederà essa alle riverenze e ai bassi inchini? Puoi tu, quando comandi il ginocchio del mendicante, comandarne la salute? No, tu sogno superbo che giochi così sottilmente col riposo d’un re; io sono un re che ti scopre, e so che non è il balsamo, lo scettro, il globo, la spada, la mazza, la corona imperiale, la veste intessuta d’oro e di perle, il gonfio titolo che corre innanzi al re, il trono su cui siede, né la marea di pompa che batte sull’alta riva di questo mondo—no, non tutte queste cose, tre volte fastosa cerimonia, non tutte queste, poste in letto maestoso, possono dormire così profondamente come il misero schiavo che, col corpo pieno e la mente vuota, si mette a riposare, rimpinzato di pane affannoso; mai vede l’orrida notte, figlia dell’inferno, ma come un lacchè dal sorgere al tramonto suda nell’occhio di Febo, e tutta la notte dorme nell’Eliso; il giorno dopo, all’alba, si leva e aiuta Iperione a montare il suo cavallo, e così segue l’anno che sempre corre con fruttuosa fatica fino alla sua tomba. E se non fosse per la cerimonia, un tale sciagurato, avvolgendo i giorni nel travaglio e le notti nel sonno, avrebbe il vantaggio e la precedenza su un re. Lo schiavo, membro della pace del paese, ne gode, ma nel suo grosso cervello poco sa quale veglia il Re mantenga per conservare quella pace, delle cui ore il contadino trae il maggior profitto. Entra Sir Thomas Erpingham
ERPINGHAM	Mio signore, i vostri nobili, inquieti per la vostra assenza, vi cercano per tutto il campo.
RE HARRY	Buon vecchio cavaliere, radunateli tutti alla mia tenda. Vi sarò prima di te.
ERPINGHAM	Lo farò, mio signore. Esce
RE HARRY	O Dio delle battaglie, tempra i cuori dei miei soldati. Non riempirli di paura. Togli loro ora il senso del contare, prima che i numeri avversi strappino loro il cuore. Non oggi, o Signore, oh, non oggi, non pensare alla colpa che mio padre commise nel conquistare la corona. Io ho sepolto di nuovo il corpo di Riccardo, e su di esso ho versato più lacrime contrite di quante gocce di sangue forzate ne uscirono. Cinquecento poveri ho a paga annuale che due volte al giorno levano le mani avvizzite verso il cielo perché sia perdonato il sangue. E ho costruito due cappellanie, dove tristi e solenni sacerdoti cantano ancora per l’anima di Riccardo. Più farò, benché tutto ciò che posso fare non valga nulla, poiché la mia penitenza viene dopo il male, implorando perdono.
(didascalia)	Entra il Duca di Gloucester
GLOUCESTER	Mio sovrano.
RE HARRY	La voce di mio fratello Gloucester? Sì. Conosco la tua missione, verrò con te. Il giorno, amici miei, e ogni cosa mi attendono.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Bourbonand Orléans, and Lord
(didascalia)	Rambures ORLÉANS The sun doth gild our armour. Up, my lords!
(didascalia)	BOURBONMonte cheval! My horse! Varlet, lacquais! Ha!
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS O brave spirit!
(didascalia)	BOURBON Via les eaux et terre!
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS Rien plus? L’air et feu!
(didascalia)	BOURBON Cieux, cousin Orléans!
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable
(didascalia)	Now, my Lord Constable!
CONSTABLE	Hark how our steeds for present service neigh.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONSTABLE	Mount them and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes And dout them with superfluous courage. Ha!
RAMBURES	What, will you have them weep our horses’ blood? How shall we then behold their natural tears?
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	The English are embattled, you French peers.
CONSTABLE	To horse, you gallant princes, straight to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck away their souls, Leaving them but the shells and husks of men. There is not work enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins To give each naked curtal-axe a stain That our French gallants shall today draw out And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them, The vapour of our valour 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 honours must not. What’s to say? A very little little let us do And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound The tucket sonance and the note to mount, For our approach shall so much dare the field That England shall couch down in fear and yield.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Grandpré
CONSTABLE	GRANDPRÉ Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-favouredly 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. The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks With torchstaves in their hands, and their poor jades Lob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips, The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes, And in their palled dull mouths the gimmaled 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 demonstrate the life of such a battle In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
CONSTABLE	They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONSTABLE	Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits And give their fasting horses provender, And after fight with them?
CONSTABLE	I stay but for my guidon. 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. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i Duchi di Borbone e Orléans, e Lord
(didascalia)	Rambures ORLÉANS Il sole indora la nostra armatura. Su, miei signori!
(didascalia)	BOURBONMonte cheval! Il mio cavallo! Varlet, lacquais! Ah!
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS Oh, spirito valoroso!
(didascalia)	BOURBON Via les eaux et terre!
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS Rien plus? L’air et feu!
(didascalia)	BOURBON Cieux, cousin Orléans!
(didascalia)	Entra il Conestabile
(didascalia)	Ora, mio Lord Conestabile!
CONESTABILE	Udite come i nostri destrieri nitriscono per il servizio imminente.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONESTABILE	Montateli e fate incisione nelle loro pelli, sì che il loro caldo sangue schizzi negli occhi inglesi e li spenga con coraggio superfluo. Ah!
RAMBURES	Come, volete farli piangere il sangue dei nostri cavalli? Come vedremo allora le loro lacrime naturali?
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Gli Inglesi sono schierati, voi pari di Francia.
CONESTABILE	A cavallo, gagliardi principi, subito a cavallo! Non dovete che mirare quella povera e affamata schiera, e la vostra bella apparenza succhierà via le loro anime, lasciando loro solo i gusci e le bucce d’uomini. Non v’è lavoro bastante per tutte le nostre mani, appena sangue bastante in tutte le loro vene malate per dare a ogni nuda scure una macchia che i nostri gagliardi francesi trarranno oggi e rinfodereranno per mancanza di sollazzo. Non dobbiamo che soffiare su di loro, e il vapore del nostro valore li rovescerà. È certo, contro ogni eccezione, signori, che i nostri lacchè superflui e i nostri contadini, che in azione non necessaria brulicano attorno ai nostri quadrati di battaglia, basterebbero a purgare questo campo di sì spregevole nemico, anche se noi, alla base di questo monte qui presso, prendessimo posto per oziosa contemplazione; senonché i nostri onori non lo permettono. Che c’è da dire? Facciamo un pochino, un pochino appena, e tutto è fatto. Suonino dunque le trombe il segnale a raccolta e la nota di montare, ché il nostro avvicinarsi sfiderà tanto il campo che l’Inghilterra si accuccerà nella paura e cederà.
(didascalia)	Entra Lord Grandpré
CONESTABILE	GRANDPRÉ Perché indugiate tanto, miei signori di Francia? Quelle carogne d’isola, disperate delle proprie ossa, malamente si addicono al campo mattutino. Le loro cortine lacere son lasciate cadere miseramente e la nostra aria le scuote oltremodo sprezzante. Il gran Marte pare fallito nella loro schiera mendica e fiocamente sbircia da una visiera arrugginita. I cavalieri siedono come candelabri fissi con aste di torcia in mano, e le loro povere rozze ciondolano le teste, spiovendo le pelli e le anche, la cispa colando dai loro pallidi occhi morti, e nelle loro smorte bocche spente il morso snodato giace sozzo d’erba masticata, fermo e immobile. E i loro esecutori, i corvi furfanti, volano su tutti loro impazienti dell’ora. La descrizione non sa vestirsi di parole per mostrare la vita d’una tal battaglia in vita così esanime come essa si mostra.
CONESTABILE	Hanno detto le loro preghiere, e attendono la morte.
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONESTABILE	Andremo a mandar loro pranzi e vesti fresche e a dare foraggio ai loro cavalli digiuni, e poi a combatterli?
CONESTABILE	Non attendo che il mio guidone. Al campo! Prenderò il vessillo da una tromba e me ne servirò per la mia fretta. Su, su, via! Il sole è alto, e noi consumiamo il giorno. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Gloucester, Clarence, and Exeter, the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, and Sir Thomas Erpingham, with all the host
GLOUCESTER	Where is the King?
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
GLOUCESTER	The King himself is rode to view their battle. [WARWICK] Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.
EXETER	There’s five to one. Besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY	God’s arm strike with us! ‘Tis a fearful odds. God b’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 Clarence, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And (to Warwick) my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu.
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
SALISBURY	Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee.
EXETER	Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today— And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.
(didascalia)	Exit Salisbury
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
EXETER	He is as full of valour as of kindness, Princely in both.
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry, behind
(didascalia)	WARWICK
EXETER	O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work today.
KING HARRY	What’s he that wishes so? My cousin Warwick? 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 honour. 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 ernes me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour 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 honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more. Rather proclaim it presently 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-tiptoe when this day is named And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day and live t‘old age Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours And say, ’Tomorrow 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 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 today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed 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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of 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 HARRY	All things are ready if our minds be so.
(didascalia)	WARWICK Perish the man whose mind is backward now.
KING HARRY	Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
(didascalia)	WARWICK
KING HARRY	God’s will, my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle.
KING HARRY	Why now thou hast unwished five thousand men, Which likes me better than to wish us one.— You know your places. God be with you all.
(didascalia)	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. For certainly thou art so near the gulf Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy The Constable desires thee thou wilt mind 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.
KING HARRY	Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY	The Constable of France.
KING HARRY	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. 95 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. Mark then abounding valour in our English, That, being dead, like to the bullets grazing Break out into a second course of mischief, Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly. Tell the Constable We are but warriors for the working day. Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched With rainy marching in the painful field. There’s not a piece of feather in our host— Good argument, I hope, we will not fly— And time hath worn us into slovenry. But by the mass, our hearts are in the trim. And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night They’ll be in fresher robes, as they will pluck The gay new coats o‘er your French soldiers’ heads, And turn them out of service. If they do this— As if God please, they shall—my ransom then Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour. 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.
KING HARRY	I fear thou wilt once more come for a ransom.
(didascalia)	Exit Montjoy
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
YORK	My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vanguard.
KING HARRY	Take it, brave York.—Now soldiers, march away, And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i Duchi di Gloucester, Clarence ed Exeter, i Conti di Salisbury e di Warwick, e Sir Thomas Erpingham, con tutta la schiera
GLOUCESTER	Dov’è il Re?
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
GLOUCESTER	Il Re stesso è andato a cavallo a osservare il loro schieramento. [WARWICK] Di uomini d’arme ne hanno ben sessantamila.
EXETER	Sono cinque contro uno. E per giunta son tutti freschi.
SALISBURY	Il braccio di Dio colpisca con noi! È una sorte spaventosa. Dio sia con voi, principi tutti. Io vado al mio posto. Se non ci incontriamo più finché non ci incontriamo in cielo, allora lietamente, mio nobile Lord di Clarence, mio caro Lord Gloucester, e mio buon Lord Exeter, e (a Warwick) mio gentile congiunto, guerrieri tutti, addio.
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
SALISBURY	Addio, buon Salisbury, e la buona fortuna vada con te.
EXETER	Addio, gentile signore. Combatti valorosamente oggi— eppure ti faccio torto a rammentartelo, ché sei plasmato della salda verità del valore.
(didascalia)	Esce Salisbury
(didascalia)	CLARENCE
EXETER	Egli è tanto pieno di valore quanto di gentilezza, principesco in entrambi.
(didascalia)	Entra Re Harry, in disparte
(didascalia)	WARWICK
EXETER	Oh, avessimo ora qui anche solo diecimila di quegli uomini in Inghilterra che oggi non fanno nulla.
RE HARRY	Chi è colui che così desidera? Mio cugino Warwick? No, mio bel cugino. Se siamo segnati per morire, siamo abbastanza a far perdita al nostro paese; e se per vivere, meno uomini siamo, maggiore la parte d’onore. Per la volontà di Dio, ti prego, non desiderare un uomo di più. Per Giove, non sono avido d’oro, né mi cale chi si nutra a mie spese; non mi affligge se gli uomini portano le mie vesti; tali cose esteriori non albergano nei miei desideri. Ma se è peccato bramare l’onore, io sono l’anima più colpevole che viva. No, in fede, cugino mio, non desiderare un uomo dall’Inghilterra. Per la pace di Dio, non vorrei perdere un onore così grande quanto un uomo di più, credo, mi toglierebbe, per la migliore speranza che ho. Oh, non desiderarne uno di più. Piuttosto proclamalo subito per la mia schiera che chi non ha stomaco per questa battaglia se ne parta. Gli sarà fatto il salvacondotto e corone per il viaggio messe nella sua borsa. Non vorremmo morire in compagnia di quell’uomo che teme il nostro sodalizio nel morire con noi. Questo giorno si chiama la Festa di Crispiano. Chi sopravvive a questo giorno e torna salvo a casa si drizzerà in punta di piedi quando questo giorno sarà nominato e si desterà al nome di Crispiano. Chi vedrà questo giorno e vivrà fino a vecchiaia ogni anno alla vigilia banchetterà coi vicini e dirà: ‘Domani è San Crispiano.’ Poi si rimboccherà la manica e mostrerà le sue cicatrici e dirà: ‘Queste ferite le ebbi il giorno di Crispino.’ I vecchi dimenticano; e tutto sarà dimenticato, ma egli ricorderà, con vantaggi, quali imprese fece quel giorno. Allora i nostri nomi, familiari sulla sua bocca come parole di casa— Harry il Re, Bedford ed Exeter, Warwick e Talbot, Salisbury e Gloucester— saranno freschi ricordati nelle loro coppe traboccanti. Questa storia il buon uomo insegnerà a suo figlio, e Crispino Crispiano non passerà mai da questo giorno fino alla fine del mondo senza che noi in esso siamo ricordati, noi pochi, noi felici pochi, noi schiera di fratelli. Ché chi oggi versa il suo sangue con me sarà mio fratello; per vile che egli sia, questo giorno nobiliterà la sua condizione. E i gentiluomini in Inghilterra ora a letto si crederanno maledetti di non essere stati qui, e terranno a vile la loro virilità mentre parla chiunque abbia combattuto con noi il giorno di San Crispino.
(didascalia)	Entra il Conte di Salisbury
SALISBURY	Mio sovrano signore, disponetevi con prestezza. I Francesi sono schierati bravamente in ordine di battaglia e con ogni sollecitudine caricheranno su di noi.
RE HARRY	Ogni cosa è pronta, se le nostre menti lo sono.
(didascalia)	WARWICK Perisca l’uomo la cui mente ora indietreggia.
RE HARRY	Non desideri più aiuto dall’Inghilterra, cugino?
(didascalia)	WARWICK
RE HARRY	Per la volontà di Dio, mio sovrano, potessimo voi e io soli, senz’altro aiuto, combattere questa regale battaglia.
RE HARRY	Ecco che ora hai disdetto cinquemila uomini, il che mi piace più che desiderarcene uno.— Conoscete i vostri posti. Dio sia con voi tutti.
(didascalia)	Squillo di tromba. Entra Montjoy
MONTJOY	Ancora una volta vengo a sapere da te, Re Harry, se per il tuo riscatto vorrai ora patteggiare prima della tua rovina assicuratissima. Ché certamente sei così vicino al gorgo che devi per forza esserne inghiottito. Inoltre, per misericordia il Conestabile ti prega che tu voglia rammentare ai tuoi seguaci il pentimento, affinché le loro anime possano fare una pacifica e dolce ritirata da questi campi dove, sciagurati, i loro poveri corpi dovranno giacere e imputridire.
RE HARRY	Chi ti ha mandato ora?
MONTJOY	Il Conestabile di Francia.
RE HARRY	Ti prego, riporta indietro la mia prima risposta. Di’ loro che mi conquistino, e poi vendano le mie ossa. Buon Dio, perché dovrebbero così schernire poveri diavoli? L’uomo che una volta vendette la pelle del leone mentre la bestia viveva, fu ucciso mentre la cacciava. 95 Molti dei nostri corpi senza dubbio troveranno tombe native, sulle quali, confido, vivrà testimonianza in bronzo dell’opera di questo giorno. E quelli che lasciano le loro valorose ossa in Francia, morendo da uomini, benché sepolti nei vostri letamai saranno famosi. Ché là il sole li saluterà e trarrà i loro onori fumanti fino al cielo, lasciando le loro parti terrene a soffocare il vostro clima, il cui odore genererà una peste in Francia. Notate dunque il valore sovrabbondante nei nostri Inglesi, che, essendo morti, come le pallottole di rimbalzo prorompono in un secondo corso di danno, uccidendo in ricaduta di mortalità. Lasciate ch’io parli con fierezza. Dite al Conestabile che noi non siamo che guerrieri da giorno di lavoro. La nostra galanteria e la nostra doratura sono tutte imbrattate dal marciare sotto la pioggia nel campo penoso. Non v’è un pezzo di piuma nella nostra schiera— buon argomento, spero, che non fuggiremo— e il tempo ci ha logorati nella trascuratezza. Ma per la messa, i nostri cuori sono in assetto. E i miei poveri soldati mi dicono che, prima di notte, saranno in vesti più fresche, ché strapperanno le allegre casacche nuove dalle teste dei vostri soldati francesi, e li cacceranno di servizio. Se faranno questo— e se a Dio piace, lo faranno—il mio riscatto allora sarà presto riscosso. Araldo, risparmia la tua fatica. Non venire più per il riscatto, gentile araldo. Non ne avranno alcuno, lo giuro, se non queste mie membra— le quali, se le avranno come io intendo lasciargliele, renderanno loro ben poco. Dillo al Conestabile.
MONTJOY	Lo farò, Re Harry. E così sta’ bene. Non udrai mai più un araldo.
RE HARRY	Temo che verrai ancora una volta per un riscatto.
(didascalia)	Esce Montjoy
(didascalia)	Entra il Duca di York
YORK	Mio signore, umilissimamente in ginocchio vi chiedo il comando dell’avanguardia.
RE HARRY	Prendilo, prode York.—Ora soldati, marciate via, e come ti piace, o Dio, disponi del giorno. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistol, a French soldier, and the Boy
PISTOL	Yield, cur.
FRENCH SOLDIER	je pense que vous êtes le gentilhomme de bon qualité.
PISTOL	Qualité? ‘Calin o custure me!’ Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name? Discuss.
FRENCH SOLDIER	O Seigneur Dieu!
(didascalia)	PISTOL aside
FRENCH SOLDIER	O Seigneur Dew should be a gentleman.— Perpend my words, O Seigneur Dew, and mark: O Seigneur Dew, thou diest, on point of fox, Except, O Seigneur, thou do give to me Egregious ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER	O prenez miséricorde! Ayez pitie de moi!
PISTOL	‘Moy’ shall not serve, I will have forty ‘moys’, Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat In drops of crimson blood.
FRENCH SOLDIER	Est-il impossible d’échapper la force de ton bras?
PISTOL	Brass, cur? Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, Offer’st me brass?
FRENCH SOLDIER	O pardonne-moi!
PISTOL	Sayst thou me so? Is that a ton of moys?— Come hither boy. Ask me this slave in French What is his name.
BOY	Écoutez: comment êtes-vous appelé?
FRENCH SOLDIER	Monsieur le Fer.
BOY	He says his name is Master Fer.
PISTOL	Master Fer? I’ll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him. Discuss the same in French unto him.
BOY	I do not know the French for fer and ferret and firk.
PISTOL	Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.
FRENCH SOLDIER	Que dit-il, monsieur?
BOY	Il me commande à vous dire que vous faites vous prêt, car ce soldat ici est dispose tout à cette heure de couper votre gorge. 35
PISTOL	Oui, couper la gorge, par ma foi, Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
FRENCH SOLDIER	O je vous supplie, pour l’amour de Dieu, me pardonner. Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus.
PISTOL	What are his words?
BOY	He prays you to save his life. He is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.
PISTOL	Tell him, my fury shall abate, and I the crowns will take.
FRENCH SOLDIER	Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
BOY	Encore qu’il est centre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier; neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous lui ci promettez, il est content à vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.
FRENCH SOLDIER	(kneeling to Pistol) Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remerciements, et je m‘estime heureux que j’ai tombe entre les mains d‘un chevalier, comme je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et treis-distingué seigneur d’Angleterre. PISTOL Expound unto me, boy.
BOY	He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seigneur of England.
PISTOL	As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me.
BOY	Suivez-vous le grand capitaine.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Pistol and French Soldier
BOY	I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart. But the saying is true: ‘The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.’ Bardolph and Nim had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i’th’ old play, that everyone may pare his nails with a wooden dagger, and they are both hanged, and so would this be, if he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Scaramucce. Entrano Pistola, un soldato francese e il Ragazzo
PISTOLA	Arrenditi, cane.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	je pense que vous êtes le gentilhomme de bon qualité.
PISTOLA	Qualité? ‘Calin o custure me!’ Sei tu un gentiluomo? Qual è il tuo nome? Esponi.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	O Seigneur Dieu!
(didascalia)	PISTOLA a parte
SOLDATO FRANCESE	O Seigneur Dew dev’essere un gentiluomo.— Pondera le mie parole, o Seigneur Dew, e nota: o Seigneur Dew, tu muori, sulla punta della lama, a meno che, o Seigneur, tu non mi dia egregio riscatto.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	O prenez miséricorde! Ayez pitie de moi!
PISTOLA	‘Moy’ non basterà, ne voglio quaranta di ‘moys’, o ti tirerò fuori le budella dalla gola in gocce di sangue cremisi.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	Est-il impossible d’échapper la force de ton bras?
PISTOLA	Ottone, cane? Tu dannato e lussurioso capro di montagna, mi offri ottone?
SOLDATO FRANCESE	O pardonne-moi!
PISTOLA	Così mi dici? È quella una tonnellata di moys?— Vieni qua, ragazzo. Chiedi a questo schiavo in francese qual è il suo nome.
RAGAZZO	Écoutez: comment êtes-vous appelé?
SOLDATO FRANCESE	Monsieur le Fer.
RAGAZZO	Dice che il suo nome è Messer Fer.
PISTOLA	Messer Fer? Io lo ferrerò, e lo frusterò, e lo furetterò. Espongli lo stesso in francese.
RAGAZZO	Non so come si dica in francese ferrare e furettare e frustare.
PISTOLA	Digli di prepararsi, ché gli taglierò la gola.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	Que dit-il, monsieur?
RAGAZZO	Il me commande à vous dire que vous faites vous prêt, car ce soldat ici est dispose tout à cette heure de couper votre gorge. 35
PISTOLA	Oui, couper la gorge, par ma foi, Villano, a meno che tu non mi dia corone, belle corone; o sarai fatto a pezzi da questa mia spada.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	O je vous supplie, pour l’amour de Dieu, me pardonner. Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus.
PISTOLA	Quali sono le sue parole?
RAGAZZO	Vi prega di salvargli la vita. È un gentiluomo di buona casata, e per il suo riscatto vi darà duecento corone.
PISTOLA	Digli che la mia furia si placherà, e le corone prenderò.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
RAGAZZO	Encore qu’il est centre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier; neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous lui ci promettez, il est content à vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.
SOLDATO FRANCESE	(inginocchiandosi davanti a Pistola) Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remerciements, et je m‘estime heureux que j’ai tombe entre les mains d‘un chevalier, comme je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et treis-distingué seigneur d’Angleterre. PISTOLA Spiegami, ragazzo.
RAGAZZO	Vi dà in ginocchio mille ringraziamenti, e si stima felice d’essere caduto nelle mani di uno che, come egli pensa, è il più prode, valoroso e tre volte degno signore d’Inghilterra.
PISTOLA	Com’è vero che succhio sangue, mostrerò un po’ di misericordia. Seguimi.
RAGAZZO	Suivez-vous le grand capitaine.
(didascalia)	Escono Pistola e il Soldato Francese
RAGAZZO	Non ho mai conosciuto voce così piena uscire da un cuore così vuoto. Ma il detto è vero: ‘Il vaso vuoto fa il maggior suono.’ Bardolph e Nim avevano dieci volte più valore di questo diavolo ruggente della vecchia commedia, a cui chiunque può tagliare le unghie con un pugnale di legno, e sono stati impiccati entrambi, e così sarebbe di costui, se osasse rubare qualcosa avventurosamente. Devo restare coi lacchè col bagaglio del nostro campo. I Francesi potrebbero fare buona preda di noi, se lo sapessero, ché non c’è nessuno a guardarlo se non ragazzi. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable, the Dukes of
(didascalia)	Orléans and Bourbon, and Lord Rambures
CONSTABLE	O diable! ORLÉANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONSTABLE	Mort de ma vie! All is confounded, all. Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. A short alarum O mechante fortune!– (To Rambures) Do not run away.
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS
CONSTABLE	We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON	The devil take order. Once more back again! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand Like a base leno hold the chamber door Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE	Disorder that hath spoiled us friend us now. Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.
BOURBON	I’ll to the throng. Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Conestabile, i Duchi di
(didascalia)	Orléans e di Borbone, e Lord Rambures
CONESTABILE	O diable! ORLÉANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
(didascalia)	BOURBON
CONESTABILE	Mort de ma vie! Tutto è perduto, tutto. Il rimprovero e la vergogna eterna siedono a schernirci fra i nostri pennacchi. Un breve allarme O mechante fortune!– (A Rambures) Non fuggite.
(didascalia)	ORLÉANS
CONESTABILE	Siamo ancora abbastanza vivi sul campo da soffocare gli Inglesi nelle nostre calche, se si potesse pensare a qualche ordine.
BOURBON	Il diavolo si porti l’ordine. Ancora una volta indietro! E chi non vorrà seguire Borbone adesso, se ne vada a casa, e col berretto in mano come un vile ruffiano tenga la porta della camera mentre da uno schiavo non più gentile del mio cane la sua più bella figlia è contaminata.
CONESTABILE	Il disordine che ci ha rovinati ci sia ora amico. Andiamo a mucchi a offrire le nostre vite.
BOURBON	Io vado nella calca. Sia breve la vita, o troppo lunga sarà la vergogna. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Harry and his train, with prisoners
KING HARRY	Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen. But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field. [Enter the Duke of Exeter]
EXETER	The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.
KING HARRY	Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down, thrice up again and fighting. From helmet to the spur, all blood he was.
EXETER	In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, Larding the plain. And by his bloody side, Yokefellow to his honour-owing wounds, The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over, Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawn upon his face, And cries aloud, ‘Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk. My soul shall thine keep company to heaven. Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry.’ Upon these words I came and cheered him up. He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand, And with a feeble grip says, ‘Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.’ So did he turn, and over Suffolk’s neck He threw his wounded arm, and kissed his lips, And so espoused to death, with blood he sealed A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forced Those waters from me which I would have stopped. But I had not so much of man in me, And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
KING HARRY	I blame you not, For hearing this I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.
(didascalia)	Alarum
KING HARRY	But hark, what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforced their scattered men. Then every soldier kill his prisoners. [The soldiers kill their prisoners] Give the word through.
(didascalia)	PISTOL Coup’ la gorge.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Entrano Re Harry e il suo seguito, con prigionieri
RE HARRY	Bene abbiamo operato, tre volte valorosi compatrioti. Ma non tutto è finito; i Francesi tengono ancora il campo. [Entra il Duca di Exeter]
EXETER	Il Duca di York si raccomanda a vostra maestà.
RE HARRY	Vive egli, buon zio? Tre volte entro quest’ora l’ho visto a terra, tre volte rialzarsi e combattere. Dall’elmo allo sprone, era tutto sangue.
EXETER	In tale assetto, prode soldato, egli giace, ingrassando la piana. E al suo fianco insanguinato, compagno di giogo alle sue ferite portatrici d’onore, giace pure il nobile Conte di Suffolk. Suffolk morì per primo, e York, tutto squarciato, gli va vicino, là dove nel sangue giaceva immerso, e lo prende per la barba, bacia gli squarci che sanguinosi si aprivano sul suo volto, e grida forte: ‘Attendi, caro cugino Suffolk. La mia anima terrà compagnia alla tua verso il cielo. Attendi, dolce anima, la mia, e poi voliamo appaiati, come in questo glorioso campo ben combattuto restammo uniti nella nostra cavalleria.’ A queste parole io venni e lo confortai. Mi sorrise in viso, mi porse la mano, e con debole stretta dice: ‘Caro mio signore, raccomanda il mio servigio al mio sovrano.’ Così si volse, e sul collo di Suffolk gettò il braccio ferito, e ne baciò le labbra, e così sposato alla morte, col sangue suggellò un testamento d’amore che nobilmente finisce. La bella e dolce maniera di ciò trasse da me quelle acque che avrei voluto trattenere. Ma non avevo tanto d’uomo in me, e tutta mia madre mi venne agli occhi e mi consegnò alle lacrime.
RE HARRY	Non vi biasimo, ché udendo questo devo per forza patteggiare con occhi appannati, o anch’essi trabocceranno.
(didascalia)	Allarme
RE HARRY	Ma udite, che nuovo allarme è mai questo? I Francesi hanno rinforzato i loro uomini sbandati. Ogni soldato dunque uccida i suoi prigionieri. [I soldati uccidono i loro prigionieri] Passate l’ordine.
(didascalia)	PISTOLA Coup’ la gorge.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captains Fluellen and Gower
FLUELLEN	Kill the poys and the luggage! ‘Tis expressly against the law of arms. ’Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offert. In your conscience now, is it not?
GOWER	‘Tis certain there’s not a boy left alive. And the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha’ done this slaughter. Besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the King’s tent; wherefore the King most worthily hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner’s throat. O ’tis a gallant king.
FLUELLEN	Ay, he was porn at Monmouth. Captain Gower, what call you the town’s name where Alexander the Pig was born?
GLOWER	Alexander the Great.
FLUELLEN	Why I pray you, is not ‘pig’ great? The pig or the great or the mighty or the huge or the magnanimous are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.
GOWER	I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon. His father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.
FLUELLEN	I think it is e‘en Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the world I warrant you sail find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon, and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river—but ’tis all one, ’tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander’s life well, Harry of Monmouth’s life is come after it indifferent well. For there is figures in all things. Alexander, God knows, and you know, in his rages and his furies and his wraths and his cholers and his moods and his displeasures and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend Cleitus—
GOWER	Our King is not like him in that. He never killed any of his friends.
FLUELLEN	It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth ere it is made an end and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it. As Alexander killed his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgements, turned away the fat knight with the great-belly doublet—he was full of jests and gipes and knaveries and mocks—I have forgot his name.
GOWER	Sir John Falstaff.
FLUELLEN	That is he. I’ll tell you, there is good men porn at Monmouth.
GOWER	Here comes his majesty.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Harry and the English army, with the Duke of Bourbon, the Duke of Orléans, and other prisoners. Flourish
KING HARRY	I was not angry since I came to France Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald; Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill. If they will fight with us, bid them come down, Or void the field: they do offend our sight. If they’ll do neither, we will come to them, And make them skirr away as swift as stones Enforced from the old Assyrian slings. Besides, we’ll cut the throats of those we have, And not a man of them that we shall take Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
(didascalia)	Enter Montjoy
EXETER	Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
GLOUCESTER	His eyes are humbler than they used to be.
KING HARRY	How now, what means this, herald? Know‘st thou not That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom? Com’st thou again for ransom?
MONTJOY	No, great King. I come to thee for charitable licence, That we may wander o’er this bloody field To book our dead and then to bury them, To sort our nobles from our common men— For many of our princes, woe the while, Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood. So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes, and our wounded steeds Fret fetlock-deep in gore, and with wild rage Jerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing them twice. O give us leave, great King, To view the field in safety, and dispose Of their dead bodies.
KING HARRY	I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horsemen peer And gallop o’er the field.
MONTJOY	The day is yours.
KING HARRY	Praised be God, and not our strength, for it. What is this castle called that stands hard by?
MONTJOY	They call it Agincourt.
KING HARRY	Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crispin Crispian.
FLUELLEN	Your grandfather of famous memory, an’t please your majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.
KING HARRY	They did, Fluellen.
FLUELLEN	Your majesty says very true. If your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps, which your majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the service. And I do believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy’s day.
KING HARRY	I wear it for a memorable honour, For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
FLUELLEN	All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty’s Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that. God pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases his grace, and his majesty too.
KING HARRY	Thanks, good my countryman.
FLUELLEN	By Jeshu, I am your majesty’s countryman. I care not who know it, I will confess it to all the world. I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be God, so long as your majesty is an honest man.
KING HARRY	God keep me so.
(didascalia)	Enter Williams with a glove in his cap
KING HARRY	Our heralds go with him. Bring me just notice of the numbers dead On both our parts.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Montjoy, Gower,and an English herald
KING HARRY	Call yonder fellow hither.
EXETER	(to Williams) Soldier, you must come to the King.
KING HARRY	Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap?
WILLIAM	An’t please your majesty, ’tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive.
KING HARRY	An Englishman?
WILLIAMS	An’t please your majesty, a rascal, that swaggered with me last night—who, if a live, and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box o’th’ ear; or if I can see my glove in his cap—which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear if a lived—I will strike it out soundly.
KING HARRY	What think you, Captain Fluellen? Is it fit this soldier keep his oath?
FLUELLEN	He is a craven and a villain else, an’t please your majesty, in my conscience.
KING HARRY	It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, quite from the answer of his degree.
FLUELLEN	Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifer and Beelzebub himself, it is necessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath. If he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack-sauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God’s ground and his earth, in my conscience, law.
KING HARRY	Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.
WILLIAMS	So I will, my liege, as I live.
KING HARRY	Who serv’st thou under?
WILLIAM	Under Captain Gower, my liege.
FLUELLEN	Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in the wars.
KING HARRY	Call him hither to me, soldier.
WILLIAM	I will, my liege. Exit
KING HARRY	(giving him Williams’s other glove) Here, Fluellen, wear thou this favour for me and stick it in thy cap. When Alençon and myself were down together, I plucked this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alençon and an enemy to our person. If thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.
FLUELLEN	Your grace does me as great honours as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but I would fain see it once. An’t please God of his grace, that I would see.
KING HARRY	Know’st thou Gower?
FLUELLEN	He is my dear friend, an’t please you.
KING HARRY	Pray thee, go seek him and bring him to my tent. 165
FLUELLEN	I will fetch him. Exit
KING HARRY	My lord of Warwick and my brother Gloucester, Follow Fluellen closely at the heels. The glove which I have given him for a favour May haply purchase him a box o’th’ ear. It is the soldier’s. I by bargain should Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick. If that the soldier strike him, as I judge By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, Some sudden mischief may arise of it, For I do know Fluellen valiant And touched with choler, hot as gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury. Follow, and see there be no harm between them. Go you with me, uncle of Exeter.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i Capitani Fluellen e Gower
FLUELLEN	Uccidere i racazzi e il bagaglio! È espressamente contro la lecce delle armi. È una porcheria patente, notate ora, quanto se ne possa offrire. Nella vostra coscienza, ora, non è così?
GOWER	È certo che non è rimasto un ragazzo vivo. E i vigliacchi furfanti che fuggirono dalla battaglia hanno fatto questa strage. Inoltre, hanno bruciato e portato via tutto quel che era nella tenda del Re; per la qual cosa il Re degnissimamente ha ordinato a ogni soldato di tagliare la gola al suo prigioniero. Oh, è un re gagliardo.
FLUELLEN	Sì, egli fu nato a Monmouth. Capitano Gower, come chiamate voi il nome della città dove nacque Alessandro il Porco?
GLOWER	Alessandro il Grande.
FLUELLEN	Ebbene, di grazia, non è ‘porco’ grande? Il porco o il grande o il possente o l’enorme o il magnanimo sono tutti un solo conto, salvo che la frase è un pochino variazioni.
GOWER	Credo che Alessandro il Grande nascesse in Macedonia. Suo padre si chiamava Filippo di Macedonia, per quanto io sappia.
FLUELLEN	Credo che sia proprio la Macedonia dove Alessandro è nato. Vi dico, capitano, se guardate nelle mappe del mondo vi garantisco che troverete, nei confronti fra Macedonia e Monmouth, che le situazioni, vedete, sono entrambe simili. C’è un fiume in Macedonia, e c’è anche inoltre un fiume a Monmouth. È chiamato Wye a Monmouth, ma m’è uscito dalle cerfella qual è il nome dell’altro fiume—ma è tutt’uno, è simile come le mie dita sono alle mie dita, e ci sono salmoni in entrambi. Se notate bene la vita d’Alessandro, la vita di Harry di Monmouth le è venuta dietro discretamente bene. Ché ci sono figure in tutte le cose. Alessandro, Dio lo sa, e voi lo sapete, nelle sue rabbie e nelle sue furie e nelle sue ire e nelle sue collere e nei suoi umori e nei suoi dispiaceri e nelle sue indignazioni, ed essendo anche un poco intossicato nelle cerfella, fece nelle sue birre e nelle sue collere, vedete, uccidere il suo migliore amico Clito—
GOWER	Il nostro Re non gli somiglia in questo. Non ha mai ucciso nessuno dei suoi amici.
FLUELLEN	Non è ben fatto, notate ora, togliere i racconti dalla mia bocca prima che sia condotto a termine e finito. Io parlo solo nelle figure e nei confronti della cosa. Come Alessandro uccise il suo amico Clito, essendo nelle sue birre e nelle sue coppe, così anche Harry Monmouth, essendo nel suo retto senno e nei suoi buoni giudizi, cacciò via il grasso cavaliere col farsetto dal gran ventre—era pieno di facezie e di frizzi e di furfanterie e di scherni—ho scordato il suo nome.
GOWER	Sir John Falstaff.
FLUELLEN	Quello è lui. Vi dico, ci sono buoni uomini nati a Monmouth.
GOWER	Ecco che viene sua maestà.
(didascalia)	Allarme. Entrano Re Harry e l’esercito inglese, col Duca di Borbone, il Duca d’Orléans e altri prigionieri. Squilli di tromba
RE HARRY	Non mi sono adirato da quando venni in Francia fino a quest’istante. Prendi una tromba, araldo; cavalca fino ai cavalieri su quel colle. Se vorranno combattere con noi, di’ loro di scendere, o di sgombrare il campo: offendono la nostra vista. Se non faranno né l’uno né l’altro, verremo noi da loro, e li faremo schizzar via veloci come pietre scagliate dalle antiche fionde assire. Inoltre, taglieremo le gole a quelli che abbiamo, e non un uomo dei loro che prenderemo gusterà la nostra misericordia. Va’ e dillo loro.
(didascalia)	Entra Montjoy
EXETER	Ecco che viene l’araldo dei Francesi, mio sovrano.
GLOUCESTER	I suoi occhi sono più umili di quanto solevano essere.
RE HARRY	Ebbene, che significa questo, araldo? Non sai tu che ho tassato queste mie ossa per riscatto? Vieni di nuovo per il riscatto?
MONTJOY	No, gran Re. Vengo a te per caritatevole licenza, affinché possiamo aggirarci per questo campo insanguinato a registrare i nostri morti e poi seppellirli, a separare i nostri nobili dai nostri uomini comuni— ché molti dei nostri principi, ahi quest’ora, giacciono annegati e inzuppati in sangue mercenario. Così il nostro volgo bagna le sue membra contadine nel sangue dei principi, e i nostri destrieri feriti fremono immersi fino al pastorale nel sangue, e con selvaggia rabbia scagliano i loro calcagni ferrati contro i padroni morti, uccidendoli due volte. Oh, concedici, gran Re, di osservare il campo in sicurezza, e di disporre dei loro corpi morti.
RE HARRY	Ti dico il vero, araldo, non so se il giorno sia nostro o no, ché ancora molti dei vostri cavalieri fanno capolino e galoppano per il campo.
MONTJOY	Il giorno è vostro.
RE HARRY	Sia lodato Dio, e non la nostra forza, per questo. Come si chiama questo castello che sta qui presso?
MONTJOY	Lo chiamano Azincourt.
RE HARRY	Allora chiamiamo questo il campo d’Azincourt, combattuto il giorno di Crispino Crispiano.
FLUELLEN	Vostro nonno di famosa memoria, se piace a vostra maestà, e vostro prozio Edoardo il Principe Pero di Galles, come ho letto nelle cronache, combatterono una pravissima pattaglia qui in Francia.
RE HARRY	Lo fecero, Fluellen.
FLUELLEN	Vostra maestà dice verissimo. Se le vostre maestà se ne ricordano, i Gallesi fecero buon servigio in un orto dove crescevano porri, portando porri nei loro berretti di Monmouth, il che vostra maestà sa che fino a quest’ora è un onorevole distintivo del servigio. E credo che vostra maestà non sdegni di portare il porro il giorno di San Tavy.
RE HARRY	Lo porto per un memorabile onore, ché sono Gallese, sapete, buon compatriota.
FLUELLEN	Tutta l’acqua del Wye non può lavare il sangue gallese di vostra maestà fuori dal vostro corpo, questo posso dirvelo. Dio lo penedica e lo preservi, finché piace alla sua grazia, e anche a sua maestà.
RE HARRY	Grazie, mio buon compatriota.
FLUELLEN	Per Cesù, io sono compatriota di vostra maestà. Non m’importa chi lo sappia, lo confesserò a tutto il mondo. Non ho bisogno di vergognarmi di vostra maestà, sia lodato Dio, finché vostra maestà è un uomo onesto.
RE HARRY	Dio mi mantenga tale.
(didascalia)	Entra Williams con un guanto nel berretto
RE HARRY	I nostri araldi vadano con lui. Portatemi giusta notizia del numero dei morti da entrambe le parti.
(didascalia)	Escono Montjoy, Gower e un araldo inglese
RE HARRY	Chiamate qua quel tale laggiù.
EXETER	(a Williams) Soldato, dovete venire dal Re.
RE HARRY	Soldato, perché porti quel guanto nel berretto?
WILLIAM	Se piace a vostra maestà, è il pegno d’uno con cui dovrei battermi, se è vivo.
RE HARRY	Un Inglese?
WILLIAMS	Se piace a vostra maestà, un furfante, che ha fatto lo spaccone con me la scorsa notte—il quale, se vive, e osa mai rivendicare questo guanto, ho giurato di dargli un ceffone; o se posso vedere il mio guanto nel suo berretto—il quale giurò, com’era soldato, che l’avrebbe portato se viveva—glielo strapperò di netto.
RE HARRY	Che ne pensate, Capitano Fluellen? È giusto che questo soldato mantenga il suo giuramento?
FLUELLEN	Altrimenti è un vigliacco e un farabutto, se piace a vostra maestà, nella mia coscienza.
RE HARRY	Può darsi che il suo nemico sia un gentiluomo di gran condizione, del tutto fuori dalla risposta del suo grado.
FLUELLEN	Fosse egli buon gentiluomo quanto il diavolo, quanto Lucifero e Belzebù in persona, è necessario, vedete vostra grazia, che egli mantenga il suo voto e il suo giuramento. Se è spergiuro, vedete ora, la sua reputazione è quella d’un farabutto patente e d’un impertinente quanto mai la sua scarpa nera calpestò il suolo di Dio e la sua terra, nella mia coscienza, sì.
RE HARRY	Mantieni dunque il tuo voto, tu, quando incontrerai quel tale.
WILLIAMS	Lo farò, mio sovrano, com’è vero che vivo.
RE HARRY	Sotto chi servi?
WILLIAM	Sotto il Capitano Gower, mio sovrano.
FLUELLEN	Gower è un buon capitano, ed è buona conoscenza e letterato nelle guerre.
RE HARRY	Chiamalo qua da me, soldato.
WILLIAM	Lo farò, mio sovrano. Esce
RE HARRY	(dandogli l’altro guanto di Williams) Ecco, Fluellen, porta tu questo favore per me e ficcalo nel tuo berretto. Quando Alençon e io fummo a terra insieme, strappai questo guanto dal suo elmo. Se qualcuno rivendica questo, egli è amico d’Alençon e nemico della nostra persona. Se ne incontri uno tale, arrestalo, se mi porti amore.
FLUELLEN	Vostra grazia mi fa onori grandi quanto se ne possano desiderare nei cuori dei suoi sudditi. Vorrei proprio vedere l’uomo che ha solo due gambe che si trovi offeso da questo guanto, ecco tutto; ma vorrei proprio vederlo una volta. Se piace a Dio nella sua grazia, questo vorrei vedere.
RE HARRY	Conosci Gower?
FLUELLEN	È il mio caro amico, se vi piace.
RE HARRY	Ti prego, va’ a cercarlo e portalo alla mia tenda. 165
FLUELLEN	Andrò a prenderlo. Esce
RE HARRY	Mio signore di Warwick e mio fratello Gloucester, seguite Fluellen da presso, alle calcagna. Il guanto che gli ho dato per favore può forse procurargli un ceffone. È del soldato. Per patto io dovrei portarlo io stesso. Seguite, buon cugino Warwick. Se il soldato lo colpisce, come giudico dal suo rude contegno che manterrà la parola, può nascerne qualche improvviso danno, ché so che Fluellen è valoroso e toccato dalla collera, caldo come polvere da sparo, e presto renderà un’offesa. Seguite, e badate che non vi sia male fra loro. Venite voi con me, zio d’Exeter.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Gower and Williams
WILLIAMS	I warrant it is to knight you, captain. Enter Captain Fluellen
FLUELLEN	God’s will and his pleasure, captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the King. There is more good toward you, peradventure, than is in your knowledge to dream of.
WILLIAM	Sir, know you this glove?
FLUELLEN	Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove.
WILLIAM	Fplucking the glove from Fluellen’s cap] I know this, and thus I challenge it. He strikes Fluellen
FLUELLEN	God’s plood, and his! An arrant traitor as any’s in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
GOWER	(to Williams) How now, sir? You villain!
WILLIAM	Do you think I’ll be forsworn?
FLUELLEN	Stand away, Captain Gower. I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you. Williams I am no traitor.
FLUELLEN	That’s a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his majesty’s name, apprehend him. He’s a friend of the Duke Alençon’s.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Gloucester
WARWICK	How now, how now, what’s the matter?
FLUELLEN	My lord of Warwick, here is—praised be God for it—a most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer’s day.
(didascalia)	Enter King Harry and the Duke of Exeter Here is his majesty.
KING HARRY	How now, what is the matter?
FLUELLEN	My liege, here is a villain and a traitor that, look your grace, has struck the glove which your majesty is take out of the helmet of Alençon.
WILLIAMS	My liege, this was my gtove—here is the fellow of it—and he that I gave it to in change promised to wear it in his cap. I promised to strike him, if he did. I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.
FLUELLEN	Your majesty hear now, saving your majesty’s manhood, what an arrant rascally beggarly lousy knave it is. I hope your majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will avouchment that this is the glove of Alençon that your majesty is give me, in your conscience now.
KING HARRY	Give me thy glove, soldier. Look, here is the fellow of it. ‘Twas I indeed thou promisèd’st to strike, And thou hast given me most bitter terms.
FLUELLEN	An’t please your majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world.
KING HARRY	How canst thou make me satisfaction?
WILLIAMS	All offences, my lord, come from the heart. Never came any from mine that might offend your majesty.
KING HARRY	It was ourself thou didst abuse.
WILLIAMS	Your majesty came not like yourself. You appeared to me but as a common man. Witness the night, your garments, your lowliness. And what your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you take it for your own fault, and not mine, for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence. Therefore I beseech your highness pardon me.
KING HARRY	Here, Uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns And give it to this fellow.—Keep it, fellow, And wear it for an honour in thy cap Till I do challenge it.—Give him the crowns. —And captain, you must needs be friends with him.
FLUELLEN	By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his betty.—Ho[d, there is twelve pence for you, and I pray you to serve God, and keep you out of prawls and prabbles and quarrels and dissensions, and I warrant you it is the better for you.
WILLIAMS	I will none of your money.
FLUELLEN	It is with a good will. I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? Your shoes is not so good. ’Tis a good shilling, I warrant you, or I will change it.
(didascalia)	Enter an English Herald
KING HARRY	Now, herald, are the dead numbered?
HERALD	Here is the number of the slaughtered French.
KING HARRY	What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
EXETER	Charles, Duke of Orléans, nephew to the King; Jean, Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Boucicault; Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
KING HARRY	This note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lie slain. Of princes in this number And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead One hundred twenty-six; added to these, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred, of the which Five hundred were but yesterday dubbed knights. So that in these ten thousand they have lost There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality. The names of those their nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabret, High Constable of France; Jaques of Châtillon, Admiral of France; The Master of the Crossbows, Lord Rambures; Great-Master of France, the brave Sir Guiscard Dauphin; Jean, Duke of Alençon; Antony, Duke of Brabant, The brother to the Duke of Burgundy; And Édouard, Duke of Bar; of lusty earls, Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrelles. Here was a royal fellowship of death. Where is the number of our English dead? He is given another paper Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Keighley, Davy Gam Esquire; None else of name, and of all other men But five-and-twenty. O God, thy arm was here, And not to us, but to thy arm alone Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem, But in plain shock and even play of battle, Was ever known so great and little loss On one part and on th’other? Take it God, For it is none but thine.
EXETER	’Tis wonderful.
KING HARRY	Come, go we in procession to the village, And be it death proclaimed through our host To boast of this, or take that praise from God Which is his only.
FLUELLEN	Is it not lawful, an’t please your majesty, to tell how many is killed?
KING HARRY	Yes, captain, but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for us.
FLUELLEN	Yes, in my conscience, he did us great good.
KING HARRY	Do we all holy rites: Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum, The dead with charity enclosed in clay; And then to Calais, and to England then, Where ne’er from France arrived more-happy men.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Capitano Gower e Williams
WILLIAMS	Vi garantisco che è per farvi cavaliere, capitano. Entra il Capitano Fluellen
FLUELLEN	Per la volontà di Dio e il suo piacere, capitano, vi supplico ora, venite in fretta dal Re. C’è più bene che vi attende, forse, di quanto la vostra conoscenza sappia sognare.
WILLIAM	Signore, conoscete questo guanto?
FLUELLEN	Conoscere il guanto? So che il guanto è un guanto.
WILLIAM	Fstrappando il guanto dal berretto di Fluellen] Io conosco questo, e così lo rivendico. Colpisce Fluellen
FLUELLEN	Sancue di Dio, e suo! Un traditore patente quanto ne esiste nell’universo mondo, o in Francia, o in Inghilterra.
GOWER	(a Williams) Ebbene, signore? Voi furfante!
WILLIAM	Credete che sarò spergiuro?
FLUELLEN	State in disparte, Capitano Gower. Darò al tradimento la sua paga in potte, ve lo garantisco. Williams Non sono un traditore.
FLUELLEN	Questa è menzogna in gola tua. Vi ordino nel nome di sua maestà, arrestatelo. È amico del Duca d’Alençon.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Conte di Warwick e il Duca di Gloucester
WARWICK	Ebbene, ebbene, che succede?
FLUELLEN	Mio signore di Warwick, ecco—sia lodato Dio per questo—un tradimento contagiosissimo venuto alla luce, vedete, quanto potreste desiderare in un giorno d’estate.
(didascalia)	Entrano Re Harry e il Duca di Exeter Ecco sua maestà.
RE HARRY	Ebbene, che succede?
FLUELLEN	Mio sovrano, ecco un furfante e un traditore che, vedete vostra grazia, ha colpito il guanto che vostra maestà ha tolto dall’elmo d’Alençon.
WILLIAMS	Mio sovrano, questo era il mio guanto—ecco il suo compagno—e colui a cui lo diedi in cambio promise di portarlo nel berretto. Io promisi di colpirlo, se l’avesse fatto. Ho incontrato quest’uomo col mio guanto nel berretto, e sono stato di parola.
FLUELLEN	Vostra maestà oda ora, salva la virilità di vostra maestà, che patente furfante pezzente e pidocchioso manigoldo egli sia. Spero che vostra maestà mi porti testimonianza e prova, e attesterà che questo è il guanto d’Alençon che vostra maestà mi ha dato, nella vostra coscienza ora.
RE HARRY	Dammi il tuo guanto, soldato. Guarda, ecco il suo compagno. Ero io in verità colui che promettesti di colpire, e mi hai rivolto parole assai amare.
FLUELLEN	Se piace a vostra maestà, ne risponda il suo collo, se c’è qualche legge marziale al mondo.
RE HARRY	Come puoi darmi soddisfazione?
WILLIAMS	Tutte le offese, mio signore, vengono dal cuore. Non ne venne mai alcuna dal mio che potesse offendere vostra maestà.
RE HARRY	Fu noi stessi che oltraggiasti.
WILLIAMS	Vostra maestà non venne come se stessa. Mi appariste solo come un uomo comune. Testimoni la notte, le vostre vesti, la vostra umiltà. E ciò che vostra altezza patì sotto quell’aspetto, vi supplico di prenderlo per vostra colpa, e non mia, ché se foste stato quale vi presi, non commisi offesa. Perciò supplico vostra altezza di perdonarmi.
RE HARRY	Ecco, zio Exeter, riempi questo guanto di corone e dallo a costui.—Tienilo, amico, e portalo per onore nel tuo berretto finché io lo rivendichi.—Dategli le corone. —E capitano, dovete proprio far pace con lui.
FLUELLEN	Per questo giorno e questa luce, costui ha abbastanza fegato nella sua pancia.—Te[i, ecco dodici pence per voi, e vi prego di servire Dio, e di tenervi fuori da paruffe e pattibecchi e liti e dissensi, e vi garantisco che è meglio per voi.
WILLIAMS	Non voglio nulla del vostro denaro.
FLUELLEN	È di buon grado. Posso dirvi che vi servirà a rappezzare le scarpe. Su, perché dovreste essere così pudibondo? Le vostre scarpe non sono così buone. È un buono scellino, ve lo garantisco, o ve lo cambierò.
(didascalia)	Entra un Araldo inglese
RE HARRY	Ora, araldo, sono contati i morti?
ARALDO	Ecco il numero dei Francesi massacrati.
RE HARRY	Quali prigionieri di buona condizione sono stati presi, zio?
EXETER	Carlo, Duca d’Orléans, nipote del Re; Jean, Duca di Borbone, e Lord Boucicault; d’altri signori e baroni, cavalieri e scudieri, ben millecinquecento, oltre agli uomini comuni.
RE HARRY	Questa nota mi dice di diecimila Francesi che giacciono uccisi sul campo. Di principi in questo numero e nobili portatori di stendardi, giacciono morti centoventisei; aggiunti a questi, di cavalieri, scudieri e gagliardi gentiluomini, ottomilaquattrocento, dei quali cinquecento erano stati addobbati cavalieri appena ieri. Sicché in questi diecimila che hanno perduto non vi sono che milleseicento mercenari; il resto son principi, baroni, signori, cavalieri, scudieri, e gentiluomini di sangue e qualità. I nomi di quei loro nobili che giacciono morti: Charles Delabret, Gran Conestabile di Francia; Jaques di Châtillon, Ammiraglio di Francia; il Maestro delle Balestre, Lord Rambures; Gran Maestro di Francia, il prode Sir Guiscard Delfino; Jean, Duca d’Alençon; Antonio, Duca di Brabante, fratello del Duca di Borgogna; ed Édouard, Duca di Bar; di gagliardi conti, Grandpré e Roussi, Fauconbridge e Foix, Beaumont e Marle, Vaudemont e Lestrelles. Qui fu una regale compagnia di morte. Dov’è il numero dei nostri morti inglesi? Gli si dà un altro foglio Edoardo, Duca di York, il Conte di Suffolk, Sir Riccardo Keighley, Davy Gam scudiero; nessun altro di nome, e di tutti gli altri uomini solo venticinque. O Dio, il tuo braccio fu qui, e non a noi, ma al tuo braccio soltanto ascriviamo tutto. Quando mai, senza stratagemma, ma in aperto scontro e pari gioco di battaglia, si conobbe perdita così grande e così piccola da una parte e dall’altra? Prendilo, o Dio, ché non è d’altri che tuo.
EXETER	È meraviglioso.
RE HARRY	Su, andiamo in processione al villaggio, e sia proclamata pena di morte per tutta la nostra schiera vantarsi di questo, o togliere a Dio quella lode che è soltanto sua.
FLUELLEN	Non è lecito, se piace a vostra maestà, dire quanti sono stati uccisi?
RE HARRY	Sì, capitano, ma con questo riconoscimento, che Dio combatté per noi.
FLUELLEN	Sì, nella mia coscienza, ci fece gran bene.
RE HARRY	Compiamo tutti i santi riti: si cantino il Non nobis e il Te Deum, i morti con carità racchiusi nell’argilla; e poi a Calais, e in Inghilterra poi, dove mai dalla Francia giunsero uomini più felici.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story That I may prompt them—and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit th‘excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life Be here presented. Now we bear the King Toward Calais. Grant him there; there seen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach Pales-in the flood, with men, maids, wives, and boys, Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouthed sea, Which like a mighty whiffler fore the King Seems to prepare his way. So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace hath thought, that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath, Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city; he forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride, Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens. The Mayor and all his brethren, in best sort, Like to the senators of th’antique Rome With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conqu’ring Caesar in— As, by a lower but high-loving likelihood, Were now the General of our gracious Empress— As in good time he may—from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; As yet the lamentation of the French Invites the King of England’s stay at home. The Emperor’s coming in behalf of France,
(didascalia)	To order peace between them
(didascalia)	and omit
CHORUS	All the occurrences, whatever chanced, Till Harry’s back-return again to France. There must we bring him, and myself have played The interim by rememb‘ring you ’tis past. Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance, After your thoughts, straight back again to France.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Coro
CORO	Concedete a quanti non hanno letto la storia ch’io possa suggerirla loro—e a quanti l’hanno letta, umilmente chiedo che ammettano la scusa del tempo, dei numeri e del debito corso delle cose, che non possono nella loro enorme e propria vita essere qui rappresentate. Ora portiamo il Re verso Calais. Concedetelo là; là veduto, sollevatelo via sui vostri pensieri alati attraverso il mare. Ecco, la spiaggia inglese recinge il flutto d’uomini, fanciulle, mogli e ragazzi, le cui grida e i cui applausi sovrastano la voce del profondo mare, che come un possente battistrada innanzi al Re par preparargli la via. Così lasciatelo sbarcare, e solennemente vedetelo avviarsi a Londra. Così rapido è il passo del pensiero, che già ora potete immaginarlo su Blackheath, dove i suoi signori desiderano ch’egli faccia portare il suo elmo ammaccato e la sua spada piegata innanzi a lui per la città; egli lo vieta, essendo libero da vanità e da orgoglio di sé glorioso, rendendo interi il trofeo, l’insegna e la mostra del tutto lontani da sé, a Dio. Ma ora guardate, nella rapida fucina e nell’officina del pensiero, come Londra riversi fuori i suoi cittadini. Il Sindaco e tutti i suoi confratelli, nella miglior foggia, simili ai senatori dell’antica Roma coi plebei brulicanti alle loro calcagna, escono a introdurre il loro Cesare vittorioso— come, con minore ma altamente affettuosa somiglianza, se ora il Generale della nostra graziosa Imperatrice— come a buon tempo può accadere—venisse dall’Irlanda, portando la ribellione infilzata sulla sua spada, quanti lascerebbero la pacifica città per accoglierlo! Molto di più, e con molto maggior ragione, fecero costoro per questo Harry. Ora ponetelo in Londra; ché ancora il lamento dei Francesi invita il Re d’Inghilterra a restare a casa. L’Imperatore giunge in favore della Francia,
(didascalia)	Per ordinare la pace fra loro
(didascalia)	e tralasciate
CORO	Tutti gli avvenimenti, qualunque cosa sia accaduta, fino al ritorno di Harry di nuovo in Francia. Là dobbiamo condurlo, e io stesso ho recitato l’intervallo rammentandovi ch’è passato. Sopportate dunque l’abbreviazione, e portate i vostri occhi, dietro i vostri pensieri, dritti indietro in Francia.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Captain Gower and Captain Fluellen, with a leek in his cap and a cudgel
GOWER	Nay, that’s right. But why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy’s day is past.
FLUELLEN	There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I will tell you, ass my friend, Captain Gower. The rascally scald beggarly lousy pragging knave Pistot—which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits—he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him, but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
(didascalia)	Enter Ensign Pistol
GOWER	Why, here a comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
FLUELLEN	‘Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. —God pless you Ensign Pistol, you scurvy lousy knave, God pless you.
PISTOL	Ha, art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
FLUELLEN	I peseech you heartily, scurvy lousy knave, at my desires and my requests and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek. Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. 26
PISTOL	Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
FLUELLEN	There is one goat for you. (He strikes Pistol) Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?
PISTOL	Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
FLUELLEN	You say very true, scald knave, when God’s will is. I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals. Come, there is sauce for it. (He strikes him) You called me yesterday ‘mountain-squire’, but I will make you today a ‘squire of low degree’. I pray you, fall to. If you can mock a leek you can eat a leek.
(didascalia)	He strikes him
GOWER	Enough, captain, you have astonished him.
FLUELLEN	By Jesu, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days and four nights.—Bite, I pray you. It is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.
PISTOL	Must I bite?
FLUELLEN	Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities.
PISTOL	By this leek, I will most horribly revenge—
(didascalia)	Fluellen threatens him I eat and eat—I swear—
FLUELLEN	Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.
PISTOL	Quiet thy cudgel, thou dost see I eat.
FLUELLEN	Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away. The skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at ’em, that is all.
PISTOL	Good.
FLUELLEN	Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
PISTOL	Me, a groat?
FLUELLEN	Yes, verity, and in truth you shall take it, or I have another leek in my pocket which you shall eat.
PISTOL	I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
FLUELLEN	If I owe you anything, I will pay you in cudgels. You shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God b’wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate. Exit
PISTOL	All hell shall stir for this.
GOWER	Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel. You find it otherwise. And henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well.
(didascalia)	Exit
PISTOL	Doth Fortune play the hussy with me now? News have I that my Nell is dead I’th’ spital of a malady of France, And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs Honour is cudgelled. Well, bawd I’ll turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and there I’ll steal, And patches will I get unto these cudgelled scars, And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Capitano Gower e il Capitano Fluellen, con un porro nel berretto e un randello
GOWER	Già, è così. Ma perché portate il vostro porro oggi? Il giorno di San Davy è passato.
FLUELLEN	Ci sono occasioni e cause del perché e del percome in tutte le cose. Ve lo dirò, come mio amico, Capitano Gower. Quel furfante rognoso pezzente pidocchioso spaccone manigoldo di Pistot—che voi e voi stesso e tutto il mondo sapete non essere miclio d’un tale, vedete ora, senza alcun merito—è venuto da me, e mi porta pane e sale ieri, vedete, e mi dice di mangiare il mio porro. Fu in un luogo dove non potevo generare contesa con lui, ma sarò così ardito da portarlo nel berretto finché non lo rivedo, e allora gli dirò un pezzettino dei miei desideri.
(didascalia)	Entra l’Alfiere Pistola
GOWER	Ecco, eccolo che viene, gonfiandosi come un tacchino.
FLUELLEN	Non importa dei suoi gonfiori né dei suoi tacchini. —Dio vi penedica, Alfiere Pistola, voi scorbutico pidocchioso manigoldo, Dio vi penedica.
PISTOLA	Ah, sei tu pazzo da manicomio? Hai tu sete, vile Troiano, che io ripieghi la fatale tela di Parca? Via! Mi vien la nausea all’odore del porro.
FLUELLEN	Vi supplico di cuore, scorbutico pidocchioso manigoldo, per i miei desideri e le mie richieste e le mie petizioni, di mangiare, vedete, questo porro. Perché, vedete, voi non l’amate, né i vostri affetti e i vostri appetiti e le vostre digestioni si accordano con esso, desidererei che lo mangiaste. 26
PISTOLA	Neanche per Cadwallader e tutte le sue capre.
FLUELLEN	Ecco una capra per voi. (Colpisce Pistola) Sarete così buono, rognoso manigoldo, da mangiarlo?
PISTOLA	Vile Troiano, tu morirai.
FLUELLEN	Dite verissimo, rognoso manigoldo, quando sarà volontà di Dio. Io desidererò che voi viviate nel frattempo, e mangiate le vostre vettovaglie. Su, ecco la salsa per esso. (Lo colpisce) Ieri mi chiamaste ‘scudiero di montagna’, ma oggi farò di voi uno ‘scudiero di basso grado’. Vi prego, mettetevi sotto. Se potete schernire un porro, potete mangiare un porro.
(didascalia)	Lo colpisce
GOWER	Basta, capitano, l’avete stordito.
FLUELLEN	Per Cesù, gli farò mangiare qualche parte del mio porro, o gli pesterò la zucca quattro giorni e quattro notti.—Mordete, vi prego. Fa bene alla vostra ferita fresca e alla vostra cresta insancuinata.
PISTOLA	Devo mordere?
FLUELLEN	Sì, certamente, e fuor di dubbio e fuor di questione pure, e d’ambiguità.
PISTOLA	Per questo porro, mi vendicherò orribilmente—
(didascalia)	Fluellen lo minaccia Mangio e mangio—giuro—
FLUELLEN	Mangiate, vi prego. Volete ancora un po’ di salsa per il vostro porro? Non c’è porro abbastanza per giurarci sopra.
PISTOLA	Quieta il tuo randello, vedi bene che mangio.
FLUELLEN	Buon pro vi faccia, rognoso manigoldo, di cuore. Anzi, vi prego, non buttatene via nulla. La buccia fa bene alla vostra cresta rotta. Quando avrete occasione di vedere porri d’ora in avanti, vi prego di schernirli, ecco tutto.
PISTOLA	Bene.
FLUELLEN	Sì, i porri son buoni. Tenete, ecco un grosso per guarirvi la zucca.
PISTOLA	A me, un grosso?
FLUELLEN	Sì, veramente, e in verità lo prenderete, o ho un altro porro in tasca che dovrete mangiare.
PISTOLA	Prendo il tuo grosso a caparra di vendetta.
FLUELLEN	Se vi devo qualcosa, vi pagherò in randellate. Diventerete un legnaiolo, e non comprerete da me altro che randelli. Dio sia con voi, e vi protegga, e vi guarisca la zucca. Esce
PISTOLA	Tutto l’inferno si muoverà per questo.
GOWER	Andate, andate, siete un vigliacco manigoldo contraffatto. Volete schernire un’antica tradizione, cominciata per un onorevole riguardo e portata come memorabile trofeo di valore trapassato, e non osate confermare coi fatti nessuna delle vostre parole? Vi ho visto motteggiare e pungere questo gentiluomo due o tre volte. Pensavate che, poiché non sapeva parlare inglese nella foggia nativa, non sapesse perciò maneggiare un randello inglese. Vedete che è altrimenti. E d’ora innanzi una correzione gallese v’insegni una buona condotta inglese. State bene.
(didascalia)	Esce
PISTOLA	La Fortuna fa ora con me la sgualdrina? Ho notizia che la mia Nell è morta nell’ospizio d’un male di Francia, e là il mio ritrovo è del tutto tagliato. Vecchio divento, e dalle mie stanche membra l’onore è randellato via. Ebbene, mi farò ruffiano, e piegherò un poco al tagliaborse di mano lesta. In Inghilterra sgattaiolerò, e là ruberò, e cerotti mi metterò su queste cicatrici di randello, e giurerò d’averle prese nelle guerre di Gallia.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter at one door King Harry, the Dukes of Exeter and Clarence, the Earl of Warwick, and other lords; at another, King Charles the Sixth of France, Queen Isabel, the Duke of Burgundy, and other French, among them Princess Catherine and Alice
KING HARRY	Peace to this meeting, wherefor we are met. Unto our brother France and to our sister, Health and fair time of day. joy and good wishes To our most fair and princely cousin Catherine; And as a branch and member of this royalty, By whom this great assembly is contrived, We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy. And princes French, and peers, health to you all.
KING CHARLES	Right joyous are we to behold your face. Most worthy brother England, fairly met. So are you, princes English, every one.
QUEEN ISABEL	So happy be the issue, brother England, Of this good day and of this gracious meeting, As we are now glad to behold your eyes— Your eyes which hitherto have borne in them, Against the French that met them in their bent, The fatal balls of murdering basilisks. The venom of such looks we fairly hope Have lost their quality, and that this day Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
KING HARRY	To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
QUEEN ISABEL	You English princes all, I do salute you.
BURGUNDY	My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and England. That I have laboured With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, To bring your most imperial majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. Since, then, my office hath so far prevailed That face to face and royal eye to eye You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand, before this royal view, What rub or what impediment there is Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? Alas, she hath from France too long been chased, And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, Corrupting in it own fertility. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unprunèd dies; her hedges even-plashed Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair Put forth disordered twigs; her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery. The even mead—that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover— Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility. An all our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective in their natures, grow to wildness, Even so our houses and ourselves and children Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, The sciences that should become our country, But grow like savages—as soldiers will That nothing do but meditate on blood— To swearing and stern looks, diffused attire, And everything that seems unnatural. Which to reduce into our former favour You are assembled, and my speech entreats That I may know the let why gentle peace Should not expel these inconveniences And bless us with her former qualities.
KING HARRY	If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace Whose want gives growth to th’imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full accord to all our just demands, Whose tenors and particular effects You have enscheduled briefly in your hands.
BURGUNDY	The King hath heard them, to the which as yet There is no answer made.
KING HARRY	Well then, the peace, Which you before so urged, lies in his answer.
KING CHARLES	I have but with a cursitory eye O’erglanced the articles. Pleaseth your grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more, with better heed To re-survey them, we will suddenly Pass our accept and peremptory answer.
KING HARRY	Brother, we shall.—Go, Uncle Exeter And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester; Warwick and Huntingdon, go with the King, And take with you free power to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see advantageable for our dignity, Anything in or out of our demands, And we’ll consign thereto.—Will you, fair sister, Go with the princes, or stay here with us?
QUEEN	Our gracious brother, I will go with them. Haply a woman’s voice may do some good When articles too nicely urged be stood on.
KING HARRY	Yet leave our cousin Catherine here with us. She is our capital demand, comprised
(didascalia)	Within the fore-rank of our articles.
QUEEN	She hath good leave.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but King Harry, Catherine, and Alice
KING HARRY	Fair Catherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady’s ear And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
CATHERINE	Your majesty shall mock at me. I cannot speak your England.
KING HARRY	O fair Catherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
CATHERINE	Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is ‘like me’.
KING HARRY	An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
CATHERINE	(to Alice) Que dit-il?—que je suis semblable à les anges?
ALICE	Oui, vraiment—sauf votre grâce—ainsi dit-il.
KING HARRY	I said so, dear Catherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.
CATHERINE	O bon Dieu! Les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
KING HARRY	What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of deceits?
ALICE	Oui, dat de tongeus of de mans is be full of deceits—dat is de Princess.
KING HARRY	The Princess is the better Englishwoman. I‘faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding. I am glad thou canst speak no better English, for if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, ‘I love you’; then if you urge me farther than to say, ‘Do you in faith?’, I wear out my suit. Give me your answer, i’faith do, and so clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady?
CATHERINE	Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.
KING HARRY	Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why, you undid me. For the one I have neither words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in measure—yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jackanapes, never off. But before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation—only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: if thou canst love me for this, take me. If not, to say to thee that I shall die, is true—but for thy love, by the Lord, no. Yet I love thee, too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy, for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places. For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, they do always reason themselves out again. What! A speaker is but a prater, a rhyme is but a ballad; a good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye will wax hollow, but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon—or rather the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what sayst thou then to my love? Speak, my fair—and fairly, I pray thee.
CATHERINE	Is it possible dat I sould love de ennemi of France?
KING HARRY	No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate. But in loving me, you should love the friend of France, for I love France so well that I will not part with a village of it, I will have it all mine; and Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine.
CATHERINE	I cannot tell vat is dat.
KING HARRY	No, Kate? I will tell thee in French—which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband’s neck, hardly to be shook off. le quand suis le possesseur de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi—let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!—donc vôtre est France, et vous êtes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much more French. I shall never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.
CATHERINE	Sauf votre honneur, le français que vous parlez, il est meilleur que l’anglais lequel je parle.
KING HARRY	No, faith, is’t not, Kate. But thy speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly-falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. But Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?
CATHERINE	I cannot tell.
KING HARRY	Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I’ll ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me, and at night when you come into your closet you’ll question this gentlewoman about me, and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart. But good Kate, mock me mercifully—the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be’st mine, Kate—as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt—I get thee with scrambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half-French half-English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard? Shall we not? What sayst thou, my fair flowerde-luce?
CATHERINE	I do not know dat.
KING HARRY	No, ’tis hereafter to know, but now to promise. Do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy, and for my English moiety take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Catherine du monde, mon très chere et divine deésse?
CATHERINE	Your majesté ’ave faux French enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France.
KING HARRY	Now fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate. By which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father’s ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies I fright them. But in faith, Kate, the elder I wax the better I shall appear. My comfort is that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst, and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better; and therefore tell me, most fair Catherine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes, avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress, take me by the hand and say, ‘Harry of England, I am thine’—which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud, ‘England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine’—who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music—for thy voice is music and thy English broken. Therefore, queen of all, Catherine, break thy mind to me in broken English: wilt thou have me?
CATHERINE	Dat is as it shall please de roi mon père.
KING HARRY	Nay, it will please him well, Kate. It shall please him, Kate.
CATHERINE	Den it sail also content me.
KING HARRY	Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen.
CATHERINE	Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez votre grandeur en baisant la main d’une de votre seigneurie indigne serviteur. Excusezmoi, je vous supplie, mon treis-puissant seigneur.
KING HARRY	Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. 255
CATHERINE	Les dames et demoiselles pour être baisées devant leurs noces, il n’est pas la coutume de France.
KING HARRY	(to Alice) Madam my interpreter, what says she?
ALICE	Dat it is not be de façon pour les ladies of France—I cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish.
KING HARRY	To kiss.
ALICE	Your majesté entend bettre que moi.
KING HARRY	It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say? 265 ALICE Oui, vraiment.
KING HARRY	O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country’s fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate, and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss. Therefore, patiently and yielding. (He kisses her) You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate. There is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French Council, and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father Enter King Charles, Queen Isabel, the Duke of Burgundy, and the French and English lords
BURGUNDY	God save your majesty. My royal cousin, teach you our princess English?
KING HARRY	I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her, and that is good English.
BURGUNDY	Is she not apt?
KING HARRY	Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth, so that having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her that he will appear in his true likeness.
BURGUNDY	Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you blame her then, being a maid yet rosed over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign to.
KING HARRY	Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.
BURGUNDY	They are then excused, my lord, when they see not what they do.
KING HARRY	Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.
BURGUNDY	I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach her to know my meaning. For maids, well summered and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide: blind, though they have their eyes. And then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on.
KING HARRY	This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer, and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too.
BURGUNDY	As love is, my lord, before that it loves.
KING HARRY	It is so. And you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way.
KING CHARLES	Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into a maid—for they are all girdled with maiden walls that war hath never entered.
KING HARRY	Shall Kate be my wife?
KING CHARLES	So please you.
KING HARRY	I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her: so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will.
KING CHARLES	We have consented to all terms of reason.
KING HARRY	Is’t so, my lords of England?
(didascalia)	WARWICKI
KING HARRY	The King hath granted every article: His daughter first, and so in sequel all, According to their firm proposed natures.
EXETER	Only he hath not yet subscribed this: where your majesty demands that the King of France, having any occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your highness in this form and with this addition:
(didascalia)	reads in French, Notre très
EXETER	cher fils Henri, Roi d’Angleterre, Heritier de France, and thus in Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae et Haeres Franciae.
KING CHARLES	Nor this I have not, brother, so denied, But your request shall make me let it pass.
KING HARRY	I pray you then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest, And thereupon give me your daughter.
KING CHARLES	Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other’s happiness, May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword ’twixt England and fair France.
(didascalia)	ALL Amen.
KING HARRY	Now welcome, Kate, and bear me witness all That here I kiss her as my sovereign Queen.
(didascalia)	Flourish
QUEEN ISABEL	God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one. As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be there ‘twixt your kingdoms such a spousal That never may ill office or fell jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms To make divorce of their incorporate league; That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other, God speak this ‘Amen’.
ALL	Amen.
KING HARRY	Prepare we for our marriage. On which day, My lord of Burgundy, we’ll take your oath, And all the peers‘, for surety of our leagues. Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me, And may our oaths well kept and prosp’rous be.
(didascalia)	Sennet. Exeunt
KING HARRY	Epilogue
(didascalia)	Enter Chorus
CHORUS	Thus far with rough and all-unable pen Our bending author hath pursued the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. Fortune made his sword, By which the world’s best garden he achieved, And of it left his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crowned king Of France and England, did this king succeed, Whose state so many had the managing That they lost France and made his England bleed, Which oft our stage hath shown—and, for their sake, In your fair minds let this acceptance take. Exit
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	The Dauphin/Bourbon variant, which usually involves only the alteration of speech-prefixes, has several consequences for the dialogue and structure of 4.5. There follow edited texts of the Folio and Quarto versions of this scene.
(didascalia)	Enter the Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, the Dauphin, and Rambures
CONSTABLE	O diable! ORLÉANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu.
DAUPHIN	Mort de ma vie! All is confounded, all. Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. A short alarum O méchante fortune! Do not run away.
(didascalia)	Exit Rambures
CONSTABLE	Why, all our ranks are broke.
DAUPHIN	O perdurable shame! Let’s stab ourselves: Be these the wretches that we played at dice for? ORLÉANS Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
BOURBON	Shame, an eternall shame, nothing but shame! Let us die in pride. In once more, back again! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand Like a base leno hold the chamber door, Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE	Disorder that hath spoiled us, friend us now, Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. ORLÉANS We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON	The devil take order now. I’ll to the throng. Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
(didascalia)	Enter the four French lords: the Constable, Orléans, Bourbon, and Gebon
GEBON	O diabello!
CONSTABLE	Mort de ma vie! ORLÉANS O what a day is this!
BOURBON	O jour de honte, all is gone, all is lost.
CONSTABLE	We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON	A plague of order! Once more to the field! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go home, and with his cap in hand, Like a base leno hold the chamber door, Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE	Disorder that hath spoiled us, right us now. Come we in heaps, we’ll offer up our lives Unto these English, or else die with fame.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Come, come along.
CONSTABLE	Let’s die with honour, our shame doth last too long.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
ON	21 September 1599 a Swiss doctor, Thomas Platter, saw what can only have been Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar ‘very pleasingly performed’ in the newly built Globe Theatre—‘the straw-thatched house’—on the south side of the Thames. Francis Meres does not mention the play in Palladis Tamia of 1598, and minor resemblances with works printed in the early part of 1599 suggest that Shakespeare wrote it during that year. It was first printed in the 1623 Folio. Julius Caesar shows Shakespeare turning from English to Roman history, which he had last used in Titus Andronicus and The Rape of Lucrece. Caesar was regarded as perhaps the greatest ruler in the history of the world, and his murder by Brutus as one of the foulest crimes: but it was also recognized that Caesar had faults and Brutus virtues. Other plays, some now lost, had been written about Caesar and may have influenced Shakespeare; but there is no question that he made extensive use (for the first time in this play) of Sir Thomas North’s great translation (based on Jacques Amyot’s French version and published in 1579) of Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans by the Greek historian Plutarch, who lived from about AD 50 to 130. Shakespeare was interested in the aftermath of Caesar’s death as well as in the events leading up to it, and in the public and private motives of those responsible for it. So, although the Folio calls the play The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Caesar is dead before the play is half over; Brutus, Cassius, and Antony have considerably longer roles, and Brutus is portrayed with a degree of introspection which links him more closely to Shakespeare’s other tragic heroes. Shakespeare draws mainly on the last quarter of Plutarch’s Life of Caesar, showing his fall; he also uses the Lives of Antony and Brutus for the play’s first sweep of action, showing the rise of the conspiracy against Caesar, its leaders’ efforts to persuade Brutus to join them, the assassination itself, and its immediate aftermath as Antony incites the citizens to revenge. The second part, showing the formation of the triumvirate of Antony, Lepidus, and Octavius Caesar, the uneasy alliance of Brutus and Cassius, and the battles in which Caesar’s spirit revenges itself, depends mainly on the Life of Brutus. Facts are often altered and rearranged in the interests of dramatic economy and effectiveness. Although Shakespeare wrote the play at a point in his career at which he was tending to use a high proportion of prose, Julius Caesar is written mainly in verse; as if to suit the subject matter, the style is classical in its lucidity and eloquence, reaching a climax of rhetorical effectiveness in the speeches over Caesar’s body (3.2). The play’s stage-worthiness has been repeatedly demonstrated; it offers excellent opportunities in all its main roles, and the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius (4.2) has been admired ever since Leonard Digges, a contemporary of Shakespeare, praised it at the expense of Ben Jonson: So have I seen, when Caesar would appear, And on the stage at half-sword parley were Brutus and Cassius; O, how the audience Were ravished, with what wonder they went thence, When some new day they would not brook a line Of tedious though well-laboured Catiline.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano da una porta Re Harry, i Duchi di Exeter e di Clarence, il Conte di Warwick e altri signori; dall’altra, Re Carlo Sesto di Francia, la Regina Isabella, il Duca di Borgogna e altri Francesi, fra loro la Principessa Caterina e Alice
RE HARRY	Pace a questo incontro, per cui ci siamo riuniti. Al nostro fratello di Francia e alla nostra sorella, salute e bel tempo del giorno. Gioia e buoni auguri alla nostra bellissima e principesca cugina Caterina; e come ramo e membro di questa regalità, per cui questa grande assemblea è stata combinata, vi salutiamo, Duca di Borgogna. E principi francesi, e pari, salute a voi tutti.
RE CARLO	Ben lieti siamo di mirare il vostro volto. Degnissimo fratello d’Inghilterra, ben trovato. E così voi, principi inglesi, ciascuno di voi.
REGINA ISABELLA	Sia così felice l’esito, fratello d’Inghilterra, di questo buon giorno e di questo grazioso incontro, come noi ora siamo lieti di mirare i vostri occhi— i vostri occhi che finora hanno portato in sé, contro i Francesi che li incontravano nel loro sguardo, le sfere fatali di basilischi omicidi. Il veleno di tali sguardi noi bellamente speriamo abbia perduto la sua qualità, e che questo giorno muti tutti i dolori e le contese in amore.
RE HARRY	Per dire amen a ciò, così ci presentiamo.
REGINA ISABELLA	Voi tutti principi inglesi, io vi saluto.
BURGUNDY	Il mio dovere a voi entrambi, con pari amore, grandi Re di Francia e d’Inghilterra. Che io mi sia adoperato con tutto il mio ingegno, le mie pene e i forti sforzi, per condurre le vostre imperialissime maestà a questa sbarra e regale colloquio, la vostra potenza da entrambe le parti può meglio attestarlo. Poiché dunque il mio ufficio ha tanto prevalso che faccia a faccia e regale occhio a occhio vi siete incontrati, non mi sia di disonore se domando, davanti a questa regale adunanza, quale intoppo o quale impedimento vi sia perché la pace nuda, povera e straziata, cara nutrice delle arti, delle abbondanze e delle liete nascite, non debba in questo miglior giardino del mondo, la nostra fertile Francia, alzare il suo amabile volto? Ahimè, ella è stata troppo a lungo cacciata dalla Francia, e tutta la sua agricoltura giace a mucchi, corrompendosi nella sua stessa fertilità. La sua vite, allegra rallegratrice del cuore, non potata muore; le sue siepi ben intrecciate come prigionieri selvaggiamente coperti di capelli mettono fuori ramoscelli disordinati; i suoi maggesi il loglio, la cicuta e la rigogliosa fumaria vi radicano sopra, mentre arrugginisce il vomere che dovrebbe sradicare tale selvatichezza. Il piano prato—che un tempo dolcemente produceva la primula screziata, la pimpinella e il verde trifoglio— mancando della falce, tutto incorretto, lussureggiante, concepisce per ozio, e nulla genera se non odiosi romici, ruvidi cardi, cicute, lappole, perdendo insieme la bellezza e l’utilità. E come tutte le nostre vigne, i maggesi, i prati e le siepi, difettosi nelle loro nature, crescono in selvatichezza, così le nostre case e noi stessi e i figli abbiamo perduto, o non impariamo per mancanza di tempo, le scienze che dovrebbero addirsi al nostro paese, ma cresciamo come selvaggi—come fanno i soldati che nulla fanno se non meditare sul sangue— verso il bestemmiare e gli sguardi torvi, l’abito scomposto, e ogni cosa che pare innaturale. Per ricondurre ciò al nostro antico favore siete radunati, e il mio discorso implora ch’io possa sapere l’ostacolo per cui la gentile pace non debba scacciare questi inconvenienti e benedirci con le sue antiche qualità.
RE HARRY	Se, Duca di Borgogna, volete la pace la cui mancanza dà crescita alle imperfezioni che avete citato, dovete comprare quella pace con pieno accordo a tutte le nostre giuste domande, i cui tenori ed effetti particolari avete in breve elencati nelle vostre mani.
BURGUNDY	Il Re li ha uditi, ai quali finora non è stata data risposta.
RE HARRY	Ebbene allora, la pace, che voi prima tanto sollecitaste, sta nella sua risposta.
RE CARLO	Non ho che con occhio corsivo scorso gli articoli. Piaccia a vostra grazia designare subito alcuni del vostro consiglio perché siedano con noi ancora una volta, con miglior cura a riesaminarli, e noi d’un tratto daremo la nostra accettazione e perentoria risposta.
RE HARRY	Fratello, lo faremo.—Andate, zio Exeter e fratello Clarence, e voi, fratello Gloucester; Warwick e Huntingdon, andate col Re, e prendete con voi pieno potere di ratificare, accrescere o alterare, come le vostre saggezze meglio vedranno vantaggioso per la nostra dignità, qualunque cosa dentro o fuori dalle nostre domande, e noi vi consentiremo.—Volete voi, bella sorella, andare coi principi, o restare qui con noi?
REGINA	Nostro grazioso fratello, andrò con loro. Forse una voce di donna può fare qualche bene quando si insiste su articoli troppo sottilmente sollecitati.
RE HARRY	Lasciate però qui con noi nostra cugina Caterina. Ella è la nostra domanda capitale, compresa
(didascalia)	Nella prima fila dei nostri articoli.
REGINA	Ella ne ha buon permesso.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Re Harry, Caterina e Alice
RE HARRY	Bella Caterina, e bellissima, vorrete voi degnarvi d’insegnare a un soldato parole tali che entrino nell’orecchio d’una dama e perorino la sua causa d’amore al suo gentile cuore?
CATERINA	Vostra maestà si burlerà di me. Non so parlare il vostro inglese.
RE HARRY	O bella Caterina, se vorrete amarmi di cuore col vostro cuore francese, sarò lieto d’udirvelo confessare a pezzi con la vostra lingua inglese. Vi piaccio io, Kate?
CATERINA	Pardonnez-moi, non so cosa sia ‘vi piaccio’.
RE HARRY	Un angelo vi somiglia, Kate, e voi somigliate a un angelo.
CATERINA	(ad Alice) Que dit-il?—que je suis semblable à les anges?
ALICE	Oui, vraiment—sauf votre grâce—ainsi dit-il.
RE HARRY	L’ho detto, cara Caterina, e non devo arrossire d’affermarlo.
CATERINA	O bon Dieu! Les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
RE HARRY	Che dice ella, bella creatura? Che le lingue degli uomini sono piene d’inganni?
ALICE	Oui, che le lingue degli uomini son piene d’inganni—così dice la Principessa.
RE HARRY	La Principessa è la migliore inglese. In fede mia, Kate, il mio corteggiamento è adatto al tuo intendimento. Sono lieto che tu non sappia parlare meglio l’inglese, ché se lo sapessi, mi troveresti un re così alla buona che penseresti che io abbia venduto la mia fattoria per comprarmi la corona. Non conosco maniere per lisciarla in amore, ma solo per dire dritto: ‘Vi amo’; poi, se mi spingi oltre il dire ‘Davvero, in fede?’, esaurisco la mia causa. Dammi la tua risposta, in fede mia, dalla, e così battiamo le mani e affare fatto. Che dite, signora?
CATERINA	Sauf votre honneur, io capisco bene.
RE HARRY	Perdinci, se voleste mettermi a fare versi, o a danzare per amor vostro, Kate, ebbene, mi rovinereste. Ché per l’uno non ho né parole né misura, e per l’altra non ho forza nella misura—benché una ragionevole misura di forza. Se potessi conquistare una dama al gioco della cavallina, o balzando in sella con l’armatura sulla schiena, sia detto sotto la correzione della vanteria, balzerei presto dentro una moglie. O se potessi menar le mani per il mio amore, o far balzare il mio cavallo per i suoi favori, potrei picchiare come un macellaio, e stare in sella come una scimmia, senza mai cadere. Ma davanti a Dio, Kate, io non so guardare con occhio languido, né sospirare fuori la mia eloquenza, né ho astuzia nelle proteste—solo giuramenti schietti, che non uso mai se non sollecitato, né mai rompo per sollecitazione. Se puoi amare un tale di questa tempra, Kate, il cui volto non merita d’essere abbronzato, che non si guarda mai nello specchio per amore di ciò che vi vede, sia il tuo occhio il tuo cuoco. Ti parlo da schietto soldato: se puoi amarmi per questo, prendimi. Se no, dirti che morirò è vero—ma per il tuo amore, per il Signore, no. Eppure ti amo anch’io. E finché vivi, cara Kate, prendi un tale di schietta e non coniata costanza, ché per forza deve renderti giustizia, poiché non ha il dono di corteggiare altrove. Ché questi tali di lingua infinita, che sanno rimare fino a entrare nei favori delle dame, sempre poi ragionano fino a uscirne. Suvvia! Un oratore non è che un ciarlone, una rima non è che una ballata; una bella gamba si affloscerà, una schiena diritta si curverà, una barba nera diverrà bianca, una testa riccia diverrà calva, un bel viso appassirà, un occhio pieno si farà incavato, ma un buon cuore, Kate, è il sole e la luna—o piuttosto il sole e non la luna, ché brilla luminoso e non muta mai, ma tiene fedelmente il suo corso. Se vuoi averne uno tale, prendi me; e prendendo me, prendi un soldato; prendendo un soldato, prendi un re. E che dici allora al mio amore? Parla, mia bella—e bellamente, ti prego.
CATERINA	È possibile che io ami il nemico di Francia?
RE HARRY	No, non è possibile che voi amiate il nemico di Francia, Kate. Ma amando me, dovreste amare l’amico di Francia, ché io amo la Francia così bene che non me ne separerò d’un villaggio, la voglio tutta mia; e Kate, quando la Francia sarà mia, e io sarò vostro, allora vostra sarà la Francia, e voi sarete mia.
CATERINA	Non so cosa sia questo.
RE HARRY	No, Kate? Te lo dirò in francese—il che son certo mi si appenderà alla lingua come una sposa novella al collo del marito, difficile a scrollarsi. Je quand suis le possesseur de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi—vediamo, e poi? San Dionigi mi sia di soccorso!—donc vôtre est France, et vous êtes mienne. Mi è tanto facile, Kate, conquistare il regno quanto dire tanto altro francese. Non ti commuoverò mai in francese, se non per farti ridere di me.
CATERINA	Sauf votre honneur, le français que vous parlez, il est meilleur que l’anglais lequel je parle.
RE HARRY	No, in fede mia, non è così, Kate. Ma il mio parlare la tua lingua, e tu la mia, verissimamente-falsamente, deve pur concedersi che siano molto pari. Ma Kate, capisci tu tanto d’inglese? Puoi tu amarmi?
CATERINA	Non saprei dire.
RE HARRY	Qualcuno dei vostri vicini saprebbe dirlo, Kate? Glielo chiederò. Su, so che mi ami, e di notte quando entrerai nella tua stanza interrogherai questa gentildonna sul mio conto, e so, Kate, che biasimerai con lei quelle parti di me che ami col cuore. Ma buona Kate, schernitemi misericordiosamente—tanto più, gentile principessa, perché io ti amo crudelmente. Se mai sarai mia, Kate—come ho dentro una fede salvifica che mi dice che sarai—ti conquisto con l’arrembaggio, e devi dunque per forza dimostrarti buona generatrice di soldati. Non comporremo, tu e io, fra San Dionigi e San Giorgio, un maschietto mezzo francese e mezzo inglese, che andrà a Costantinopoli e prenderà il Turco per la barba? Non è vero? Che dici, mio bel giglio di Francia?
CATERINA	Questo non lo so.
RE HARRY	No, è cosa da sapersi in avvenire, ma da promettersi ora. Prometti solo ora, Kate, che ti adoprerai per la tua parte francese di un tal maschietto, e per la mia metà inglese prendi la parola d’un re e d’uno scapolo. Come rispondete, la plus belle Catherine du monde, mon très chere et divine deésse?
CATERINA	Vostra maestà ha francese falso abbastanza da ingannare la più saggia demoiselle che sia in Francia.
RE HARRY	Ora vergogna al mio falso francese! Per il mio onore, in vero inglese, io ti amo, Kate. Per quel medesimo onore non oso giurare che tu ami me, eppure il mio sangue comincia a lusingarmi che sia così, malgrado il povero e poco temperante effetto del mio viso. Ora sia maledetta l’ambizione di mio padre! Pensava alle guerre civili quando mi generò; perciò fui creato con un esteriore ostinato, con un aspetto di ferro, sicché quando vengo a corteggiare le dame le spavento. Ma in fede, Kate, più invecchio meglio apparirò. Il mio conforto è che la vecchiaia, quella cattiva conservatrice della bellezza, non può fare più guasto sul mio viso. Tu mi hai, se mi hai, al peggio, e mi porterai, se mi porterai, sempre meglio; e perciò dimmi, bellissima Caterina, mi volete? Deponete i vostri rossori verginali, dichiarate i pensieri del vostro cuore con gli sguardi d’un’imperatrice, prendetemi per mano e dite: ‘Harry d’Inghilterra, io sono tua’—e non appena avrai benedetto il mio orecchio con quella parola, io ti dirò ad alta voce: ‘L’Inghilterra è tua, l’Irlanda è tua, la Francia è tua, e Enrico Plantageneto è tuo’—il quale, benché io lo dica in sua faccia, se non è pari al miglior re, lo troverai il miglior re dei buoni compagni. Su, la vostra risposta in musica rotta—ché la tua voce è musica e il tuo inglese rotto. Perciò, regina di tutte, Caterina, spezzami la tua mente in inglese rotto: mi vuoi?
CATERINA	Questo sarà come piacerà al roi mon père.
RE HARRY	Anzi, gli piacerà bene, Kate. Gli piacerà, Kate.
CATERINA	Allora contenterà anche me.
RE HARRY	Su questo vi bacio la mano, e vi chiamo mia regina.
CATERINA	Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez votre grandeur en baisant la main d’une de votre seigneurie indigne serviteur. Excusezmoi, je vous supplie, mon treis-puissant seigneur.
RE HARRY	Allora vi bacerò le labbra, Kate. 255
CATERINA	Les dames et demoiselles pour être baisées devant leurs noces, il n’est pas la coutume de France.
RE HARRY	(ad Alice) Madama mia interprete, che dice ella?
ALICE	Che non è la façon per le dame di Francia—non so cosa sia baiser in inglese.
RE HARRY	Baciare.
ALICE	Vostra maestà entend bettre que moi.
RE HARRY	Non è usanza per le fanciulle di Francia baciarsi prima d’essere sposate, questo vorrebbe dire? 265 ALICE Oui, vraiment.
RE HARRY	O Kate, le usanze schizzinose fanno riverenza ai grandi re. Cara Kate, voi e io non possiamo essere confinati dentro il debole recinto della moda d’un paese. Noi siamo i creatori dei costumi, Kate, e la libertà che segue i nostri posti chiude la bocca a tutti i cercatori di difetti, come io farò con la vostra, per aver sostenuto la moda schizzinosa del vostro paese negandomi un bacio. Perciò, pazientemente e cedendo. (La bacia) Voi avete stregoneria sulle labbra, Kate. C’è più eloquenza in un loro tocco di zucchero che nelle lingue del Consiglio di Francia, ed esse persuaderebbero più presto Harry d’Inghilterra d’una generale petizione di monarchi. Ecco che viene vostro padre. Entrano Re Carlo, la Regina Isabella, il Duca di Borgogna, e i signori francesi e inglesi
BURGUNDY	Dio salvi vostra maestà. Mio regale cugino, insegnate voi l’inglese alla nostra principessa?
RE HARRY	Vorrei che ella imparasse, mio bel cugino, quanto perfettamente io l’ami, e questo è buon inglese.
BURGUNDY	Non è ella pronta a imparare?
RE HARRY	La nostra lingua è ruvida, cugino, e la mia indole non è liscia, sicché non avendo in me né la voce né il cuore dell’adulazione non posso evocare in lei lo spirito dell’amore in modo che egli appaia nella sua vera sembianza.
BURGUNDY	Perdonate la franchezza della mia allegria, se vi rispondo su ciò. Se voleste evocare in lei, dovete tracciare un cerchio; se evocare in lei l’amore nella sua vera sembianza, egli deve apparire nudo e cieco. Potete allora biasimarla, essendo ella una fanciulla ancora tinta del cremisi verginale della modestia, se rifiuta l’apparizione d’un nudo fanciullo cieco nel suo nudo e veggente sé? Sarebbe, mio signore, una dura condizione a cui una fanciulla dovesse consentire.
RE HARRY	Eppure esse chiudono gli occhi e cedono, poiché l’amore è cieco e costringe.
BURGUNDY	Sono dunque scusate, mio signore, quando non vedono ciò che fanno.
RE HARRY	Allora, mio buon signore, insegnate a vostra cugina a consentire a occhi chiusi.
BURGUNDY	Le farò l’occhiolino perché consenta, mio signore, se voi le insegnerete a capire il mio significato. Ché le fanciulle, ben estivate e tenute al caldo, sono come mosche al tempo di San Bartolomeo: cieche, benché abbiano gli occhi. E allora sopportano d’essere maneggiate, mentre prima non tolleravano d’essere guardate.
RE HARRY	Questa morale mi rimanda al tempo e a una calda estate, e così acchiapperò la mosca, vostra cugina, verso la fine, e anch’ella dovrà essere cieca.
BURGUNDY	Come lo è l’amore, mio signore, prima ch’egli ami.
RE HARRY	È così. E qualcuno di voi può ringraziare l’amore della mia cecità, che non mi lascia vedere più d’una bella città francese per una bella fanciulla francese che mi sta sulla strada.
RE CARLO	Sì, mio signore, voi le vedete in prospettiva, le città mutate in una fanciulla—ché sono tutte cinte di mura verginali in cui la guerra non è mai entrata.
RE HARRY	Sarà Kate mia moglie?
RE CARLO	Come vi piace.
RE HARRY	Ne son contento, purché le città verginali di cui parlate le facciano corteo: sicché la fanciulla che stava sulla via del mio desiderio mi mostri la via alla mia volontà.
RE CARLO	Abbiamo consentito a tutti i termini di ragione.
RE HARRY	È così, miei signori d’Inghilterra?
(didascalia)	WARWICKI
RE HARRY	Il Re ha concesso ogni articolo: sua figlia per prima, e così in seguito tutti, secondo le loro nature saldamente proposte.
EXETER	Solo non ha ancora sottoscritto questo: là dove vostra maestà domanda che il Re di Francia, avendo occasione di scrivere in materia di concessione, debba nominare vostra altezza in questa forma e con questa aggiunta:
(didascalia)	legge in francese, Notre très
EXETER	cher fils Henri, Roi d’Angleterre, Heritier de France, e così in latino, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae et Haeres Franciae.
RE CARLO	Né questo io ho, fratello, così negato, ma la vostra richiesta me lo farà lasciar passare.
RE HARRY	Vi prego allora, in amore e cara alleanza, che quell’unico articolo si annoveri con gli altri, e su ciò datemi vostra figlia.
RE CARLO	Prendetela, bel figlio, e dal suo sangue suscitate discendenza per me, affinché i contendenti regni di Francia e d’Inghilterra, le cui stesse rive impallidiscono d’invidia per la felicità l’una dell’altra, cessino il loro odio, e questa cara congiunzione pianti vicinato e cristiano accordo nei loro dolci seni, sì che mai la guerra levi la sua spada sanguinante fra l’Inghilterra e la bella Francia.
(didascalia)	TUTTI Amen.
RE HARRY	Ora benvenuta, Kate, e siatemi tutti testimoni che qui io la bacio come mia sovrana Regina.
(didascalia)	Squilli di tromba
REGINA ISABELLA	Dio, il miglior artefice di tutti i matrimoni, congiunga i vostri cuori in uno, i vostri regni in uno. Come marito e moglie, essendo due, sono uno nell’amore, così vi sia fra i vostri regni tale sposalizio che mai maligno ufficio o crudele gelosia, che spesso turba il letto del benedetto matrimonio, s’intrometta fra il patto di questi regni a fare divorzio della loro lega incorporata; affinché gli Inglesi come Francesi, i Francesi come Inglesi, si ricevano a vicenda, Dio dica a ciò ‘Amen’.
TUTTI	Amen.
RE HARRY	Prepariamoci per il nostro matrimonio. Nel qual giorno, mio signore di Borgogna, prenderemo il vostro giuramento, e quello di tutti i pari, a garanzia delle nostre leghe. Allora giurerò io a Kate, e voi a me, e i nostri giuramenti siano ben mantenuti e prosperi.
(didascalia)	Sennet. Escono
RE HARRY	Epilogo
(didascalia)	Entra il Coro
CORO	Fin qui con rozza e del tutto inetta penna il nostro autore chino ha inseguito la storia, in piccolo spazio confinando uomini possenti, straziando a scatti il pieno corso della loro gloria. Poco tempo, ma in quel poco grandissimamente visse questa stella d’Inghilterra. La Fortuna forgiò la sua spada, con la quale conquistò il miglior giardino del mondo, e di esso lasciò suo figlio imperiale signore. Enrico Sesto, in fasce d’infante incoronato re di Francia e d’Inghilterra, succedette a questo re, il cui stato tanti ebbero a governare che perdettero la Francia e fecero sanguinare la sua Inghilterra, il che spesso la nostra scena ha mostrato—e, per amor loro, nelle vostre belle menti trovi questo accoglienza. Esce
PASSAGGI AGGIUNTIVI	La variante Delfino/Borbone, che di solito comporta solo l’alterazione dei nomi dei parlanti, ha diverse conseguenze per il dialogo e la struttura di 4.5. Seguono i testi curati delle versioni in-folio e in-quarto di questa scena.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Conestabile, Orléans, Borbone, il Delfino e Rambures
CONESTABILE	O diable! ORLÉANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu.
DELFINO	Mort de ma vie! Tutto è perduto, tutto. Il rimprovero e la vergogna eterna siedono a schernirci fra i nostri pennacchi. Un breve allarme O méchante fortune! Non fuggite.
(didascalia)	Esce Rambures
CONESTABILE	Ecco, tutti i nostri ranghi sono rotti.
DELFINO	Oh, vergogna imperitura! Pugnaliamoci: sono questi gli sciagurati per cui giocavamo ai dadi? ORLÉANS È questo il re a cui mandammo per il suo riscatto?
BOURBON	Vergogna, un’eterna vergogna, nient’altro che vergogna! Moriamo con orgoglio. Dentro ancora una volta, indietro! E chi non vorrà seguire Borbone adesso, se ne vada a casa, e col berretto in mano come un vile ruffiano tenga la porta della camera, mentre da uno schiavo non più gentile del mio cane la sua più bella figlia è contaminata.
CONESTABILE	Il disordine che ci ha rovinati ci sia ora amico, andiamo a mucchi a offrire le nostre vite. ORLÉANS Siamo ancora abbastanza vivi sul campo da soffocare gli Inglesi nelle nostre calche, se si potesse pensare a qualche ordine.
BOURBON	Il diavolo si porti ora l’ordine. Io vado nella calca. Sia breve la vita, o troppo lunga sarà la vergogna.
(didascalia)	Escono
(didascalia)	Entrano i quattro signori francesi: il Conestabile, Orléans, Borbone e Gebon
GEBON	O diabello!
CONESTABILE	Mort de ma vie! ORLÉANS Oh, che giornata è questa!
BOURBON	O jour de honte, tutto è andato, tutto è perduto.
CONESTABILE	Siamo ancora abbastanza vivi sul campo da soffocare gli Inglesi, se si potesse pensare a qualche ordine.
BOURBON	Un accidente all’ordine! Ancora una volta al campo! E chi non vorrà seguire Borbone adesso, se ne vada a casa, e col berretto in mano, come un vile ruffiano tenga la porta della camera, mentre da uno schiavo non più gentile del mio cane la sua più bella figlia è contaminata.
CONESTABILE	Il disordine che ci ha rovinati ci raddrizzi ora. Veniamo a mucchi, offriremo le nostre vite a questi Inglesi, o altrimenti moriremo con fama.
(didascalia)	BOURBON Su, su, andiamo.
CONESTABILE	Moriamo con onore, la nostra vergogna dura troppo a lungo.
(didascalia)	Escono