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Enters a Captaine. Cap. How now what make you here, So farre from the Campe?

2. Soul. Shal me tel our captain, what we haue done here? Drum. Awée, awée. [Exeunt Drum and one Souldier.

2. Soul. I wil tel you what whe haue doune, We haue bene troing on shance on the Dice, But none can win the king.

Cap. I thinke so, why he is left behind for me,
And I haue set thrée or foure chaire-makers a worke,
To make a new disguised chaire to set that womanly
King of England in, that all the people may laugh
And scoffe at him.

2. Soul. Oh braue Captaine.

Cap. I am glad, and yet with a kindle of pitie, To see the poore king. Why, who euer saw a more flourishing armie in France In one day, then here is? Are not here all the Péeres of

France ? Are not here the Normans with their firie hand-Gunnes, and

slaunching Curtleaxes ? Are not here the Barbarians with their bard horses, And lanching speares ? Are not here Pickardes with their crosbowes & piercing

Dartes. The Henues with their cutting Glaues, and sharpe Carbuckles. Are not here the Lance knights of Burgondie? And on the other side, a site of poore English scabs? Why take an English man out of his warme bed And his stale drinke, but one moneth, And alas what wil become of him? But giue the Frenchman a Reddish roote, And he wil liue with it all the dayes of his life. [Exit. 2. Soul. Oh the braue apparel that we shall haụe of the English mans.

Enters the King of England, and his Lords.
Hen. V. Come my Lords and fellows of armes,
What company is there of the French men ?

Oxf. And it please your Maiestie,
Our Captaines haue numbred them,
And so neare as they can iudge,
They are about thréescore thousand horsemen,
And fortie thousand footemen.

Hen V. They thréescore thousand,

And we but two thousand.
They thréescore thousand footemen,
And we twelue thousand.
They are a hundred thousand,
And we fortie thousand, ten to one.
My Lords ann louing Countrey men,
Though we be fewer, and they many,
Fcare not, your quarrel is good, and God wil defend you :
Plucke vp your hearts, for this day we shall either have
A valiant victorie, or a honourable death.
Now my Lords, I wil that my vncle the Duke of Yorke,
Haue the auantgard in the battell.
The Earle of Darby, the Earle of Oxford,
The Earle of Kent, the Earle of Nottingham,
The Earle of Huntington, I wil haue beside the army,
That they may come fresh vpon them.
And I my selfe with the Duke of Bedford,
The Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Gloster,
Wil be in the midst of the battell.
Furthermore, I wil that my Lord of Willowby,
And the Earle of Northumberland,
With their troupes of horsemen, be côtinually running like

Wings on both sides of the army :
My Lord of Northumberland, on the left wing.
Then I wil that euery archer prouide him a stake of
A trée, and sharpe it at both endes,
And at the first encounter of the horsemen,
To pitch their stakes downe into the ground before them,
That they may gore themselues vpon them,
And then to recoyle backe, and shoote wholly altogither,
And so discomfit them.

Oxf. And it please you Maiestie,
I wil take that in charge, if your grace be therwith cotent.

Hen. V. With all iny heart, my good Lord of Oxford :
And go and provide quickly.
Oxf. I thanke your highnesse.

Hen. V. Well iny Lords, our battels are ordeined,
And the French making of bonfires, and at their bankets,
But let them looke, for I meane to set vpon them.

[The Trumpet soundes. Soft, here comes some other French message.

Enters Herauid. Her. King of England, my Lord high Constable, And other of my Lords, considering the poore estate of hée And thy poore Countrey men,

Sends me to know what thou wilt giue for thy ransome ?
Perhaps thou maist agrée better cheape now,
Then when thou art conquered.

Hen. V. Why then belike your high Constable,
Sends to know what I wil giue for my ransome?
Now trust me Herald, not so much as a tun of tennis-bals,
No not so much as one poore tennis-ball,
Rather shall my bodie lie dead in the field to feed crowes,
Then euer England shall pay one penny ransome
For my bodie.

Her. A kingly resolution.

Hen. V. No Herald, tis a kingly resolution,
And the resolution of a king :
Here take this for thy paines.

[Exit Heraldo But stay my Lords, what time is it?

All. Prime my Lord.

Hen. V. Then is it good time no doubt,
For all England praieth for vs :
What my Lords, me thinks you looke chéerfully vpon me?
Why then with one voice and like true English hearts,
With me throw up your caps, and for England,
Cry S. George, and God and S. George helpe vs.

[Strike Drummer, Exeunt omnes. The Frenchmen crie within, S. Dennis, S. Dennis, Mount Ioy,

S. Dennis.

The Battell.
Enters King of England, and his Lords.
Hen. V. Come my Lords come, by this time our
Swords are almost drunke with French blood,
But my Lords, which of you can tell me how many of our
Army be slaine in the battell?

Oacf. And it please your Maiestie, .
There are of the French armie slaine
Aboue ten thousand, twentie sixe hundred
Whereof are Princes and Nobles bearing banners :
Besides, all the Nobilitie of France are taken prisoners.
Of your Maiesties Armie, are slaine none but the good
Duke of Yorke, and not aboue five or six and twentie
Common souldiers.

Hen. V. For the good Duke of Yorke my vncle,
I am heartily sorie, and greatly lament his misfortune,
Yet the honourable victorie which the Lord hath giuen v,
Doth make me much reioyce. But staie,
Here comes another French message. [Sound Trumpet

Enters a Herald and kneeleth.
Her. God saue the life of the most mightie Conqueror,
The honourable king of England.

Hen. V. Now Herald, me thinks the world is changed
With you now, what I am sure it is a great disgrace for a
Herald to kneele to the king of England,
What is thy message ?

Her. My Lord & maister, the conquered king of France,
Sends thée long health, with heartie greeting.

Hen. V. Herald, his greetings are welcome,
But I thanke God for my health :
Well Herald, say on.

Her. He hath sent me to desire you 'Maiestie,
To giue him leaue to go into the field to view his poore
Countrymen, that they may all be honourably buried.

Hen. V. Why Herald, doth thy Lord and maister
Send to me to burie the dead?
Let him bury them a Gods name.
But I pray thée Herald, where is my Lord hie Constable,
And those that would haue had my ransome?

Her. And it please your Maiestie,
He was slaine in the battell.

Hen. V. Why you may see, you will make your selues
Sure before the victorie be wonne, but Herald,
What Castle is this so néere adioyning to our Campe?

Her. And it please your Maiestie,
Tis cald the Castle of Agincourt.

Hen. V. Well then my lords of England,
For the more honour of our English men,
I will that this be for euer cald the battell of Agincourt,

Her. And it please your Maiestie,
I haue a further message to deliuer to your Maiestie.

Hen. V. What is that Herald ? say on.

Her. And it please your Maiestie, my Lord and mais: er, Craues to parley with your Maiestie.

Hen. V. With a good will, so some of my Nobles View the place for feare of trecherie and treason.

Her. Your grace néeds not to doubt that.

Hen. V. Well, tell him then, I will come. [Exit Herald Now my lords, I will go into the field my selfe, To view my country men, and to haue them honourably Buried, for the French King shall neuer surpasse me in Curtesie, while I am. Harry King of England. Come on my lords.

[Exeunt omnes.

Robin. Now Iohn Cobler,
Didst thou sée how the King did behaue himselfe?

John But Robin, didst thou see what a pollicie
The King had, to sée how the French men were kild
With the stakes of the trees.
Robin. I lohn, there was a braue pollicie.

Enters an English Souldier roming.
Soul. What are you my maisters?
Both. Why we he English men.

Soul. Are you English men, then change your language,
For all the Kings Tents are set a fire,
And all they that speake English will be kild.

Iohn. What shall we do Robin ? faith ile shift,
For I can speake broken French.

Robin. Faith so can I, lets heare how thou canst speak.
John. Commodeuales Monsieur.
Iohn. Thats well, come lets begone.

[Drum and Trumpet sounds. Enters DERICKE roming. After him a Frenchman, and takes

him prisoner.
Der. O good Mounser.
French. °Сome, come, you villeaco.
Der. 0 I will sir, I will.
French. Come quickly you posant.
Der. I will sir, what shall I giue you?

French. Marry, thou shalt give me,
One, to, tre, foure, hundred Crosynes.

Der. Nay sir, I will giue you n ore,
I will giue you as many crowns as will lie on your sword.

French. Wilt thou giue me as rr. any crowns
As will lie on my sword?

Der. I marrie will I, but you must lay downe your Sword, or else they will not lie on y, ur sworde. [Here the French man layes downe his sword, and the

clowne takes it ep, and hurles him downe. Der. Thou villaine, darest thou looke vp?

French. O good Mounsier comparte ie Monsieur pardon me.

Der. O you villaine, now you lie at my mercie, Doest thou remember since thou lambat me in thy short el? O villaine, now I will strike off thy head. (Here while he turnes his back, the Frenchman runnes

his wayes.

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