Henry V Page #5

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Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts.

Mais je me souviendrai.

Les doigts?

Je pense qu'ils sont appeles

"de fingres."

Le main, de hand.

Le doigts, de fingres.

Mm-hmm.

Je pense que je suis

le bon ecolier.

J'ai gagne deux mots

d'anglais vitement.

Comment appelez-vous les ongles?

Les ongles?

Nous les appelons

de nails.

"De nails."

Ecoutez, dites-moi

si je parle bien.

De hand, de fingres

etde nails.

C'est bien dit, madame.

Il est fort bon anglais.

Dites-moi I'anglais

pour le bras.

De arm, madame.

Et le coude?

D'elbow.

"D'elbow."

Je m'en fais la repetition...

De tous les mots que vous

m'avez appris des a present.

Il est trop difficile,

madame, comme je pense.

Excusez-moi, Alice,

ecoutez:
De hand, de fingres,

de nails, de "arma,"

de "bilbow."//d'elbow, madame.

O, seigneur dieu,

je m'en oublie! D'elbow.

Comment appelez-vous

le col?

De "nick," madame.

- "De nick."

- Mmm.

Et le menton?

De chin.

"De chin."

Le col, de nick.

Le menton, de chin.

Oui, sauf votre honneur,

en verite,

vous prononcez les mots aussi

droit que les natifs d'angleterre.

Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la

grace de dieu, et en peu de temps.

N'avez-vous pas deja oublie

ce que je vous ai enseigne?

Non, je reciterai

a vous promptement:

De hand, de fingres.

Tsk. Mmm.

- De "mails"?

- De nails, madame.

"De nails, madame."

- De arma, de belbow.

- Sauf votre honneur, d'elbow.

Ainsi dis-je:

D'elbow, de nick,

Etde chin.

Oh.

Comment appelez-vous

le pied et la robe?

De foot, madame,

et de coun.

- F-footet 'le coun.

- Mmm.

O seigneur dieu!

Ce sont mots de son mauvais

corruptible,

Gros, et impudique et non pour

les dames d'honneur d'user.

Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devants

les seigneurs de france pour tout le monde.

De footet 'le coun!

Neanmoins, je reciterai une

autre fois ma lecon ensemble.

- De hand, de fingres,

De nails, de arma, de...

De nick, de chin, de foot

et 'le coun!

'Tis certain...

He hath passed the river Somme.

And if he be not fought withal,

my lord, let us not live in France.

Normans.

But bastard Normans!

Norman... bastards!

Where have they this mettle is not

their climate foggy, raw and dull?

- O, for honor of our land.

- By faith and honor,

our madams mock at us and

plainly say our mettle is bred out!

And they will give their bodies

to the lust of English youth...

to new-store France

with bastard warriors!

Where is Montjoy, the herald?

Speed him hence.

Let him greet England

with our sharp defiance.

Up, princes,

and with spirit of honor edged

more sharper than your swords,

hie to the field.

Bar Harry England,

that sweeps through our land...

with pennons painted

in the blood of Harflew.

Go down upon him.

You have power enough.

And in a captive chariot into

Rouen bring him our prisoner.

This becomes the great.

Sorry am I his numbers

are so few,

his soldiers sick and famished

in their march.

For I am sure when he

shall see our army,

he'll drop his heart

into the sink of fear...

and, for achievement,

offer us his ransom.

Therefore, lord constable,

haste on montjoy.

Prince Dauphin,

you shall stay with us in Rouen.

Not so, I do beseech

your majesty.

Be patient, for you

shall remain with us!

Now forth, lord constable

and princes all,

and quickly bring us word

of England's fall.

Come. Come in.

Captain Fluellen?

Come you from the bridge?

Is the duke of Exeter safe?

De is not...

God be praised and blessed...

any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge

most valiantly, with excellent discipline.

Captain! I thee beseech

to do me favors.

The duke of Exeter

doth love thee well.

Aye, I praise God, and I have

merited some love at his hands.

Bardolph, a soldier firm

and sound of heart...

and buxom valor,

hath by cruel fate and giddy

fortune's furious, fickle wheel...

Touching your patience,

Ancient Pistol,

fortune is an excellent moral.

Fortune is Bardolph's foe

and frowns on him...

for he hath stolen a pax

and hanged must he be.

Therefore, go speak.

The duke will hear thy voice.

Speak, captain, for his life,

and I will thee requite.

Ancient Pistol, I do partly

understand your meaning.

Why, then,

rejoice therefore!

'Tis not a thing

to rejoice at.

Look you, if he

were my brother,

I would desire the duke

to do his good pleasure...

and put him to execution.

Discipline ought to be used.

Then die and be damned...

and figo for thy friendship!

How now, Fluellen,

comest thou from the bridge?

Aye, so please your majesty.

The duke of Exeter hath very

gallantly maintained the bridge.

What men have you lost?

I think the duke

hath lost never a man...

but one that is like to be

executed for robbing a church.

One Bardolph, if

your majesty know the man.

His face is all bubukles and

whelks and knobs and flames of fire.

His lips blows at his nose.

'tis like a coal of fire...

sometimes blue, sometimes red.

But his nose is executed

and his fire's out.

Get up!

Shh!

- Oh!

- Oh, oh, oh, oh!

Do not, when thou art king,

hang a thief.

No,

thou shalt.

We would have all such offenders

so cut off.

We give express charge

that in our marches...

through the country there be nothing

compelled from the villages,

nothing taken but paid for,

none of the French upbraided

or abused in disdainful language.

For when lenity and cruelty

play for a kingdom,

the gentler gamester

is the soonest winner.

Thus says my king,

"Say thou to Harry of England,

"though we seemed dead,

we did but sleep.

"Tell him we could have

rebuked him at Harflew.

"Now we speak,

and our voice is imperial.

"England shall

repent his folly.

"Bid him, therefore,

consider of his ransom...

"which must proportion

the losses we have borne...

"which in weight to re-answer

his pettiness would bow under.

"To this add defiance,

and tell him, for conclusion,

"he hath betrayed

his followers...

whose condemnation

is pronounced."

So far my king and master,

so much my office.

- What is thy name?

- Montjoy.

Thou dost thy office fairly.

Turn thee back, and tell

thy king I do not seek him now,

but could be willing to march on

to Calais without impeachment.

Go, therefore,

tell thy master here I am.

My ransom is this

frail and worthless trunk,

my army but a weak

and sickly guard.

Yet, God before,

tell him we will come on,

though France himself and such

another neighbor stand in our way.

So, Montjoy, fare you well.

The sum of all our answer

is but this:

We would not seek

a battle as we are,

nor, as we are,

we say we will not shun it.

So tell your master.

I shall deliver so.

Thanks to your majesty.

I hope they will not

come upon us now.

We are in god's hand, brother,

not in theirs.

March to the bridge.

It now draws towards night.

Beyond the river

we'll encamp ourselves...

and on tomorrow...

bid them march away.

Now entertain

conjecture of a time...

when creeping murmur

and the poring dark...

fills the wide vessel

of the universe.

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