William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (280 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
5.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ALICE
De nails
, madame.
De nails
, madame.
CATHERINE
De nails
,
de arma, de ilbow
—
De nails
,
de arma, de ilbow
—
ALICE Sauf votre honneur, d’elbow.
CATHERINE Ainsi dis-je.
D’elbow
,
de nick
, et
de sin
. Comment appelez-vous les pieds et la robe?
D’elbow
,
de nick
, et
de sin
. Comment appelez-vous les pieds et la robe?
ALICE
De foot
, madame, et
de cown
.
De foot
, madame, et
de cown
.
CATHERINE
De foot
et
de cown?
O Seigneur Dieu! Ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d‘honneur d’user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh!
De foot
et
de cown!
Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble.
D‘hand, de fingre, de nails
,
d’arma
,
d’elbow
,
de nick
,
de sin
,
de foot
,
de cown
.
De foot
et
de cown?
O Seigneur Dieu! Ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d‘honneur d’user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh!
De foot
et
de cown!
Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble.
D‘hand, de fingre, de nails
,
d’arma
,
d’elbow
,
de nick
,
de sin
,
de foot
,
de cown
.
ALICE Excellent, madame!
CATHERINE C’est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous à diner.
Exeunt
3.5Enter King Charles the Sixth of France, the Dauphin, the Constable, the Duke of
⌈
Bourbon
⌉,
and others
KING CHARLES
‘Tis certain he hath passed the River Somme.
CONSTABLE
And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France; let us quit all
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
Let us not live in France; let us quit all
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
DAUPHIN
O Dieu vivant!
Shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers’ luxury,
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds
And over-look their grafters?
Shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers’ luxury,
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds
And over-look their grafters?
⌈BOURBON⌉
Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!
Mort de ma vie
, if they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom
To buy a slobb’ry and a dirty farm
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
Mort de ma vie
, if they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom
To buy a slobb’ry and a dirty farm
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
CONSTABLE
Dieu de batailles!
Where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull,
On whom as in despite the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-reined jades—their barley-broth—
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O for honour of our land
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon our houses’ thatch, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields—
‘Poor’ may we call them, in their native lords.
Where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull,
On whom as in despite the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-reined jades—their barley-broth—
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O for honour of our land
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon our houses’ thatch, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields—
‘Poor’ may we call them, in their native lords.
DAUPHIN By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us and plainly say
Our mettle is bred out, and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new-store France with bastard warriors.
Our mettle is bred out, and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new-store France with bastard warriors.
⌈BOURBON⌉
They bid us, ‘To the English dancing-schools,
And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos’—
Saying our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.
And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos’—
Saying our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.
KING CHARLES
Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence.
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
Up, princes, and with spirit of honour edged
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field.
Charles Delabret, High Constable of France,
You Dukes of Orléans, Bourbon, and of Berri,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy,
Jaques Châtillion, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconbridge,
Foix, Lestrelles, Boucicault, and Charolais,
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
For your great seats now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur;
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon.
Go down upon him, you have power enough,
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner.
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
Up, princes, and with spirit of honour edged
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field.
Charles Delabret, High Constable of France,
You Dukes of Orléans, Bourbon, and of Berri,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy,
Jaques Châtillion, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconbridge,
Foix, Lestrelles, Boucicault, and Charolais,
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
For your great seats now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur;
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon.
Go down upon him, you have power enough,
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner.
CONSTABLE This becomes the great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick and famished in their march,
For I am sure when he shall see our army
He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear
And, fore achievement, offer us his ransom.
His soldiers sick and famished in their march,
For I am sure when he shall see our army
He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear
And, fore achievement, offer us his ransom.
KING CHARLES
Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy,
And let him say to England that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.—
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
And let him say to England that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.—
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
DAUPHIN
Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
KING CHARLES
Be patient, for you shall remain with us.—
Now forth, Lord Constable, and princes all,
And quickly bring us word of England’s fall.
Now forth, Lord Constable, and princes all,
And quickly bring us word of England’s fall.
Exeunt severally
3.6Enter Captains Gower and Fluellen, meeting
GOWER How now, Captain Fluellen, come you from the bridge?
FLUELLEN I assure you there is very excellent services committed at the bridge.
GOWER Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
FLUELLEN The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon, and a man that I love and honour with my soul and my heart and my duty and my live and my living and my uttermost power. He is not, God be praised and blessed, any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an ensign lieutenant there at the pridge, I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony, and he is a man of no estimation in the world, but I did see him do as gallant service.
GOWER What do you call him?
FLUELLEN He is called Ensign Pistol.
GOWER I know him not.
Enter Ensign Pistol
FLUELLEN Here is the man.
PISTOL
Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours.
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
FLUELLEN Ay, I praise God, and I have merited some love at his hands.
PISTOL
Bardolph, a soldier firm and sound of heart,
Of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate
And giddy Fortune’s furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind that stands upon the rolling
Of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate
And giddy Fortune’s furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind that stands upon the rolling
restless stone—
FLUELLEN By your patience, Ensign Pistol: Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind. And she is painted also with a wheel, to signify to you—which is the moral of it—that she is turning and inconstant and mutability and variation. And her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls and rolls and rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description of it; Fortune is an excellent moral.
PISTOL
Fortune is Bardolph’s foe and frowns on him,
For he hath stol’n a pax, and hangèd must a be.
A damned death—
Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate.
But Exeter hath given the doom of death
For pax of little price.
Therefore go speak, the Duke will hear thy voice,
And let not Bardolph’s vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach.
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
For he hath stol’n a pax, and hangèd must a be.
A damned death—
Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate.
But Exeter hath given the doom of death
For pax of little price.
Therefore go speak, the Duke will hear thy voice,
And let not Bardolph’s vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach.
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
FLUELLEN Ensign Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
PISTOL Why then rejoice therefor.
FLUELLEN Certainly, ensign, it is not a thing to rejoice at. For if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to use his good pleasure, and put him to executions. For discipline ought to be used.
PISTOL
Die and be damned! and
fico
for thy friendship.
fico
for thy friendship.
FLUELLEN It is Well.
PISTOL The fig of Spain.
FLUELLEN Very good.
PISTOL
I say the fig within thy bowels and thy dirty maw.
Exit
FLUELLEN Captain Gower, cannot you hear it lighten and thunder?
GOWER Why, is this the ensign you told me of? I remember him now. A bawd, a cutpurse.
FLUELLEN I’ll assure you, a uttered as prave words at the pridge as you shall see in a summer’s day. But it is very well. What he has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve.
GOWER Why ’tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders’ names, and they will learn you by rote where services were done—at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy, who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on—and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths. And what a beard of the General’s cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits is wonderful to be thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.
FLUELLEN I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is. If I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind.
Hark you, the King is coming, and I must speak with him from the pridge.
God pless your majesty.
A drum is heard
Enter King Harry and his poor soldiers, with drum and colours
KING HARRY
How now, Fluellen, com’st thou from the bridge?
FLUELLEN Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge. The French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most prave passages. Marry, th’athversary was have possession of the pridge, but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I can tell your majesty, the Duke is a prave man.
KING HARRY What men have you lost, Fluellen?
FLUELLEN The perdition of th’athversary hath been very great, reasonable great. Marry, for my part I think the Duke hath lost never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man. His face is all bubuncles and whelks and knobs and flames o’ fire, and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes red. But his nose is executed, and his fire’s out.
KING HARRY We would have all such offenders so cut off, and we here give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language. For when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket. Enter Montjoy
Tucket. Enter Montjoy
MONTJOY You know me by my habit.
KING HARRY
Well then, I know thee. What shall I know of thee?
MONTJOY
My master’s mind.
KING HARRY Unfold it.
MONTJOY Thus says my King: ‘Say thou to Harry of England, though we seemed dead, we did but sleep. Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him, we could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial. England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested—which in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for th’ffusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance, and tell him for conclusion he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced.’ So far my King and master; so much my office.
KING HARRY
What is thy name? I know thy quality.
MONTJOY Montjoy.
KING HARRY
Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back
And tell thy king I do not seek him now,
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment, for to say the sooth—
Though ’tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage—
My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
My numbers lessened, and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French;
Who when they were in health—I tell thee herald,
I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus. This your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me. I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk,
My army but a weak and sickly guard.
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself and such another neighbour
Stand in our way. There’s for thy labour, Montjoy.
Go bid thy master well advise himself.
If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour. And so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle as we are,
Nor as we are we say we will not shun it.
So tell your master.
And tell thy king I do not seek him now,
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment, for to say the sooth—
Though ’tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage—
My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
My numbers lessened, and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French;
Who when they were in health—I tell thee herald,
I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus. This your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me. I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk,
My army but a weak and sickly guard.
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself and such another neighbour
Stand in our way. There’s for thy labour, Montjoy.
Go bid thy master well advise himself.
If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour. And so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle as we are,
Nor as we are we say we will not shun it.
So tell your master.
Other books
Carnival at Candlelight by Mary Pope Osborne
The Returning by Ann Tatlock
Separation by Stylo Fantôme
You Can't Escape by Nancy Bush
The Princess and the Hound by Mette Ivie Harrison
Fire Season by Jon Loomis
Knots by Chanse Lowell
Gorgon: An Alex Hunter Novel by Greig Beck
Harmony 03 After Glow by Jayne Castle
Once by Alice Walker