King Henry the Fifth Part 19

This personage is the same who appears in Shakespeare's play of King Richard the Second by the t.i.tle of Duke of Aumerle. His Christian name was Edward. He was the eldest son of Edmund Langley, Duke of York, who is introduced in the same play, and who was the fifth son of King Edward III. Richard, Earl of Cambridge, who appears in the second act of this play, was younger brother to this Edward, Duke of York.

(M) _Ride thou unto the hors.e.m.e.n on yon hill:_] After the battle, "there were small bodies of the French on different parts of the plain, but they were soon routed, slain, or taken."

(N) _Enter MONTJOY._] He (the king) asked Montjoye to whom the victory belonged, to him or to the King of France? Montjoye replied that the victory was his, and could not be claimed by the King of France. The king said to the French and English heralds, "It is not we who have made this great slaughter, but the omnipotent G.o.d, as we believe, for a punishment of the sins of the French. The king then asked the name of the castle he saw near him. He was told it was Agincourt. Well, then, said he, since all battles should bear the name of the fortress nearest to the spot where they were fought, this battle shall from henceforth bear the ever durable name of Agincourt." --_Nicolas's History of Agincourt._

(O) _When Alencon and myself were down together._] During the battle, the Duke of Alencon most valiantly broke through the English line, and advanced, fighting, near to the king, insomuch that he wounded and struck down the Duke of York. King Henry, seeing this, stepped forth to his aid, and as he was leaning down to raise him, the Duke of Alencon gave him a blow on the helmet that struck off part of his crown. The king's guard on this surrounded him, when, seeing he could no way escape death but by surrendering, he lifted up his arm, and said to the king, "_I am the Duke of Alencon, and yield myself to you;_" but as the king was holding out his hand to receive his pledge, he was put to death by the guards. --_Nicolas's History of Agincourt._

(P) _Enter WARWICK and GLOSTER._] The n.o.ble Duke of Gloucester, the king's brother, pus.h.i.+ng himself too vigorously on his horse into the conflict, was grievously wounded, and cast down to the earth by the blows of the French, for whose protection the king being interested, he bravely leapt against his enemies in defence of his brother, defended him with his own body, and plucked and guarded him from the raging malice of the enemy's, sustaining perils of war scarcely possible to be borne. --_Nicolas's History of Agincourt._

(Q) _Here was a royal fellows.h.i.+p of death!--_] There is not much difficulty in forming a correct estimate of the numbers of the French slain at Agincourt, for if those writers who only state that from three to five thousand were killed, merely meant the men-at-arms and persons of superior rank, and which is exceedingly probable, we may at once adopt the calculation of Monstrelet, Elmham, &c., and estimate the whole loss on the field at from ten to eleven thousand men. It is worthy of remark how very nearly the different statements on the subject approach to each other, and which can only be explained by the fact that the dead had been carefully numbered.

Among the most ill.u.s.trious persons slain were the Dukes of Brabant, Barre, and Alencon, five counts, and a still greater proportion of distinguished knights; and the Duke of Orleans, the Count of Vendosme, who was taken by Sir John Cornwall, the Marshall Bouciqualt, and numerous other individuals of distinction, whose names are minutely recorded by Monstrelet, were made prisoners. The loss of the English army has been variously estimated. The discrepancies respecting the number slain on the part of the victors, form a striking contrast to the accuracy of the account of the loss of their enemies. The English writers vary in their statements from seventeen to one hundred, whilst the French chroniclers a.s.sert that from three hundred to sixteen hundred individuals fell on that occasion. St. Remy and Monstrelet a.s.sert that sixteen hundred were slain. --_Nicolas's History of Agincourt._

(R) _Do we all holy rites:_] Holinshed says, that when the king saw no appearance of enemies, he caused the retreat to be blown, and gathering his army together, gave thanks to Almighty G.o.d for so happy a victory, causing his prelates and chaplains to sing this psalm--_In exitu Israel de Egypto_; and commanding every man to kneel down on the ground at this verse--_Non n.o.bis domine, non n.o.bis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam_; which, done, he caused _Te Deum_ and certain anthems to be sung, giving laud and praise to G.o.d, and not boasting of his own force, or any human power.

_Enter CHORUS._

_Chor._ Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, That I may prompt them.

Now we bear the king Towards 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[1] '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.

How London doth pour out her citizens!

The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,-- Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels,-- Go forth, and fetch their conquering Caesar in.

Now in London place him. There must we bring him; Show the occurrences, whatever chanc'd, Till Harry's back-return again to France.

[_Exit._

[Footnote Vc.1: _----a mighty +whiffler+_] An officer who walks first in processions, or before persons in high stations, on occasions of ceremony. The name is still retained in London, and there is an officer so called that walks before their companies at times of publick solemnity. It seems a corruption from the French word _huissier_. --HANMER.]

HISTORICAL EPISODE.

OLD LONDON BRIDGE From the Surrey Side of the River.

RECEPTION OF KING HENRY THE FIFTH On Entering London, AFTER THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.[*]

[Note *: Extracts of King Henry's reception into London, from the anonymous Chronicler, who was an eye-witness of the events he describes:--

"And when the wished-for Sat.u.r.day dawned, the citizens went forth to meet the king. * * * viz., the Mayor[] and Aldermen in scarlet, and the rest of the inferior citizens in red suits, with party-coloured hoods, red and white. * * * When they had come to the Tower at the approach to the bridge, as it were at the entrance to the authorities to the city. * * * Banners of the Royal arms adorned the Tower, elevated on its turrets; and trumpets, clarions, and horns, sounded in various melody; and in front there was this elegant and suitable inscription upon the wall, 'Civitas Regis justicie'--('The city to the King's righteousness.') * * * And behind the Tower were innumerable boys, representing angels, arrayed in white, and with countenances s.h.i.+ning with gold, and glittering wings, and virgin locks set with precious sprigs of laurel, who, at the King's approach, sang with melodious voices, and with organs, an English anthem.

[[Footnote : The Lord Mayor of London, A.D. 1415, was Nicholas Wotton.]]

"A company of Prophets, of venerable h.o.a.riness, dressed in golden coats and mantles, with their heads covered and wrapped in gold and crimson, sang with sweet harmony, bowing to the ground, a psalm of thanksgiving.

"Beneath the covering were the twelve kings, martyrs and confessors of the succession of England, their loins girded with golden girdles, sceptres in their hands, and crowns on their heads, who chaunted with one accord at the King's approach in a sweet tune.

"And they sent forth upon him round leaves of silver mixed with wafers, equally thin and round. And there proceeded out to meet the King a chorus of most beautiful virgin girls, elegantly attired in white, singing with timbrol and dance; and then innumerable boys, as it were an angelic mult.i.tude, decked with celestial gracefulness, white apparel, s.h.i.+ning feathers, virgin locks, studded with gems and other resplendent and most elegant array, who sent forth upon the head of the King pa.s.sing beneath minae of gold, with bows of laurel; round about angels shone with celestial gracefulness, chaunting sweetly, and with all sorts of music.

"And besides the pressure in the standing places, and of men crowding through the streets, and the mult.i.tude of both s.e.xes along the way from the bridge, from one end to the other, that scarcely the hors.e.m.e.n could ride through them. A greater a.s.sembly, or a n.o.bler spectacle, was not recollected to have been ever before in London."]

ACT V.

SCENE I.--FRANCE IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF TROYES.

_Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER, L.H._

_Gow._ Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy's day is past.

_Flu._ There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly, lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol,--he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could not preed no contentions with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.

_Enter PISTOL, R.H._

_Gow._ Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-c.o.c.k.

_Flu._ 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-c.o.c.ks.--Heaven pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Heaven pless you!

_Pist._ Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?[1]

Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

[_Crosses to L.H._

_Flu._ I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lowsy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my pet.i.tions, to eat, look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appet.i.tes, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

_Pist._ (_crosses to R.H._) Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

_Flu._ There is one goat for you.

[_Strikes him._

Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?

_Pist._ Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

_Flu._ You say very true, scald knave, when Heaven's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. (_Striking him again._) You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree.[2]

I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

_Gow._ Enough, captain: you have astonished him.[3]