Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

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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

2.1 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.

⌈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.

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.

⌈He draws his sword⌉

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.

⌈They sheathe their swords⌉

(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.

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!

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

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.

⌈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.

NIM Well then, that’s the humour of’t. ⌈Nim and Bardolph sheathe their swords.⌉ Enter Hostess Quickly

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

2.2 Enter the Dukes of Exeter and ⌈Gloucester⌉, and the Earl of Westmorland

⌈GLOUCESTER⌉

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.

⌈GLOUCESTER⌉

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.

Sound trumpets. Enter King Harry, Lord Scrope, the

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.

Exeunt the traitors, guarded

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.

Flourish. Exeunt

2.3 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

2.4 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.

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.

Exit Messenger

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.

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.

KING CHARLES ⌈rising⌉

Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full.

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.

⌈Flourish.⌉ Exeunt

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,

Alarum, and chambers go off

And down goes all before them. Still be kind,

And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit