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Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights.

So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,

There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries;

The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires,

And gentlemen of blood and quality.

The names of those their nobles that lie dead:

Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France;

Jaques of Chatillon, Admiral of France;

The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures;

Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin;

John Duke of Alencon; Antony Duke of Brabant,

The brother to the Duke of Burgundy;

And Edward Duke of Bar. Of lusty earls,

Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix,

Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrake.

Here was a royal fellowship of death!

Where is the number of our English dead?

[HERALD presents another paper]

Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,

Sir Richard Kikely, Davy Gam, Esquire;

None else of name; and of all other men

But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here!

And not to us, but to thy arm alone,

Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem,

But in plain shock and even play of battle,

Was ever known so great and little los

On one part and on th' other? Take it, God,

For it is none but thine.

EXETER.

'Tis wonderful!

KING HENRY.

Come, go we in procession to the village;

And be it death proclaimed through our host

To boast of this or take that praise from God

Which is his only.

FLUELLEN.

Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how many is kill'd?

KING HENRY.

Yes, Captain; but with this acknowledgment,

That God fought for us.

FLUELLEN.

Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.

KING HENRY.

Do we all holy rites:

Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum';

The dead with charity enclos'd in clay-

And then to Calais; and to England then;

Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. Exeunt

ACT V. PROLOGUE.

Enter CHORUS

CHORUS.

Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story

That I may prompt them; and of such as have,

I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse

Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,

Which cannot in their huge and proper life

Be here presented. Now we bear the King

Toward Calais. Grant him there. There seen,

Heave him away upon your winged thoughts

Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach

Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys,

Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea,

Which, like a mighty whiffler, fore the King

Seems to prepare his way. So let him land,

And solemnly see him set on to London.

So swift a pace hath thought that even now

You may imagine him upon Blackheath;

Where that his lords desire him to have borne

His bruised helmet and his bended sword

Before him through the city. He forbids it,

Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;

Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent,

Quite from himself to God. But now behold

In the quick forge and working-house of thought,

How London doth pour out her citizens!

The mayor and all his brethren in best sort-

Like to the senators of th' antique Rome,

With the plebeians swarming at their heels-

Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in;

As, by a lower but loving likelihood,

Were now the General of our gracious Empress-

As in good time he may- from Ireland coming,

Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,

How many would the peaceful city quit

To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause,

Did they this Harry. Now in London place him-

As yet the lamentation of the French

Invites the King of England's stay at home;

The Emperor's coming in behalf of France

To order peace between them; and omit

All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd,

Till Harry's back-return again to France.

There must we bring him; and myself have play'd

The interim, by rememb'ring you 'tis past.

Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance,

After your thoughts, straight back again to France. Exit

SCENE I. France. The English camp

Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER

GOWER.

Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day?