“’We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it. — Who goes there?’

‘A friend’” (Shakespeare, 4.1.88-89).

The king is a friend. For a few hours before dawn he’s taken off his crown and taken on the cloak of a commoner. He’s walking between the tents. Some of the men are sleeping as he passes by and he lets them sleep. Others are awake in the young hours of the day. The French have gathered just beyond the horizon. Scouts say they outnumber us nearly three to one. I don’t know what we’re going to do.

The man standing in our camp says that the king won’t ransom himself to the French. I don’t know if I believe him. He tells me to trust him as there is stirring in the camp. I ask “How shall I know thee again?”, he says “Give me any gage of thine , and I will wear it in my helmet” (4.1.198-199). The man departs, having born one of my gloves on his head. I don’t know if I will ever see him again.

The king declares “Let us our lives, our debts, our care-full wives, our children, and on our sins, lay on the King!” (4.1.219-221). And to himself the he chuckles, “and gloves”.