King Henry V · William Shakespeare
HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT THIRD.
(A) _Come you from the bridge?_] After Henry had passed the Somme, Titus Livius asserts, that the King having been informed of a river which must be crossed, over which was a bridge, and that his progress depended in a great degree upon securing possession of it, despatched some part of his forces to defend it from any attack, or from being destroyed. They found many of the enemy ready to receive them, to whom they gave battle, and after a severe conflict, they captured the bridge, and kept it. (B) _Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; For he hath stol'n a pix, and hanged must 'a be._ It will be seen by the following extract from the anonymous Chronicler how minutely Shakespeare has adhered to history-- "There was brought to the King in that plain a certain English robber, who, contrary to the laws of God and the Royal Proclamation, had stolen from a church a pix of copper gilt, found in his sleeve, which he happened to mistake for gold, in which the Lord's body was kept; and in the next village where he passed the night, by decree of the King, he was put to death on the gallows." Titus Livius relates that Henry commanded his army to halt until the sacrilege was expiated. He first caused the pix to be restored to the Church, and the offender was then led, bound as a thief, through the army, and afterwards hung upon a tree, that every man might behold him.
(C) _Go, bid thy master well advise himself: If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour:_] My desire is, that none of you be so _unadvised_, as to be the occasion that I in my defence shall _colour_ and make _red your tawny ground_ with the effusion of Christian blood. When he (Henry) had thus answered the Herald, he gave him a great reward, and licensed him to depart. --_Holinshed_. _Enter CHORUS._ _Cho._ Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds,[1] That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch:[2] Fire answers fire;[3] and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber'd face:[4] Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents, The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, The confident and over-lusty[5] French Do the low-rated English play at dice;[6] And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp So tediously away.
_Scene opens and discovers the interior of a French tent, with the DAUPHIN, the CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, and others, playing at dice._ _Dau._ Will it never be day? _Con._ I would it were morning; for I would fain be about the ears of the English. _Dau._ Who will go to hazard with me for twenty English prisoners? _Orl._ The prince longs to eat the English. _Con._ Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning, as we do. _Dau._ If the English had any apprehension, they would run away. _Con._ That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. _Dau._ Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten apples! You may as well say,--that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. _Con._ Just, just: give them great meals of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils. _Orl._ Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef. _Con._ Then we shall find to-morrow--they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we about it? _Dau._ It is now two o'clock: but, let me see,--by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.