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THE FAMOUS VICTOEIES 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
THE 
 
 FAMOUS VICTORIES 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 
 dtrxteir, Wxi\ |ntroh«ttiau, 
 
 BY 
 
 A. F. HOPXINSO^". 
 
 0nir0n: 
 
 M, E. SIMS ^ Co,, 
 
 EELANCEY STEEET, CAMDEN TOWN, 
 1896. 
 
APP 2 2 1942 TEACH 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 - 0 - 
 
 HE Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth was entered 
 
 ^ on the Stationers’ Registers May 14, (Steevens by 
 mistake gives May 12) 1594, by Thomas Creed, as — A 
 booh entitled The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, con^ 
 taining the honourable battle of Agincourt, Four years later, 
 in 1598, it was published by Thomas Creed with the 
 following title-page : — The Famous Victories of Henry the 
 Fifth : Containing the Honourable Battell of Agincourt : As 
 it was plaide by the Queenes maiesties Flayers, London, 
 Printed by Thomas Creede, 1598. 4to. This is the first 
 known edition of the play, but it is nearly certain that 
 an edition must have been issued by Creed in 1594, (soon 
 after he entered the play at Stationers’ Hall) who would 
 hardly allow four years to elapse between the time of 
 entry and publication ; no copy of such an edition has 
 yet been discovered, although Mr. Collier mentions an 
 early undated edition in the possession of the Duke of 
 Devonshire. Of the 1598 edition only one copy is known 
 to be extant, and that is in the Bodleian library. About 
 nineteen years later another impression — the second 
 extant edition — was issued. The title runs thus : — The 
 Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, containing the Honour- 
 able Battell of Agincourt. As it was acted by the Kinges 
 Majesties Servants. London, Lmjprinted by Barnard Alsop, 
 
 S \ 69657 
 
THE FAM0E8 TTCTOBIES OF HENRY V. 
 
 ii 
 
 and are to he sold hy Tymothie Barloive, at his shop in Raids 
 ChiircJi-yard, at the Signe of the Bull-head. 4to This 
 edition is undated, but it is usually assigned to the year 
 1617. There is no material variation in the text of these 
 two editions ; the latter was apparently reprinted from 
 the previous one, some of its erroneous readings were 
 corrected and some were allowed to remain in all their 
 corruption. From the 1617 quarto Steevens took the text 
 of his reprint of the play which was published in Six Old 
 Flays, dc. 1779. 
 
 It is worth pointing out that the 1598 edition retained 
 on its title-page as it was played by the Queen^s ma- 
 jesty’s players,” although the Queen’s men as a theatrical 
 company bad ceased to exist some six or seven years 
 before tliat date. The publisher of tlie second edition 
 rejected that piece of information, and substituted as it 
 was acted by the King’s servants,” which would of course 
 mean the company to which Shakespeare had belonged. 
 This company of actors did not assume the title of King’s 
 servants until after the accession of King James in 1603 
 (their patent bears date of May 19, 1603), and it is hardly 
 likely they would revive this indifferent play — indifferent 
 in comparison with Shakespeare’s plays dealing with 
 the same subject and period — when they had three plays 
 by the great dramatist, immeasurably superior to this 
 one. There is no evidence, beyond the words on the title 
 of the second edition, that the King’s men, at any period 
 of their existence, produced the Fainous Victories, and I 
 can only regard the announcement as a fraud intended 
 to deceive the purchasers into the belief that they were 
 buying Shakespeare’s play, which for years after its first 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 iii 
 
 production was very popular, and had probably then 
 been revived by the King’s men. A similar reason may 
 have induced Creed to print the play in 1598, for it is 
 certain that the first part of Shakespeare’s Henry IV. 
 was on the stage about that time, and there is no doubt 
 that the old play was issued with the intention of taking 
 advantage of its popularity. 
 
 It is impossible to fix, with any certainty, the time 
 at which the play was written, there being little internal 
 or external evidence, of a reliable nature, on the point. 
 Such evidence as is available may be briefly stated. The 
 1598 edition says it was acted by the Queen’s players • 
 this company was formed by the Queen’s command in 
 1583, so that year would be the earliest possible limit for 
 the period of production. Eichard Tarleton was a mem- 
 ber of the Queen’s company (chosen out of Sussex’ men 
 on the formation of the Queen’s) and acted the part of 
 Derick in the Famous Victories. Tarleton died on the 3rd 
 of September 1588, therefore that year would be the 
 latest possible date at which the play could have been 
 written. The only piece of internal evidence in point is 
 important in helping towards a settlement of this knotty 
 question. This consists in the medium chosen by the 
 author for communicating his thoughts to his audience, 
 which was prose ; therefore that fact shows that the play 
 was written at the time when prose was the chosen ve- 
 hicle for the dialogue of plays. Up to about the year 
 1580 plays were almost entirely written in rhyme ; from 
 that year till the advent of Greene, Peele, Mario vre and 
 others, prose was the custom, as Lyly’s plays show ; that 
 was succeeded by blank-verse, which was introduced 
 
IV 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF HENRY V. 
 
 mainly by Marlowe, and perfected bj^ Shakespeare. The 
 Famous Victories is written entirely in prose. But it does 
 not so appear in the two early editions of the play. In 
 1598, the year the first extant edition was printed, blank- 
 verse had become the vogue, and the publisher, probably 
 with the intention of giving the play an up-to-date ap- 
 pearance, chopped up the prose in some parts into lines 
 containing as near as possible ten syllables, so as to make 
 it look as if portions of it were written in blank-verse. 
 Here and there the operation has succeeded fairly well, 
 and it is surprising to note how near an approach has 
 been made to blank- verse, although frequently of a 
 very rude description,” as Professor Ward says. The 
 following lines, cited by Mr. Collier, will serve as a fair 
 sample 
 
 “ Most sovereign lord, and well-beloved father, 
 
 I came into your ehamber to comfort the melancholy 
 Soul of 3"0ur body, and finding you at that time 
 Past all recovery, and dead to my thinking, 
 
 God is my witness ; and what should I do. 
 
 But with weeping tears lament the death of you, my father? 
 And after that, seeing the crown, I took it ; 
 
 And tell me, my father, who might better take it than I, 
 
 After your death ? but seeing you live, 
 
 I most humbly render it into your majesty’s hands. 
 
 And the hajipiest man alive, that my father live ; 
 
 And live, my lord and father, for ever.” 
 
 Nevertheless the whole composition is in prose, and as 
 prose it is given throughout the present rejDrint. This 
 use of prose is a singular and most important fact in 
 determining the date of writing, for it shows conclusively 
 that it must have been composed in the middle of the 
 three periods above mentioned. Such being the case, I 
 think I am fully warranted in fixing the period of writing 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 V 
 
 between 1585 and 1588, with the probability that the 
 earlier date is nearer the mark. 
 
 It would be more satisfactory if our knowledge of the 
 stage history of the play were fuller than it is. Nothing 
 is certainly known as to when it was presented on the 
 the stage, or the playhouse where it was performed. 
 According to Tarleton’s Jests y published posthumously in 
 1611, it was performed in the inn-yard of the Bull in 
 Bishopsgate. If that be a fact — which I much question — 
 it establishes a much earlier date for the writing and 
 production of the piece, viz., before 1583, in which year 
 the city inn-yards used for theatrical representations were 
 suppressed. Besides, the 1598 quarto expressly says on 
 its title-page that ^4t was plaide by the Queens maiesties 
 players,’’ and that body was not formed until Mar. 1583. 
 In my opinion the play was produced at the Theatre by 
 the Queen’s men early in 1585 (in 1586 there were no 
 plays in London on account of the plague, and the actors 
 travelled in the provinces) ; if the play ever were shown 
 in the inn-yard of the Bull, the representation must have 
 been, as Mr. Fleay suggests, surreptitious. The key to 
 the names of the actors who personated some of the 
 characters is, as Mr. Fleay has already pointed out, to 
 be found in the play itself ; thus, — John Cobbler was 
 played by John Laneham, Eobin Pewterer by Eobert 
 (Eobin) Wilson, Lawrence Costermonger by Lawrence 
 Dutton, (see Mr. Fleay’s History of the Stage, p, 67) ; all 
 these actors are known to have belonged to the Queen’s 
 company in 1585. According to Tarleton’s Jests, Knell 
 played the part of Prince Henry, and Tarleton undertook 
 the double role of Lord Chief Justice, and Derick the 
 
 A 
 
v! 
 
 TUl: FAMOUS VICTORIES OF HE KUT V. 
 
 clown. Of Tarleton more hereafter. James Burbadge 
 may have personated King Henry lY., and perhaps after 
 his death the French king. The Queen’s company con- 
 sisted nominally of twelve members, and it is very likely 
 that in a play where two or three of the characters did 
 not appear on the stage at the same time, the actors’ 
 parts were doubled or, in some instances, trebled. 
 
 There is every indication that the play was popular on 
 the stage, and beyond doubt it remained in the posses- 
 sion of the Queen’s men until their dissolution at the end 
 of 1591 or 1592. Into whose hands it then fell, it is im- 
 possible to say ; but whoever held it, there must have 
 been a revival early in 1592, or perhaps just before the 
 breaking up of the Queen’s men in 1591, for Thomas 
 Nash in his pamphlet. Fierce Penniless^ s Supplication to 
 the Devil (entered Aug. 8, 1592, and published the same 
 year), mentions the play in these terms : — Yv^hat a 
 glorious thing it is to have Henry the Fifth represented 
 on the stage, leading the French king prisoner, and 
 forcing both him and the Dolphin sweare fealtie,” p. 60, 
 ed. Shak. Soc., 1842. This very circumstance of King 
 Henry forcing the Dauphin to swear fealtj^ occurs in the 
 Famous Victories^ v. 4, and leaves no doubt that this was 
 the play Nash referred to. It is more than likely that 
 the play ultimately fell into the hands of Henslowe as 
 did other Queen’s men’s plays, for in his Diary , under 
 date of Nov. 28, 1595, is found an entry of Harry the F., 
 which was played by the Admiral’s men at the Eose 
 theatre; between that date and July 15, 1596 there were 
 thirteen representations, Henslowe’s share of the receipts 
 being entered at three pounds six shillings. There can be 
 
introduction. 
 
 vii 
 
 little doubt that this Harry the F. was the Famous Vic- 
 tories ; it is true the letters n.e. (i.e. new enterlude or 
 play, which Henslowe usually affixed to a new play) are 
 attached to the entry, but that may have meant new so 
 far as Henslowe’ s production of it was concerned, or it 
 may have been then revived with new additions as was 
 frequently the case. Henslowe’ s Diary furnishes other 
 information relating to the same play. In his inventory 
 of theatrical apparel taken on Mar. 10, 1598 occur the 
 following notes : — 
 
 “Item, — V. payer of hosse [hose] for the clowne [? Derick], and 
 V. gerkenes [jerkins] for them.’’ 
 
 “ Item, — Harey the v. velvet gown.’’ 
 
 “ Item. — 1 payer of hosse for the Dowlfen [Dauphin].” 
 
 “ Item, — Harye the v. satten dublet laid with gould lace.” 
 
 This inventory was taken in 1598, and furnishes ad- 
 ditional proof that the play was frequently revived be- 
 teen 1595 and that date. The entries also show that 
 Henslowe possessed a play on the events of the reign of 
 Henry V. and I see no sufficient cause to believe that 
 it was other than the one under consideration. The 
 production of Shakespeare’s play in 1599 would render a 
 revival of the old play a failure, therefore nothing more 
 is heard of it as a stage play in our theatrical history. 
 
 The play was published anonymously, and it is very 
 difficult to decide on the authorship, there being little 
 reliable evidence, internal or external, to serve as a guide. 
 The composition bears slight affinity in style to that of 
 the known dramatists writing at the time this play must 
 have been produced. The dramatists then writing for 
 
THE FAMOUS VICTOEIES OF HENRY V. 
 
 viii 
 
 the stage, were, Lyly, Kyd, Greene, Peele, and Lodge ; 
 to neither of these writers can the play be given as a 
 whole. Mr. Fleay ascribes the piece to Eichard Tarleton, 
 and in the main, I see no cause to object to the ascrip- 
 tion. There can be little doubt that he wrote the comic 
 portions of the play, but in the serious parts I think 
 there is evidence of a different hand, although I cannot 
 satisfactorily decide as to which of the known dramatists 
 those parts must be given. Greene and Lodge were in 
 1585 just commencing to write for the stage, and possibly 
 Tarleton accepted one or the other as coadjutor. The 
 date of Tarleton’s biith is unknown, and few particulars 
 of his life liave descended to posterity ; such particulars, 
 however, may be found, with a list of his writings, in 
 the second volume of Mr. Fleay’ s Biographical Chronicle 
 of the English Drama, This list shows him to have been 
 a varied if not a voluminous author ; the period at which 
 he commenced writing must be given as about 1570. At 
 what time he became an actor it is difficult to ascertain, 
 but he had performed a jig called A Horse-load of Fools, 
 at the Curtain before 1583. In that year he was chosen 
 out of Sussex’ company of actors as a member of the then 
 newly constituted company of Queen’s players ; that fact 
 alone conclusively proves that he had attained consider- 
 able eminence in his profession. With this company he 
 remained till his death in 1588. Here our business with 
 him is as an actor and playwright ; in the latter capacity 
 he wrote, circa 1585, a play in two parts called the Seven 
 Deadly Sins, the plot of the second part of which is 
 extant at Dulwich College, and a copy of it is given in 
 Steevens’s Shakespeare, vol ii. ed. 1793 ; as a relic of our 
 
ISTnODUCTION. 
 
 ix 
 
 old drama it is invaluable for the light it throws on the 
 early history of the stage, and it is much to be regretted 
 that the first part is lost. Besides that play, there is 
 strong presumptive evidence that Tarleton was the author 
 of a large portion of the Famous Victories ; his coadjutor 
 can only be guessed at. 
 
 It is upon his fame as an actor that his immortality 
 chiefiy rests, and about that there cannot be the possi- 
 bility of a doubt. There are numerous contemporary 
 testimonies; of unquestioned accuracy, which show to 
 what a high state of perfection his genius and ability, as 
 a comedian, had raised him. He appears to have been 
 one of those natural humourists who had but to show his 
 face to set the spectators of a roar. The part of a clown 
 or jester seems to have been his forte, and in one or both 
 of those characters he appears to have been famous and 
 inimitable. 
 
 Tradition says that Tarleton played Derick the clown 
 in the Famous Victories ; poor and tame as that indi- 
 viduaTs sallies of wit and tiresome repetitions may seem 
 as they are now read three hundred years after they were 
 uttered, it is not difficult to imagine what they would 
 become on the lips of so consummate a master of his art 
 as was Tarleton, The words, which appear to us stale 
 flat and unprofitable,” coming from his lips and animated 
 by his masterly genius, must have had an instantaneous 
 and electrifying effect upon the audience ; an effect such 
 as would leave scarcely a face in the theatre undistended 
 by jocund merriment. 
 
 In connection with the parts assumed by Tarleton in 
 this play, there is an anecdote given in the second part 
 
X 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF HENRY V, 
 
 of his Jests, published in 1611, which I am inclined to 
 regard as apocryphal. According to the Jests, Tarleton 
 played the parts of Lord Chief Justice and Derick the 
 clown ; at one of the performances of the play at the 
 Bull in Bishopsgate, in the trial scene, ii. 1, the actor 
 Knell, who played Henry V., then Prince Henry, gave 
 Tarleton, the Lord Chief Justice, so smart a box on the 
 ear that it echoed through the theatre and set the whole 
 audience in a roar. When Tarleton had gone out as 
 judge, he came in again in his clown’s clothes and asked 
 the actors — ^^^What news?’ ^ Oh/ said one, ^ hadst 
 thou been here thou shouldst have seen Prince Henry 
 hit the judge a terrible box on the ear.’ ^ What, man,’ 
 said Tarleton, 'strike a judge?’ 'It is true, i’ faith,’ said 
 the other. 'No other like,’ said Tarleton, 'and it could 
 not but be terrible to the judge, when the report so 
 terrifies me, that methinks the blow remains still on my 
 cheek that it burns me.’ The people laughed at this 
 mightily ; and to this day I have heard it commended 
 for rare.” This circumstantial story on examination 
 turns out to be all moonshine, and even contradicts itself. 
 Tarleton is reju'esented as playing the part of Lord Chief 
 Justice and Derick tlie clown, but both these characters 
 liappen to be on the stage at the same time (see ii. 1/ ; 
 therefore it is impossible that he could have assumed 
 both characters in the scene. It may be true about the 
 sounding box on the car, and the after merriment when 
 Derick and his companions re-entered, but it is clear 
 that Tarleton was not the judge. This flaw in the story 
 casts grave doubts on my mind as to the authenticity of 
 the whole account. That Tarleton played Derick^ there 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xi 
 
 can be no question. 
 
 The author of this old play, whoever he was, adopted 
 a plain, unostentatious style or composition ; he appears 
 to havemade no attempt at sky-raking flights of poetry, 
 rhetorical effect, or display of what is called fine writing. 
 There is nothing florid about his style ; he kept the 
 business in hand before him, and used — 
 
 “ No new luxury of blandishment, 
 
 But plenty of Old England’s mother’s words.” 
 
 such as would make his meaning intelligible to his au- 
 dience and explain what was going forward. Whatever 
 is to be said, whether it be spoken by prince or clown, is 
 expressed in such words as will tell what is doing, 
 without any attempt at elaboration of expression. The 
 numerous repetitions and buffooneries was probably a 
 part of the author’s design, and perhaps a nineteenth 
 century reader is not so capable of appreciating them as 
 was a sixteenth century spectator who had the advantage 
 of Tarleton as expositor. 
 
 The same may be said of the construction of the piece, 
 and of the characterisation ; the author does not appear 
 to have been very ambitious in either direction, conse- 
 quently there is no signal failure ; possibly his main 
 object was to make his audience merry over the broad 
 farce of Derick, or arouse the national pride by pro- 
 ducing the counterfeit presentment of the famous vic- 
 tories of the brave, soldier-like king who has always been 
 popular with the English people ; that he accomplished 
 this desire there is no sufficient reason to doubt. 
 
 The portraiture of Henry, as prince and king, although 
 
THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF HENRY V 
 
 xii 
 
 \ wanting in distinctness, shows considerable subtilty and 
 
 skill deserving of praise. It is worth noting that the 
 evolution of Shakespeare’s pet hero is carried out on 
 similar lines to those in the old play, although in the for- 
 mer case the character is more profoundly conceived and 
 V'orked out. Of the internal troubles of the kingdom, 
 which give such variety and scope to Shakespeare’s 
 splendid historical trilogy, nothing is to be found in this 
 play, and upon the whole the omission is not to be re- 
 gretted. 
 
 Certain critics have alluded to this play in terms of 
 unqualified disparagement. Capell wrote of it as ‘'a very 
 medley of nonsense and ribaldry” a ^'miserable perform- 
 ance,” and ‘fits fate, which was damnation Dyce calls 
 it “worthless play,” and Mr. Halil well-Phillqips applies 
 to it the epithet “contemptible.” This censure seems to 
 me too severe ; the Famous Victories is certainly inferior 
 to the Chronicle Histories of King Leir, The Troublesome 
 Reign of King John, and The True Tragedy of Richard HI, 
 but considering the early date at which it was written, 
 there is much in it worthy of commendation ; perhaps no 
 other play exercised more influence in fixing the form of 
 our national historical drama than did this one. There 
 is much in it superior to anything that had appeared 
 /prior to its production. 
 
 However, worthless as it may be in point of merit 
 Shakespeare did not disdain to make liberal use of it 
 when writing the two parts of Henry IV., and Henry V. 
 Apart from the common foundation of both plays, viz. 
 HoUinshed and Stow’s histories, Shakespeare’s indebted- 
 ness to his predecessor is considerable, and should be 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xiii 
 
 acknowledged. The great dramatist not only utilised 
 some of the incidents and scenes from the old play, but 
 also adopted many of the characters as the foundation 
 for his own. The Famous Victories introduced Henry on 
 the stage in the dual character of a riotous and dissolute 
 young prince, and as a successful and accomplished war- 
 rior. Shakespeare followed in the track of his humble 
 precursor, but his superior genius enabled him to give 
 the character a more consistant and profound develop- 
 ment. The robbery in which Prince Henry and his loose 
 companions take part, and their subsequent adjournment 
 to the old tavern in Eastcheap, is common to the old play 
 and Shakespeare’s, and the latter must have made use of 
 the incident as the groundwork of his own ; although it is 
 vastly improved in every detail so that the one cannot 
 bear comparison with the other. Many other similarities 
 between the two plays could be pointed out, were it 
 necessary, which will be readily apparent to the student 
 of both plays ; to do so here would be supererogatory, 
 for, as Mr. Collier remarks, the immeasurable supe- 
 riority of Shakespeare’s dramas is such as to render any 
 attempt to trace resemblances rather a matter of contrast 
 than comparison.” Some of these resemblances, both 
 verbal and constructive, are indicated in the foot-notes 
 to the text. So far as the characters are concerned there 
 can be no question but that the older play furnished 
 Shakespeare with the outlines of some of those — the 
 irregular humorists” — which appear in his trilogy. These 
 are not very difficult to distinguish ; thus, the thief Gads- 
 hill is identical with Gadshill in Henry IV., Ned with 
 Ned Poins, Tom with Peto, and Sir John Oldcastie with 
 
xiv THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF HENRY V. 
 
 Falstaff. With regard to this latter character there can 
 be little doubt that Shakespeare adopted the name from 
 the Famous Victories^ for Falstaff was at first called Sir 
 John Oldcastle ; it was not changed to Falstafi until some 
 time after the play had been represented on the stage, 
 possibly on the remonstrance of some member of the 
 Cobham family. So far as the character itself is con- 
 cerned, I do not think Shakespeare was much indebted 
 to the old play. There he makes but a passing appear- 
 ance, which is too transient to allow of any real develop- 
 ment of character, and none apparently was attempted. 
 Shakespeare did adopt the name from the old play, per- 
 haps because he found him there linked to Prince Henry 
 and his boon companions, but it was solely his masterly 
 genius that raised his figure and developed it into the 
 most original and varied character that the literature of 
 any nation can show. He may have found the germs of 
 his conception in the character of Strumbo in Locrine, an 
 old play, mainly by Peele, published in 1595 as newly 
 set forth, overseen, and corrected by W. S[hakespeare], 
 or in Basilisco, a foolish knight, in Kyd’s Soliman and 
 Perseda, but supposing such to have been the case, the 
 fact does not detract one iota from the original conception 
 and development of Shakespeare’s immortal hero. 
 
 A, F. HOPKINSON. 
 
 London, Aug, 5th, 1896, 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 ■0 
 
 KING HENEY IV. 
 
 HENEY, his Son, afterwards Henkt V. 
 
 DUKE OF YOEK, uncle to Henry V. 
 
 EAEL OF OXFOED. 
 
 EAEI. OF EXETEE. 
 
 AECHBISHOP of Canterbury. 
 
 LOED CHIEF JUSTICE of England. 
 
 LOED MAYClE of London. 
 
 SIE JOHN OLDCASTLE. 
 
 NED. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 JOHN COBBLEE. 
 
 EOBIN PEWTEEEE. 
 lAWEENCE COSTEEMONGEE. 
 
 DEEICK, a Clown. 
 
 A THIEF. 
 
 WIFE of John Cobbler. 
 
 CHAELES VI., King of France. 
 
 DAUPHIN of France, his Son. 
 
 DUKE OF Burgundy. 
 
 CONSTABLE of France. 
 
 Archbishop of Bruges. 
 
 KATHEEINE, Daughter of the French King. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Sheriff, Cleric of the Court, Secretaries, a 
 Captain, English and French Soldiers, Heralds, a Boy, 
 Messengers, a Gaoler, Two Beceivers, a Vintners Boy, 
 a Drummer, Attendants, &c. 
 
 SCENE, — England and France. 
 
THE FAMOUS VICTORIES 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 0 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I . — A Boad near London, 
 
 Enter Peince Henry, Ned, and Tom. 
 
 P. Hen,^ Come, away, Ned and Tom. 
 
 Both, Here, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen, Come, away, my lads. Tell me, sirs, Low 
 much gold have you got ? 
 
 Ned, Faith, my lord, I have got five hundred pound. 
 
 P. Hen, But tell me, Tom, how much hast thou got ? 
 
 Tom, Faith, my lord, some four hundred pound. 
 
 P. Hen, Four hundred pounds ! bravely spoken, lads. 
 But tell me, sirs, think you not that it was a villainous 
 part of me to rob my father’s receivers ? 
 
 Ned, Why, no, my lord, it was but a trick of youth. 
 
 P. Hen, Faith, Ned, thou sayest true. But tell me, 
 sirs, where abouts are we ? 
 
 * The old editions have Hen. V . , which is certainly wrong, for his father 
 Henry IV. was still reigning, therefore he was not really Henry V. until some 
 time after the opening of the play. For the sake of propriety I have printed 
 P. Hen, until his father’s death entitled him to be called Henry V. 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 THE EAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [actt I. 
 
 Tom. My lord, we are now about a mile off London. 
 
 P. Hen. But, sirs, I marvel that Sir John Oldcastle 
 comes not away. Zounds, see where he comes ! 
 
 Enter Sin Johi^ Oldcastle.* 
 
 How now. Jockey, what news with thee ? 
 
 Sir John. Faith, my lord, such news as passeth, for 
 the town of Deptford is risen with hue and cry after your 
 man which parted from us the last night, and has set 
 upon and hath robbed a poor carrier. 
 
 P. Hen. Zounds, the villain that was wont to spy out 
 our booties ! 
 
 Sir John. Ay, my lord, even the very same. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, base-minded rascal to rob a poor carrier ; 
 well, it skillsf not. I’ll save the base villain’s life : ay, I 
 may, — but tell me, Jockey, where about be the receivers? 
 
 Sir John. Faith, my lord, they are hard by ; but the 
 best is, we are a-horseback, and they be a-foot, so we may 
 escape them. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, ifj the villains come, let me alone with 
 them. But tell me. Jockey, how much got’st thou from 
 the knaves ? for I am sure I got something, for one of 
 the villains so belamed me about the shoulders as I 
 shall feel it this month. § 
 
 Sir John. Faith, my lord, I have got a hundred pound. 
 
 P. Hen. A hundred pound ! Now bravely spoken 
 
 * Here the old editions haiVCy Enters Jockey ^ i.e. Sir John Oldcastle, and 
 throughout the play the speech prefix for him is variously given Jockey^Jock, 
 loh Old., and Joh. To preserve a uniformity I have printed the speech prefix 
 Sir J ohn. 
 
 t i.e. it matters not. t Old copies, 1. 
 
 § Old copies, moneth ; the old form of the word which is invariably used 
 through the play. 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 3 
 
 J ockey ; but come, sirs, lay all your money before me. 
 Now, by heaven, here is a brave show ! but as I am [a] 
 true gentleman, I will have the half of this spent to-night. 
 But, sirs, take up your bags, here come the receivers : let 
 me alone. 
 
 Enter two Receivers, 
 
 1 Bee. Alas, good fellow, what shall we do? I dare 
 never go home to the Court, for I shall be hanged. But 
 look, here is the young prince ; what shall we do ? 
 
 P . Hen. How now, you villains, what are you ? 
 
 1 Bee, Speak you to him. 
 
 2 Bee. No, I pray speak you to him, 
 
 P. Hen. Why, how now, you rascals, why speak you 
 not ? 
 
 1 Bee. Forsooth, we be. Pray speak you to him. 
 
 P. Hen, Zounds, villains, speak, or I’ll cut off your 
 heads ! 
 
 2 Bee. Forsooth, he can tell the tale better than I. 
 
 1 Bee. Forsooth, we be your father’s Receivers. 
 
 P. Hen. Are you my father’s Receivers ? Then I hope 
 you have brought me some money. 
 
 1 Bee. Money, alas, sir, we be robbed ! 
 
 P. Hen. Robbed I how many were there of them ? 
 
 1 Bee. Marry, sir, there were four of them, and one of 
 them had Sir John Oldcastle’s bay Hobby, and [another] 
 your black nag. 
 
 P. Hen. Gog’s wounds,"*^ how like you this. Jockey ? 
 Blood, you villains ! my father robbed of his money 
 
 * i.e. God’s wounds ; an oath very fasbiohable in the seventeenth century, 
 as this play sufficiently proves. 
 
'IIL FAMOUS riCTOFIES CF 
 
 [act I. 
 
 4 T 
 
 abroad, and we robbed in our stables ! But tell me, how 
 many were there of them? 
 
 1 Bee. If it please you, there were four of them, and 
 there was one about the bigness of you : but I am sure 
 I so belamed him about the shoulders that he will feel it 
 this month. 
 
 P. Hen. Gog’s wounds, you lamed them fairly, so that 
 they have carried away your money. But come, sirs, 
 what shall wo do with the villains ? 
 
 Both Bee. I beseech your grace be good to us. 
 
 Ned. I pray you, my lord, forgive them this once. 
 Well, stand up and get you gone, and look that you 
 speak not a word of it, for if there be, zounds, I’ll hang 
 you and all your kin. [Exeunt Bcceivers. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, sirs, how like you this ? Was not this 
 bravely done ? for now the villains dare not speak a word 
 of it, I have so feared"^' them with words. Now w^hither 
 shall we go ? 
 
 All. Why, my lord, you know our old hostess at 
 Feversham. 
 
 P. Hen, Our hostess at Feversham ! blood, wbat shall 
 we do there ? We have a thousand pound about us, and 
 shall we gof to a petty alehouse ? No, no ; you know 
 the old tavern in Eastcheap, there is good wine ; besides, 
 there is a pretty wench that can talk well, for I delight 
 as much in their tongues as any part about them. 
 
 All We are ready to wait upon your grace. 
 
 P. Hen, Gog’s wounds, va t ! ve will go altogether, 
 we are all feh.; ws ; I tell you, sirs, and the king my father 
 
 Frightened. 
 
 t Old. copies, we shall go. 
 
SCENE II.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 5 
 
 were dead, we would be all kings, therefore come away. 
 Ned. Gog’s wounds, bravely spoken, Harry. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — ^London. A Street. 
 
 Enter John Cobbler, Eobin Pewterer, and Lawrence 
 Costermonger. 
 
 John. All is well, here, all is well, masters. 
 
 Law. How say you, neighbour John Cobbler, I think 
 it best that my neighbour Eobin Pewterer w^ent to Pud- 
 ding Lane end, and we will watch here at Billingsgate 
 ward. How say you, neighbour Eobin, how like you this ? 
 
 Boh. Marry, well, neighbours ; I care not much if I 
 go to Pudding Lane end ; but, neighbours, and you hear 
 any ado about me, make haste : and if I hear any ado 
 about you, I will come to you. [Exit. 
 
 Law, Neighbour, what news hear you of the young 
 prince ? 
 
 John, Marry, neighbour, I hear say he is a toward 
 young prince, for if he met any by the highway he will 
 not let^ to talk with him ; I dare not call him thief, but 
 sure he is one of these taking fellows. 
 
 Law, Indeed, neighbour, I hear say he is as lively a 
 young prince as ever was. 
 
 John, Ay, and I hear say if he use it long, his father 
 wiU cut him off from the crown : but, neighbour, say 
 nothing of that. 
 
 Law, No, no, neighbour, I warrant you. 
 
 John, Neighbour, methinks you begin to sleep; if 
 
 Refrain. 
 
6 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTOEIES OF 
 
 [act I. 
 
 you we will sit down, for I think it is about mid- 
 
 night. 
 
 Law, Marry, content, neighbour, let us sleep. 
 
 Enter Derick roving. 
 
 Der. Who, who there, who there ? \Exit. 
 
 Be-enter Eobin. 
 
 Boh. Oh, neighbours, what mean you to sleep, and 
 such ado in the streets ? 
 
 Both. How now, neighbour, what’s the matter? 
 
 Be-enter Derick. 
 
 Der. Who there, who there, who there ? 
 
 John. Wh}'^, what ailest thou ? Here is no horses. 
 
 Der. Oh, alas, man, I am robbed ! Who there, who 
 there ? 
 
 Boh, Hold him, neighbour Cobbler ! 
 
 John. Why, I see thou art a plain clown. 
 
 Der. Am I a clown ? Zounds, masters, do clowns go 
 in silk apparel? I am sure all we gentlemen clowns 
 in Kent scantf go so well : zounds, you know clowns 
 very well ! Hear you, are you master Constable ? and you 
 be, speak, for I will not take it at his hands. 
 
 John. Faith, I am master constable, J but I am one of 
 his bad officers, for he is not here. 
 
 Der. Is not master Constable here? Well, it is no 
 matter, I’ll have the law at his hands. 
 
 John. Nay, I pray you, do not take the law of us. 
 
 Desire. t Scarcely. 
 
 X Qy. should we not read, “lam not master Constable,” etc. 
 
SCENE II.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 7 
 
 Der, Well, you are one of his beastly officers. 
 
 John, I am one of his bad officers. 
 
 Der, Why, then I charge thee look to him. 
 
 John. Nay, but hear ye, sir, you seem to be an honest 
 fellow, and we are poor men, and now ’tis night, and we 
 would be loth to have anything ado, therefore, I pray 
 thee put it up 
 
 Der, Faith, thou sayest true, I am an honest fellow, 
 and a proper handsome fellow too, and you seem to be 
 poor men, therefore, I care not greatly ; nay, I am 
 quickly pacified : but, and you chance to spy the thief, I 
 pray you lay hold on him. 
 
 Boh. Yes, that we will, I warrant you. 
 
 Der. ’Tis a wonderful thing to see how glad the knave 
 is, now 1 Jiay(‘ forgiven him. 
 
 John. Neighbours, do ye look about you. How now, 
 who ’s there ? 
 
 Enter the Thief. 
 
 Thief. Here is a good fellow : — I pray you, which is 
 the way to the old tavern in Eastcheap ? 
 
 Der. Whoop, hallo ! Now, Gadshill, knowest thou 
 me ? 
 
 Thief. I know thee for an ass. 
 
 Der. And I know thee for a taking fellow, upon Gad’s 
 Hill in Kent : a hots light upon ye ! 
 
 Thief. The whoreson villain would be knocked. 
 
 Der, Masters, villain ! and ye be men, stand to him, 
 and take his weapon from him ; let him not pass you. 
 
 John. My friend, wha tmake you abroad now ? It is 
 too late to walk now. 
 
8 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act I. 
 
 Thief, It is not too late for true men to walk. 
 
 Law. We know thee not to be a true man. 
 
 Thief, Why, what do you mean to do with me ? 
 Zounds, I am one of the king’s liege people ! 
 
 Der. Hear you, sir, are you one of the king’s liege 
 people ? 
 
 Thief Ay, marry am I, sir ; what say you to it ? 
 
 Der. Marry, sir, I say you are one of the king’s filch- 
 ing people. 
 
 John, Come, come, let ’s have him away. 
 
 Thief. Why, what have I done ? 
 
 Boh. Thou hast robbed a poor fellow, and taken away 
 his goods from him. 
 
 Thief. I never saw him before. 
 
 Der. Masters, who comes here ? 
 
 Enter the Vintner's Boy. 
 
 Boy. How now, goodman Cobbler ? 
 
 John. How now, Eobin, what makes thou abroad at 
 this time of night ? 
 
 Boy. Marry, I have been at the Counter. I can tell 
 such news as never you have heard the like. 
 
 John. What is that, Eobin, what is the matter ? 
 
 Boy. Why, this night about two hours ago, there 
 came the young prince, and three or four more of his 
 companions, and called for wdne good store, and then 
 they sent for a noise^ of musicians, and were very merry 
 for the space of an hour ; then, whether their music liked 
 them not, or whether they had drunk too much wine or 
 no, I cannot teU, but our pots flew against the waUs, and 
 
 * i.e., A band or company of musicians. 
 
SCENE II.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 9 
 
 then they drew their swords and went into the street and 
 fought, and some took one part and some took another ; 
 but for the space of half an hour there was such a bloody 
 fray as passelh,’*' and none could part them until such 
 time as the Mayor and Sheriff were sent for, and then at 
 last, with much ado, they took them, and so the young 
 prince was carried to the Counter, and then about one 
 hour after there came a messenger from the court in all 
 hasfe from the king, for my lord Mayor and the Sheriff, 
 but for what cause I know not, 
 
 John. Here is news indeed, Robert. 
 
 Law. Many, neighbour, this news is strange indeed; 
 I think it best, neighbour, to rid our hands of this fellow 
 first. 
 
 Thief. What mean you to do with me ? 
 
 John. We mean to carry you to the prison, and there 
 to remain till the session’s day. 
 
 Thief. Then I pray you let me go to the prison where 
 my master is. 
 
 John. Nay, thou must go to the country prison, to 
 Newgate ; therefore, come away. 
 
 Thief. I pr’ythee be good to me, honest fellow. 
 
 J)er. Ay, marry will I ; I’ll be very charitable to 
 thee, for I will never leave thee till I see thee on the 
 gallows. [Exeunt. 
 
 * i.e. Exceeds or surpasses all. So In Lyly’s Endimiorti iii. 4, — “ Without 
 doubt this dissembling for nothing shall draw me from the belief. 
 
10 
 
 THE F AMO VS VICTOIUES OF 
 
 [act I. 
 
 SCENE III, — London. A Room in the King's Palace, 
 
 Enter King Henry IV. with the Earl of Exeter, and the 
 Earl of Oxford. 
 
 Oxf. And please your majesty, here is my lord Mayor, 
 and the Sheriff of London, to speak with your majesty. 
 
 Hen, IV, Admit them to our presence. 
 
 / 
 
 Enter the Lord Mayor and the Sheriff. ]/ 
 
 Now my good lord Mayor of London, the cause of my 
 sending for you at this time, is to tell you of a matter 
 which I have learned of my Council : herein I under- 
 stand that you have committed my son to prison without 
 our leave and license. What, although he he a rude 
 youth and likely to give occasion, yet you might have 
 considered that he is a prince, and my son, and not to he 
 haled to prison by every subject. 
 
 Mayor. May it please your majesty to give us leave 
 to tell our tale ? 
 
 Hen. IV. Or else, God forbid ! otherwise, you might 
 think me an unequal judge, having more affection to my 
 son than to any rightful judgment. 
 
 Mayor. Then I do not doubt that we shall rather de- 
 serve commendations at your majesty’s hands, than any 
 anger. 
 
 Hen. IV. Go to ; say on. 
 
 Mayor, Then if it please your majesty, this night, 
 betwixt two and three of the clock in the morning, my 
 lord the young prince, with a very disordered company, 
 came to the old tavern in Eastcheap, and whether it was 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 11 
 
 that their music liked them not, or whether they were 
 overcome with wine, I know not ; but they drew their 
 swords, and into the street they went, and some took my 
 lord the young prince’s part, and some took the other, 
 but betwixt them there was such a bloody fray for the 
 space of half an hour, that neither watchmen nor any 
 other could stay them, till my brother the Sheriff of 
 London and I were sent for, and at the last, with much 
 ado, we stayed them, but it was long first, which was a 
 great disquieting to all your loving subjects thereabouts: 
 and then, my good lord, we knew not whether your grace 
 had sent them to try us, whether we would do justice, or 
 whether it were of their own voluntary will or not, we 
 cannot tell ; and therefore in such a case we knew not 
 what to do, but for our own safeguard we sent him to 
 ward, where he wanteth nothing that is fit for his grace, 
 and your majesty’s son. And thus most humbly beseech-r 
 ing your majesty to think of our answer, — 
 
 Hen, IV, Stand aside until we have further delibe- 
 rated on your answer. [Exeunt Mayor and Sheriep. 
 
 Ah, Harry, Harry, now thrice accursed Harry, that hath 
 gotten a son which with grief will end his father’s days ! 
 Oh, my son, a prince thou art, — ay, a prince indeed, — and 
 to deserve imprisonment ! And well have they done, and 
 like faithful subjects. Discharge them, and let them go. 
 
 Exe, I beseech your grace, be good to my lord the 
 young prince. 
 
 Hen, IV, Nay, nay, ’tis no matter, let him alone. 
 
 Oxf, Perchance the Mayor and the Sheriff have beeu 
 too precise in this matter. 
 
 Hen, IF, No ; they have done like faithful subjects ; 
 
12 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTOFIFS OF 
 
 [act II. 
 
 I will go mvself to discharge theiii; and let them go. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE 1. — London. A Court of Justice, 
 
 Enter Lord Chief Justice, Clerk of the Office, Gaoler, 
 John Cobbler, Derick, and the Thief. 
 
 C. Just. Gaoler, bring the prisoner to the bar. 
 
 Der. Hear you, my lord, I pray you bring the bar to 
 the prisoner. 
 
 C. Just. Hold up thy hand at the bar. 
 
 Thief. Here it is, my lord. 
 
 C. Just. Clerk of the office, read his indictment. 
 
 Clerk. What is thy name ? 
 
 Thief. My name was known before I came here, and 
 shall be when I am gone, I warrant you. 
 
 C, Just. Ay, I think so ; but we w^ill know it better 
 before thou go. 
 
 Der. Zounds, and you do but send to the next gaol, 
 we are sure to know his name, for this is not the first 
 prison he hath been in, ITl warrant you. 
 
 Clerk. What is thy name ? 
 
 Thief. What need you to ask, and have it in writing ? 
 
 Clerk. Is not thy name Cutbert Cutter ? 
 
 Thief. What the devil need you to ask, and know it 
 so weU ! 
 
 Clerk. 'VVhy, then Cutbert Cutter, I indite thee, by 
 the name of Cutbert Cutter, for robbing a poor carrier 
 the twentieth day of May last past, in the fourteen [th] 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 henhy the fifth 
 
 13 
 
 year of the reign of our sovereign lord King Henry the 
 Fourth, for setting upon a poor carrier upon Gad’s Hill 
 in Kent, and having beaten and wounded the said car- 
 rier, and taken his goods from him. 
 
 Der. Oh, masters, stay there ; nay, let’s never belie the 
 man, for he hath not beaten and wounded me also, but 
 he hath beaten and wounded my pack, and hath taken 
 the great raze^ of ginger, that bouncing Bess with the 
 jolly buttocks should have had, that grieves me most. 
 
 C, Just. AVell, what sayest thou, art thou guilty, or 
 not guilty ? 
 
 Thief. Not guilty, my lord. 
 
 C. Just. By whom wilt thou be tried ? 
 
 Thief. By my lord the young prince, or by myself ; 
 whether you v ill. 
 
 Enter rniKCE Henry, with Ned and Tom. 
 
 P. Hen, Come away, my lads ; Gog’s wounds, je 
 villain, \to the Thief.] what make you here ? I must go 
 about my business myself, and you must stand loitering 
 here. 
 
 Thief. Why, my lord, they have bound me, and will 
 not let me go. 
 
 P. Hen. Have they bound thee, villain ? Why how 
 now, my lord ? 
 
 C. Just. I am glad to see your grace in good health. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, my lord, this is my man ; ’tis marvel 
 you knew him not, long before this : I tell you, he is a 
 man of his hands. 
 
 * i.e.f A bale or package of ginger root ; Spanieh, rayz, a root. 
 
14 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICrOElES OF [act ii. 
 
 Thief. Ay, Gog’s Tvounds, that I am ; try me who 
 dare. 
 
 C. Just. Your grace shall find small credit by acknow- 
 ledging him to be your man. 
 
 F. Hen. Why, my lord, what hath he done ? 
 
 C. Just. And it please your majesty, he hath robbed 
 a poor carrier. 
 
 Der, Hear j ou, sir, marry, it was one Derick, good- 
 man Hobling’s man of Kent. 
 
 P, Hen, What wast thou, button-breech ? Of my 
 word, my lord, he did it but in jest. 
 
 Her, Hear you, sir, is it your man’s quality to rob 
 folks in jest? In faith, he shall be hanged in earnest ! 
 
 P. Hen. Well, my lord, what do you mean to do with 
 my man ? 
 
 C, Just. And please your grace, the law must pass 
 on him according to justice, then he must be executed. 
 
 Der. Hear you, sir, I pray you, is it your man’s 
 quality to rob folks in jest ? In faith, he shall be hanged 
 in jest. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, my lord, what mean you to do with 
 my man ? 
 
 C. Just. And please your grace, the Jaw must pass on 
 him according to justice, then he must be executed.^ 
 
 P. Hen. Why, then belike you mean to hang my 
 man ? 
 
 C. Just. I am sorry that it falls out so. 
 
 P. Hen. AVhy, my lord, I pray ye, who am I ? 
 
 C, Just. And please your grace, you are my lord the 
 
 * Ed. 1617 reads, “ And please your grace, according to law and justice he 
 must be hanged.” 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 15 
 
 young prince ; our king that shall be, after the decease 
 of our sovereign lord, King Henry the Fourth, whom 
 God grant long to reign. 
 
 P. Hen, You say true, my lord : and you will hang 
 my man ? 
 
 C, Just, And like your grace, I must needs do justice. 
 
 P. Hen, Tell me, my lord, shall I have my man ? 
 
 C, Just, I cannot, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen, But will you not let him go ? 
 
 C. Just. I am sorry that his case is so ill. 
 
 P. Hen, Tush, case me no caseings, shall I have my 
 man? 
 
 C. Just. I cannot, nor I may not, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, and I shall not, say, and then I am 
 answered. 
 
 C. Just, No, 
 
 P. Hen. No ? Then I will have him ! 
 
 \He gives him a box on the ear, 
 
 Ned, Gog’s wounds, my lord, shall I cut off his head ? 
 
 P. Hen, No ; I charge you draw not your swords : but 
 get you hence, provide a noise of musicians; away, be 
 gone! [Exeunt Ned, Tom, Dee., and John.* 
 
 C. Just. Well, my lord, I am content to take it at your 
 hands, 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, and you be not, you shall have more. 
 
 C. Just. Why, I pray you, my lord, who am I ? 
 
 P. Hen. You, who knows not you ? Why, man, you 
 are Lord Chief Justice of England. 
 
 C. Just. Your grace hath said truth ; therefore in 
 
 * Old copies, Exeunt the Thief , an error, for he does not go off the scene 
 till later on, 
 
16 
 
 [act n. 
 
 TILL FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 htriking me in this place, you greatly abuse me, and 
 not me only, but also your father, whose lively person 
 here in this place I do represent : and therefore to teach 
 3^ou what prerogatives mean, I commit you to the Fleet, 
 until w'e have spoken with your father. 
 
 P. Ren. Why, then belike you mean to send me to 
 the Fleet ? 
 
 C. Just, Ay, indeed, and therefore carry him away. 
 
 [Exit P. Hen. with the O^deers 
 Gaoler, carry the prisoner to Newgate again till the next 
 ’sizes. 
 
 Gaoler. At your commandment, my lord, it shall be 
 done. [Exit with the Thief. 
 
 [Exeunt C. Just., Clerk, and Officers. 
 
 Re-enter Derick, and J ohn Gobbler. 
 
 Per. Zounds, masters, here ’s ado, when princes must 
 go to prison : why, J ohn, didst ever see the like ? 
 
 John. Oh, Derick, trust me, I never saw the like. 
 
 Per. Why, John, thou mayst see what princes be in 
 
 * According to recent research, it appears there is no historical foundation 
 for the popular belief in the story of Prince Henry boxing Lord Chief Justice 
 Gascoigne’s ears, or of his committing the Prince to the Fleet for the offence. 
 The subject has been exhaustively treated by Mr. Solly-Flood, Q.C., in a long 
 paper read before the Royal Historical Society in Nov. 1885, and published by 
 Longmans in 1886. Mr. Flood not only demolishes the story of the insult and 
 committal, but also overthrows the belief in the Prince’s youthful excesses, 
 for which there appears to be absolutely no foundation in fact. I have not 
 seen Mr. Flood’s work, and my remarke are based on a critical notice of the 
 book in the Saturday Review of Oct. 15, 1887. Shakespeare followed the 
 author of the old play in the popular error, but, with his usual good taste, he 
 did not openly exhibit the insult offered the judge on the stage ; he alludes 
 to the circumstance, however, in 2 Henry IV. i. 2,— 
 
 Page. See here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for 
 striking him about Bardolph. ” 
 
6CENB I.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 17 
 
 choler, A judge a box on tbe ear I I’ll tell thee, John, 
 Oh, John, I would not have done it for twenty shillings. 
 
 John. No, nor I j there had been no way but one for 
 us, we should have been hano:ed. 
 
 Der. Faith, John, I’ll tell thee what ; thou shalt be 
 my Lord Chief Justice, and thou shalt sit in the chair, 
 and I’ll be the young prince and hit the a box on 
 the ear, and then thou shalt say, ‘ To teach you what 
 prerogatives mean, I commit you to the Fleet,’ 
 
 John. Come on, I’ll be your judge, but thou shalt not 
 hit me hard. 
 
 Der. No, no. 
 
 John. What hath he done ? 
 
 Der. Marry, he hath robbed Derick, 
 
 John. Why, then I cannot let him go, 
 
 Der. I must needs have my man. 
 
 John. You shall not have him. 
 
 D^t. Shall I not have my man ? say no, and you dare. 
 How say you, shall I not have my man ? 
 
 John. No, marry shall you not. 
 
 Der. Shall I not, J ohn ? 
 
 John. No, Derick. 
 
 Der. Why, then take that till more come. [Boxes his 
 ear.'] Zounds, shall I not have him ? 
 
 John. Well, I am content to take this at your hand ; 
 but I pray you, who am I ? 
 
 Der. Who art thou ? Zounds, dost not know thyself ? 
 
 John, No. 
 
 Der. Now, away, simple fellow ! Why, man, thou 
 art John the Cobbler. 
 
 John, No 5 I am my Lord Chief Justice of England, 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF [act ir. 
 
 Der. Oh, John ! mass, thou sayst true ; thou art indeed. 
 
 John. Why, then to teach you what prerogatives mean, 
 I commit you to the Fleet. 
 
 Ber. Well, I will go, but, faith, you grey-beard 
 knave, I’ll course you. [Exit and re^enters.'\ Oh, John, 
 come, come out of thy chair ! Why, what a clown wast 
 thou to let me hit thee a box on the ear ; and now thou 
 seest they will not take me to the Fleet, I think thou art 
 one of these Worenday clowns. 
 
 John. But I marvel what will become of thee. 
 
 Der. Faith, I’ll be no more a carrier. 
 
 John. What wilt thou do, then? 
 
 Ber. I’ll dwell with thee, and be a cobbler. 
 
 John. With' me? alas, I am not able to keep thee; 
 why, thou wilt eat me out of doors. 
 
 Ber. Oh, John, no John, I am none of these great 
 slouching fellows that devour these great pieces of beef 
 and brewis f" alas, a trifie serves me ; a woodcock, a 
 chicken, or a capon’s leg, or any such little thing serves 
 me. 
 
 John. A capon ! why, man, I cannot get a capon once 
 a 3*ear, except it be at Christmas at some other man’s 
 house ; for we cobblers be glad of a dish of roots. 
 
 Ber. Boots ! why, are you so good at rooting ? Nay, 
 Cobbler, we ’ll have you ringed. 
 
 John. But, Derick, though we be so poor, yet will we 
 have in store — A crab in the fire,f 
 
 With nut-brown ale, that is full stale, 
 
 ^ Brewis was, according to Nares, bread soaked in pot-liquor, 
 t This wild English apple, roasted before the fire and put into ale, was a 
 very favourite indulgence in early times, Narks. 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 19 
 
 Which will a man quail, 
 
 And lay in the mire. 
 
 Der. A hots on you ! an(][’t] be but for 3 our ale, I’ll 
 dwell with you ; come, let ’s away as fast as we can. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCElsE II. — Westminster. Before the King's Balace. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry, icith Ned and Tom. 
 
 P. Hen. Come away, sirs ; Gog’s wounds, Ned, didst 
 thou not see what a box on the ear I took my Lord Chief 
 
 Justice ? 
 
 Tom. By Gog’s blood, it did me good to see it; it 
 made his teeth jar in his head. 
 
 Enter Sir John Oldcastle. 
 
 P. Hen. How now, Sir John Oldcastle, what news 
 with you ? 
 
 Sir John. I am glad to see your grace at liberty ; I 
 was come, I, to visit you in prison. 
 
 P. Hen. To visit me, didst thou not know that I am 
 a prince’s son ? Why, ’tis enough for me to look into a 
 prison, though I come not in myself ; but here ’s such 
 ado now-a-days, here’s prisoning, here’s hanging, whip- 
 ping, and the devil and all : but I tell you, sirs, when I 
 am king we will have no such things ; but, my lads, if 
 the old king, my father, were dead, we would be all A 
 kings. 
 
 Sir John. He is a good old man, God take him to his 
 mercy the sooner. 
 
 P. Hen. But, Ned, so soon as I am king, the first 
 
20 
 
 THE FAMOUS TICTOFIES OF 
 
 [act II. 
 
 thing I will do, shall he to put my Lord Chief Justice 
 out of office, and thou shalt be my Lord Chief Justice of 
 England. 
 
 Ned, Shall I be Lord Chief Justice ? By Gog’s wounds, 
 I’ll be the bravest Lord Chief J ustice that ever was in 
 England.* ** 
 
 P. Hen, Then, Ned, I’ll turn all these prisons into 
 fence-schools, and I will enduef thee with them, with 
 lands to maintain them withal : then I will have a bout 
 with my Lord Chief Justice. Thou shalt hang none but 
 pick-purses, and horse stealers, and such base-minded 
 villains; but that fellow that will stand by the highway- 
 side courageously with his sword and buckler, and take 
 a purse, that fellow, give him commendations ; beside 
 that, send him to me and I will give him an annual pen- 
 sion out of my exchequer, to maintain him all the days 
 of his life. 
 
 Sir John, Nobly spoken, Harry; we shall never have 
 a merry world till the old king be dead. 
 
 Ned, But whither are ye going now ? 
 
 P. Hen. To the Court, for I hear say my father lies 
 very sick. 
 
 Tom. But I doubt he will not die. 
 
 P. Hen. Yet w ill I go thither, for the breath shall be 
 no sooner out of his mouth, but I will clap the crown oh 
 my head. 
 
 Sir John. WiU you go to the Court with that cloak so 
 full of needles ? 
 
 * Cf. 2 Henry IV. i. 2,— 
 
 ** Fal, By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.” 
 t Perhaps endow. 
 
SCENE II.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 21 
 
 P. Hen. Cloak, eyiot holes, needles and all, was of 
 mine own devising, and therefore I will wear it. 
 
 Toni. I prav you, my lord, what may be the meaning 
 thereof ? 
 
 P. Hen. Yfhy, man, ’tis a sign that I stand upon 
 thorns, till the crown be on my head. 
 
 Sir John. Or that every needle might be a prick to 
 their hearts that repine at your doings. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou sayst true, Jockey ; but there ’s some 
 will say the young prince will be a well-toward young 
 man, and all this gear, that I had as lief they would break 
 my head with a pot as say any such thing ; but we stand 
 prating here too long : I must needs speak with my 
 father, therefore, come away. [He hnochs at the gate. 
 
 Porter, [ynthin.] What a rapping keep you at the 
 king’s court gate ! 
 
 P. Hen. Here’s one that must speak with the king. 
 
 Porter. The king is very sick, and none must speak 
 with him. 
 
 P. Hen. No, you rascal, do you not know me ? 
 
 Porter. You are my lord the young prince. 
 
 P. Hen. Then go and tell my father that I must and 
 will speak with him. 
 
 Ned. Shall I cut off his head ? 
 
 P. Hen. No, no ; though I would help you in other 
 places, yet I have nothing to do here. What, you are in 
 my father’s court ! 
 
 Ned. I will write him in my tables, for so soon as I 
 am made Lord Chief Justice, I will put him out of his 
 Qg^ce. [Ti'umpets sound. 
 
22 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTOBIES OF [act ii. 
 
 P. Hen. Gog’s wounds, sirs, the king comes ; let ’s all 
 stand aside. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — The same. A Room in the Kinffs Palace. 
 
 Enter Kino Henry with the Earl 0/ Exeter. 
 
 Hen. IV. And is it true, my lord, that my son is al- 
 ready sent to the Fleet ? Now, truly, that man is more 
 fitter to rule the realm than I, for by no means could I 
 rule my son, and he by one word hath caused him to be 
 ruled. Oh, my son, my son ! no sooner out of one prison, 
 but into another ; I had thought once whiles I had lived 
 to have seen this noble realm of England flourish by 
 thee, my son, but now I see it goes to ruin and decay. 
 
 [He weeps. 
 
 Enter the Earl of Oxford ; with him Prince Henry, Sir 
 
 John Oldcastle, Ned and Tom, who remain in the 
 
 background.^ 
 
 Oxf. And please your grace, here is my lord your son, 
 that cometh to speak with you ; he saith he must and 
 will speak with you. 
 
 Hen. IV. Who, my son Harry ? 
 
 Oxf. Ay, and please your majesty. 
 
 Hen. IV. 1 know wherefore he cometh ; but look that 
 none come with him. 
 
 Oxf. A very disordered company, and such as make 
 
 * Here the old copies have simply Enter Lord of Oxford, but from the 
 dialogue immediately following it is clear that Prince Henry and his com- 
 panions appear on the scene, although they do not enter the king's chamber ; 
 possibly they remain in the corridor or some ante-room, where they are un- 
 seen by the king, yet are visible to the audience. 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 23 
 
 very ill rule in your majesty’s house. 
 
 Hen. IV. Well, let him come, hut look that none 
 come with him. 
 
 [OxroED returns to Prince Heney. 
 
 Oxf. And please your grace, my lord the king sends 
 for you. 
 
 P. Hen. Come away, sirs, let ’s go altogether. 
 
 Oxf. And please your grace, none must go with you. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, I must needs have them with me, 
 otherwise I can do my father no countenance ; therefore, 
 come away. 
 
 Oxf. The king, your father, commands there should 
 none come. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, sirs, then be gone, and provide me three 
 noise of musicians. [Exeunt Sir John, Ned, and Tom.* 
 
 Enter Prince Henry, with a dagger in his hand. 
 
 Hen. IV. Come, my son, come on, ’a God’s name ; I 
 I know wherefore thy coming is. Oh, my son, my son ! 
 what cause hath ever been that thou shouldst forsake 
 me, and follow this vildf and reprobate company, which 
 abuseth youth so manifestly ? Oh, my son, thou knowest 
 that these thy doings will end thy father’s days ! [He 
 weeps.] Ay, so, so, my son, thou fearest not to approach 
 the presence of thy sick father in that disguised sort ; I 
 tell thee, my son, that there is never a needle in thy 
 cloak but it is a prick to my heart, and never an eylot- 
 hole but it is a hole to my soul : and wherefore bringst 
 thou that dagger in thy hand, I know not, but by con- 
 jecture. [He weeps. 
 
 Old copies, Exeunt Knights. " ‘ ’ 
 
 ii.e., Vile. 
 
24 
 
 TRE F AMOVE VICTOFIES OF 
 
 [act II. 
 
 P. Hen, My conscience accuseth me, most sovereign 
 lord and well-beloved father, to answer first to the last 
 point, — that is, whereas you conjecture that this hand 
 and this dagger shall be armed against your life : — no ; 
 know my beloved father, far be the thoughts of your 
 son, son, said I ? — an unworthy son for so good a father! 
 — but far be the thoughts of any such pretended mis- 
 chief, and I most humbly render it to your majesty’s 
 hand, and live my lord and sovereign for ever : and with 
 your dagger-arm show like vengeance upon the body of 
 your son, I was about to say, and dare not. Ah, woe is 
 me ! Therefore that your wild slave,* — ’tis not the crown 
 that I come for, sweet father, because I am unworthy ; 
 and those wild and reprobate company I abandon, and 
 utterly abolish their company for ever. Pardon, sweet 
 father, pardon ! the least thing and most desire[d]. And 
 this ruffianly cloak I here tear from my back, and sacri- 
 fice it to the devil, which is master of all mischief. 
 Pardon me, sweet father, pardon mo ! — Good my lord of 
 Exeter, speak for me. Pardon me, pardon, good father ! 
 Not a word? Ah, he will not speak one word! Al), 
 Harry, now thrice unhappy Harry 1 But what shall I 
 do ? I vrill go take me into some solitary place, and there 
 lament my sinful life, and when I have done, I will lay 
 me down and die. [Exit. 
 
 Hen, IV. Call him again, call my son again 1 
 
 [Pkince Hekry returns. 
 
 P. Hen. And doth my father call me again? Now, 
 Harry, happy be the time that thy father calleth thee 
 again . 
 
 * This passage seems obscure ; possibiy something has dropped out. 
 
SCKNE in.) }1E2<:RY the FIFTH. To 
 
 Hen. IV. Stand up, my son, and do not think thy 
 father, — but at the request of thee, my son, I will pardon 
 thee, and God bless thee, and make thee his servant. 
 
 P. Hen. Thanks, good my lord, and no doubt but this 
 day, even this day, I am born new again. 
 
 Hen. IV. Come, my son, and lords, take me by the 
 hands.* \^Exeunt omnes. 
 
 SCENE IV. — London. Before John Cobbler’s House. 
 
 Enter Derick from the House. 
 
 Her. Thou art a stinking whore, and a whoreson 
 stinking whore ; dost think I’ll take it at thy hands ? 
 
 Enter John Cobbler, running. 
 
 John. Deriek, Derick, Derick! Hearest ’a? Do, 
 Derick; never while thou livest use that. Why, what 
 will my neighbours say, and thou go away so ?t 
 
 Her. She ’s an arrant whore, and I’ll have the law 
 on you, John. 
 
 John. Why, what hath she done ? 
 
 Ber. Marry, mark thou, John, I will prove it, that I 
 will 1 
 
 John. What wilt thou prove ? 
 
 Ber. That she called me in to dinner, J ohn, mark the 
 tale well, John, and when I was set she brought me a 
 dish of roots and a piece of barrel butter therein : and 
 
 * For this scene, see 1 Henry IV. m. 2. 
 
 t The old copies read,— 
 
 ** John. Derick, D, D. Hearesta, 
 
 Do D. neuer while thou liuest vse that. 
 
 Why what will my neighbours say, and thou go away so 
 
26 
 
 THE FAMOVS VICTOlilES OF [act hi. 
 
 she is a very knave, and thou a drab if thou take her part. 
 
 John, Hearest ’a, Derick, is this the matter ? Nay, 
 and it be no worse, we will go home again, and all shall 
 be amended. 
 
 Ber. Oh, John ! hearest ’a, John, is all well ? 
 
 John, Ay, all is well. 
 
 Ber, Then I’ll go home before, and break all the 
 glass windows. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — London. The King^s hed-chamhcr in the 
 
 Palace, 
 
 The Kikg discovered with Oxford, Exeter and other Lords. 
 
 Hen. IV. Come, my lords, I see it boots me not to 
 take any physic, for all the physicians in the v orld can- 
 not cure me ; no, not one ! But, good my lords, remem- 
 ber my last will and testament concerning my son, for 
 truly, my lords, I do not think but he will prove as 
 valiant and victorious a king as ever reigned in England. 
 
 Both. Let heaven and earth be witness between us, 
 if we accomplish not thy will to the uttermost. 
 
 Hen. IV. I give you most unfeigned thanks. Good 
 my lords, draw the curtains and depart my chamber a 
 while ; and cause some music to rock me asleep. 
 
 [He sleeps. Exeunt Oxf., Exe., and Lords. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. Ah, Harry, thrice unhappy, that hath neg- 
 lect[ed] so long from visiting of thy sick father. I will 
 go ; nay, but why do I not go to the chamber of my sick 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 27 
 
 father, to comfort the melancholy soul of his body ? His 
 soul, said I ? here is his body indeed, but his soul is 
 whereas^ it needs no body. Now thrice accursed Harry, 
 that hath offended thy father so much, and could not I 
 crave pardon for all. Oh, my dying father ! cursed be 
 the day wherein I was born, and accursed be the hour 
 wherein I was begotten ! But what shall I do ? If 
 weeping tears, which come too late, may suffice the neg- 
 ligence neglected to some, I will weep day and night, 
 until the fountain be dry with weeping. 
 
 [Exit with the Crown. 
 
 Enter Exeter and Oxford. 
 
 Exe, Come easily, my lord, for waking of the king. 
 
 Hen. IV, Now, my lords ? 
 
 Oxf. How doth your grace feel yourself ? 
 
 Hen. IV. Somewhat better after my sleep ; but, good 
 my lords, take off my crown, remove my chair a little 
 back, and set me right. 
 
 Both. And please your grace, the crown is taken away. 
 
 Hen. IV. The crown taken away ! Good my lord of 
 Oxford, go see who hath done this deed. [Exit Oxf.] No 
 doubt ’tis some vildf traitor that hath done it, to deprive 
 my son ; they that would do it now, would seek to scrape 
 and scrawl for it after my death. 
 
 Be-enter Oxford, and Prince Henry with the Crown. 
 
 Oxf, Here, and please your grace, is my lord the 
 young prince with the crown. 
 
 Hen. IV. Why, how now, my son ? I had thought 
 
 Where. 
 
 t Vile. 
 
I 
 
 28 THE FAMOrS VICTOEIFS OF [act hi, 
 
 the last time I had you in schooling, I had given you a 
 lesson for all ; and do you now begin again ? Why, tell 
 me, m}’ son, dost thou think the time so long, that thou 
 wouldst have it before the breath be out of my mouth ? 
 
 P. Hen. Most sovereign lord, and well-beloved father, 
 I came into your chamber to comfort the melancholy 
 soul of your body, and finding you at that time past all 
 recovery, and dead to my thinking (God is my witness), 
 and what should I do but, with weeping tears lament 
 the death of you, my father ? And after that, seeing the 
 crown, I took it : and tell me, my father, who might 
 better take it than I, after your death ? but seeing you 
 live, I most humbly render it into your majesty’s hands, 
 and the happiest man alive, that my father live, and live 
 my lord and father for ever.'*^ 
 
 Hen, IV, Stand up, my son : thine answer hath 
 sounded well in mine ears, for I must need confess that 
 I was in a very sound sleep, and altogether unmindful 
 of thy coming. But come near, my son, and let me put 
 thee in possession whilst I live, that none deprive thee 
 of it after my death. 
 
 P. Hen, Weil may I take it at your majesty’s hands, 
 but it shall never touch my head so long as my father 
 lives. [He takes the Crown. 
 
 Hen. IV. God give thee joy, my son ; God bless thee 
 and make thee his servant, and send thee a prosperous 
 reign, for God knows, my son, how hardly I came by it, 
 and how hardly I have maintained it. 
 
 P. Hen, Howsoever you came by it, I know not ; and 
 
 * Cf. 2 Henry JV. iv. 4, where Prince Henry gives almost identical reasons 
 for taking the crown. 
 
SCENE I.] 
 
 HEN BY THE FIFTH 
 
 
 now I have it from you, and from you I will keep it : 
 and he that seeks to take the crown from my head, let 
 him look that his armour be thicker than mine, or I 
 will pierce him to the heart, were it harder than brass oy 
 bullion."^ 
 
 Hen, IV, Nobly spoken and like a king 1 Now, trust 
 me, my lords, I fear not but my son will be as warlike 
 and victorious a prince as ever reigned in England. 
 
 Oxf,f Exe. His former life shows no less. 
 
 Hen. IV, Well, my lords, I know not whether it be 
 for sleep, or drawing near of drowsy summer of death, 
 but I am very much given to sleep ; therefore, good my 
 lords and my son, draw the curtains, depart my chamber# 
 and cause some music to rock me asleep. 
 
 [Exeunt Lords, The King dies, 
 
 SCENE II. — Westminster. Street before the Palace, 
 Enter the Thief. 
 
 Thief, Ah God, I am now much like to a bird which hath 
 escaped out of the cage, for so soon as my Lord Chief 
 Justice heard that the old king was dead, he was glad to 
 let me go, for fear of my lord the young prince : but 
 here comes some of his companions, I will see and I can 
 get anything of them, for old acquaintance. 
 
 Enter Sin John Oldcastle, Tom, and NED.f 
 
 Tom, Gog’s wounds, the king is dead I 
 
 Sir John, Dead ! then Gog’s blood, we shall be all 
 kings. 
 
 Cf. 2 Henry 77. iv. 4. 
 
 t Old copies, Enter Knights raunging. 
 
30 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF [act in. 
 
 Ned. Gog’s T^’Oiinds, I shall be Lord Chief Justice of 
 England ! 
 
 Tom \to Thief]. Why, hoTr, are you broken out of 
 prison ? 
 
 Ned. Gog’s TTOunds, how the villain stinks ! 
 
 Sir John. Wh}^ what will become of thee now ? Fie 
 upon him, how the rascal stinks ! 
 
 Thief. Marry, I will go and serve my master again. 
 
 Tom. Gog’s blood, dost think that he will have any 
 such scab’d knave as thou art ? What, man, he is a king 
 now 1 
 
 Ned. Hold thee, here ’s a couple of angels for thee, 
 and get thee gone, for the king will not be long before 
 he come this way ; and hereafter I will tell the king of 
 thee. [Exit Thief. 
 
 Sir John. Oh, how it did me good to see the king 
 when he was crowned ! Methought his seat was like tho 
 figure of heaven, and his person like unto a god. 
 
 Ned. But who would have thought that the king 
 V onld have clianged his countenance so ? 
 
 Sir John. Did 3"0u not see with what grace he sent 
 his embassage into France, to tell the French king that 
 Harry of England hath sent for the crown, and Harry of 
 England will have it ? 
 
 Tom. But ’t was but a little to make the people be- 
 lieve that he was sorry for his father’s death. 
 
 [Trumpet sounds. 
 
 Ned, Gog’s wounds, the king comes ; let all stand aside. 
 
 Enter King Heney Y. with the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 and the Earl of Oxfoed. 
 
 Sir John, How do you, my lord ? 
 
BCENE If.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 31 
 
 Ned. How now, Harry? Tut, my lord, put away 
 these dumps ; you are a king, and all the realm is yours. 
 What, man, do you not remember the old sayings ? you 
 know I must be Lord Chief Justice of England. ‘ Trust 
 me, my lord, methinks you are very much changed, and 
 ’tis but with a little sorrowing, to make folks believe the 
 death of your father grieves you, and ’tis nothing so. 
 
 Hen. V. I pr’ythee, Ned, mend thy manners, and be 
 more modester in thy terms, for my unfeigned grief is 
 not to be ruled by thy flattering and dissembling talk. 
 Thou sayst I am changed, so I am indeed, and so must 
 thou be, and that quickly, or else I must cause thee to 
 be changed. 
 
 Sir John. Gog’s wounds, how like you this? Zounds, 
 ’tis not so sweet as music ! 
 
 Tom. I trust we have not offended your grace no way. 
 
 Hen. V. Ah, Tom, your former life grieves me, and 
 makes me to abandon and abolish your company for ever, 
 and therefore not upon pain of death to approach my 
 presence by ten miles’ space ; then if I hear well of you, 
 it may be I will do somewhat for you, otherwise look for 
 no more favour at my hands than any other man’s and 
 therefore be gone, we have no other matters to talk on. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir John, Ned, and Tom. The King and his 
 Train enter the Palace.\ 
 
 * This speech in Shakespeare’s play is addressed to Falstaff. See 2 Henry 
 IV. V. 5, 1. 60, et seq, 
 
 t The old copies have Exeunt Knights, only ; the other characters remain 
 on the stage and there is apparently no change of scene, although a change 
 appears to be necessary. Further on, the King receives the French ambas 
 sador, and it is scarcely probable that he would do so in the public street, I 
 therefore venture to divide the scene here, and locate the place of meeting in^ 
 side the King’s palace at Westminster. 
 
32 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTOEIES OF 
 
 [act III. 
 
 SCENE III. — The same. An Apartment in the Falace. 
 
 Enter King Henry Y., the Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
 the Earl of Oxford, and other Lords. 
 
 Hen. V. Now my good lord archbishop of Canterbury, 
 what say you to our embassage into France ? 
 
 Arch. Your right to the French crown of France,"*^ 
 came by your great grandmother Isabel, wife to King 
 Edward the third, and sister to Charles the French king. 
 Now if the French king deny it, as likely enough he 
 will, then must you take your sword in hand and conquer 
 the right. Let the usurped Frenchman know, although 
 your predecessors have let it pass, you will not ; for your 
 countrymen are willing, with purse and men, to aid you. 
 Then, m}^ good lord, as it hath been always known that 
 Scotland hath been in league with France by a sort of 
 pensions which yearly come from thence, I think it there- 
 fore best to conquer Scotland, and then I think that you 
 may go more easil^^ into France : and this is all that I 
 can say, my good lord. 
 
 Hen. V. I thank you, my good lord archbishop of 
 Canterbury. What say you, my good lord of Oxford ? 
 
 Oxf Andf please your majesty, I agree to my lord 
 archbishop, saving in this, — 
 
 He that will Scotland win. 
 
 Must first with France begin 
 
 * This reads like an interpolation. The mistake probably occurred through 
 the compositor’s eye catching the same word at the end of the previous line. 
 
 t Ed. 1598 reads, “ And, and please your majesty.” 
 
 J This proverbial couplet is reversed in Shakespeares Henry V. i. 2, — 
 
 “ If that you will France win. 
 
 Then with Scotland first begin.” 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 33 
 
 according to the old saying. Therefore, my good lord, I 
 think it best to invade France ; for in conquering Scot- 
 land you conquer but one : and conquer France, and 
 conquer both. 
 
 Enter the Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Exe, And please your majesty, my lord ambassador 
 is come out of France. 
 
 Hen, V. Now trust me, my lord, he was the last man 
 that we talked of ; I am glad that he is come to resolve 
 us of our answer : commit him to our presence. 
 
 Enter the Duke of York. 
 
 York, God save the life of my sovereign lord the king 1 
 
 Hen, V. Now my good lord the duke of York, what 
 news from our brother the French king ? 
 
 York, And please your majesty, I delivered him my 
 embassage, whereof I took some deliberation, but for 
 the answer he hath sent my lord ambassador of Bruges,’*^ 
 the duke of Burgundy, Monsieur le Cole, with two hun- 
 dred and fifty horsemen to bring the embassage. 
 
 Hen, V, Commit my lord the archbishop of Bruges 
 into our presence. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Bruges. 
 
 Now my lord archbishop of Bruges, we do learn by our 
 lord ambassador that you have our message to do from 
 our brother the French king. Here, my good lord, ac- 
 cording to our accustomed order, we give you free liberty 
 and license to speak, with good audience. 
 
 * Throughout the play the old copies read Burges. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTOEIES OF [act hi. 
 
 Arch. God save the mighty king of England ! My 
 lord and master, the most Christian king, Charles the 
 seventh, the great and mighty king of France, as a most 
 noble and Christian king, not minding to shed innocent 
 blood, is rather content to yield somewhat to your un- 
 reasonable demands ; that if fifty thousand crowns a year 
 with his daughter, the said lady Katherine, in marriage, 
 and some crowns which he may well spare, not hurting 
 of his kingdom, he is content to yield so far to your un- 
 reasonable desire. 
 
 Hen. V. Why, then, belike your lord and master thinks 
 to puff me up with fifty thousand crowns a year ? No ; 
 tell thy lord and master that all the crowns in France 
 shall not serve me, except the Crown and kingdom itself ; 
 and perchance hereafter I will have his daughter. 
 
 Arch. And may it phase your majesty, my lord prince 
 Dauphin greets you well with this present. 
 
 [He delivers a tun of tennis halls. 
 
 Hen. V. What ! a gilded tun ? I pray you, my lord 
 of York, look what is in it. [York opens the tun. 
 
 York. And it please your grace, here is a carpet and 
 a tun of tennis balls. 
 
 Hen. V. A tun of tennis balls ! I pray you, good my 
 lord archbishop, what might the meaning thereof be ? 
 
 Arch. And it please you, my lord, a messenger, you 
 know, ought to keep close his message, and especially ai^ 
 ambassador. 
 
 fi, Hen. V. But I know that you may declare your mes- 
 sage to a king ; the law of arms allows no less. 
 
 Arch. My lord hearing of your wildness before your 
 father’s death, sent you this, my good lord, meaning that 
 
SCfiNE lir.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 35 
 
 you are more fitter for a tennis court than a field, and 
 more fitter for a carpet than the camp. 
 
 Hen. y. My lord prince Dauphin is very pleasant with 
 me : but tell him that instead of balls of leather we will 
 toss him balls of brass and iron ; yea, such balls as never 
 were tossed in France, the proudest tennis court shall 
 rue it, — ay, and thou, prince of Bruges, shall rue it. 
 Therefore, get thee hence, and tell him thy message 
 quickly, lest I be there before thee. Away, priest, be 
 gone !* 
 
 Arch. I beseech your grace to deliver me your safe 
 conduct under your broad seal emanuel. 
 
 Hen. y. Priest of Bruges, know that the hand and 
 seal of a king, and his word, is all one ; and instead of 
 my hand and seal, I will bring him my hand and sword : 
 and tell thy lord and master that I, Harry of England, 
 said it, and I, Harry of England, will perform it. My 
 lord of York, deliver him our safe conduct under our 
 broad seal emanuel. [Exeunt Archbishop and Yoek. 
 
 Now my lords, to arms, to arms ! for I vow by heaven 
 and earth, that the proudest Frenchman in all France, 
 shall rue the time that ever these tennis balls were sent 
 into England. My lord, I willf it there be provided a 
 great navy of ships with all speed at Southampton, for 
 there I mean to ship my men, for I would be there before 
 him, if it were possible ; therefore, come : but stay — I 
 had almost forgot the chiefest thing of all, with chaffing 
 with this French ambassador. Call in my Lord Chief 
 Justice of England. 
 
 Cf. Henery V. i. 2, 
 
 ii.e.f Command. 
 
36 
 
 THE FAMOUS V1CT0BIE8 OF [act iir. 
 
 Enter Lord Chief Justice. 
 
 Exe. Here is the king, my lord. 
 
 C. Just. God preserve your majesty ! 
 
 Hen, V. Why, how now, my lord, what is the matter? 
 
 C, Just. I would it were unknown to your majesty ! 
 
 Hen. V. Why, what ail you ? 
 
 C. Just. Your majesty knoweth my grief well. 
 
 Hen. V. Oh, my lord, you remember you sent me to 
 the Fleet, did you not ? 
 
 C. Just. I trust your grace have forgotten that. 
 
 Hen. V, Ay, truly, my lord, and for revengement I 
 have chosen you to be my protector over my realm, until 
 it shall please God to give me speedy return out of 
 France. 
 
 C. Just. And if it please your majesty, I am far un- 
 worthy of so high a dignity. 
 
 Hen. V. Tut, my lord, you are not unwoi-thy, because 
 I think you worthy : for you that would not spare me, I 
 think will not spare another. It must needs be so, and 
 therefore come, let us be gone, and get our men in a 
 readiness.* [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— London. A Street. 
 
 Enter a Captain, John Cobbler, and his Wife. 
 
 Cap. Come, come, there ’s no remedy, thou must needs 
 serve the king. 
 
 John. Good master captain, let me go, I am not able 
 
 * This scene with the Lord Chief Justice is lengthened and elaborated by 
 Shakespeare in 2 Henry IV. v. 2, q. v. 
 
SCENJ: IV.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 37 
 
 to go 80 far. 
 
 Wife, I pray you, good master captain, be good to my 
 husband. 
 
 Cap. Why, I am sure he is not too good to serve the 
 king. 
 
 John. Alas, no ; but a great deal too bad, therefore I 
 pray j^ou let me go. 
 
 Cap, No, no, thou shalt go. 
 
 John. Oh, sir, I have a great many shoes at home to 
 cobble. 
 
 Wife. I pray you let him go home again. 
 
 Cap. Tush, I care not ; thou shalt go. 
 
 John. Oh, wife, and you had been a loving wife to 
 me, this had not been ; for I have said many timers that 
 I would go away, and now I must go against my will. 
 
 \JJe iceeps. 
 
 Enter Derick. 
 
 Der. How now, ho, Basillus manus, for an old cod- 
 piece f" master captain, shall we away ? ZoundS;^ how 
 now, John? what, a- cry in g ! What make you and my 
 dame there ? I marvel whose head you will throw the 
 stools at, now we are gone. 
 
 Wife. I’ll tell you ; come, ye cloghead, what do you 
 with my potlid ? Hear you, will you have it rapped 
 about your pate ? [She heats him with her potlid. 
 
 Der. Oh, good dame ! [He shakes her.'\ And I had 
 my dagger here, I would worry you all to pieces ; that I 
 would ! 
 
 * A part of male dress, formerly made very conspicuous, and put to various 
 uses,— llARES. 
 
38 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act III. 
 
 Wife. Would you so ? I’ll try that. [S’ ^6 beats him. 
 
 Der. Master captain, will ye suffer her ? Go to, dame, 
 I will go back as far as I can, but and you come again, 
 I’ll clap the law on your back, that ’s flat. I’ll tell you 
 master captain, what you shall do ; press her for a sol- 
 dier ; I warrant you she will do as much good as her 
 husband and I too. 
 
 Enter the Thief. 
 
 Zounds, who comes yonder ? 
 
 Cap. How now, good fellow, dost thou want a master ? 
 
 Thief. Ay, truly, sir. 
 
 Cap. Hold thee, then ; I press thee for a soldier, to 
 serve the king in France. 
 
 Der. How now. Gads, what doest, knowest, thiukest ? 
 
 Thief. Ay, I knew thee long ago. 
 
 Der. Hear you, master captain ? 
 
 Cap. What sayst thou ? 
 
 Der. I pray you let me go home again. 
 
 Cap. Why, what wouldst thou do at homo ? 
 
 Der. Marry, I have brought two shirts with me, and 
 I would carry one of them home again, for I am sure 
 he ’ll steal it from me, he is such a filching fellow. 
 
 Cap. I warrant thee he will not steal it form thee. 
 Come, let’s away. 
 
 Der. Come, master captain, let’s away. Come, fol- 
 low me. 
 
 John. Come wife, let’s part lovingly. 
 
 Wife. Farewell, good husband ! 
 
 Der, Fie, what a kissing and crying is here ! Zounds, 
 do ye think he will never come again ? Why, John, come 
 
SCENE IV.] 
 
 HEN BY THE FIFTH 
 
 39 
 
 away ; dost think that we are so base-minded to die 
 among Frenchmen ? Zounds, we know not whether 
 they will lay us in their church or no ! Come, master 
 captain, let ’s away. 
 
 Cap. I cannot stay no longer, therefore, come away. 
 
 \Exeunt, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — France. A room in the French hinges Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter the French King, Prince Dauphin, and 
 the Lord high Constable of France. 
 
 King. Now my lord high Constable, what say you to 
 our embassage into England ? 
 
 Con. And it please your majesty, I can say nothing 
 until my lord ambassadors be come home ; but yet, me- 
 thinks your grace hath done well to get your men in so 
 good a readiness, for fear of the worst. 
 
 King. Ay, my lord, we have some in a readiness, but 
 if the king of England make against us, we must have 
 thrice so many more. 
 
 Bau. Tut, my lord, although the king of England be 
 young and wild-headed, yet never think he will be so 
 unwise to make battle against the mighty king of France. 
 
 King. Oh, my son, although the king of England be 
 young and wild-headed, yet never think but he is ruled 
 by his wise counsellors. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Bruges. 
 
 Arch. God save the life of my sovereign lord the king! 
 
40 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF [act IT. 
 
 King. Now my good lord archbishop of Bruges, what 
 news from our brother the English king ? 
 
 Arch. And please your majesty, he is so far from your 
 expectation, that nothing will serve him but the crown 
 and kingdom itself ; besides, he bade me haste quickly, 
 lest he be there before me, and so far as I hear, he hath 
 kept his promise, for they say he is already landed at 
 Kidcocks in Normandy, upon the river of Seine, and laid 
 his siege to the garrison town of Harfleur. 
 
 King. You have made great haste in the meantime, 
 have you not ? 
 
 Dau. I pray you, my lord, how did the king of Eng- 
 land take my presents ? 
 
 Arch. Truly, my lord, in very ill part ; for these your 
 balls of leather, he will toss you balls of brass and iron. 
 Trust me, my lord, I was very afraid of him, he is such 
 a haughty and high-minded prince ; he is as fierce as a 
 lion. 
 
 Con. Tush, we will make him as tame as a lamb, I 
 warrant you. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mes. God save the mighty king of France ! 
 
 King. Now, messenger, what news ? 
 
 Mes. And it please your majesty, I come from your 
 poor distressed town of Harfleur, which is so beset on 
 every side ; if your majesty do not send present aid, 
 the town will be yielded to the English king. 
 
 King. Come, my lords, come, shall we stand still till 
 our country be spoiled under our noses ? My lords, let 
 the Normans, Brabants, Picardies, and Danes be sent for 
 
SCENE r.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 41 
 
 with all speed : and you, my lord high Constable, I make 
 general over all my whole army. Monsieur le Cole 
 master of the Boas, Signior Devans, and all the rest at 
 your appointment. 
 
 Daw. I trust your majesty will bestow some part of 
 the battle on me ; I hope not to present any otherwise 
 than well. 
 
 King. I tell thee, my son, although I should get the 
 victory, and thou lose thy life, I should think myself 
 quite conquered, and the Englishmen to have the victory. 
 
 Daw. Why, my lord and father, I would have the petty 
 king of England to know that I dare encounter him in 
 any ground of the world. 
 
 King. I know well, my son, but at this time I will 
 have it thus : therefore, come away. ^ [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Harfleur. The English Camp. 
 
 Enter King Henry V., York, Oxford, and other Lords. 
 
 Hen. V. Come, my lords of England, no doubt this 
 good luck of winning this town, is a sign of an honour- 
 able victory to come. But, good my lord, go and speak 
 to the captains, with all speed to number the host of the 
 Frenchmen, and by that means we may the better know 
 how to appoint the battle. 
 
 York. And it please your majesty, there are many of 
 your men sick and diseased, and many of them die for 
 want of victuals. 
 
 Hen. V. And why did you not tell me of it before ? If 
 
 The refusal of the French king to allow the Dauphin to take part in the 
 battle is incident to both plays. See Henry V. in. 5. 
 
42 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act IV. 
 
 we cannot have it for money, we will have it by dint of 
 of sword ; the law of arms allows no less. 
 
 Oxf. I beseech your grace to grant me a boon. 
 
 Hen. V. What is that, my good lord ? 
 
 Oxf. That your grace will give me the avantguard in 
 the battle. 
 
 Hen. V. Trust me, my lord of Oxford, I cannot, for I 
 have already given it to my uncle the Duke of York, yet 
 I thank you for your good will. [_A trumpet sounds.~^ How 
 now, what is that ? 
 
 York. I think it be some herald at arms. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 Her. King of England, my lord high Constable, and 
 others of the noblemen of France, send me to defy thee, 
 as open enemy to God, our country, and us, and here- 
 upon they presently bid thee battle. 
 
 Hen. V. Herald, tell them that I defy them, as open 
 enemies to God, my country, and me, and as wrongful 
 usurpers of my right : and whereas thou sayst they pre- 
 sently bid me battle, tell them that I think they know 
 how to please me : — but I pray thee, what place hath my 
 lord prince Dauphin here in battle ? 
 
 Her. And it please your grace, my lord and king his 
 father, will not let him come into the field. 
 
 Hen. V. Why, then he doth me great injury, I thought 
 that he and I should have played at tennis together : 
 therefore I have brought tennis balls for him, but other 
 manner of ones than he sent me. And, herald, tell my 
 lord, prince Dauphin, that I have inured my hands with 
 other kind of weapons than tennis balls, ere this time a 
 
SCENE I£.] 
 
 HEIsRY THE FIFTH 
 
 43 
 
 day, and that he shall find it ere it he long; and so adieu, 
 my friend, and tell my lord that I am ready when he 
 will. [Exit Herald. 
 
 Come, my lords, I care not and I go to our captains, and 
 I’ll see the number of the French army myself. Strike 
 up the drum."^ [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III . — The French camp near Agincourt. 
 
 Enter French Soldiers. 
 
 1 Sol. Come away. Jack Drummer, come away all, 
 and me will tell you what me will do ; me will tro one 
 chance on the dice, who shall have the king of England 
 and his lords. 
 
 2 Sol. Come away. Jack Drummer, and tro your 
 chance and lay down your drum. 
 
 Enter Drummer, 
 
 Brum. Oh, the brave apparel that the English mans 
 hay broth over ! I will tell you what me ha’ done ; me 
 ha’ provided a hundredth trunks, and all to put the fine 
 parel of the English man’s in. 
 
 1 Sol. What do you mean by trunks ?f 
 
 2 Sol. A shest, a hundred shests. 
 
 1 Sol. Awee, a wee, awee ! Me will tell you what, me 
 have put five children out of my house, and all too littlo 
 to put the fine apparel of the English mans in. 
 
 Brum. Oh, the brave, the brave apparel that we have 
 anon ; but come, and you shall see what we will tro at 
 
 * Query, whether this be not a stage direction, inadvertantly incorporated 
 with the text. f old copies, trunJcea. 
 
44 
 
 THE FA MOV 8 VICTOEIES OF [act iv. 
 
 the king’s drummer and fife. [Throws^ Ha ! me ha’ no 
 good luck ; tro you. 
 
 3 Sol. Faith, me will tro at the Earl of Northumber- 
 land, and my lord a Willoughby, with his great horse 
 snorting, farting. Oh, brave horse ! [Throws. 
 
 1 Sol. Ha, bur lady, you ha’ reasonable good luck ; 
 now I will tro at the king himself. Ha, me have no good 
 luck ! 
 
 Enter a Captain. 
 
 Cap. How now, what make you here, so far from the 
 camp ? 
 
 2 Sol. Shall me tell our captain what we have done 
 here ? 
 
 Drum. Awee, awee ! [Exeunt Drum, and 1 Sol. 
 
 2 Sol. I will tell you what wo have one ; we have been 
 trowing on shance on the dice, but none can win the king. 
 
 Cap. I think so ; wh}^, he is left behind for me, and 
 I have set three or four chairrnakers a-work to make a 
 new disguised chair to set that womanly king of England 
 in, that all the people may laugh and scoff at him, 
 
 2 Sol. Oh, brave captain ! 
 
 Cap. I am glad, and yet with a kind of juty, to see the 
 poor king. Why, w ho ever saw a more flourishing army 
 in France, in one day, than here is ? Are not here all 
 the peers of France ? Are not here the Normans with 
 their fiery hand-guns and slaunching curtleaxes ? Are 
 not here the Barbarians with their bard’^ horses and 
 lancing spears ? Are not here Picardies with their cross- 
 bows and piercing darts ? The Henves with their cutting 
 
 * i.e.y Horses in armour. Bard means horse-armour. 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 45 
 
 glaives and sharp carhuckles ? Are not here the lance 
 knights of Burgundy, and on the other side a sight of 
 poor English scabs ? Why, take an Englishman out of 
 his warm bed and his stale drink but one month, and, 
 alas, what will become of him But give the French- 
 man a raddish root, and he will live with it all the days 
 of his life. \Exit. 
 
 2 Sol. Oh, the brave apparel that we shall have of the 
 English mans ! \Exit, 
 
 SCENE lY. — Agincourt. A Flain. 
 
 Enter King Henry V., Oxford, other English Lords, and 
 the Army. 
 
 Hen. V. Come, my lords and fellows of arms, what 
 company is there of the Frenchmen ? 
 
 Oxf. And it please your majesty, our captains have 
 numbered them, and so near as they can judge, they are 
 about three score thousand horsemen, and forty thousand 
 footmen. 
 
 Hen. V. They three score thousand, and we but two 
 thousand ; they three score thousand footmen, and we 
 twelve thousand ; they are a hundred thousand, and we 
 forty thousand ; — ten to one.f My lords and loving 
 countrymen, though we be fewer, and they many, fear 
 not, your quarrel is good, and God will defend you : 
 pluck up your hearts, for this day we shall either have a 
 valiant victory, or an honourable death. Now, my lords, 
 
 * Allusions to the fare of the English, by our Gallic neighbours, are frequent 
 in old plays. See 1 Henry VI t i. 2, and Edward 111, iii. 3. 
 
 1 1 leave this muddled computation to be unravelled by the clearer head of 
 the reader. 
 
46 
 
 TKIL TAM0V8 VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act IV. 
 
 I that my uncle the Duke of York have the avant- 
 guard in the battle. The Earl of Derby, the Earl of 
 Oxford, the Earl of Kent, the Earl of Nottingham, the 
 Earl of Huntington, I will have beside the armj^ that 
 they may come fresh upon them ; and I myself, with the 
 Duke of Bedford, the Duke of Clarence, and the Duke 
 of Grloster, will be in the midst of the battle. Further- 
 more, I V ill that m}^ lord of Willoughby and the Earl 
 of Northumberland, with their troops of horsemen, be 
 continually running like wings on both sides of the army : 
 my lord of Northumberland on the left wing. Then I 
 will that every archer provide him a stake of a tree, and 
 sharp it at both ends, and at the first encounter of the 
 horsemen, to pitch their stakes down into the ground 
 before them, that they may gore themselves upon them, 
 and then to recoil back and shoot wholly all together, 
 and so discomfit them. 
 
 Oxf, And it please your majesty, I wdll take that in 
 charge, if your grace be therewith content. 
 
 Hen. V. With all my heart, my good lord of Oxford ; 
 and go and provide quickly. 
 
 Oxf. I thank your highness. [Exit. 
 
 Hen. V. Well, my lords, our battles are ordained, and 
 the French making of bonfires, and at their banquets . 
 but let them look, for I mean to set upon them. [A trum- 
 pet sounds.'] Soft, here comes some other French message. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 Her. King of England, my lord high Constable, and 
 other of my lords, considering the poor estate of thee and 
 
 i.e. Command. 
 
SCENE IV.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 47 
 
 thy poor countrymen, send me to know what thou wilt 
 give for thy ransom. Perhaps thou mayst agree better 
 cheap now than when thou art conquered. 
 
 Hen. V. Why, then, belike your high Constable sends 
 to know what I will give for my ransom ? Now, trust' 
 me, herald, not so much as a tun of tennis balls ; no, not 
 so much as one poor tennis ball : rather shall my body 
 lie dead in the field to feed crows, than ever England 
 shall pay one penny ransom for my body. 
 
 Her. A kingly resolution I 
 
 Hen. V. No, herald, ’tis a kingly resolution, and the 
 resolution of a king. Here, take this for thy pains. [Exit 
 Herald.] But stay, my lords, what time is it ? 
 
 All. Prime, my lord. 
 
 Hen. V. Then is it good time, no doubt, for all England 
 prayeth for us. What, my lords, methinks you look 
 cheerfully upon me. Why then with one voice and like 
 true English hearts, with me throw up your caps and for 
 England cry Saint George ! and God and Saint George 
 help us ! [Strike drums. Exeunt omnes. 
 
 [The Frenchmen cry within^ St. Dennis^ St. Dennis, 
 Mount] oy, St. Dennis !” 
 
 The Battle.^ 
 
 SCENE V. — Agincourt. The Battle field. 
 
 Enter King Henry V., Oxford, and other Lords. 
 
 Hen. V. Come, my lords, come, by this time our 
 
 * I have printed these directions as they stand in the old copies. In the 
 representation on the stage the cattle was probably shown by excursions, 
 assaults, retreats and such like devices ci stagecraft. 
 
48 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF [act iv. 
 
 swords are almost drunk with French blood ; but, my 
 lords, which of you can tell me how many of our army 
 be slain in the battle ? 
 
 Oxf. And it please your majest}^ there are of the 
 French army slain about ten thousand ; twenty-six hun- 
 dred whereof are princes and nobles bearing banners : 
 besides, all the nobility of France are taken prisoners. 
 Of your majesty’s army are slain none but the good Duke 
 of York, and not above five- or six-and-twenty common 
 •soldiers.* 
 
 Hen. V. For the good Duke of York, my uncle, I am 
 heartily soriw, and greatly lament his misfortune ; yet 
 file honourable victory, which the Lord hath given us, 
 doth make me much rejoice. But stay,^ — here comes 
 * another French message. ' - [Sound trimj^ets. 
 
 Enter a Herald, he kneels. 
 
 Her. God save the life of the most mighty conqueror, 
 the honourable king of England. 
 
 Hen. V. Now, herald, methinks the world is changed 
 with you now. What, I am sure it is a great disgrace 
 for a herald to kneel to the king of England ! What is 
 thy message ? 
 
 Her. My lord and master, the conquered King of 
 France, sends thee long health with hearty greeting. 
 
 * The old dramatists were very lax in their notions of historical accuracy 
 According to the best authorities the number slain on both sides at the battle 
 of Agincourt were as follows : — French, the Constable of Trance, 3 dukes, 5 
 counts, 92 barons, 1500 knights, 8000 gentlemen of family, and several thou- 
 sand rank and file. Prisoners to the number of 14000 were taken. The English 
 loss in killed was the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, and about 1200 men. 
 The numbers engaged are variously estimated ; the French at the highest 
 estimate were 100,000, and the English 22,000. 
 
SCENE V.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 49 
 
 Hen. V. Herald, his greetings are welcome, but I 
 thank God for my health. Well, herald, say on. 
 
 Her. He hath sent me to desire your majesty to give 
 him leave to go into the field to view his poor country- 
 men, that they may be all honourably buried. 
 
 Hen. V. Why, herald, doth thy lord and master send 
 to me to bury the dead ? Let him bury them ’a God’s 
 name ! But I pray thee, herald, where is my lord high 
 Constable, and those that would have had my ransom ? 
 
 Her. And it please your majesty, he was slain in the 
 battle. 
 
 Hen. V. Why, you may see, you will make yourselves 
 sure before the victory be won : but, herald, what castle 
 is this so near adjoining to our camp ? 
 
 Her. And it please your majesty, ’tis called the castle 
 of Agincourt. 
 
 Hen. V. Well, then, my lords of England, for the more 
 honour of our Englishmen, I will that this be for ever 
 called the battle of Agincourt."^ 
 
 Her. And it please your majesty, I have a further 
 message to deliver to your majesty. 
 
 Hen. V. What is that, herald? Say on. 
 
 Her. And it please your majesty, my lord and master 
 craves to parley with your majesty. 
 
 Hen. V. With a good will, so some of my nobles view 
 the place, for fear of treachery and treason. 
 
 Her. Your grace needs not to doubt that. 
 
 Hen. V. Well, tell him then I will come. [Exit Her. 
 
 * Cf. Henry F., iv. 7,— 
 
 “ K. Hen. What is this castle called that stands hard by ? 
 
 Mont. They call it Agincourt. 
 
 K. Hen. Then call we this the field of Agincourt.” 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act V* 
 
 Now, my lords, I will go into the field myself to view my 
 countrymen, and to have them honourably buried, for 
 the French king shall never surpass me in courtesy, 
 while I am Harry King of England. Come on, my lords. 
 
 \Exeunt omnes. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — Agincourt. The Battle field. 
 
 Enter John Cobbleu, and Eobin Pewteuer. 
 
 Robin. Now, John Cobbler, didst thou see how the 
 king did behave himself ? 
 
 John. But, Eobin, didst thou see vhat a policy the 
 king had, to see how the Frenchmen were killed with the 
 stakes of the trees ? 
 
 Robin. Ay, John, there was a brave polic3^ 
 
 Enter an English Soldier, roaming. 
 
 Sol. What are you, my masters ? 
 
 Both. Why, we be Englishmen. 
 
 Sol. Are you Englishmen ? then change your lan- 
 guage, for all the king’s tents are set a-fire, and all they 
 that speak English will be killed. 
 
 flohn. What shall we do, Eobin ? Faith, I’ll shift, for 
 I can speak broken French. 
 
 Robin. Faith, so can I. Let’s hear how thou canst speak. 
 
 John. Commodevales, monsieur. 
 
 Robin. That ’s well ; come, let ’s be gone.*^ 
 
 [Drum and trumpets sound. Exeunt. 
 
 * Ed. 1508 gives this speech to John Cobbler 
 
SCENE II.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 51 
 
 SCENE II. — The same. Another part 0/ the field. 
 
 Enter Deeick, roaming. After him a Erenchmaii; and takes 
 him prisoner, 
 
 Der, Oh, good monsieur ! 
 
 Frenchm, Come, come, you yilliaco.^ 
 
 Der, Oh, I will, sir, I will. 
 
 Frenchm, Come quickly, you peasant. 
 
 Der, I will, sir ; what shall I give you ? 
 
 Frenchm. Marry, thou shalt give me, one, two, tre, 
 four hundred crowns. 
 
 Der. Na}^, sir, I will give you more ; I will give you 
 as many crowns as will lie on your sword. 
 
 Frenchm. Wilt thou give me as many crowns as will 
 lie on my sword ? 
 
 Der. Ay, marry, wdll I ; but you must lay down your 
 sword, or else they will not lie on your sword. 
 
 [The Frenchman lays doicn his sword^ and Derick 
 takes it up and hurls him down. 
 
 Der, Thou villain ! darest thou look up ? 
 
 Frenchm, Oh, good monsieur, comparteve ; monsieur, 
 pardon me ! 
 
 Der. Oh, you villain ! now you lie at my mercy, dost 
 thou remember since thou lamedst me in thy short ell ?f 
 Oh, villain, now I will strike off thy head ! 
 
 [While he turns his hack the Frenchman runs away, 
 
 * A villain, rascal, or coward. The word is used in Every Man out of his 
 Humour, v. 3, and 2 Henry VI, iv. 8, where by a printer’s mistake it is spelt 
 villiago. 
 
 1 1 think we should read with instead of in. Derick means that the French- 
 man lamed him with his short sword, which was a short ell, i.e., 27 inches in 
 length. 
 
 UMIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 
52 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act V. 
 
 What, is he gone ! mass, I am glad of it, for if he had 
 stayed, I was afraid he would have stirred again, and 
 then I should have been spilt : but I will away, to kill 
 more Frenchmen. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. — Troyes in Champagne. A Room of state 
 in the French King's palace. 
 
 Enter the King of France, King Henry Y, and Attendants. 
 
 Hen. V. Now my good brother of France, my coming 
 into this land was not to shed blood, but for the right of 
 my country, which, if you can deny, I am content peace- 
 ably to leave my siege, and to depart out of joiw land. 
 
 F. King. What is your demand, my loving brother of 
 England ? 
 
 Hen. V. My secretary hath it written, [to Sec.] Head it. 
 
 Sec. [Reads.] Item, that immediately Henry of Eng- 
 land be crowned king of France. 
 
 F. King. A very hard sentence, my good brother of 
 England. 
 
 Hen. V. No more but right, my good brother of 
 France. 
 
 F. King. Well, read on. 
 
 Sec. Item, that after the death of the said Henry, the 
 crown remain to him and his heirs for ever. 
 
 F. King. Why, then you do not only mean to dis- 
 possess me, but also my son. 
 
 Hen. V. Why, my good brother of France, you have 
 had it long enough, and as for prince Dauphin, it skills^ 
 not though he sit beside the saddle : thus I have set it 
 
 i.e., Matters not. 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 63 
 
 down, and thus it shall be. 
 
 F. King, You are very peremptory, my good brother 
 of England. 
 
 Hen, V, And you as perverse, my good brother of 
 France. 
 
 F, King, Why, then, belike, all that I have here is 
 yours ? 
 
 Hen, V. Ay, even as far as the kingdon of France 
 reaches. 
 
 F, King. Ay, for by this hot beginning we shall scarce 
 bring it to a calm ending. 
 
 Hen, V, It is as you please ; here is my resolution. 
 
 F, King, Well, my brother of England, if you will 
 give me a copy, we will meet you again to-morrow. 
 
 Hen, V, With a good will, my good brother of France. 
 [To Sec.] Secretary deliver him a copy. 
 
 \Exit King of France and all his Attendants. 
 My lords of England, go before and I will follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 Ah, Harry, thrice unhappy Harry ! Hast thou now con- 
 quered the French king, and begins a fresh supply with 
 his daughter ? But with what face canst thou seek to 
 gain her love, which hast sought to win her father’s 
 crown ? Her father’s crown, said I ? no, it is mine own : 
 ay, but I love her and must crave her ; nay, I love her 
 and will have her : but here she comes. 
 
 Enter Lady Katherine and her Ladies. 
 
 How now, fair Lady Katherine of France, what news ? 
 
 Kath, And it please your majesty, my father sent me 
 to know if you will debate any of these unreasonable 
 
54 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act V. 
 
 demands which you require. 
 
 Hen. F. Now trust me, Kate, I commend thy father’s 
 wit greatly in this, for none in the world could sooner 
 have made me debate it if it were possible : but tell me, 
 sweet Kate, canst thou tell how to love ? 
 
 Kaih. I cannot hate, my good lord, therefore far unfit 
 were it for me to love. 
 
 Hen. V, Tush, Kate, but tell me in plain terms, canst 
 thou love the King of England ? I cannot do as these 
 countries do, that spend half their time in wooing ; tush, 
 wench, I am none such : but wilt thou go over to Eng- 
 land ? 
 
 Hath. I would to God that I had your majesty as fast 
 in love as you have my father in war j I would not vouch- 
 safe so much as one look until you had rebated’^ all these 
 unreasonable demands. 
 
 Hen. V, Tush, Kate, I know thou wouldst not use me 
 so hardly : but tell me, canst thou love the King of Eng- 
 land ? 
 
 Katli. How should I love him that hath dealt so hardly 
 with my father ? 
 
 Hen, V, But I’ll deal as easily with thee as thy heart 
 can imagine, or tongue can require; how sayst thou, 
 what will it be ? 
 
 Kath. If I were of my own direction, I could give you 
 answer; but seeing I stand at my father’s direction, I 
 must first know his will. 
 
 Hen, V, But shall I have thy good will in the mean- 
 
 season ? 
 
 Kath, Whereas I can put your grace in no assurance. 
 
 * Old copies, related. Perhaps debated, as in a few lines above. 
 
SCENE III.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH, 
 
 55 
 
 I would be loth to put you in any despair. 
 
 Hen. V. Now, before God, it is a sweet wench ! 
 
 Katli. [aside.] I may think myself the happiest in the 
 world, that is beloved of the mighty King of England. 
 
 Hen. V, Well, Kate, are you at host with me ? Sweet 
 Kate, tell thy father, from me, that none in the world 
 could sooner have persuaded me to it than thou, and so 
 tell thy father from me. 
 
 Kath, God keep your majesty in good health."^' 
 
 [Exit Katii., with her train. 
 
 Hen. F. Farewell, sweet Kate ; in faith, it is a sweet 
 wench ! but if I knew I could not have her father’s 
 good will, I would so rouse the[se] towers over his ears, 
 that I would make him be glad to bring her me upon his 
 hands and knees. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV . — The English camp. 
 
 Enter Derick with his girdle fidl of shoes. 
 
 Her. How now ! Zounds, it did me good to see how 
 I did triumxjh over the Frenchmen ! 
 
 Enter John Cobbler, roving, with a pack full of apparel. 
 
 John. Whoop, Derick, how dost thou ? 
 
 Her. What, John, commedevales, alive yet ! 
 
 John. I promise thee, Derick, I ’scaped hardly, for I 
 was within half a mile when one was killed. 
 
 Her. Were you so? 
 
 John. Ay, trust me, I had like been slain. 
 
 * Compare King Henry’s courting of Katherine, with Shakespeare’s Henry 
 y. , V, 3. A scene very similar occurs in Fair Emy iii. 1. 
 
56 
 
 TRJE FAMOUS VICTOFIES OF 
 
 [act V. 
 
 Dcr, But ciice killed ! wKy^ ’tis nothing ; I was four 
 or five times slain. 
 
 John, Four or five times slain! Why how couldstthou 
 have been alive now ? 
 
 Der, Oh, John, never say so, for I was called the 
 bloody soldier amongst them all. 
 
 John, Why, what didst thou ? 
 
 Der, Why, I will tell thee, J ohn : every day when I 
 went into the field, I would take a straw and thrust it 
 into my nose and make my nose bleed, and then I would 
 go into the field ; and when the captain saw me, he would 
 say, 'Peace, a bloody soldier!’ and bid me stand aside ; 
 whereof I was glad. But mark the chance, John ; I went 
 and stood behind a tree, but mark then, John, I thought 
 I had been safe, but on a sudden there steps to me a 
 lusty tall Frenchman ; now he drew, and I drew, now I 
 jay here, and he lay there ; now 1 set this leg before and 
 turned this backward, and skipped quite over a hedge, 
 and he saw me no more there that day : and was not this 
 well done, J ohn ? 
 
 John. Mass, Derick, thou hast a witty head. 
 
 Der, Ay, John, thou mayst see, if thou hadst taken 
 my counsel ; — but what hast thou there ? I think thou 
 hast been robbing the Frenchmen. 
 
 John, I’ faith, Derick, I have gotten some reparel to 
 carry home to my wife. 
 
 Der, And I have got some shoes, for I’ll tell thee 
 what I did when they were dead ; I would go take off 
 all their shoes. 
 
 John, Ay, but Derick, how shall we get home ? 
 
 Der, Nay, zounds, and they take thee, they will hang 
 
SCENE IV.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 57 
 
 thee. Oh, J ohn, never do so ! if it be thy fortune to be 
 hanged, be hanged in thy own language, whatsoever 
 thou doest. [now. 
 
 John, Why, Derick, the wars is done, we may go home 
 
 Her, Ay, but you may not go before you ask^the king 
 leave ; but I know a way to go home, and ask the king 
 no leave. 
 
 John, How is that, Derick ? 
 
 Der. Why, John, thou knowest the Duke of York’s 
 funeral must be carried into England, dost thou not ? 
 
 John, Ay, that I do. 
 
 Der, Why, then thou knowest we’ll go with it. 
 
 John, Ay, but Derick, how shall we do for to meet 
 them ? 
 
 Der, Zounds, if I make not shift to meet them, hang 
 me. Sirrah, thou knowest that in every town there will 
 be ringing, and there will be cakes and drink ; now I 
 will go to the clerk and sexton, and keep a-talking, and 
 say, ^ Oh, this fellow rings well,’ and thou shalt go and 
 take a piece of cake ; then I’ll ring, and thou shalt say, 
 ‘ Oh, this fellow keeps a good stint,’ and then I will go 
 drink to thee all the way. — But I marvel what my dame 
 will say when we come home, because we have not a 
 French word to cast at a dog by the way, 
 
 John, Why, what shall we do, Derick ? 
 
 Der. Why, John, I’ll go before and call my dame 
 whore, and thou shalt come after, and set fire on the 
 house. We may do it, John, for I’ll prove it, because 
 we be soldiers. [The trumpets sound, 
 
 John, Derick, help me to carry my shoes and boots ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
58 
 
 THE FAMOUS VICTORIES OF 
 
 [act V. 
 
 SCENi) V . — A room of state in the French King's Palace, 
 
 Enter King Henry Y., the Earls of Oxford and Exeter ; 
 then the King of France, Prince Dauphin, the Duke of 
 Burgundy, Lady Katherine and Attendants. 
 
 Hen, V, Now my good brother of France, I hope by 
 this time you have deliberated of your answer. 
 
 F. King, Ay, my well beloved brother of England, we 
 have viewed it over with our learned council, but cannot 
 find that you should be crowned King of France. 
 
 Hen, V, What, not King of France ? then nothing ! 
 I must be king. But, my loving brother of France, I can 
 hardly forget the late injuries offered me when I came 
 last to parley ; the Frenchmen had better ^a raked the 
 bowels out of their fathers’ carcases, than to have fired 
 my tents ; and if I knew thy son prince Dauphin for one, 
 I would so rouse him as he was never so roused. 
 
 F. King, I dare swear for my son’s innocency in this 
 matter. — But if this please you, that immediately you be 
 proclaimed and crowned heir and regent of France, not 
 king, because I myself was once crowned king. 
 
 Hen. V, Heir and regent of France, that is well ; but 
 that is not all that I must have. 
 
 F. King, The rest my secretary hath in writing. 
 
 Sec. [Beads.] Item, That Henry King of England be 
 crowned heir and regent of France during the life of 
 King Charles, and after his death the crown, with all 
 rights, to remain to King Henry of England and to his 
 heirs for ever. 
 
 Hen. V. Well, my good brother of France, there is 
 one thing I must needs desire. 
 
SCENE V.] 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH 
 
 59 
 
 F, King. What is that, my good brother of England ? 
 
 Hen. V. That all your nobles must be sworn to be 
 true to me. 
 
 F. King. Whereas they have not stuck with greater 
 matters, I know they will not stick with such a trifle. 
 Begin you, my lord duke of Burgundy. 
 
 Hen. V. Come, my lord of Burgundy, take your oath 
 upon my sword. 
 
 Bur. I, Philip duke of Burgund^^, swear to Henry 
 King of England, to be true to him, and to become his 
 league-man ; and that if I, Philip, hear of any foreign 
 powder coming to invade the said Henry or his heirs, then 
 I, the said Philip, to send him word and aid him with 
 all the power I can make, and thereunto I take my oath. 
 
 [He kisses the sword. 
 
 Hen. V. Come prince Dauphin, you must swear too. 
 
 [The Dauphin kisses the sword. 
 Well, my brother of France, there is one thing more I 
 must needs require of you. 
 
 F. King. Wherein is it that we may satisfy your 
 majesty ? 
 
 Hen. V. A trifle my good brother of France. I mean 
 to make your daughter queen of England if she be wil- 
 ling, and you therewith content. How sayst thou, Kate, 
 canst thou love the King of England ? 
 
 Kath, How should I love thee, which is my father^s 
 enemy 
 
 Hen. V, Tut, stand not upon these points; ’tis you 
 must make us friends. I know, Kate, thou art not a 
 
 * Cf. Henry V . , v. 2, — 
 
 “ Kate. Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France?’ 
 
60 Till: FAMOUS VICTOBIES OF HENRY V. [act v. 
 
 little proud that I love thee : what, wench, the King of 
 England ? 
 
 F. King. Daughter, let nothing stand betwixt the king 
 of England and thee ; agree to it. 
 
 Kath, I had best, while he is willing, lest when I 
 would he will not. — I rest at your majesty’s command. 
 
 Hen. V. Welcome, sweet Kate : — but my brother of 
 France, what say you to it ? 
 
 F. King. With all my heart, I like it ; but when shall 
 be your"^ wedding day ? 
 
 Hen. y. The first Sunday of the next month, God 
 willing. \^Sou^d trumpets. Exeunt omnes. 
 
 Ed 1598, our. 
 
 THE EKP, 
 
(ill (K|t(®i|ii 
 
 0 
 
 (jiS" The next issue of this series will be the plays 
 dealing with the York and Lancaster faction, viz., — 
 
 1 THE FIB ST PART OF THE CONTENTION 
 
 betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lan-^ 
 caster, with the Death of the good Duke Humphrey : 
 And the banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolke, 
 and the Tragical end of the proud Cardinal of Win^ 
 Chester, with the notable Rebellion of lacke Cade ; 
 And the Duke of Yorkes first claime vnto the Crowne, 
 
 2 THE TRUE TRACE DIE OF RICHARD DUKE 
 
 OF YORK, and the Death of Good King Henriethe 
 Sixt, with the whole contention between the two Houses 
 Lancaster and Yorke, dc, 
 
 3 THE TRUE TRAGEDIE OF RICHARD THE 
 
 THIRD : Wherein is showne the death of Edward 
 the fourth, loith the smothering of the two yoong princes 
 in the Tower : with a lamentable ende of Shores wife, 
 an example for all wicked women. And lastly the con- 
 iunction and ioining oj the two noble Houses, Lan-^ 
 caster and York,