Part 20

Pist. Expound vnto me boy

Boy. He giues you vpon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteemes himselfe happy, that he hath falne into the hands of one (as he thinkes) the most braue, valorous and thrice-worthy signeur of England

Pist. As I sucke blood, I will some mercy shew. Follow mee

Boy. Saaue vous le grand Capitaine? I did neuer know so full a voyce issue from so emptie a heart: but the saying is true, The empty vessel makes the greatest sound, Bardolfe and Nym had tenne times more valour, then this roaring diuell i'th olde play, that euerie one may payre his nayles with a woodden dagger, and they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if hee durst steale any thing aduenturously. I must stay with the Lackies with the luggage of our camp, the French might haue a good pray of vs, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boyes. Enter.

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

Con. O Diable

Orl. O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie

Dol. Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all, Reproach, and euerlasting shame Sits mocking in our Plumes.

A short Alarum.

O meschante Fortune, do not runne away

Con. Why all our rankes are broke

Dol. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selues: Be these the wretches that we plaid at dice for? Orl. Is this the King we sent too, for his ransome? Bur. Shame, and eternall shame, nothing but shame, Let vs dye in once more backe againe, And he that will not follow Burbon now, Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand Like a base Pander hold the Chamber doore, Whilst a base slaue, no gentler then my dogge, His fairest daughter is contaminated

Con. Disorder that hath spoyl'd vs, friend vs now, Let vs on heapes go offer vp our liues

Orl. We are enow yet liuing in the Field, To smother vp the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought vpon

Bur. The diuell take Order now, Ile to the throng; Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Enter.

Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne, with Prisoners.

King. Well haue we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen, But all's not done, yet keepe the French the field

Exe. The D. of York commends him to your Maiesty King. Liues he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre I saw him downe; thrice vp againe, and fighting, From Helmet to the spurre, all blood he was

Exe. In which array (braue Soldier) doth he lye, Larding the plaine: and by his bloody side, (Yoake-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds) The Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes. Suffolke first dyed, and Yorke all hagled ouer Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawne vpon his face. He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cosin Suffolke, My soule shall thine keepe company to heauen: Tarry (sweet soule) for mine, then flye a-brest: As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our Chiualrie. Vpon these words I came, and cheer'd him vp, He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, And with a feeble gripe, sayes: Deere my Lord, Commend my seruice to my Soueraigne, So did he turne, and ouer Suffolkes necke He threw his wounded arme, and kist his lippes, And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A Testament of Noble-ending-loue: The prettie and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me, which I would haue stop'd, But I had not so much of man in mee, And all my mother came into mine eyes, And gaue me vp to teares

King. I blame you not, For hearing this, I must perforce compound With mixtfull eyes, or they will issue to.

Alarum

But hearke, what new alarum is this same? The French haue re-enforc'd their scatter'd men: Then euery souldiour kill his Prisoners, Giue the word through.

Exit

Actus Quartus.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expressely against the Law of Armes, tis as arrant a peece of knauery marke you now, as can bee offert in your Conscience now, is it not? Gow. Tis certaine, there's not a boy left aliue, and the Cowardly Rascalls that ranne from the battaile ha' done this slaughter: besides they haue burned and carried away all that was in the Kings Tent, wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd euery soldiour to cut his prisoners throat. O 'tis a gallant King

Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmouth Captaine Gower: What call you the Townes name where Alexander the pig was borne? Gow. Alexander the Great

Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, saue the phrase is a litle variations