That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not;For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot!
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry, “God for Harry! England and Saint George!”
[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.]
SCENE II.
The same.
[Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.]
BARDOLPH.
On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach!
NYM. Pray thee, corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too hot; that is the very plainsong of it.
PISTOL.
The plainsong is most just, for humours do abound.
“Knocks go and come; God’s vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.”
BOY. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
PISTOL.
And I.
“If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie.”
BOY.
“As duly, but not as truly,
As bird doth sing on bough.”
[Enter Fluellen.]
FLUELLEN.
Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions!
[Driving them forward.]
PISTOL.
Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould.
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage,
Abate thy rage, great Duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!
NYM.
These be good humours! Your honour wins bad humours.
[Exeunt [all but Boy.]
BOY. As young as I am, I have observ’d these three swashers. I am boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver’d and red-fac’d; by the means whereof ‘a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof ‘a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest ‘a should be thought a coward. But his few bad words are match’d with as few good deeds; for ‘a never broke any man’s head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel. I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers; which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another’s pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.
[Exit.]
[Enter Gower [and Fluellen.]
GOWER.
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines.
The Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
FLUELLEN. To the mines! Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, the athversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself four yard under the countermines. By Cheshu, I think ‘a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.
GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’ faith.
FLUELLEN.
It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?
GOWER.
I think it be.
FLUELLEN. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
[Enter Macmorris and Captain Jamy.]
GOWER.
Here ‘a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.
FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition and knowledge in the aunchient 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.
FLUELLEN.
God-den to your worship, good Captain James.
GOWER.
How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the mines?
Have the pioneers given o’er?
MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la! ‘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, la! in an hour. O, ‘tish ill done, ‘tish ill done; by my hand, ‘tish ill done!
FLUELLEN. 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
