[_Exeunt Soldiers, R.H._

_K. Hen._ Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls, Our sins, lay on the king!--we must bear all.

O hard condition, twin-born with greatness, Subjected to the breath of every fool.

What infinite heart's ease must king's 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?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

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 throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high sh.o.r.e 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 fill'd and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; And but for ceremony, such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

_Enter ERPINGHAM, R.H._

_Erp._ My lord, your n.o.bles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you.

_K. Hen._ Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent: I'll be before thee.

[_Gives back the Cloak to ERPINGHAM._

_Erp._ I shall do't, my lord. _[Exit, R.H._

_K. Hen._ O G.o.d of battles! steel my soldier's hearts; Possess them not with fear; take from them now The sense of reckoning, lest the opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them!--Not to-day, O Lord, O, not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in compa.s.sing the crown!

I Richard's body have interred new;(C) And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood: Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up Toward heaven, to pardon blood: More will I do--

[_Trumpet sounds without, R._

The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

[_Exit, R.H._

[Footnote IV.1: _----popular_] i.e., one of the people.]

[Footnote IV.2: _----you are a better than the king._] i.e., a better _man_ than the king.]

[Footnote IV.3: _The king's a bawc.o.c.k,_] A burlesque term of endearment, supposed to be derived from _beau coq_.]

[Footnote IV.4: _----an imp of fame;_] An _imp_ is a young shoot, but means a _son_ in Shakespeare. In this sense the word has become obsolete, and is now only understood as a small or inferior devil.

In Holingshed, p. 951, the last words of Lord Cromwell are preserved, who says:-- "----and after him, that his son Prince Edward, that goodly _imp_, may long reign over you."]

[Footnote IV.5: _It sorts_] i.e., it agrees.]

[Footnote IV.6: _----speak lower._] Shakespeare has here, as usual, followed Holinshead: "Order was taken by commandement from the king, after the army was first set in battle array, that _no noise or clamor should be made in the host_."]

[Footnote IV.7: _----conditions:_] i.e., _qualities_. The meaning is, that objects are represented by his senses to him, as to other men by theirs. What is danger to another is danger likewise to him; and, when he feels fear, it is like the fear of meaner mortals.

--JOHNSON.]

[Footnote IV.8: _----his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable._] In his address to the army, King Henry called upon them all to remember _the just cause and quarrel_ for which they fought. --HOLINSHED.]

[Footnote V.9: _----the latter day,_] i.e., the last day, the day of Judgment. Shakespeare frequently uses the _comparative_ for the _superlative_.]

[Footnote V.10: _----their children +rawly+ left._] i.e., _left young and helpless_.]

[Footnote IV.11: _----too +round+:_] i.e., too rough, too unceremonious.]

SCENE II.--THE FRENCH CAMP--SUNRISE.

_Flourish of trumpets._

_Enter DAUPHIN, GRANDPRe, RAMBURES,[12] and Others._

_Dau._ The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!

My horse! _varlet! lacquay!_ ha!

[_Servants exeunt hastily._

_Grand._ O brave spirit!

_Dau._ Cousin Orleans.--

_Enter CONSTABLE, L.H._

Now, my lord Constable!

_Con._ Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!

_Dau._ Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And dout them[13] with superfluous courage, Ha!

_Con._ What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?

How shall we, then, behold their natural tears?

_Enter MONTJOY, R.H._

_Mont._ The English are embattled, you French peers.

[_Exit R.H._

_Con._ To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!

Do but behold yon poor and starved band.

There is not work enough for all our hands; Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins, To give each naked curtle-ax a stain.

'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, That our superfluous lackeys, are enough To purge this field of such a hilding foe.[14]

A very little little let us do, And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.

_Enter ORLEANS,(D) hastily, R.H._

_Orl._ Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?