Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all
his host, Salisbury, and Westmoreland. GLOUCESTER Where is the King? BEDFORD
The King himself is rode to view their battle. WESTMORELAND
Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand. EXETER
There’s five to one. Besides, they all are fresh. SALISBURY
God’s arm strike with us! ’Tis a fearful odds. 5
God be wi’ you, princes all. I’ll to my charge.
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu. 10 BEDFORD
Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with
thee.
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
For thou art framed of the firm truth of valor. EXETER
Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today. 15 Salisbury exits. BEDFORD
He is as full of valor as of kindness,
Princely in both. Enter the King of England. WESTMORELAND O, that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work today. 20 | At the English camp, we learn that Henry's army is seriously outnumbered. Things are not looking good. Westmoreland says he wishes they had some more soldiers here with them. |
KING HENRY What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin.
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor. 25
God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires. 30
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, ’faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honor
As one man more, methinks, would share from me, 35
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart. His passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse. 40
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand o’ tiptoe when this day is named 45
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors
And say “Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars. 50
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, 55
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son,
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world, 60
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition; 65
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day. | In response, Henry delivers a famous speech. Henry declares that he doesn't want to fight alongside any man who doesn't want to be there with him. He tells his soldiers they can leave if they want to and even offers to give them cab fare for the ride home. To those who chose to stay and fight alongside him, though, Henry says they'll become his "band of brothers" and everyone will remember that they fought with him on St. Crispin's Day. (The Battle of Agincourt was fought on St. Crispin's Day, October 25, 1415.) |
Enter Salisbury. SALISBURY
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed. 70
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us. KING HENRY
All things are ready if our minds be so. WESTMORELAND
Perish the man whose mind is backward now! KING HENRY
Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz? 75 WESTMORELAND
God’s will, my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle! KING HENRY
Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men,
Which likes me better than to wish us one.—
You know your places. God be with you all. 80 Tucket. Enter Montjoy. MONTJOY
Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assurèd overthrow.
For certainly thou art so near the gulf
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, 85
The Constable desires thee thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance, that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields where, wretches, their poor
bodies 90
Must lie and fester. KING HENRY Who hath sent thee now? MONTJOY The Constable of France. | As Henry and his army prepare to fight, Montjoy shows up with a message
from the French Constable, who says he's giving Henry one last chance to
give up. |
KING HENRY
I pray thee bear my former answer back.
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. 95
Good God, why should they mock poor fellows
thus?
The man that once did sell the lion’s skin
While the beast lived was killed with hunting him.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt 100
Find native graves, upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day’s work.
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet 105
them
And draw their honors reeking up to heaven,
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark, then, abounding valor in our English, 110
That being dead, like to the bullet’s crazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable
We are but warriors for the working day; 115
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched
With rainy marching in the painful field.
There’s not a piece of feather in our host—
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly—
And time hath worn us into slovenry. 120
But, by the Mass, our hearts are in the trim,
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night
They’ll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o’er the French soldiers’ heads
And turn them out of service. If they do this, 125
As, if God please, they shall, my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labor.
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald.
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints,
Which, if they have, as I will leave ’em them, 130
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable. MONTJOY
I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well.
Thou never shalt hear herald anymore. KING HENRY I fear thou wilt once more come again
for a ransom. Montjoy exits. 135 Enter York. YORK, kneeling
My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward. KING HENRY
Take it, brave York. York rises.
Now, soldiers, march away,
And how Thou pleasest, God, dispose the day. 140 They exit. | Henry, of course, refuses, and sends Montjoy back to the French camp. |