Enter CHORUS.

Chorus	Now entertain conjecture of a time
	When creeping murmur and the poring dark
	Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
	From camp to camp through the foul womb of night
	The hum of either army stilly sounds,
	That the fixed sentinels almost receive
	The secret whispers of each other's watch.
	Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
	Each battle sees the other's umbered face.
	Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
	Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents
	The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
	With busy hammers closing rivets up,
	Give dreadful note of preparation.
	The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
	And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
	Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
	The confident and overlusty French
	Do the low-rated English play at dice,
	And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
	Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp
	So tediously away. The poor condemnd English,
	Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
	Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
	The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
	Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats,
	Presenteth them unto the gazing moon
	So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold
	The royal captain of this ruined band
	Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
	Let him cry "Praise and glory on his head!"
	For forth he goes and visits all his host,
	Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,
	And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.
	Upon his royal face there is no note
	How dread an army hath enrounded him;
	Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
	Unto the weary and all-watchd night;
	But freshly looks, and overbears attaint
	With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty,
	That every wretch, pining and pale before,
	Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks.
	A largess universal, like the sun,
	His liberal eye doth give to everyone,
	Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all
	Behold, as may unworthiness define,
	A little touch of Harry in the night.
	And so our scene must to the battle fly;
	Where - O for pity! - we shall much disgrace,
	With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
	Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous,
	The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see;
	Minding true things by what their mock'ries be.
													[Exit.

The English Camp at Agincourt.
 Enter KING HENRY, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER.

King Henry	Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
	The greater therefore should our courage be.
	Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
	There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
	Would men observingly distil it out;
	For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
	Which is both healthful and good husbandry.
	Besides, they are our outward consciences,
	And preachers to us all, admonishing
	That we should dress us fairly for our end.
	Thus we may gather honey from the weed,
	And make a moral of the devil himself.

                             Enter ERPINGHAM.

	Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham.
	A good soft pillow for that good white head
	Were better than a churlish turf of France.

Erpingham	Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better,
	Since I may say "Now lie I like a king".

King Henry	'Tis good for men to love their present pains
	Upon example: so the spirit is eased;
	And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt
	The organs, though defunct and dead before,
	Break up their drowsy grave and newly move
	With casted slough and fresh legerity.
	Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,
	Commend me to the princes in our camp.
	Do my good morrow to them, and anon
	Desire them all to my pavilion.

Gloucester	We shall, my liege.

Erpingham	Shall I attend your grace?

King Henry								No, my good knight;
	Go with my brothers to my lords of England.
	I and my bosom must debate awhile,
	And then I would no other company.

Erpingham	The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
											[Exeunt all but the KING,
									 who puts on Erpingham's cloak.

King Henry	God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak'st cheerfully.

                              Enter PISTOL.

Pistol	Qui va l?

King Henry	A friend.

Pistol	Discuss unto me: Art thou officer,
	Or art thou base, common, and popular?

King Henry	I am a gentleman of a company.

Pistol	Trail'st thou the puissant pike?

King Henry	Even so. What are you?

Pistol	As good a gentleman as the emperor.

King Henry	Then you are a better than the king.

Pistol	The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold,
	A lad of life, an imp of fame;
	Of parents good, of fist most valiant.
	I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string
	I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?

King Henry	Harry le Roy.

Pistol	Le Roy? - a Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?

King Henry	No, I am a Welshman.

Pistol	Know'st thou Fluellen?

King Henry	Yes.

Pistol	Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate
	Upon Saint Davy's day.

King Henry	Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he 
	knock that about yours.

Pistol	Art thou his friend?

King Henry	And his kinsman too.

Pistol	The figo for thee, then!

King Henry	I thank you. God be with you!

Pistol	My name is Pistol called.
													[Exit.
King Henry	It sorts well with your fierceness.
													[HENRY stands aside.
                        Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER.

Gower	Captain Fluellen!

Fluellen	So! In the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the 
	greatest admiration in the universal world when the true 
	and ancient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept. 
	If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of 
	Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that 
	there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompey's 
	camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the 
	wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the 
	sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.

Gower	Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.

Fluellen	If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, 
	is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be 
	an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? In your own 
	conscience now?

Gower	I will speak lower.

Fluellen	I pray you and beseech you that you will.
										 [Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN.

King Henry	Though it appear a little out of fashion,
	There is much care and valour in this Welshman.

 Enter three soldiers: John BATES, Alexander COURT, and Michael WILLIAMS.

Court	Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks 
	yonder?

Bates	I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the 
	approach of day.

Williams	We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we 
	shall never see the end of it. Who goes there?

King Henry	[Advancing.] A friend.

Williams	Under what captain serve you?

King Henry	Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

Williams	A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray 
	you, what thinks he of our estate?

King Henry	Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed 
	off the next tide.

Bates	He hath not told his thought to the king?

King Henry	No; nor it is not meet he should; for though I speak it to 
	you, I think the king is but a man, as I am - the violet 
	smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him 
	as it doth to me; all his senses have but human 
	conditions: his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he 
	appears but a man; and though his affections are higher 
	mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with 
	the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as 
	we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as 
	ours are. Yet, in reason, no man should possess him with 
	any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should 
	dishearten his army.

Bates	He may show what outward courage he will, but I believe, 
	as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames 
	up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at 
	all adventures, so we were quit here.

King Henry	By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king: I 
	think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.

Bates	Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to 
	be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.

King Henry	I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, 
	howsoever you speak this to feel other's men minds. 
	Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the 
	king's company, his cause being just and his quarrel 
	honourable.

Williams	That's more than we know.

Bates	Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough 
	if we know we are the king's subjects. If his cause be 
	wrong, our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out 
	of us.

Williams	But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a 
	heavy reckoning to make when all those legs and arms and 
	heads chopped off in a battle shall join together at the 
	latter day, and cry all "We died at such a place"; some 
	swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives 
	left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some 
	upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few 
	die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably 
	dispose of anything when blood is their argument? Now, if 
	these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for 
	the king that led them to it, who to disobey were against 
	all proportion of subjection.

King Henry	So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise 
	do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his 
	wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his 
	father that sent him. Or if a servant, under his master's 
	command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by 
	robbers, and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may 
	call the business of the master the author of the 
	servant's damnation. But this is not so. The king is not 
	bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, 
	the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for 
	they purpose not their death when they purpose their 
	services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so 
	spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try 
	it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, 
	have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived 
	murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals 
	of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have 
	before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and 
	robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and 
	outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, 
	they have no wings to fly from God. War is His beadle, war 
	is His vengeance; so that here men are punished for 
	before-breach of the king's laws, in now the king's 
	quarrel. Where they feared the death they have borne life 
	away, and where they would be safe they perish. Then if 
	they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of their 
	damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for 
	the which they are now visited. Every subject's duty is 
	the king's, but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore 
	should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in 
	his bed - wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying 
	so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was 
	blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained. And in 
	him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making 
	God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see 
	His greatness and to teach others how they should prepare.

Williams	'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his 
	own head: the king is not to answer it.

Bates	I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I 
	determine to fight lustily for him.

King Henry	I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.

Williams	Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our 
	throats are cut he may be ransomed, and we ne'er the 
	wiser.

King Henry	If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.

Williams	You pay him then! That's a perilous shot out of an elder-
	gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against 
	a monarch. You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice 
	with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll 
	never trust his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish saying.

King Henry	Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry 
	with you if the time were convenient.

Williams	Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.

King Henry	I embrace it.

Williams	How shall I know thee again?

King Henry	Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my 
	bonnet; then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will 
	make it my quarrel.

Williams	Here's my glove. Give me another of thine.

King Henry	There.

Williams	This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me 
	and say after tomorrow "This is my glove", by this hand, I 
	will take thee a box on the ear.

King Henry	If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

Williams	Thou dar'st as well be hanged.

King Henry	Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the king's 
	company.

Williams	Keep thy word. Fare thee well.

Bates	Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French 
	quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

King Henry	Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one 
	they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders. 
	But it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and 
	tomorrow the king himself will be a clipper.
													[Exeunt SOLDIERS.
	Upon the king! Let us our lives, our souls,
	Our debts, our careful wives,
	Our children, and our sins, lay on the king!
	We must bear all. O hard condition,
	Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
	Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
	But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease
	Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!
	And what have kings that privates have not too,
	Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
	And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
	What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
	Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
	What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in?
	O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
	What is thy soul of adoration?
	Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
	Creating awe and fear in other men?
	Wherein thou art less happy, being feared,
	Than they in fearing.
	What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
	But poisoned flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
	And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
	Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
	With titles blown from adulation?
	Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
	Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
	Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
	That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
	I am a king that find thee, and I know
	'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
	The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
	The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
	The farcd title running 'fore the king,
	The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
	That beats upon the high shore of this world;
	No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
	Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
	Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
	Who, with a body filled and vacant mind,
	Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread;
	Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
	But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
	Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
	Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,
	Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
	And follows so the ever-running year
	With profitable labour to his grave.
	And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
	Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
	Had the forehand and vantage of a king.
	The slave, a member of the country's peace,
	Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots
	What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
	Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

                             Enter ERPINGHAM.

Erpingham	My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,
	Seek through your camp to find you.

King Henry										Good old knight,
	Collect them all together at my tent.
	I'll be before thee.

Erpingham							I shall do't, my lord.
													[Exit.
King Henry	O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts!
	Possess them not with fear; take from them now
	The sense of reckoning of th' opposd numbers;
	Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord,
	O not today, think not upon the fault
	My father made in compassing the crown!
	I Richard's body have interrd new,
	And on it have bestowed more contrite tears
	Than from it issued forcd drops of blood.
	Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
	Who twice a day their withered hands hold up
	Toward heaven to pardon blood; and I have built
	Two chantries where the sad and solemn priests
	Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
	Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
	Since that my penitence comes after all,
	Imploring pardon.

                            Enter GLOUCESTER.

Gloucester	My liege!

King Henry	My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay;
	I know thy errand, I will go with thee.
	The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
													[Exeunt.
