Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him. Discuss the same in French unto him.

BOY. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.

PIST. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.

FR. SOL. Que dit-il, monsieur?

BOY. Il me commande à vous dire que vous faites vous prêt; car ce soldat ici est disposé tout [à cette heure] de couper votre gorge.

PIST.

Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy,

Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;

Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

FR. SOL. O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison; gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus.

PIST. What are his words?

BOY. He prays you to save his life. He is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.

PIST.

Tell him my fury shall abate, and I

The crowns will take.

FR. SOL. Petit monsieur, quo dit-il?

BOY. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier; néanmoins, pour les écus que vous [lui] promettez, il est content à vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

FR. SOL. Sur mes genoux [je] vous donne mille [remercîments]; et je m'estime heureux que je tombe entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et très [distingué] seigneur d'Angleterre.

PIST. Expound unto me, boy.

BOY. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks, and he esteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one (as he thinks) the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seigneur of England.

PIST. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me!

BOY. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [Exeunt Pistol and French Soldier.] I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but the saying is true, »The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.« Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valor than this roaring devil i' th' old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger, and they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys.

 

Exit.

 

 

[Scene V]

Enter Constable, Orleance, Bourbon, Dolphin, and Rambures.

 

CON.

O diable!

ORL.

O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!

DOL.

Mort Dieu, ma vie! all is confounded, all!

Reproach and everlasting shame

Sits mocking in our plumes.

 

A short alarum.

 

O méchante fortune!

Do not run away.

CON.

Why, all our ranks are broke.

DOL.

O perdurable shame! let's stab ourselves.

Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?

ORL.

Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?

BOUR.

Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame!

Let us die! In once more! back again!

And he that will not follow Bourbon now,

Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand

Like a base pander hold the chamber-door

Whilst [by a] slave, no gentler than my dog,

His fairest daughter is contaminated.

CON.

Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!

Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

ORL.

We are enow yet living in the field

To smother up the English in our throngs,

If any order might be thought upon.

BOUR.

The devil take order now! I'll to the throng:

Let life be short, else shame will be too long.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

[Scene VI]

Alarum. Enter the King and his Train with prisoners; [Exeter and others].

 

K. HEN.

Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen,

But all's not done – yet keep the French the field.

EXE.

The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.

K. HEN.

Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour

I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting;

From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

EXE.

In which array (brave soldier!) doth he lie,

Larding the plain; and by his bloody side

(Yoke-fellow to his honor-owing wounds)

The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.

Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over,

Comes to him where in gore he lay insteeped,

And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes

That bloodily did yawn upon his face.

He cries aloud, »Tarry, my cousin Suffolk!

My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;

Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,

As in this glorious and well-foughten field

We kept together in our chivalry!«

Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up.

He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,

And with a feeble gripe, says, »Dear my lord,

Commend my service to my sovereign.«

So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips,

And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd

A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd

Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd,

But I had not so much of man in me,

And all my mother came into mine eyes

And gave me up to tears.