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Thou must needs serue the King.
Iohn. Good maister Captaine let me go, I am not able to go so farre.
Wife. I pray you good maister Captaine, Be good to my husband.
Cap. Why I am sure he is not too good to serue yo king ?
lohn. Alasse no : but a great deale too bad, Therefore I pray you let me go.
Cap. No, no, thou shalt go.
Iohn. Oh sir, I haue a great many shooes at home to Cobble.
Wife. I pray you let him go home againe.
Cap. Tush, I care not, thou shalt go.
Idhn. Oh wife, and you had been a louing wife to me,
This had not bene, for I haue said many times
That I would go away, and now I must go
Against my will.
Der. How now ho, Basillus Manus, for an old cod-peece,
Maister Captaine shall we away?
Sowndes how now Iohn, what a crying ?
What make you and my dame there?
I maruell whose head you will throw the stooles at,
Now we are gone.
Wife. Ile tell you, come ye cloghead, What doe you with my potlid ? heare you, Will you haue it rapt about your pate?
[She beateth him with her potlid. Der. Oh good dame, here he shakes her. And I had my dagger here, I wold worie you all to péeces That I would.
Wife. Would you so, Ile trie that. [She beateth him.
Der. Maister Captaine will ye suffer her?
Go too dame, I will go backe as far as I can,
But and you come againe,
Ile clap the law on your backe that flat :
lle tell you maister Captaine what you shall dom ?
Presse her for a souldier, I warrant you,
She will do as much good as her husband and I too.
Der. How now Gads, what doest knowes thinkest!
Theefe. I, I knew thée long ago.
Der. Heare you maister Captaine?
Cap. What saist thou ?
Der. I pray you let me go home againe.
Cap. Why what wouldst thou do at home?
Der. Marry I haue brought two shirts with me,
And I would carry one of them home againe,
For I am sure héele steale it from me,
He is such a filching fellow.
Cap. I warrant thée he will not steale it from thée,
Come lets away.
Der. Come maister Captaine lets away,
Come follow me.
Iohn. Come wife, lets part lovingly.
Wife. Farewell good husband.
Der. Fie what a kissing and crying is here?
Sownes, do ye thinke he wil neuer come againe ?
Why Iohn come away, doest thinke that we are so base
Minded to die among French men ?
Sownes, we know not whether they will laie
Vs in their Church or no : Come M. Captain, lets away.
Cap. I cannot staie no longer, therefore come away.
[Exeunt omnes. Enter the King, Prince Dolphin, and Lord high Constable of
King. Now my Lord high Constable,
What say you to our Embassage into England ?
Con. And it please your Maiestie, I can say nothing,
Vntil my Lords Embassadors be come home,
But yet me thinkes your grace hath done well
To get your men in so good a readinesse
For feare of the worst.
King. I my Lord we haue some in a readinesse,
But if the King of England make against vs,
We must haue thrice so many moe.
Dol. Tut my Lord, although the King of England
Be yoong and wild headed, yet neuer think he will be so
Vnwise to make battell against the mightie King of France.
King. Oh my sonne, although the King of England be
Yoong and wilde headed, yet neuer thinke but he is rulde
By his wise Councellors.
Enter Archbyshop of Buryes.
Archb. God saue the life of my soueraign lord the king.
King. Now my good Lord Archbishop of Burges,
What news from our brother the English King ?
Archb. And please your Maiestie,
He is so far from your expectation,
That nothing wil serue him but the Crowne
And kingdome it selfe, besides, he bad me haste quickly,
Least he be there before me, and so far as I heare,
He hath kept promise, for they say, he is alreadie landed
At Kidcocks in Normandie, vpon the River of Sene,
And laid his siege to the Garrison Towne of Harflew.
King. You have made great haste in the meane time,
Haue you not?
Dol. I pray you my Lord, how did the King of England take my presents ?
Archb. Truly my Lord, in very ill part,
For these your balles of leather,
He will tosse you balles of brass and yron.
Trust me my Lord, I was verie affraide of him,
He is such a hautie and high minded Prince,
He is as fierce as a Lyon.
Con. Tush, we wil make him as tame as a Lambe, ( warrant you.
Enters a Messenger.
Mess. God saue the mightie King of France.
King. Now Messenger, what newes?
Mess. And it please your Maiestie,
I come from your poore distressed Towne of Harflew,
Which is so beset on euery side,
If your Maiestie do not send present aide,
The Towne will be yeelded to the English King.
King. Come my Lords, come, shall we stand still
Till our Country be spoyled vnder our noses ?
My Lords, let the Normanes, Brabants, Pickardies,
And Danes, be sent for with all spéede :
And you my Lord high Constable, I make Generall
Ouer all my whole Armie.
Monsieur le Colle, Maister of the Boas,
Signior Deuens, and all the rest, at your appointment.
Dol. I trust your Maiestie will bestow
Some part of the Battell on me,
I hope not to present any otherwise then well.
King. I tell thée my sonne,
Although I should get the victory, and thou lose thy life,
I should thinke my selfe quite conqueren,
And the English men to haue the victorie.
Dol. Why my Lord and father,
I would haue the pettie king of England to know,
That I dare encounter him in any ground of the world.
King. I know well my sonne,
But at this time I will haue it thus :
Therefore come away.
Enter's HENRY the fifth, with his Lords.
Hen. V. Come my Lords of England,
No doubt this good lucke of winning this Towne,
Is a signe of an honourable victorie to come.
But good my Lord, go and speake to the Captaines
With all speed, to number the hoast of the French men,
And by that meanes we may the better know
How to appoint the battell.
Yorke. And it please your Maiestie,
There are many of your men sicke and diseased,
And many of them die for want of victuals.
Hen. V. And why did you not tell me of it before ?
If we cannot haue it for money,
We will haue it by dint of sword,
The lawe of Armes allow no lesse.
Oxf. I beséech your grace, to graunt me a boone.
Hen. V. What is that my good Lord ?
Oxf. That your grace would give me the
Euantgard in the battell.
Hen. V. Trust me my Lord of Oxford, I cannot:
For I haue alreadie giuen it to my vnc[l]e ye Duke of York,
Yet I thanke you for your good will. [A Trumpet soundes.
How now, what is that?
Yorke. I thinke it be some Herald of Armes.
Enters a Herald.
Her. King of England, my Lord high Constable,
And others of the Noble men of France,
Sends me to defie thée, as open enemy to God,
Our Countrey, and vs, and hereupon,
They presently bid thée battell.
Hen. V. Herald tell them, that I defie them,
As open enemies to God, my Countrey, and me,
And as wron[g]full vsurpers of my right:
And whereas thou saist they presently bid me battell,
Tell them that I thinke they knowe how to please me :
But I pray thée what place hath my lord Prince Dolphin
Here in battell.
Her. And it please your grace,
My Lord and King his father,
Will not let him come into the field.
Hen. V. Why then he doth me great iniurie,
I thought that he & I shuld haue plaid at tennis togither,
Therefore I haue brought tennis balles for him,
But other maner of ones then he sent me.
And Herald, tell my Lord Prince Dolphin,
That I haue inured my hāds with other kind of weapons
Then tennis balles, ere this time a day,
And that he shall finde it, ere it be long,
And so adue my friend :
And tell my Lord
that I am readie when he will. [Exit Herald.
Come my Lords, I care not and I go to our Captaines,
And ile see the number of the French army my selfe.
Strike up the Drumme.
[Exeunt omnes Enter French Souldiers. 1. Soul. Come away Jack Drummer, come away all, And me will tel you, what me wil doo, Me wil tro one chance on the dice, Who shall haue the king of England and his lords.
2. Soul. Come away Iacke Drummer,
And tro your chance, and lay downe your Drumme.
Drum. Oh the braue apparrel that the English mans
Hay broth ouer, I will tel you what
Me ha donne, me ha prouided a hundreth trunkes,
and all to put the fine parel of the English mans in.
1. Soul. What do thou meane by trunkea (sic) ?
2. Soul. A shest man, a hundred shests.
1. Soul. Awee, awee, awee, Me wil tel you what,
Me ha put fiue children out of my house,
And all too litle to put the fine apparel of the
English mans in.
Drum. Oh the braue, the braue apparel that we
Haue anon, but come, and you shall sée what we wil tro
At the kings Drummer and Fife,
Ha, me ha no good lucke, tro you.
3. Soul. Faith me wil tro at y Earle of Northumberland And my Lord a Willowby, with his great horse, Snorting, oh braue horse.
1. Soul. Ha, bur Ladie you ha reasonable good lucke, Now I wil tro at the king himselfe, Ha, me haue no good lucke.