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Let him cry-Praise and glory on his headi!

K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st For forth he goes, and visits all his host;

cheerfully. Bids them good-morrow with a modest smile,

Enter PISTOL,
And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. Pist. Qui va ?
Upon his royal face there is no note

K. Hen. A friend.
How dread an army hath enrounded him ;

Pist. Discuss unto me; art thou officer? Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

Or art thou base, common, and popular? Unto the weary and all-watched night;

K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint

Pist. Trail`st thou the puissant pike? With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ;

K. Hen, Even so. What are you? That every wretch, pining and pale before,

Pist. As good a gentleman as the emperor. Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks

K. Hen. Then you are a better than the king. A largess universal, like the sun,

Pist. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold, His liberal eye doth give to every one,

A lad of life, an imp of fame; Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all, Of parents good, of fist most valiant: Behold, as may unworthiness define,

I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings A little touch of Harry in the night:

I love the lovely bully. - What's thy name? And so our scene must to the battle fly;

K. Hen. Harry le Roy. Where, (O for pity!) we shall much disgrace Pist. Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of With four or five most vile and ragged foils,

Cornish crew? Right ill dispos’d, in brawl ridiculous,-

K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman. The name of Agincourt. Yet, sit and see;

Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen? Minding true things by what their mockeries be. K. Hen. Yes.

[Exii.

Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate,

Upon Saint David's day. SCENE I.-FRANCE. The English Camp at Agin

K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your

cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.
court.

Pist. Art thou his friend?
Enter KING HENRY, BEDFORD, and GLOSTER.

K. Hen. And his kinsman too. K. Hen. Gloster, 'Tis true that we are in great Pist. The figo for thee, then! danger;

K. Hen. I thank you: God be with you! The greater, therefore, should our courage be.-- Pist. My name is Pistol called.

[Exit. Good morrow, brother Bedford.—God Almighty! K. Hen. It sorts well with your fierceness. There is some soul of goodness in things evil,

[Retires. Would men observingly distil it out;

Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER, scverally. For.our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,

Gow. Captain Fluellen! Which is both healthful, and good husbandry : Flu. So! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak Besides, they are our outward consciences,

lower. It is the greatest admiration in the universal And preachers to us all; admonishing,

'orld, when the true and auncient prerogatises and That we should dress us fairly for our end.

laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take the Thus may we gather honey from the weed,

pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, And make a moral of the devil himself.

you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle

taddle, or pibble pabble, in Pompey's camp; I warEnter ERPINGHAM.

rant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:

and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the A good soft pillow for that good white head

sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherWere better than a churlish turf of France.

wise. Erp. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me

Gow. Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all better,

night. Since I may say, Now lie I like a king.

Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a K. Hen. 'Tis good for men to love their present prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we pains,

should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a Upon example ; so the spirit is eas'd :

prating coxcomb,-in your own conscience now? And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,

Gow. I will speak lower. The organs, though defunct and dead before,

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move

[Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN. With casted slough and fresh legerity.

K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of fashion, Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.--Brothers both,

There is much care and valour in this Welshman. Commend me to the princes in our camp; Do my good morrow to them; and, anon,

Enter Bates, COURT, and WILLIAMS. Desire them all to my pavilion.

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the mornGlo. We shall, my liege.

ing which breaks yonder? [Exeunt GLOSTER and BEDFORD. Bates. I think it be: but we have no great cause Erp. Shall I attend your grace ?

to desire the approach of day. K. Hen.

No, my good knight; Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day,
Go with my brothers to my lords of England: but I think we shall never see the end of it.-Who
I and my bosom must debate a while,
And then I would no other company.

K. Hen. A friend.
Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry! Will. Under what captain serve you?

goes there?

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K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all Will. A good old commander, and a most kind unspotted soldiers: some, peradventure, have on gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our estate? them the guilt of premeditated and contrived mur

K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that der; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken look to be washed off the next tide.

seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulBates. He hath not told his thought to the king? wark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of

K. Hen. No; nor it is not meet he should. For, peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a have defeated the law, and outrun native punishman, as I am: the violet smells to him, as it doth ment, though they can outstrip men, they have no to me; the element shows to him, as it doth to wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, war is me; all his senses have but human conditions: his his vengeance; so that here men are punished, for ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears before-breach of the king's laws, in now the king's but a man; and though his affections are higher quarrel: where they feared the death, they have mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they borne life away; and where they would be safe, stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when lie sees they perish: then, if they die unprovided, no more reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, is the king guilty of their damnation, than he was be of the same relish as ours are: yet, in reason, before guilty of those impieties for the which they no man should possess him with any appearance of are now visited. Every subject's duty is the king's; fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore, army.

should every soldier in the wars do as every sick Bates. He may show what outward courage he man in his bed, -wash every mote out of his conwill; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could science: and dying so, death is to him advantage; wish himself in Thames up to the neck;-and so I or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so such preparation was gained: and in him that we were quit here.

escapes, it were not sin to think, that making God K. Hlen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience so free an offer, he let him outlive that day to see of the king: I think he would not wish himself any his greatness, and to teach others how they should where but where he is.

prepare. Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so İVill

. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many upon his own head, -the king is not to answer it. poor men's lives saved.

Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me; K. llen. I dare say you love him not so ill, to and yet I determine to fight lustily for him. wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this, to K. Hen. I myself heard the king say, he would feel other men's minds: methinks I could not die not be ransomed. any where so contented as in the king's company,- Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable. but when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, Will. That's more than we know.

and we ne'er the wiser. Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his for we know enough, if we know we are the king's word after. subjects: if his cause be wrong, our obedience to Will. You pay him then! That's a perilous shot the king wipes the crime of it out of us.

out of an elder gun, that a poor and a private disWill. But if the cause be not good, the king pleasure can do against a monarch! You may as himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in those legs, and arms, and heads, chopped off in a his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never battle, shall join together at the latter day, and cry trust his word aster! come, 'tis a foolish saying. all-We died at such a place; some swearing; K. Hen. Your reproof is something too round: I some crying for a surgeon; some, upon their wives should be angry with you, if the time were conleft poor behind them; some, upon the debts they venient. owe; some, upon their children rawly left. I am Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. afeard there are few die well, that die in a battle; K. Hon. I embrace it. for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, Will. How shall I know thee again? when blood is their argument? Now, if these men K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and I will do not die well, it will be a black matter for the wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest king that led them to it; whom to disobey were acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel. against all proportion of subjection.

Will. Here's my glove: give me another of thine. K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent K. Hen. There. about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the

Will. This will I also wear in my cap: if ever sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, “This should be imposed upon his father that sent him : is my glove,” by this hand, I will take thee a box or if a servant, under his master's command, trans- on the ear. porting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, K. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may Will. Thou darest as well be hanged. call the business of the master the author of the K. Hen. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in servant's damnation :—but this is not so: the king the king's company. is not bound to answer the particular endings of his Will. Keep thy word: fare thee well. soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends: servant; for they purpose not their death, when we have French quarrels enow, if you could teil they purpose their services. Besides, there is no how to reckon. king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty

French crowns to one, they will beat us; for they Possess them not with fear; take from them now
bear them on their shoulders: but it is no English The sense of reckoning, if th' opposèd numbers
treason to cut French crowns; and to-morrow the Pluck their hearts from them!--Not to-day, O Lord,
king himself will be a clipper. [Exeunt Soldiers. O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
Upon the king!— let us our lives, our souls,

My father made in compassing the crown!
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and I Richard's body have interred new;
Our sins, lay on the king !-we must bear all. And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
O hard condition! twin-born with greatness,

Than from it issu'd forcèd drops of blood:
Subject to the breath of every fool,

Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing! Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built That private men enjoy!

Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests And what have kings, that privates have not too, Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do: Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

Though all that I can do, is nothing worth,
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?

Since that my penitence comes after all.
What kind of god art thou, that suffer’st more Imploring pardon.
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers ?

Enter GLOSTER.
What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!

Glo. My liege!
What is thy soul of adoration?

K. Hen. My brother Gloster's voice!--Ay; Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,

I know thy errand, I will go with thee :Creating awe and fear in other men?

The day, my friends, and all things stay for me. Wherein thou art less happy, being fear’d,

(Exeunt. Than they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,

Scene II. - The French Camp.
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

Enter Dauphin, ORLEANS. RAMEURES, and others. Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out

Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords! With titles blown from adulation?

Dau. Montez à cheval!-- My horse! variet! lacWill it give place to flexure and low bending? [knee, quay! ha! Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's Örl. O brave spirit! Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, Dau. Via!-les eaux et la terre, --That play'st so subtly with a king's repose:

Orl. Rien puis ? l'air et le feu, I am a king, that find thee; and I know

Dau, Ciel! cousin Orleans. 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,

Enter Constable. The inter-tissu'd robe of gold and pearl,

Now, my lord constable ! The farcèd title running 'fore the king,

Con, Hark, how our steeds for present service The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp

neigh! That beats upon the high shore of this world, - Dau, Mount them, and make incision in their No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,

hides, Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,

And dout them with superfluous courage, ha! Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,

Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;

blood? Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;

How shall we, then, behold their natural tears: But, like a lackey, from the rise to set, Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night

Enter a Messenger. Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,

Mess. The English are embattled, you French Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;

peers. And follows so the ever running year

Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to With profitable labour to his grave:

horse! And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Do but behold yon poor and starved band, Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, And your fair show shall suck away their souls, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. The slave, a member of the country's peace,

There is not work enough for all our hands;
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,

Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins,
What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace, To give each naked curtle-ax a stain,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,

And sheathe for lack of sport: let us but blow on
Enter ERPINGHAM.

them,
Erp: My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab. The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
Seek through your camp to find you. [sence, 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
K. Hen.

Good old knight, That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants, – Collect them altogether at my tent:

Who in unnecessary action swarm I'll be before thee.

About our squares of battle, --were enow Erp.

I shall do 't, my lord. [Erit. To purge this field of such a hilding foe; Ki Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' | Though we, upon this mountain's basis by, hearts;

Took stand for idle speculation, —

But that our honours must not. What's to say? God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. A very little little let us do,

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold; And all is done. Then, let the trumpets sound Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; The tucket-sonance, and the note to mount:

It yearns me not if men my garments wear; For our approach shall so much dare the field, Such outward things dwell not in my desires : That England shall couch down in fear, and yield. But, if it be a sin to covet honour,

I am the most offending soul alive. Enter GRANDPRÉ. Grand. Why do you-stay so long, my lords of God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour,

No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: France?

As one man more, methinks, would share from me, Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,

For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one Ill-favour’dly become the morning field:

more! Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, And our air shakes them passing scornfully;

That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,

Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps:

And crowns for convoy put into his purse: The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, [jades We would not die in that man's company, With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor

That fears his fellowship to die with us. Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips,

This day is call'd—the feast of Crispian: The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes,

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, And in their pale-dull mouths the gimmal bit

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless;

And rouse him at the name of Crispian. And their executors, the knavish crows,

He that shall live this day, and see old age, Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, Description cannot suit itself in words,

And say-To-morrow is Saint Crispian: To demonstrate the life of such a battle,

Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, In life so lifeless as it shows itself. Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay

And say- These wounds I had on Crispin's day.

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, for death.

But he 'll remember with advantages Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh

What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, And give their fasting horses provender, [suits,

Familiar in their mouths as household words, And after fight with them?

Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Con. I stay but for my guard: on, to the field!
I will the banner from a trumpet take,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!

This story shall the good man teach his son; The sun is high, and we outwear the day. (Exeunt.

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,
SCENE III.The English Camp.

But we in it shall be remembered,

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
Enter the English host; Gloster, BEDFORD, Exeter,
SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND.

For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Glo. Where is the king?

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle.

This day shall gentle his condition: West. Of fighting men they have full threescore

And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, thousand.

[fresh.

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here; Exe. There's five to one; besides, they all are

And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:

Re-enter SALISBURY. If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,

Sal. My sov’reign lord, bestow yourself with speed: Then, joyfully,-my noble lord of Bedford, The French are bravely in their battles set, My dear lord Gloster,--and my good lord Exeter, - And will with all expedience charge on us. And my kind kinsman,-warriors all, adieu!

K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go West. Perish the man whose mind is backward with thee!

now! Exe. Farewell, kind lord, fight valiantly to-day: K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,

England, coz? For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.

West. God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,

[Exit SALISBURY. Without more help, could fight this royal battle! Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness;

K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thouPrincely in both. West. O that we now had here

Which likes me better than to wish us one. — Enter KING HENRY.

You know your places: God be with you all! But one ten thousand of those men in England,

Tucket. Enter MONTJOY. That do no work to-day!

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king
K. Hen.
What's he that wishes so?

Harry,
My cousin Westmoreland?-No, my fair cousin : If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

Before thy most assured overthrow:
To do our country loss; and if to live,

For certainly thou art so near the gulf, The fe:ver men, the greater share of honour. Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,

sand men;

The Constable desires thee thou wilt mind

Pist. O! signieur Dew should be a gentleman : Thy followers of repentance; that their souls Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark;May make a peaceful and a sweet retire

O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor Except, O signieur, thou do give to me Must lie and fester.

[bodies Egregious ransom. K. Hen.

Who hath sent thee now? Fr. Sol. O, prenez misericorde! ayez pitié de moy! Mont. The Constable of France.

Pist. Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys; K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat, back:

In drops of crimson blood. Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. Fr. Sol, Est il impossible d'eschapper la force de Good God! why should they mock poor fellows ton bras? thus?

Pist. Brass, cur!
The man that once did sell the lion's skin

Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat,
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him. Offer'st me brass?
A many of our bodies shall, no doubt,

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy!
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys!-Shall witness live in brass of this day's work: Come hither, boy: ask me this slave in French And those that leave their valiant bones in France, What is his name. Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, Boy. Escoutez : comment esies vous appelle ? They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer. them,

Boy. He says his name is master Fer. And draw their honours reeking up to heaven; Pist. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, ferret him :- discuss the same in French unto him. The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. Boy. I do not know the French for ter, and ferret, Mark, then, abounding valour in our English; and firk. That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,

Pist. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat. Break out into a second course of mischief,

Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur ? Killing in relapse of mortality.

Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites Let me speak proudly tell the Constable, vous prest; car ce soldat icy est disposé tout à celle We are but warriors for the working-day;

heure de couper vostre gorge. Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd

Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, peasant, With rainy marching in the painful field;

Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; There's not a piece of feather in our host,

Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. (Good argument, I hope, we will not fly,)

Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, And time hath worn us into slovenry:

me pardonner? Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;

maison : gardez ma vie, et je vous donneray deux And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night They'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck

Pist. What are his words? The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads, Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a genAnd turn them out of service. If they do this, - tleman of a good house; and, for his ransom, he As, if God please, they shall, --my ransom then will give you two hundred crowns. Will soon be levied. Herald, save thon thy labour; Pist. Tell him,--my sury shall abate, and I Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald: The crowns will take. They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints, – Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il ? Which, if they have as I will leave 'em them,

Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de parShall yield them little, tell the Constable.

donner aucun prisonnier ; neanimoins, pour les escus Mont. I shall, king Harry: and so, fare thee well: que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit. la liberté, le franchisement. K. Hen. I fear thou 'lt once more come again for Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille re

merciemens ; et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé Enter the DUKE OF YORK.

entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg

valiant, et très distingué seigneur d'Angleterre. The leading of the vaward.

Pist. Expound unto me, boy. K. Hen. Take it, brave York. - Now, soldiers,

Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand march away:

thanks; and he esteems himself happy that he hath And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

fallen into the hands of one (as he thinks) the most [Exeunt.

brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of Eng. land.

Fist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.-SCENE IV.- The Field of Baitle.

Follow me, cur.

[Exii PISTOL. Alarums: Excursions. Enter French Soldier, PISTOL,

Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine. [Exit French and Boy.

Soldier.) I did never know so full à voice issue Pist. Yield, cur!

from so empty a heart : but the saying is true,—The Fr. Sol. Je pense que vous estes le gentilhomme de empty vessel makes the greatest sound. Bardolph bonne qualité.

and Nym had ten times more valour than this roarPist. Quality? Callino, castore me! art thou a ing devil i’ the old play, that every one may pare gentleman?

his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both What is thy name? discuss.

hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal any Fr. Sol. O seigneur Dieu!

thing adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys,

cenis escus.

ransom.

:

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