I warrant it is to knight you, captain.

God's will and his pleasure, captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the king: there is more good toward you peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of.

Sir, know you this glove?

Know the glove! I know the glove is glove.

I know this; and thus I challenge it.

'Sblood! an arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England!

How now, sir! you villain!

Do you think I'll be forsworn?

Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his payment into ploughs, I warrant you.

I am no traitor.

That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his majesty's name, apprehend him: he's a friend of the Duke Alencon's.

How now, how now! what's the matter?

My Lord of Warwick, here is--praised be God for it! --a most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Here is his majesty.

How now! what's the matter?

My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your grace, has struck the glove which your majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon.

My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of it; and he that I gave it to in change promised to wear it in his cap: I promised to strike him, if he did: I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.

Your majesty hear now, saving your majesty's manhood, what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is: I hope your majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will avouchment, that this is the glove of Alencon, that your majesty is give me; in your conscience, now?

Give me thy glove, soldier: look, here is the fellow of it. 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike; And thou hast given me most bitter terms.

An please your majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world.

How canst thou make me satisfaction?

All offences, my lord, come from the heart: never came any from mine that might offend your majesty.

It was ourself thou didst abuse.

Your majesty came not like yourself: you appeared to me but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you take it for your own fault and not mine: for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech your highness, pardon me.

Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns, And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow; And wear it for an honour in thy cap Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns: And, captain, you must needs be friends with him.

By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his belly. Hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to serve Got, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles' and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better for you.

I will none of your money.

It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore should you be so pashful? your shoes is not so good: 'tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

Now, herald, are the dead number'd?

Here is the number of the slaughter'd French.

What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?

Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the king; John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt: Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.

This note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this number, And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead One hundred twenty six: added to these, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which, Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights: So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality. The names of those their nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabreth, high constable of France; Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France; The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin, John Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant, The brother of the Duke of Burgundy, And Edward Duke of Bar: of lusty earls, Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale. Here was a royal fellowship of death! Where is the number of our English dead?

'Tis wonderful!

Come, go we in procession to the village. And be it death proclaimed through our host To boast of this or take the praise from God Which is his only.

Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how many is killed?

Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for us.

Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.

Do we all holy rites; Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum;' The dead with charity enclosed in clay: And then to Calais; and to England then: Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men.

Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, That I may prompt them: and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit the excuse Of time, of numbers and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life Be here presented. Now we bear the king Toward 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 '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; Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city: he forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; Giving full trophy, signal and ostent Quite from himself to God. But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, 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: As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him! much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; As yet the lamentation of the French Invites the King of England's stay at home; The emperor's coming in behalf of France, To order peace between them; and omit All the occurrences, whatever chanced, Till Harry's back-return again to France: There must we bring him; and myself have play'd The interim, by remembering you 'tis past. Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance, After your thoughts, straight back again to France.