The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

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 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. Exeunt

SCENE III.

Before the gates of Harfleur

Enter the GOVERNOR and some citizens on the walls. Enter the KING

and all his train before the gates

KING HENRY. 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 flesh’d 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, Array’d in flames, like to the prince of fiends, Do, with his smirch’d complexion, all fell feats Enlink’d 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 wickednes When down the hill he holds his fierce career?

We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon th’ enraged 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 with foul hand

Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash’d to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus’d 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 destroy’d?

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, great King, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.

Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; For we no longer are defensible.

KING HENRY. 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 addrest.

[Flourish. The KING and his train enter the town]

SCENE IV.

Rouen. The FRENCH KING’S palace

Enter KATHERINE and ALICE

KATHERINE. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage.

ALICE. Un peu, madame.

KATHERINE. Je te prie, m’enseignez; il faut que j’apprenne a parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglais?

ALICE. La main? Elle est appelee de hand.

KATHERINE. 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 appeles de fingres; oui, de fingres.

KATHERINE. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon ecolier; j’ai gagne deux mots d’Anglais vitement.

Comment appelez-vous les ongles?

ALICE. Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails.

KATHERINE. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails.

ALICE. C’est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglais.

KATHERINE. Dites-moi l’Anglais pour le bras.

ALICE. De arm, madame.

KATHERINE. Et le coude?

ALICE. D’elbow.

KATHERINE. D’elbow. Je m’en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m’avez appris des a present.

ALICE. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.

KATHERINE. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: d’hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arma, de bilbow.

ALICE. D’elbow, madame.

KATHERINE. O Seigneur Dieu, je m’en oublie! D’elbow.

Comment appelez-vous le col?

ALICE. De nick, madame.

KATHERINE. De nick. Et le menton?

ALICE. De chin.

KATHERINE. De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.

ALICE. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite, vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d’Angleterre.

KATHERINE. Je ne doute point d’apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.

ALICE. N’avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne?

KATHERINE. Non, je reciterai a vous promptement: d’hand, de fingre, de mails-ALICE. De nails, madame.

KATHERINE. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.

ALICE. Sauf votre honneur, d’elbow.

KATHERINE. Ainsi dis-je; d’elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous le pied et la robe?

ALICE. Le foot, madame; et le count.

KATHERINE. Le foot et le count. O Seigneur Dieu! ils sont 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! le foot et le count! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble: d’hand, de fingre, de nails, d’arm, d’elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, le count.

ALICE. Excellent, madame!

KATHERINE. C’est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner.

Exeunt

SCENE V.

The FRENCH KING’S palace

Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, DUKE OF BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, and others

FRENCH KING. ‘Tis certain he hath pass’d the river Somme.

CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France; let us quit an, 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 overlook their grafters?

BRITAINE. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!

Mort Dieu, 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-rein’d 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 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.

BRITAINE. 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.

FRENCH KING. 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 Delabreth, High Constable of France; You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alengon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;

Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; 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 famish’d in their march; For I am sure, when he shall see our army, He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear, And for achievement offer us his ransom.

FRENCH KING. 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.

FRENCH KING. Be patient, for you shall remain with us.

Now forth, Lord Constable and Princes all, And quickly bring us word of England’s fall. Exeunt

SCENE VI.

The English camp in Picardy

Enter CAPTAINS, English and Welsh, GOWER and FLUELLEN

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 aunchient Lieutenant there at the bridge-I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is 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 call’d Aunchient Pistol.

GOWER. I know him not.

Enter 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, And 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, Aunchient 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,