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Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do:
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth;
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. My liege!

K. Hen. My brother Gloster's voice?-Ay;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee :-
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

(Ereunt.

SCENE II.--The French Camp.

Enter Dauphin, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and Others. Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my

lords. Dau. Montez a cheval :-My horse! valet! lacquay! ha! Orl. O brave spirit! Dau. Via !-les eaux et la terreOrl. Rien puis? l'air et le ferDau. Ciel! cousin Orleans.

Enter Constable. Now, my lord Constable !

Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh.

Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their hides; That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And dout them with superfluous courage: Ha!

Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses'

blood ? How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The English are embattled, you French peers.

Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins,
To give each naked curtle-ax a stain,
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport : let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants, -
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm
About our squares of battle,—were enough
To purge this field of such a hilding foe;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by
Took stand for idle speculation :
But that our honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let us do,
And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
The tucket-sonuance, and the note to mount:
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.

Enter GRANDPRE.
Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France ?

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Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
IIl-favour’dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips;
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes;
And in their pale dull mouth the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words,
To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay for

death,
Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh suits,
And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them?

Con. I stay but for my guard; On, to the field : I will the banner from a trumpet take, And use it for my haste. Come, come away! The sun is high, and we outwear the day. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—The English Camp.

Enter the English Host; GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER,

SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND. Glo. Where is the king?

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. West. Of fighting men they have full threescore thou

sand. Exe. There's five to one; besides, they are all fresh.

Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
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 Gloster,—and my good lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman,-warriors all, adieu!
Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go

with thee!
Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day:
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.

[Exit SALISBURY. Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness; Princely in both.

West. O that we now had here

Enter King Henry.
But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That do no work to-day!

K. Hen. 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 honour.
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 : But, if it be a sin to covet honour, 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 honour, As one man more, methinks, would share from me, 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 : We would not die in that man's company, That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call’d—the feast of Crispian : He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He, that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, And say—to morrow is Saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, And say, these wounds I had on Crispian's day. 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 their mouths as household words, Harry, the king, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury, and Gloster,Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd: 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,

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