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Act 4, Scene 2
Henry V Translation Act 4, Scene 3
Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with all his host, SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND
GLOUCESTER
Where is the king?
GLOUCESTER
Where is the king?
BEDFORD
The king himself is rode to view their battle.
BEDFORD
He rode out to look at their army himself.
WESTMORELAND
Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.
WESTMORELAND
They have a good sixty thousand fighting men.
EXETER
There’s five to one. Besides, they all are fresh.
EXETER
That's five to one. And they're all fresh.
SALISBURY
God’s arm strike with us! 'Tis a fearful odds. God be wi' you, princes all. I’ll to my charge. If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu.
SALISBURY
May God fight for us! It's frightening odds. God be with you, princes. I'll go to my troops. If we don't meet again until we meet in heaven, then I joyfully say goodbye, noble Lord of Bedford, dear Lord Gloucester, and good Lord Exeter, and
[to ERPINGHAM] you, my kind relative, all of you soldiers.
BEDFORD
Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee.
BEDFORD
Goodbye, good Salisbury, and good luck.
EXETER
Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today.And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,For thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.
EXETER
Goodbye, kind lord. Fight bravely today. But I'm insulting you by reminding you of that, because you're made out of bravery itself.
Exit SALISBURY
BEDFORD
He is as full of valor as of kindness,Princely in both.
BEDFORD
He is as full of bravery out of kindness, and has the amount of each quality one expects in a prince.
Enter KING HENRY
WESTMORELAND
Oh, that we now had hereBut one ten thousand of those men in EnglandThat do no work today.
WESTMORELAND
I wish we now had here just ten thousand of the men in England who aren't working today.
KING HENRY
What’s he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin. If we are marked to die, we are enough To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honor. God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honor As one man more, methinks, would share from me, For the best hope I have. Oh, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart. His passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man’s company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day and comes safe home, Will stand o' tiptoe when the day is named And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day, and live old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors And say, “Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.” Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say, “These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.” Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot But he’ll remember with advantages What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. This story shall the good man teach his son, And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be rememberèd— We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
KING HENRY
Who wishes that? My cousin Westmoreland? No, good cousin. If we are doomed to die, there are enough of us to harm our country by our loss; and if to live, the fewer men there are, the greater share of honor each one gets. By God, please don't wish for even one more man. By God, I don't desire gold and I don't care who takes my money to pay for food; I don't mind if men wear my clothes; I don't desire such worldly things. But if it's a sin to desire honor, I am the most sinful man alive. No, really, cousin, don't wish for a single man from England. God, I wouldn't give up so great a share of honor as one more man, I think, would take from me, in exchange for getting my greatest wish. Don't wish for one more! But, Westmoreland, announce to my army that anyone who doesn't feel like fighting should leave. We'll give him a passport and money to pay for his travel back. I don't want to die in the company of a man who is afraid to die in mine. This day is the feast day of Crispin. Anyone who lives through this day and gets home safely will stand on tiptoe when the day is mentioned and jump up at the name of Crispin. Anyone who lives through this day and lives to old age will hold a feast for his neighbors on the day before and say "Tomorrow is Saint Crispin's day." Then he will raise his sleeve and show his scars and say, "I got these wounds on Crispin's day." Old men forget; but everything else will be forgotten and he'll still remember, with additions, all the deeds he did that day. Then our names, familiar to him as household words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, will be remembered by them as they drink. The good man will teach his son that story, and Saint Crispin's day will never go by, from this day to the end of the world, without us being remembered—we few, we lucky few, we band of brothers. Because anyone who sheds his blood today with me will be my brother. However low-born he is, this day will make him a nobleman. And gentlemen now in their beds in England will be miserable that they were not here, and they will think that they are not real men when anyone is speaking who fought with us on Saint Crispin's day.
Enter SALISBURY
SALISBURY
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed.The French are bravely in their battles set,And will with all expedience charge on us.
SALISBURY
My king, get ready quickly. The French are well prepared for battle, and will soon charge at us.
KING HENRY
All things are ready if our minds be so.
KING HENRY
Everything is ready if our minds are.
WESTMORELAND
Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
WESTMORELAND
Death to anyone who wants to run away now!
KING HENRY
Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
KING HENRY
You don't wish for more help from England, cousin?
WESTMORELAND
God’s will, my liege, would you and I alone,Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
WESTMORELAND
By God, my king, I wish you and I alone, without more help, could fight this royal battle!
KING HENRY
Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men,Which likes me better than to wish us one.—You know your places. God be with you all.
KING HENRY
What, you've just wished away five thousand men, which I like better than to wish to add one.
[To others] You know your positions. May God be with you all.
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY
MONTJOY
Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry, If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assurèd overthrow. For certainly thou art so near the gulf Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, The constable desires thee thou wilt mind Thy followers of repentance, that their souls May make a peaceful and a sweet retire From off these fields where, wretches, their poor bodies Must lie and fester.
MONTJOY
Once more I've come to ask you, King Harry, if you'll agree to a sum for your ransom before your certain defeat. Because certainly you are so near the whirlpool that you'll necessarily be swallowed by it. Besides, as an act of mercy, the constable asks that you remind your followers to repent, so that their souls retreat peacefully and sweetly from these fields where, poor things, their poor bodies must lie and rot.
KING HENRY
Who hath sent thee now?
KING HENRY
Who has sent you now?
MONTJOY
The constable of France.
MONTJOY
The constable of France.
KING HENRY
I pray thee, bear my former answer back. Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. Good God, why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man that once did sell the lion’s skin While the beast lived was killed with hunting him. A many of our bodies shall no doubt Find native graves, upon the which, I trust, Shall witness live in brass of this day’s work. And those that leave their valiant bones in France, Dying like men though buried in your dunghills, They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them And draw their honors reeking up to heaven, Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. Mark, then, abounding valor in our English, That being dead, like to the bullet’s crazing, Break out into a second course of mischief, Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly: tell the constable We are but warriors for the working day; Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched With rainy marching in the painful field. There’s not a piece of feather in our host— Good argument, I hope, we will not fly— And time hath worn us into slovenry. But, by the Mass, our hearts are in the trim, And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night They’ll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads And turn them out of service. If they do this, As, if God please, they shall, my ransom then Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labor. Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald. They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints, Which, if they have, as I will leave 'em them, Shall yield them little. Tell the constable.
KING HENRY
Please, send the same answer back as last time. Tell them they'll have to catch me before they sell my bones. Good God, why do they have to mock poor men this way? The man who sold the lion's skin while the beast was alive, died while hunting him. Many of our bodies will no doubt be buried in our own countries, on which, I trust, carved in brass will be a reminder of the work we do today. And those who leave their brave bones in France, dying like men though buried in piles of dung, will be famous. Because the the sun will greet them and drag their honor stinking up to heaven, leaving their flesh to choke your climate, the smell of which will start a plague in France. See, then, huge bravery in our Englishmen, who although they're dead, like a bullet breaking in two, break out into a second path of mischief, killing by being dead. Let me speak proudly: tell the constable we're just working-day heroes. Our beautiful things and gold are dirty from painful marching in the rain. There's not a single decorative feather in our whole army, which goes to show we won't fly away, and time has worn us down and made us messy. But, by God, our hearts are in order, and my poor soldiers tell me that before night they'll be wearing fresher clothes, or they'll pull the beautiful new uniforms over the French soldiers' heads and so throw them out of the army. If they do this, as (if God wishes it) they will, my ransom will be paid soon. Herald, save yourself pointless work. Don't come any more for ransom, gentle herald. They will have none, I swear, except my joints here, which, in the state I'll leave them, won't be worth much to them. Tell the constable that.
MONTJOY
I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well.Thou never shalt hear herald anymore.
MONTJOY
I will, king Harry. Goodbye. You will never hear a herald ever again.
Exit
KING HENRY
I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom.
KING HENRY
I am afraid you will come once more for a ransom.
Enter YORK
YORK
My lord, most humbly on my knee I begThe leading of the vaward.
YORK
My lord, I beg humbly, on my knees, to lead the charge.
KING HENRY
Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away,And how Thou pleasest, God, dispose the day.
KING HENRY
Do it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away, and make the day go however you want, God.
Exeunt
