Then, joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford,- 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, K. Hen. What's he, that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland?—No, my fair cousin: If we are mark'd to die, we are enough To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost; 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, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day: Then shall our names, We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here; And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon saint Crispin's day. Enter SALISBURY. Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: The French are bravely in their battles set, K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. now! K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin? West. God's will, my liege, 'would you and I alone, Without more help, might fight this battle out! K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thou sand men; Which likes me better, than to wish us one.- Tucket. Enter MONTJOY. Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king Harry, If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assured overthrow: For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf, Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, 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 Must lie and fester. K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now? Mont. The Constable of France. K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back; Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man, that once did sell the lion's skin While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him. A many of our bodies shall, no doubt, And draw their honours reeking up to heaven; Let me speak proudly;-Tell the Constable We are but warriors for the working day: But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim: Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well: Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit. K. Hen. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for ransom. Enter the Duke of YORK. York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward. K. Hen. Take it, brave York.-Now, soldiers, march away: : And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! VOL. VII. 2 F [Exeunt. |