Henry V - William Shakespeare (booksvooks txt) 📗

bonne qualité. Pistol Qualité calmie custore me! Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name? Discuss. French Soldier O Seigneur Dieu! Pistol

O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman:
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark;
O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,
Except, O signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious ransom.

French Soldier O, prenez miséricorde! ayez pitié de moi! Pistol

Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys;
Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat
In drops of crimson blood.

French Soldier Est-il impossible d’échapper la force de ton bras? Pistol

Brass, cur!
Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat,
Offer’st me brass?

French Soldier O pardonnez-moi! Pistol

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 Écoutez: comment êtes-vous appelé? French Soldier Monsieur le Fer. Boy He says his name is Master Fer. Pistol 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. Pistol Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat. French Soldier Que dit-il, monsieur? Boy Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous prêt; car ce soldat ici est disposé tout à cette heure de couper votre gorge. Pistol

Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy,
Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

French Soldier O, je vous supplie, pour l’amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents écus. Pistol 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. Pistol

Tell him my fury shall abate, and I
The crowns will take.

French Soldier Petit monsieur, que dit-il? Boy Encore qu’il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier, néanmoins, pour les écus que vous l’avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le franchisement. French Soldier Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercîments; et je m’estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d’un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et très distingué seigneur d’Angleterre. Pistol 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 one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seigneur of England. Pistol As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me! Boy Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. Exeunt Pistol and 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 everyone may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal anything adventurously. 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.

Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Rambures. Constable O diable! Orleans O seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu! Dauphin

Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes. O méchante fortune!
Do not run away. A short alarum.

Constable Why, all our ranks are broke. Dauphin

O perdurable shame! let’s stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play’d at dice for?

Orleans Is this the king we sent to for his ransom? Bourbon

Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let’s die in honour: once more back again;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base pandar, hold the chamber-door
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.

Constable

Disorder, that hath spoil’d us, friend us now!
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

Orleans

We are enough yet living in the field
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.

Bourbon

The devil take order now! I’ll to the throng;
Let life be short; else shame will be too long. Exeunt.

Scene VI

Another part of the field.

Alarums. Enter King Henry, and forces, Exeter, and others. King Henry

Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen:
But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field.

Exeter The Duke of York commends him to your majesty. King Henry

Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour
I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting;
From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

Exeter

In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,
Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep’d,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
He cries aloud “Tarry, my cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry!”
Upon these words I came and cheer’d him up:
He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says, “Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.”
So did he turn and over Suffolk’s neck
He threw his wounded arm and kiss’d his lips;
And so espoused to death, with blood he seal’d
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
Those waters from me which I would have