From camp to camp, through the foul womb of

night,

The hum of either army ftilly founds;

That the fixt Sentinels almoft receive

The fecret whispers of each other's watch.
Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battle fees the other's umber'd face.
Steed threatens fteed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers accomplishing the knights,
With bufy hammers clofing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll;
And (the third hour of droufy morning nam'd)
Proud of their numbers and fecure in foul,
The confident and over lufty French

Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gated night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp
So tedioufly away. The poor condemned English,
Like facrifices, by their watchful fires

Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture fad,
Inveft in lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats,
Prefented them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghofts. Who now beholds
The royal captain of this ruin'd band

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry, Praife and glory on his head!

the other's umber'd face.] Umber'd or umbred, is a term in blazonry, and fignifies fhadowed. WARBURTON. 5 Do the low rated English play at dice ;] i. e. do play them away at dice. WARBURTON.

6 INVESTING lank lean checks, &c.] A gefture investing checks

and coats is nonfenfe. We fhould read,

INVEST IN lank-lean checks. which is fenfe, i. e. their fad gefture was cloath'd, or fet off, in lean-cheeks and worn coats. The image is ftrong and pictu refque. WARBURTON.

For

For forth he goes and vifits all his hoft,

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-watched night,
But freshly looks and over-bears attaint,
With chearful semblance and sweet majesty;
That ev'ry wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks.
A largess univerfal, like the fun,

His lib'ral eye doth give to ev'ry one,
Thawing cold fear. Then, 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 fhall much difgrace,
With four or five moft vile and ragged foils,
Right ill difpos'd, in brawl ridiculous,
The name of Agincourt. Yet fit and fee,
*Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. [Exit.

The English Camp, at Agincourt,

Enter King Henry and Gloucester.

Lofter, 'tis true, "that we are in great

K. Henry. Ganger;

Fear; that mean and

gentle all Behold, (as may, &c.] As this ftood, it was a moft perplex'd and nonfenfical Paffage: and could not be intelligible, but as I have corrected it. The Poet, then addreffing himself to every Degree of his Audience, tells VOL. IV.

them; he'll fhew (as well as his unworthy Pen and Powers can defcribe it) a little Touch, or Sketch of this Hero in the Night.

THEOBALD. Minding true things.] To mind is the fame as to call to remembrance.

Ff

The

The greater therefore fhould our courage be.

Enter Bedford.

-Good morrow, brother Bedford.-God Almighty!
There is fome foul of goodness in things evil,
Would men obfervingly diftil it out;

For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry.
Befides, they are our outward confciences,
And preachers to us all; admonishing,
That we fhould drefs us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
And make a moral of the devil himself.

Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham,
A good foft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlifh turf of France.
Erping. Not fo, my Liege; this lodging likes me
better;

Since I may fay, now lie I like a King:

K. Henry. 'Tis good for men to love their prefent pain Upon example; so the spirit is eased,

And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move
With cafted flough 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
Defire them all to my pavilion.

Glou. We fhall, my Liege.

Erping. Shall I attend your grace?

K. Henry. No, my good knight,

Go with my brothers to my lords of England.

8 Slough is the fkin which the ferpent annually throws off, and by the change of which he is

fuppofed to regain new vigour and fresh youth. Legerity is light nefs, nimblenefs.

I and my bofom muft debate a while,

And then I would no other company.

Erping. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!

K. Henry. God-a-mercy, old heart, thou fpeak'st chearfully.

[Exeunt.

Pift. Difcufs unto me, art thou officer? Or art thou base, common and popular? K. Henry. I am a gentleman of a company. Pift. Trail'ft thou the puiffant pike? K. Henry. Even fo. What are you? Pift. As good a gentleman as the Emperor. K. Henry. Then you are a better than the King. Pift The King's a bawcock, and a heart of gold, A lad of life, an imp of fame,

Of parents good, of fift most valiant;

I kifs his dirty fhoe, and from my heart-string
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name?
K. Henry. Harry le Roy..

Pift. Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish

crew?

K. Henry. No, I am a Welshman.

Pift. Know'st thou Fluellen?

K. Henry. Yes.

Pift. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate, Upon St. David's day.

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

Pift. Art thou his friend?

K. Henry. And his kinfman too.

Pift. The Figo for thee then!

Ff2

K. Henry.

K. Henry. I thank you. God be with you.
Pift. My name is Pistol call'd.

K. Henry. It forts well with your fierceness.

[Exit.

[Manet King Henry,

Enter Fluellen, and Gower, feverally.

Gow. Captain Fluellen.

Flu. So, in the name of Jefu Christ, speak fewer; it is the greatest admiration in the univerfal world, when the true and auncient 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 tittle tattle, 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 fobrieties of it, and the modesty of it to be otherwise.

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

Flu. If the enemy is an afs and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an afs and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, in your own confcience now?

Gow. I will speak lower.

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.

[Exeunt. K. 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.