Fr. Sol. Est il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras? Pist. Brass, cur! Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, Offer'st me brass? Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy! Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys?— Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French, What is his name. Boy. Escoutez; Comment estes vous appellé? Boy. He says, his name is-master Fer. Pist. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him-discuss the same in French unto him. Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk. Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur? Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous prest; car ce soldat icy est disposé tout à cette heure de couper vostre gorge. Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant, Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison; gardez ma vie, & je vous donneray deux cents escus. Pist. What are his words? Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of a good house; and, for his ransom, he will give you two hundred crowns. Pist. Tell him,—my fury shall abate, and I The crowns will take. Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il? Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement, de pardonner aucun prisonnier; neantmoins, pour les escus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement. Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille remerciemens: & je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant, & tres distingué seigneur d'Angleterre. Pist. Expound unto me, boy. Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks: and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of, (as he thinks) the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England. Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.— Follow me, cur. [Exit Pistol. Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine. [Exit French Soldier. I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart: but the saying is true,-The empty vessel makes the greatest sound. Bardolph, and Nym, had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i'the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both hang'd; and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing advent'rously. I must stay with the lackeys, with the luggage of our camp: the French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it, but boys. [Exit. SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD OF BATTLE. Alarums. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Bourbon, Constable, Rambures, and Others. Con. O diable! Orl. O seigneur !—le jour est perdu, tout est perdu! Dau. Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame. Sits mocking in our plumes.-O meschante for tune! Do not run away. Con. [A short alarum. Why, all our ranks are broke. Dau. O perdurable shame!-let's stab ourselves. Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for? Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom? Bour. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame! Let us die instant: Once more back again; Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now! Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives If any order might be thought upon. Bour. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng; Let life be short; else, shame will be too long. SCENE VI. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD. [Exeunt. Alarums. Enter King Henry and Forces; Exeter, and Others. K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen: But all's not done, yet keep the French the field. Exe. The duke of York commends him to your majesty. K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice, within I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting; Ere. In which array, (brave soldier,) doth he Larding the plain: and by his bloody side, Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over, Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast; Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up: So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd; But all my mother came into mine eyes, K. Hen. [Alarum. But, hark! what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men: Then every soldier kill his prisoners; Give the word through. [Exeunt. |