Here 'a comes, and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.

FLU. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchiant wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.

JAMY. I say gud day, Captain Fluellen.

FLU. God-den to your worship, good Captain James.

GOW. How now, Captain Macmorris, have you quit the mines? Have the pioners given o'er?

MAC. By Chrish law, 'tish ill done! The work ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me law, in an hour! O, 'tish ill done, 'tish ill done; by my hand 'tish ill done!

FLU. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind: as touching the direction of the military discipline, that is the point.

JAMY. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captens bath, and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, mary.

MAC. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the Dukes; it is no time to discourse. The town is beseech'd, and the trumpet call us to the breach, and we talk, and be Chrish, do nothing. 'Tis shame for us all. So God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still, it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa' me law!

JAMY. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, ay'll de gud service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it; ay, or go to death; and I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Mary, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway.

FLU. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation –

MAC. Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a basterd, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?

FLU. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.

MAC. I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.

GOW. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

JAMY. A! that's a foul fault. A parley [sounded].

GOW. The town sounds a parley.

FLU. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

[Scene III]

[Enter some Citizens on the walls.] Enter the King and all his Train before the gates.

 

K. HEN.

How yet resolves the governor of the town?

This is the latest parle we will admit;

Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves,

Or like to men proud of destruction,

Defy us to our worst; for as I am a soldier,

A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,

If I begin the batt'ry once again,

I will not leave the half-achieved Harflew

Till in her ashes she lies buried.

The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,

And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,

In liberty of bloody hand, shall range,

With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass

Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants.

What is it then to me, if impious War,

Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends,

Do with his smirch'd complexion all fell feats

Enlink'd to waste and desolation?

What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,

If your pure maidens fall into the hand

Of hot and forcing violation?

What rein can hold licentious wickedness

When down the hill he holds his fierce career?

We may as bootless spend our vain command

Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil,

As send precepts to the leviathan

To come ashore.