Gloster. We shall, my Liege
Erping. Shall I attend your Grace? King. No, my good Knight: Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England: I and my Bosome must debate a while, And then I would no other company
Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble Harry.
King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully. Enter Pistoll
Pist. Che vous la? King. A friend
Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou base, common, and popular? King. I am a Gentleman of a Company
Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke? King. Euen so: what are you? Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor
King. Then you are a better then the King
Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist most valiant: I kisse his durtie shooe, and from heartstring I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name? King. Harry le Roy
Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew? King. No, I am a Welchman
Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen? King. Yes
Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon S[aint]. Dauies day
King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe that day, least he knock that about yours
Pist. Art thou his friend? King. And his Kinsman too
Pist. The Figo for thee then
King. I thanke you: God be with you
Pist. My name is Pistol call'd. Enter.
King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Gower. Captaine Fluellen
Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it is the greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when the true and aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the Warres is not kept: if you would take the paines but to examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie of it, to be otherwise
Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all Night
Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should also, looke you, be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe, in your owne conscience now? Gow. I will speake lower
Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. Enter.
King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welchman. Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.
Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning which breakes yonder? Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to desire the approach of day
Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day, but I thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes there? King. A Friend
Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you? King. Vnder Sir Iohn Erpingham
Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde Gentleman: I pray you, what thinkes he of our estate? King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a Sand, that looke to be washt off the next Tyde
Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King? King. No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I speake it to you, I thinke the King is but a man, as I am: the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the Element shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but humane Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse he appeares but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted then ours, yet when they stoupe, they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of the same rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should possesse him with any appearance of feare; least hee, by shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army