The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: h5v - Histories, p. 78

Left Column


The Life of Henry the Fift. Pist.

And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my

purpose should not fayle with me; but thither would I

[1100]

high.

Boy.

As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on

bough.

Enter Fluellen. Flu.

Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you

Cullions.

Pist.
[1105]

Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: a-

bate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage,

great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie

sweet Chuck.

Nim.

These be good humors: your Honor wins bad

[1110]

humors.

Exit. Boy.

As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three

Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three,

though they would serue me, could not be Man to me;

for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man:

[1115]

for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the

meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for Pistoll,

hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the

meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole

Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few

[1120]

Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say

his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his

few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for

a neuer broke any mans Head but his owne, and that was

against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale any

[1125]

thing, and call it Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case,

bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence.

Nim and Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching: and

in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that peece

of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would

[1130]

haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues

or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my

Manhood, if I should take from anothers Pocket, to put

into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp of Wrongs.

I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their

[1135]

Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore

I must cast it vp.

Exit. Enter Gower. Gower.

Captaine Fluellen, you must come presently to

the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucester would speake with

you.

Flu.
[1140]

To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so

good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes

is not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the con-

cauities of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th'athuer-

sarie, you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt

[1145]

himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu,

I thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directi-

ons.

Gower.

The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order

of the Siege is giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish

[1150]

man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith.

Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not? Gower.

I thinke it be.

Welch.

By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will

verifie as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions

[1155]

in the true disciplines of the Warres, looke you, of the

Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.

Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy. Gower.

Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine

Iamy, with him.

Welch.

Captaine Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gen-

[1160]

tleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and know-

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[full image]

Right Column


ledge in th'aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular know-

ledge of his directions: by Cheshu he will maintaine his

Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in

the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans.

Scot.
[1165]

I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen.

Welch.

Godden to your Worship, good Captaine

Iames.

Gower.

How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you

quit the Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're?

Irish.
[1170]

By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish

giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand

I sweare, and my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done:

it ish giue ouer: I would haue blowed vp the Towne,

so Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill

[1175]

done: by my Hand tish ill done.

Welch.

Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now,

will you voutsafe me, looke you, a few disputations with

you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of

the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument,

[1180]

looke you, and friendly communication: partly to satisfie

my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of

my Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie dis-

cipline, that is the Point.

Scot.

It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath,

[1185]

and I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion:

that sall I mary.

Irish.

It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me:

the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the

King, and the Dukes: it is no time to discourse, the Town

[1190]

is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs to the breech, and

we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs all:

so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my

hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be

done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law.

Scot.
[1195]

By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take them-

selues to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th'

grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as valo-

rously as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the breff and

the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some question

[1200]

tween you tway.

Welch.

Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you,

vnder your correction, there is not many of your Na-

tion.

Irish.

Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a

[1205]

Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What

ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation?

Welch.

Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise

then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I

shall thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in

[1210]

discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good

a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and

in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particula-

rities.

Irish.

I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe:

[1215]

so Chrish saue me, I will cut off your Head.

Gower.

Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

Scot.

A, that's a foule fault.

A Parley.
Gower.

The Towne sounds a Parley.

Welch.

Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more

[1220]

better oportunitie to be required, looke you, I will be

so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of Warre:

and there is an end.

Exit.
[Act 3, Scene 3] Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates. King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne? This is the latest Parle we will admit: There-

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[Act 3, Scene 3] Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates. King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne? This is the latest Parle we will admit:
[1225]
Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues, Or like to men prowd of destruction, Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier, A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best; If I begin the batt'rie once againe,
[1230]
I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew, Till in her ashes she lye buryed. The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp, And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart, In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge
[1235]
With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants. What is it then to me, if impious Warre, Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends, Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,
[1240]
Enlynckt to wast and desolation? What is't to me, when you your selues are cause, If your pure Maydens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing Violation? What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse,
[1245]
When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere? We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command Vpon th'enraged Souldiers in their spoyle, As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harflew,
[1250]
Take pitty of your Towne and of your People, Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command, Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds Of headly Murther, Spoyle, and Villany.
[1255]
If not: why in a moment looke to see The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters: Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards, And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls:
[1260]
Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes, Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd, Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry, At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men. What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd?
[1265]
Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd.
Enter Gouernour. Gouer. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated, Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready, To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King,
[1270]
We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy: Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours, For we no longer are defensible.
King. Open your Gates: Come Vnckle Exeter, Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine,
[1275]
And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French: Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle. The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis. To night in Harflew will we be your Guest,
[1280]
To morrow for the March are we addrest.
Flourish, and enter the Towne.
 

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<div type="scene" n="3" rend="notPresent">
   <head type="supplied">[Act 3, Scene 3]</head>
   <stage rend="italic centre" type="entrance">Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-h5-hen">
      <speaker rend="italic">King.</speaker>
      <l n="1223">How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne?</l>
      <l n="1224">This is the latest Parle we will admit:</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0435-0.jpg" n="79"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1225">Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues,</l>
      <l n="1226">Or like to men prowd of destruction,</l>
      <l n="1227">Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier,</l>
      <l n="1228">A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best;</l>
      <l n="1229">If I begin the batt'rie once againe,</l>
      <l n="1230">I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew,</l>
      <l n="1231">Till in her ashes she lye buryed.</l>
      <l n="1232">The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp,</l>
      <l n="1233">And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart,</l>
      <l n="1234">In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge</l>
      <l n="1235">With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse</l>
      <l n="1236">Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants.</l>
      <l n="1237">What is it then to me, if impious Warre,</l>
      <l n="1238">Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends,</l>
      <l n="1239">Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,</l>
      <l n="1240">Enlynckt to wast and desolation?</l>
      <l n="1241">What is't to me, when you your selues are cause,</l>
      <l n="1242">If your pure Maydens fall into the hand</l>
      <l n="1243">Of hot and forcing Violation?</l>
      <l n="1244">What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse,</l>
      <l n="1245">When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere?</l>
      <l n="1246">We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command</l>
      <l n="1247">Vpon th'enraged Souldiers in their spoyle,</l>
      <l n="1248">As send Precepts to the<hi rend="italic">Leuiathan</hi>, to come ashore.</l>
      <l n="1249">Therefore, you men of Harflew,</l>
      <l n="1250">Take pitty of your Towne and of your People,</l>
      <l n="1251">Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command,</l>
      <l n="1252">Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace</l>
      <l n="1253">O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds</l>
      <l n="1254">Of headly Murther, Spoyle, and Villany.</l>
      <l n="1255">If not: why in a moment looke to see</l>
      <l n="1256">The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand</l>
      <l n="1257">Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters:</l>
      <l n="1258">Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards,</l>
      <l n="1259">And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls:</l>
      <l n="1260">Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes,</l>
      <l n="1261">Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd,</l>
      <l n="1262">Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry,</l>
      <l n="1263">At<hi rend="italic">Herods</hi>bloody-hunting slaughter-men.</l>
      <l n="1264">What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd?</l>
      <l n="1265">Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic centre" type="entrance">Enter Gouernour.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-h5-gov">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gouer.</speaker>
      <l n="1266">Our expectation hath this day an end:</l>
      <l n="1267">The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated,</l>
      <l n="1268">Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready,</l>
      <l n="1269">To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King,</l>
      <l n="1270">We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy:</l>
      <l n="1271">Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours,</l>
      <l n="1272">For we no longer are defensible.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-h5-hen">
      <speaker rend="italic">King.</speaker>
      <l n="1273">Open your Gates: Come Vnckle<hi rend="italic">Exeter</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1274">Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine,</l>
      <l n="1275">And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French:</l>
      <l n="1276">Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle.</l>
      <l n="1277">The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing</l>
      <l n="1278">Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis.</l>
      <l n="1279">To night in Harflew will we be your Guest,</l>
      <l n="1280">To morrow for the March are we addrest.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic centre" type="business">Flourish, and enter the Towne.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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