Prin. You are right Iustice, and you weigh this well:Therefore still beare the Ballance, and the Sword:And I do wish your Honors may encrease,Till you do liue, to see a Sonne of mineOffend you, and obey you, as I did.So shall I liue, to speake my Fathers words:Happy am I, that haue a man so bold,That dares do Iustice, on my proper Sonne;And no lesse happy, hauing such a Sonne,That would deliuer vp his Greatnesse so,Into the hands of Iustice. You did commit me:For which, I do commit into your hand,Th' vnstained Sword that you haue vs'd to beare:With this Remembrance; That you vse the sameWith the like bold, iust, and impartiall spiritAs you haue done 'gainst me. There is my hand,You shall be as a Father, to my Youth:My voice shall sound, as you do prompt mine eare,And I will stoope, and humble my Intents,To your well-practis'd, wise Directions.And Princes all, beleeue me, I beseech you:My Father is gone wilde into his Graue,(For in his Tombe, lye my Affections)And with his Spirits, sadly I suruiue,To mocke the expectation of the World;To frustrate Prophesies, and to race outRotten Opinion, who hath writ me downeAfter my seeming. The Tide of Blood in me,Hath prowdly flow'd in Vanity, till now.Now doth it turne, and ebbe backe to the Sea,Where it shall mingle with the state of Floods,And flow henceforth in formall Maiesty.Now call we our High Court of Parliament,And let vs choose such Limbes of Noble Counsaile,That the great Body of our State may goIn equall ranke, with the best gouern'd Nation,That Warre, or Peace, or both at once may beAs things acquainted and familiar to vs,In which you (Father) shall haue formost hand.Our Coronation done, we will accite(As I before remembred) all our State,And heauen (consigning to my good intents)No Prince, nor Peere, shall haue iust cause to say,Heauen shorten Harries happy life, one day.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe, Page, and Pistoll.
Shal. Nay, you shall see mine Orchard: where, in anArbor we will eate a last yeares Pippin of my owne graffing,with a dish of Carrawayes, and so forth. (Come CosinSilence, and then to bed
Fal. You haue heere a goodly dwelling, and a rich
Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers allSir Iohn: Marry, good ayre. Spread Dauy, spread Dauie:Well said Dauie
Falst. This Dauie serues you for good vses: he is yourSeruingman, and your Husband
Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Varlet,Sir Iohn: I haue drunke too much Sacke at Supper. Agood Varlet. Now sit downe, now sit downe: ComeCosin
Sil. Ah sirra (quoth-a) we shall doe nothing but eate, and make good cheere, and praise heauen for the merrie yeere: when flesh is cheape, and Females deere, and lustie Lads rome heere, and there: so merrily, and euer among so merrily
Fal. There's a merry heart, good M[aster]. Silence, Ile giue you a health for that anon
Shal. Good M[aster]. Bardolfe: some wine, Dauie
Da. Sweet sir, sit: Ile be with you anon: most sweete sir, sit. Master Page, good M[aster]. Page, sit: Proface. What you want in meate, wee'l haue in drinke: but you beare, the heart's all
Shal. Be merry M[aster]. Bardolfe, and my little Souldiourthere, be merry
Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife ha's all.For women are Shrewes, both short, and tall:'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wagge all;And welcome merry Shrouetide. Be merry, be merry
Fal. I did not thinke M[aster]. Silence had bin a man of thisMettle
Sil. Who I? I haue beene merry twice and once, erenow
Dauy. There is a dish of Lether-coats for you
Shal. Dauie
Dau. Your Worship: Ile be with you straight. A cupof Wine, sir?Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, & drinkevnto the Leman mine: and a merry heart liues long-a
Fal. Well said, M[aster]. Silence
Sil. If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweete of the night
Fal. Health, and long life to you, M[aster]. Silence
Sil. Fill the Cuppe, and let it come. Ile pledge you a mile to the bottome
Shal. Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my little tyne theefe, and welcome indeed too: Ile drinke to M[aster]. Bardolfe, and to all the Cauileroes about London
Dau. I hope to see London, once ere I die
Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie
Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you notM[aster]. Bardolfe?Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot
Shal. I thanke thee: the knaue will sticke by thee, Ican assure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred
Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir
Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes?Fal. Why now you haue done me right
Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is'tnot so?Fal. 'Tis so
Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat
Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistollcome from the Court with newes
Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.Enter Pistoll.
How now Pistoll?Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir
Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll?Pist. Not the ill winde which blowes none to good,sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men inthe Realme
Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe ofBarson
Pist. Puffe? puffe in thy teeth, most recreant Coward base. Sir Iohn, I am thy Pistoll, and thy Friend: helter skelter haue I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and luckie ioyes, and golden Times, and happie Newes of price
Fal. I prethee now deliuer them, like a man of thisWorld
Pist. A footra for the World, and Worldlings base,I speake of Affrica, and Golden ioyes
Fal. O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy newes?Let King Couitha know the truth thereof
Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn
Pist. Shall dunghill Curres confront the Hellicons?And shall good newes be baffel'd?Then Pistoll lay thy head in Furies lappe
Shal. Honest Gentleman,I know not your breeding
Pist. Why then Lament therefore
Shal. Giue me pardon, Sir. If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there is but two wayes, either to vtter them, or to conceale them. I am Sir, vnder the King, in some Authority
Pist. Vnder which King?Bezonian, speake, or dye
Shal. Vnder King Harry
Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fift?Shal. Harry the Fourth
Pist. A footra for thine Office.Sir Iohn, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King,Harry the Fift's the man, I speake the truth.When Pistoll lyes, do this, and figge-me, likeThe bragging Spaniard
Fal. What, is the old King dead?Pist. As naile in doore.The things I speake, are iust
Fal. Away Bardolfe, Sadle my Horse,Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wiltIn the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge theeWith Dignities
Bard. O ioyfull day:I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune
Pist. What? I do bring good newes
Fal. Carrie Master Silence to bed: Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes Steward. Get on thy Boots, wee'l ride all night. Oh sweet Pistoll: Away Bardolfe: Come Pistoll, vtter more to mee: and withall deuise something to do thy selfe good. Boote, boote Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for mee. Let vs take any mans Horsses: The Lawes of England are at my command'ment. Happie are they, which haue beene my Friendes: and woe vnto my Lord Chiefe Iustice
Pist. Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also:Where is the life that late I led, say they?Why heere it is, welcome those pleasant dayes.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Hostesse Quickly, Dol Teare-sheete, and Beadles.
Hostesse. No, thou arrant knaue: I would I might dy, that I might haue thee hang'd: Thou hast drawne my shoulder out of ioynt
Off. The Constables haue deliuer'd her ouer to mee: and shee shall haue Whipping cheere enough, I warrant her. There hath beene a man or two (lately) kill'd about her
Dol. Nut-hooke, nut-hooke, you Lye: Come on, Ile tell thee what, thou damn'd Tripe-visag'd Rascall, if the Childe I now go with, do miscarrie, thou had'st better thou had'st strooke thy Mother, thou Paper-fac'd Villaine
Host. O that Sir Iohn were come, hee would make this a bloody day to some body. But I would the Fruite of her Wombe might miscarry
Officer. If it do, you shall haue a dozen of Cushions againe, you haue but eleuen now. Come, I charge you both go with me: for the man is dead, that you and Pistoll beate among you
Dol. Ile tell thee what, thou thin man in a Censor; I will haue you as soundly swindg'd for this, you blewBottel'd Rogue: you filthy famish'd Correctioner, if you be not swing'd, Ile forsweare halfe Kirtles
Off. Come, come, you shee-Knight-arrant, come
Host. O, that right should thus o'recome might. Welof sufferance, comes ease
Dol. Come you Rogue, come:Bring me to a Iustice
Host. Yes, come you staru'd Blood-hound
Dol. Goodman death, goodman Bones
Host. Thou Anatomy, thou
Dol. Come you thinne Thing:Come you Rascall
Off. Very well.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter two Groomes.
1.Groo. More Rushes, more Rushes
2.Groo. The Trumpets haue sounded twice
1.Groo. It will be two of the Clocke, ere they come from the Coronation.
Exit Groo.
Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Pistoll, Bardolfe, and Page.
Falstaffe. Stand heere by me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow, I will make the King do you Grace. I will leere vpon him, as he comes by: and do but marke the countenance that hee will giue me
Pistol. Blesse thy Lungs, good Knight
Falst. Come heere Pistol, stand behind me. O if I had had time to haue made new Liueries, I would haue bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But it is no matter, this poore shew doth better: this doth inferre the zeale I had to see him
Shal. It doth so
Falst. It shewes my earnestnesse in affection
Pist. It doth so
Fal. My deuotion
Pist. It doth, it doth, it doth
Fal. As it were, to ride day and night,And not to deliberate, not to remember,Not to haue patience to shift me
Shal. It is most certaine
Fal. But to stand stained with Trauaile, and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affayres in obliuion, as if there were nothing els to bee done, but to see him
Pist. 'Tis semper idem: for obsque hoc nihil est. 'Tis all in euery part
Shal. 'Tis so indeed
Pist. My Knight, I will enflame thy Noble Liuer, and make thee rage. Thy Dol, and Helen of thy noble thoghts is in base Durance, and contagious prison: Hall'd thither by most Mechanicall and durty hand. Rowze vppe Reuenge from Ebon den, with fell Alecto's Snake, for Dol is in. Pistol, speakes nought but troth
Fal. I will deliuer her
Pistol. There roar'd the Sea: and Trumpet Clangoursounds.
The Trumpets sound. Enter King Henrie the Fift, Brothers, LordChiefeIustice.
Falst. Saue thy Grace, King Hall, my Royall Hall
Pist. The heauens thee guard, and keepe, most royallImpe of Fame
Fal. 'Saue thee my sweet Boy
King. My Lord Chiefe Iustice, speake to that vaineman
Ch.Iust. Haue you your wits?Know you what 'tis you speake?Falst. My King, my Ioue; I speake to thee, my heart
King. I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy Prayers:How ill white haires become a Foole, and Iester?I haue long dream'd of such a kinde of man,So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so prophane:But being awake, I do despise my dreame.Make lesse thy body (hence) and more thy Grace,Leaue gourmandizing; Know the Graue doth gapeFor thee, thrice wider then for other men.Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne Iest,Presume not, that I am the thing I was,For heauen doth know (so shall the world perceiue)That I haue turn'd away my former Selfe,So will I those that kept me Companie.When thou dost heare I am, as I haue bin,Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou was'tThe Tutor and the Feeder of my Riots:Till then, I banish thee, on paine of death,As I haue done the rest of my Misleaders,Not to come neere our Person, by ten mile.For competence of life, I will allow you,That lacke of meanes enforce you not to euill:And as we heare you do reforme your selues,We will according to your strength, and qualities,Giue you aduancement. Be it your charge (my Lord)To see perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on.
Exit King.
Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound
Shal. I marry Sir Iohn, which I beseech you to let me haue home with me
Fal. That can hardly be, M[aster]. Shallow, do not you grieue at this: I shall be sent for in priuate to him: Looke you, he must seeme thus to the world: feare not your aduancement: I will be the man yet, that shall make you great
Shal. I cannot well perceiue how, vnlesse you should giue me your Doublet, and stuffe me out with Straw. I beseech you, good Sir Iohn, let mee haue fiue hundred of my thousand
Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard, was but a colour
Shall. A colour I feare, that you will dye in, Sir Iohn
Fal. Feare no colours, go with me to dinner:Come Lieutenant Pistol, come Bardolfe,I shall be sent for soone at night
Ch.Iust. Go carry Sir Iohn Falstaffe to the Fleete,Take all his Company along with him
Fal. My Lord, my Lord
Ch.Iust. I cannot now speake, I will heare you soone:Take them away
Pist. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento.
Exit. Manent Lancaster and Chiefe Iustice
Iohn. I like this faire proceeding of the Kings:He hath intent his wonted FollowersShall all be very well prouided for:But all are banisht, till their conuersationsAppeare more wise, and modest to the world
Ch.Iust. And so they are
Iohn. The King hath call'd his Parliament,My Lord
Ch.Iust. He hath
Iohn. I will lay oddes, that ere this yeere expire,We beare our Ciuill Swords, and Natiue fireAs farre as France. I heare a Bird so sing,Whose Musicke (to my thinking) pleas'd the King.Come, will you hence?
Exeunt.
First, my Feare: then, my Curtsie: last, my Speech. My Feare, is your Displeasure: My Curtsie, my Dutie: And my speech, to Begge your Pardons. If you looke for a good speech now, you vndoe me: For what I haue to say, is of mine owne making: and what (indeed) I should say, will (I doubt) prooue mine owne marring. But to the Purpose, and so to the Venture. Be it knowne to you (as it is very well) I was lately heere in the end of a displeasing Play, to pray your Patien for it, and to promise you a Better: I did meane (indeede) to pay you with thi which if (like an ill Venture) it come vnluckily home, I breake; and you, my Creditors lose. Heere I promist you I would be, and heere I commit my Bodie to your Mercies: Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and (as most Debtors d promise you infinitely. If my Tongue cannot entreate you to acquit me: will you command me to vse my Legges? And yet that were but light payment, to Dance out of your debt: But a good Conscience, will make any possible satisfaction, and so will I. All the heere haue forgiuen me, if the Gentlemen will not, then the Gentlemen do not agree with the Gentlewomen, which was neuer seene before, in such an As One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too much cloid with Fat Meate, our humble Author will continue the Story (with Sir Iohn in it) and make yo
merry, with faire Katherine of France: where (for any thing I know) Fals shall dye of a sweat, vnlesse already he be kill'd with your hard Opinions:
For Old-Castle dyed a Martyr, and this is not the man. My Tongueis weariewhen my Legs are too, I will bid you good night; and so kneeledowne beforeyoBut (indeed) to pray for the Queene.
Rumour the Presentor.King Henry the Fourth.Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henrie the Fift.Prince Iohn of Lancaster.Humphrey of Gloucester.Thomas of Clarence.Sonnes to Henry the Fourth, & brethren to Henry 5.Northumberland.The Arch Byshop of Yorke.Mowbray.Hastings.Lord Bardolfe.Trauers.Morton.Coleuile.Opposites against King Henrie theFourth.Warwicke.Westmerland.Surrey.Gowre.Harecourt.Lord Chiefe Iustice.Of the KingsPartie.Shallow.Silence.Both CountryIustices.Dauie, Seruant to Shallow.Phang, and Snare, 2. SerieantsMouldie.Shadow.Wart.Feeble.Bullcalfe.Country SoldiersPointz.Falstaffe.Bardolphe.Pistoll.Peto.Page.IrregularHumorists.DrawersBeadles.GroomesNorthumberlands Wife.Percies Widdow.Hostesse Quickly.Doll Teare-sheete.
Epilogue. The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Containing his Death: and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift.
The Life of Henry the Fift
Enter Prologue.
O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascendThe brightest Heauen of Inuention:A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act,And Monarchs to behold the swelling Scene.Then should the Warlike Harry, like himselfe,Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heeles(Leasht in, like Hounds) should Famine, Sword, and FireCrouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all:The flat vnraysed Spirits, that hath dar'd,On this vnworthy Scaffold, to bring forthSo great an Obiect. Can this Cock-Pit holdThe vastie fields of France? Or may we crammeWithin this Woodden O, the very CaskesThat did affright the Ayre at Agincourt?O pardon: since a crooked Figure mayAttest in little place a Million,And let vs, Cyphers to this great Accompt,On your imaginarie Forces worke.Suppose within the Girdle of these WallsAre now confin'd two mightie Monarchies,Whose high, vp-reared, and abutting Fronts,The perillous narrow Ocean parts asunder.Peece out our imperfections with your thoughts:Into a thousand parts diuide one Man,And make imaginarie Puissance.Thinke when we talke of Horses, that you see themPrinting their prowd Hoofes i'th' receiuing Earth:For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our Kings,Carry them here and there: Iumping o're Times;Turning th' accomplishment of many yeeresInto an Howre-glasse: for the which supplie,Admit me Chorus to this Historie;Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray,Gently to heare, kindly to iudge our Play.Enter.
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.
Bish.Cant. My Lord, Ile tell you, that selfe Bill is vrg'd,Which in th' eleue[n]th yere of y last Kings reignWas like, and had indeed against vs past,But that the scambling and vnquiet timeDid push it out of farther question
Bish.Ely. But how my Lord shall we resist it now?Bish.Cant. It must be thought on: if it passe against vs,We loose the better halfe of our Possession:For all the Temporall Lands, which men deuoutBy Testament haue giuen to the Church,Would they strip from vs; being valu'd thus,As much as would maintaine, to the Kings honor,Full fifteene Earles, and fifteene hundred Knights,Six thousand and two hundred good Esquires:And to reliefe of Lazars, and weake ageOf indigent faint Soules, past corporall toyle,A hundred Almes-houses, right well supply'd:And to the Coffers of the King beside,A thousand pounds by th' yeere. Thus runs the Bill
Bish.Ely. This would drinke deepe
Bish.Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all
Bish.Ely. But what preuention?Bish.Cant. The King is full of grace, and faire regard
Bish.Ely. And a true louer of the holy Church
Bish.Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not.The breath no sooner left his Fathers body,But that his wildnesse, mortify'd in him,Seem'd to dye too: yea, at that very moment,Consideration like an Angell came,And whipt th' offending Adam out of him;Leauing his body as a Paradise,T' inuelop and containe Celestiall Spirits.Neuer was such a sodaine Scholler made:Neuer came Reformation in a Flood,With such a heady currance scowring faults:Nor neuer Hidra-headed WilfulnesseSo soone did loose his Seat; and all at once;As in this King
Bish.Ely. We are blessed in the Change
Bish.Cant. Heare him but reason in Diuinitie;And all-admiring, with an inward wishYou would desire the King were made a Prelate:Heare him debate of Common-wealth Affaires;You would say, it hath been all in all his study:List his discourse of Warre; and you shall heareA fearefull Battaile rendred you in Musique.Turne him to any Cause of Pollicy,The Gordian Knot of it he will vnloose,Familiar as his Garter: that when he speakes,The Ayre, a Charter'd Libertine, is still,And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares,To steale his sweet and honyed Sentences:So that the Art and Practique part of Life,Must be the Mistresse to this Theorique.Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane it,Since his addiction was to Courses vaine,His Companies vnletter'd, rude, and shallow,His Houres fill'd vp with Ryots, Banquets, Sports;And neuer noted in him any studie,Any retyrement, any sequestration,From open Haunts and Popularitie
B.Ely. The Strawberry growes vnderneath the Nettle,And holesome Berryes thriue and ripen best,Neighbour'd by Fruit of baser qualitie:And so the Prince obscur'd his ContemplationVnder the Veyle of Wildnesse, which (no doubt)Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest by Night,Vnseene, yet cressiue in his facultie
B.Cant. It must be so; for Miracles are ceast:And therefore we must needes admit the meanes,How things are perfected
B.Ely. But my good Lord:How now for mittigation of this Bill,Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his MaiestieIncline to it, or no?B.Cant. He seemes indifferent:Or rather swaying more vpon our part,Then cherishing th' exhibiters against vs:For I haue made an offer to his Maiestie,Vpon our Spirituall Conuocation,And in regard of Causes now in hand,Which I haue open'd to his Grace at large,As touching France, to giue a greater Summe,Then euer at one time the Clergie yetDid to his Predecessors part withall
B.Ely. How did this offer seeme receiu'd, my Lord?B.Cant. With good acceptance of his Maiestie:Saue that there was not time enough to heare,As I perceiu'd his Grace would faine haue done,The seueralls and vnhidden passagesOf his true Titles to some certaine Dukedomes,And generally, to the Crowne and Seat of France,Deriu'd from Edward, his great Grandfather
B.Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off?B.Cant. The French Embassador vpon that instantCrau'd audience; and the howre I thinke is come,To giue him hearing: Is it foure a Clock?B.Ely. It is
B.Cant. Then goe we in, to know his Embassie:Which I could with a ready guesse declare,Before the Frenchman speake a word of it
B.Ely. Ile wait vpon you, and I long to heare it.
Exeunt.
Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick,Westmerland, andExeter.
King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?Exeter. Not here in presence
King. Send for him, good Vnckle
Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege?King. Not yet, my Cousin: we would be resolu'd,Before we heare him, of some things of weight,That taske our thoughts, concerning vs and France.Enter two Bishops.
B.Cant. God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne,And make you long become it
King. Sure we thanke you.My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,And iustly and religiously vnfold,Why the Law Salike, that they haue in France,Or should or should not barre vs in our Clayme:And God forbid, my deare and faithfull Lord,That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,Or nicely charge your vnderstanding Soule,With opening Titles miscreate, whose rightSutes not in natiue colours with the truth:For God doth know, how many now in health,Shall drop their blood, in approbationOf what your reuerence shall incite vs to.Therefore take heed how you impawne our Person,How you awake our sleeping Sword of Warre;We charge you in the Name of God take heed:For neuer two such Kingdomes did contend,Without much fall of blood, whose guiltlesse dropsAre euery one, a Woe, a sore Complaint,'Gainst him, whose wrongs giues edge vnto the Swords,That makes such waste in briefe mortalitie.Vnder this Coniuration, speake my Lord:For we will heare, note, and beleeue in heart,That what you speake, is in your Conscience washt,As pure as sinne with Baptisme
B.Can. Then heare me gracious Soueraign, & you Peers,That owe your selues, your liues, and seruices,To this Imperiall Throne. There is no barreTo make against your Highnesse Clayme to France,But this which they produce from Pharamond,In terram Salicam Mulieres ne succedant,No Woman shall succeed in Salike Land:Which Salike Land, the French vniustly glozeTo be the Realme of France, and PharamondThe founder of this Law, and Female Barre.Yet their owne Authors faithfully affirme,That the Land Salike is in Germanie,Betweene the Flouds of Sala and of Elue:Where Charles the Great hauing subdu'd the Saxons,There left behind and settled certaine French:Who holding in disdaine the German Women,For some dishonest manners of their life,Establisht then this Law; to wit, No FemaleShould be Inheritrix in Salike Land:Which Salike (as I said) 'twixt Elue and Sala,Is at this day in Germanie, call'd Meisen.Then doth it well appeare, the Salike LawWas not deuised for the Realme of France:Nor did the French possesse the Salike Land,Vntill foure hundred one and twentie yeeresAfter defunction of King Pharamond,Idly suppos'd the founder of this Law,Who died within the yeere of our Redemption,Foure hundred twentie six: and Charles the GreatSubdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the FrenchBeyond the Riuer Sala, in the yeereEight hundred fiue. Besides, their Writers say,King Pepin, which deposed Childerike,Did as Heire Generall, being descendedOf Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair,Make Clayme and Title to the Crowne of France.Hugh Capet also, who vsurpt the CrowneOf Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole Heire maleOf the true Line and Stock of Charles the Great:To find his Title with some shewes of truth,Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught,Conuey'd himselfe as th' Heire to th' Lady Lingare,Daughter to Charlemaine, who was the SonneTo Lewes the Emperour, and Lewes the SonneOf Charles the Great: also King Lewes the Tenth,Who was sole Heire to the Vsurper Capet,Could not keepe quiet in his conscience,Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied,That faire Queene Isabel, his Grandmother,Was Lineall of the Lady Ermengare,Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Loraine:By the which Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the GreatWas re-vnited to the Crowne of France.So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne,King Pepins Title, and Hugh Capets Clayme,King Lewes his satisfaction, all appeareTo hold in Right and Title of the Female:So doe the Kings of France vnto this day.Howbeit, they would hold vp this Salique Law,To barre your Highnesse clayming from the Female,And rather chuse to hide them in a Net,Then amply to imbarre their crooked Titles,Vsurpt from you and your Progenitors
King. May I with right and conscience make this claim?Bish.Cant. The sinne vpon my head, dread Soueraigne:For in the Booke of Numbers is it writ,When the man dyes, let the InheritanceDescend vnto the Daughter. Gracious Lord,Stand for your owne, vnwind your bloody Flagge,Looke back into your mightie Ancestors:Goe my dread Lord, to your great Grandsires Tombe,From whom you clayme; inuoke his Warlike Spirit,And your Great Vnckles, Edward the Black Prince,Who on the French ground play'd a Tragedie,Making defeat on the full Power of France:Whiles his most mightie Father on a HillStood smiling, to behold his Lyons WhelpeForrage in blood of French Nobilitie.O Noble English, that could entertaineWith halfe their Forces, the full pride of France,And let another halfe stand laughing by,All out of worke, and cold for action
Bish. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,And with your puissant Arme renew their Feats;You are their Heire, you sit vpon their Throne:The Blood and Courage that renowned them,Runs in your Veines: and my thrice-puissant LiegeIs in the very May-Morne of his Youth,Ripe for Exploits and mightie Enterprises
Exe. Your Brother Kings and Monarchs of the EarthDoe all expect, that you should rowse your selfe,As did the former Lyons of your Blood
West. They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and might;So hath your Highnesse: neuer King of EnglandHad Nobles richer, and more loyall Subiects,Whose hearts haue left their bodyes here in England,And lye pauillion'd in the fields of France
Bish.Can. O let their bodyes follow my deare LiegeWith Bloods, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right:In ayde whereof, we of the SpiritualtieWill rayse your Highnesse such a mightie Summe,As neuer did the Clergie at one timeBring in to any of your Ancestors
King. We must not onely arme t' inuade the French,But lay downe our proportions, to defendAgainst the Scot, who will make roade vpon vs,With all aduantages
Bish.Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soueraign,Shall be a Wall sufficient to defendOur in-land from the pilfering Borderers
King. We do not meane the coursing snatchers onely,But feare the maine intendment of the Scot,Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to vs:For you shall reade, that my great GrandfatherNeuer went with his forces into France,But that the Scot, on his vnfurnisht Kingdome,Came pouring like the Tyde into a breach,With ample and brim fulnesse of his force,Galling the gleaned Land with hot Assayes,Girding with grieuous siege, Castles and Townes:That England being emptie of defence,Hath shooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood
B.Can. She hath bin the[n] more fear'd the[n] harm'd, my Liege:For heare her but exampl'd by her selfe,When all her Cheualrie hath been in France,And shee a mourning Widdow of her Nobles,Shee hath her selfe not onely well defended,But taken and impounded as a Stray,The King of Scots: whom shee did send to France,To fill King Edwards fame with prisoner Kings,And make their Chronicle as rich with prayse,As is the Owse and bottome of the SeaWith sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries
Bish.Ely. But there's a saying very old and true,If that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin.For once the Eagle (England) being in prey,To her vnguarded Nest, the Weazell (Scot)Comes sneaking, and so sucks her Princely Egges,Playing the Mouse in absence of the Cat,To tame and hauocke more then she can eate
Exet. It followes then, the Cat must stay at home,Yet that is but a crush'd necessity,Since we haue lockes to safegard necessaries,And pretty traps to catch the petty theeues.While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad,Th' aduised head defends it selfe at home:For Gouernment, though high, and low, and lower,Put into parts, doth keepe in one consent,Congreeing in a full and natural close,Like Musicke
Cant. Therefore doth heauen diuideThe state of man in diuers functions,Setting endeuour in continual motion:To which is fixed as an ayme or butt,Obedience: for so worke the Hony Bees,Creatures that by a rule in Nature teachThe Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome.They haue a King, and Officers of sorts,Where some like Magistrates correct at home:Others, like Merchants venter Trade abroad:Others, like Souldiers armed in their stings,Make boote vpon the Summers Veluet buddes:Which pillage, they with merry march bring homeTo the Tent-royal of their Emperor:Who busied in his Maiesties surueyesThe singing Masons building roofes of Gold,The ciuil Citizens kneading vp the hony;The poore Mechanicke Porters, crowding inTheir heauy burthens at his narrow gate:The sad-ey'd Iustice with his surly humme,Deliuering ore to Executors paleThe lazie yawning Drone: I this inferre,That many things hauing full referenceTo one consent, may worke contrariously,As many Arrowes loosed seuerall wayesCome to one marke: as many wayes meet in one towne,As many fresh streames meet in one salt sea;As many Lynes close in the Dials center:So may a thousand actions once a foote,And in one purpose, and be all well borneWithout defeat. Therefore to France, my Liege,Diuide your happy England into foure,Whereof, take you one quarter into France,And you withall shall make all Gallia shake.If we with thrice such powers left at home,Cannot defend our owne doores from the dogge,Let vs be worried, and our Nation loseThe name of hardinesse and policie
King. Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin.Now are we well resolu'd, and by Gods helpeAnd yours, the noble sinewes of our power,France being ours, wee'l bend it to our Awe,Or breake it all to peeces. Or there wee'l sit,(Ruling in large and ample Emperie,Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes)Or lay these bones in an vnworthy Vrne,Tomblesse, with no remembrance ouer them:Either our History shall with full mouthSpeake freely of our Acts, or else our graueLike Turkish mute, shall haue a tonguelesse mouth,Not worshipt with a waxen Epitaph.Enter Ambassadors of France.
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasureOf our faire Cosin Dolphin: for we heare,Your greeting is from him, not from the King
Amb. May't please your Maiestie to giue vs leaueFreely to render what we haue in charge:Or shall we sparingly shew you farre offThe Dolphins meaning, and our Embassie
King. We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King,Vnto whose grace our passion is as subiectAs is our wretches fettred in our prisons,Therefore with franke and with vncurbed plainnesse,Tell vs the Dolphins minde
Amb. Thus than in few:Your Highnesse lately sending into France,Did claime some certaine Dukedomes, in the rightOf your great Predecessor, King Edward the third.In answer of which claime, the Prince our MasterSayes, that you sauour too much of your youth,And bids you be aduis'd: There's nought in France,That can be with a nimble Galliard wonne:You cannot reuell into Dukedomes there.He therefore sends you meeter for your spiritThis Tun of Treasure; and in lieu of this,Desires you let the dukedomes that you claimeHeare no more of you. This the Dolphin speakes
King. What Treasure Vncle?Exe. Tennis balles, my Liege
Kin. We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with vs,His Present, and your paines we thanke you for:When we haue matcht our Rackets to these Balles,We will in France (by Gods grace) play a set,Shall strike his fathers Crowne into the hazard.Tell him, he hath made a match with such a Wrangler,That all the Courts of France will be disturb'dWith Chaces. And we vnderstand him well,How he comes o're vs with our wilder dayes,Not measuring what vse we made of them.We neuer valew'd this poore seate of England,And therefore liuing hence, did giue our selfeTo barbarous license: As 'tis euer common,That men are merriest, when they are from home.But tell the Dolphin, I will keepe my State,Be like a King, and shew my sayle of Greatnesse,When I do rowse me in my Throne of France.For that I haue layd by my Maiestie,And plodded like a man for working dayes:But I will rise there with so full a glorie,That I will dazle all the eyes of France,Yea strike the Dolphin blinde to looke on vs,And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mocke of hisHath turn'd his balles to Gun-stones, and his souleShall stand sore charged, for the wastefull vengeanceThat shall flye with them: for many a thousand widowsShall this his Mocke, mocke out of their deer husbands;Mocke mothers from their sonnes, mock Castles downe:And some are yet vngotten and vnborne,That shal haue cause to curse the Dolphins scorne.But this lyes all within the wil of God,To whom I do appeale, and in whose nameTel you the Dolphin, I am comming on,To venge me as I may, and to put forthMy rightfull hand in a wel-hallow'd cause.So get you hence in peace: And tell the Dolphin,His Iest will sauour but of shallow wit,When thousands weepe more then did laugh at it.Conuey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
Exeunt. Ambassadors.
Exe. This was a merry Message
King. We hope to make the Sender blush at it:Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy howre,That may giue furth'rance to our Expedition:For we haue now no thought in vs but France,Saue those to God, that runne before our businesse.Therefore let our proportions for these WarresBe soone collected, and all things thought vpon,That may with reasonable swiftnesse addeMore Feathers to our Wings: for God before,Wee'le chide this Dolphin at his fathers doore.Therefore let euery man now taske his thought,That this faire Action may on foot be brought.
Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter Chorus.
Now all the Youth of England are on fire,And silken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes:Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thoughtReignes solely in the breast of euery man.They sell the Pasture now, to buy the Horse;Following the Mirror of all Christian Kings,With winged heeles, as English Mercuries.For now sits Expectation in the Ayre,And hides a Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point,With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and Coronets,Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.The French aduis'd by good intelligenceOf this most dreadfull preparation,Shake in their feare, and with pale PollicySeeke to diuert the English purposes.O England: Modell to thy inward Greatnesse,Like little Body with a mightie Heart:What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,Were all thy children kinde and naturall:But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,A nest of hollow bosomes, which he fillesWith treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted men:One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the secondHenry Lord Scroope of Masham, and the thirdSir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,Haue for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)Confirm'd Conspiracy with fearefull France,And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye.If Hell and Treason hold their promises,Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton.Linger your patience on, and wee'l digestTh' abuse of distance; force a play:The summe is payde, the Traitors are agreed,The King is set from London, and the SceneIs now transported (Gentles) to Southampton,There is the Play-house now, there must you sit,And thence to France shall we conuey you safe,And bring you backe: Charming the narrow seasTo giue you gentle Passe: for if we may,Wee'l not offend one stomacke with our Play.But till the King come forth, and not till then,Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.
Exit
Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.
Bar. Well met Corporall Nym
Nym. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe
Bar. What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet? Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little: but when time shall serue, there shall be smiles, but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will winke and holde out mine yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It will toste Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans sword will: and there's an end
Bar. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friendes, and wee'l bee all three sworne brothers to France: Let't be so good Corporall Nym
Nym. Faith, I will liue so long as I may, that's the certaine of it: and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe as I may: That is my rest, that is the rendeuous of it
Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed to Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her
Nym. I cannot tell, Things must be as they may: men may sleepe, and they may haue their throats about them at that time, and some say, kniues haue edges: It must be as it may, though patience be a tyred name, yet shee will plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot tell. Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.
Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: goodCorporall be patient heere. How now mine Hoaste Pistoll?Pist. Base Tyke, cal'st thou mee Hoste, now by thishand I sweare I scorne the terme: nor shall my Nel keepLodgers
Host. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue honestly by the pricke of their Needles, but it will bee thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight. O welliday Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall see wilful adultery and murther committed
Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing heere
Nym. Pish
Pist. Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard curof Island
Host. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and putvp your sword
Nym. Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus
Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus in thy most meruailous face, the solus in thy teeth, and in thy throate, and in thy hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw perdy; and which is worse, within thy nastie mouth. I do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pistols cocke is vp, and flashing fire will follow
Nym. I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I haue an humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you grow fowle with me Pistoll, I will scoure you with my Rapier, as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you would walke off, I would pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as I may, and that's the humor of it
Pist. O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight,The Graue doth gape, and doting death is neere,Therefore exhale
Bar. Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikesthe first stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a soldier
Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate. Giue me thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites are most tall
Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in fairetermes, that is the humor of it
Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee againe.O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?No, to the spittle goe, and from the Poudring tub of infamy,fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressids kinde, DollTeare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I haue, and Iwill hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: andPauca, there's enough to go to.Enter the Boy.
Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster, and your Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed. Good Bardolfe, put thy face betweene his sheets, and do the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill
Bard. Away you Rogue
Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Husband come home presently.
Exit
Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues to cut one anothers throats? Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle on
Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of youat Betting?Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes
Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it
Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.
Draw
Bard. By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust,Ile kill him: By this sword, I wil
Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their courseBar. Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be frends,and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me to: pretheeput vp
Pist. A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay, and Liquor likewise will I giue to thee, and friendshippe shall combyne, and brotherhood. Ile liue by Nymme, & Nymme shall liue by me, is not this iust? For I shal Sutler be vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Giue mee thy hand
Nym. I shall haue my Noble?Pist. In cash, most iustly payd
Nym. Well, then that the humor of't.Enter Hostesse.
Host. As euer you come of women, come in quickly to sir Iohn: A poore heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning quotidian Tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him
Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight,that's the euen of it
Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is fractedand corroborate
Nym. The King is a good King, but it must bee as itmay: he passes some humors, and carreeres
Pist. Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) wewill liue.Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.
Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitorsExe. They shall be apprehended by and by
West. How smooth and euen they do bear themselues,As if allegeance in their bosomes sateCrowned with faith, and constant loyalty
Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend,By interception, which they dreame not of
Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious fauours;That he should for a forraigne purse, so sellHis Soueraignes life to death and treachery.
Sound Trumpets.
Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge, and Gray.
King. Now sits the winde faire, and we will aboord.My Lord of Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masham,And you my gentle Knight, giue me your thoughts:Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vsWill cut their passage through the force of France?Doing the execution, and the acte,For which we haue in head assembled them
Scro. No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best
King. I doubt not that, since we are well perswadedWe carry not a heart with vs from hence,That growes not in a faire consent with ours:Nor leaue not one behinde, that doth not wishSuccesse and Conquest to attend on vs
Cam. Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd,Then is your Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiectThat sits in heart-greefe and vneasinesseVnder the sweet shade of your gouernment
Kni. True: those that were your Fathers enemies,Haue steep'd their gauls in hony, and do serue youWith hearts create of duty, and of zeale
King. We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes,And shall forget the office of our handSooner then quittance of desert and merit,According to the weight and worthinesse
Scro. So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle,And labour shall refresh it selfe with hopeTo do your Grace incessant seruices
King. We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter,Inlarge the man committed yesterday,That rayl'd against our person: We considerIt was excesse of Wine that set him on,And on his more aduice, We pardon him
Scro. That's mercy, but too much security:Let him be punish'd Soueraigne, least exampleBreed (by his sufferance) more of such a kind
King. O let vs yet be mercifull
Cam. So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too
Grey. Sir, you shew great mercy if you giue him life,After the taste of much correction
King. Alas, your too much loue and care of me,Are heauy Orisons 'gainst this poore wretch:If little faults proceeding on distemper,Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eyeWhen capitall crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,Appeare before vs? Wee'l yet inlarge that man,Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere careAnd tender preseruation of our personWold haue him punish'd. And now to our French causes,Who are the late Commissioners?Cam. I one my Lord,Your Highnesse bad me aske for it to day
Scro. So did you me my Liege
Gray. And I my Royall Soueraigne
King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours:There yours Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight:Gray of Northumberland, this same is yours:Reade them, and know I know your worthinesse.My Lord of Westmerland, and Vnkle Exeter,We will aboord to night. Why how now Gentlemen?What see you in those papers, that you looseSo much complexion? Looke ye how they change:Their cheekes are paper. Why, what reade you there,That haue so cowarded and chac'd your bloodOut of apparance
Cam. I do confesse my fault,And do submit me to your Highnesse mercy
Gray. Scro. To which we all appeale
King. The mercy that was quicke in vs but late,By your owne counsaile is supprest and kill'd:You must not dare (for shame) to talke of mercy,For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes,As dogs vpon their maisters, worrying you:See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres,These English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere,You know how apt our loue was, to accordTo furnish with all appertinentsBelonging to his Honour; and this man,Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'dAnd sworne vnto the practises of FranceTo kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which,This Knight no lesse for bounty bound to VsThen Cambridge is, hath likewise sworne. But O,What shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou cruell,Ingratefull, sauage, and inhumane Creature?Thou that didst beare the key of all my counsailes,That knew'st the very bottome of my soule,That (almost) might'st haue coyn'd me into Golde,Would'st thou haue practis'd on me, for thy vse?May it be possible, that forraigne hyerCould out of thee extract one sparke of euillThat might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange,That though the truth of it stands off as grosseAs black and white, my eye will scarsely see it.Treason, and murther, euer kept together,As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers purpose,Working so grossely in an naturall cause,That admiration did not hoope at them.But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring inWonder to waite on treason, and on murther:And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it wasThat wrought vpon thee so preposterously,Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence:And other diuels that suggest by treasons,Do botch and bungle vp damnation,With patches, colours, and with formes being fetchtFrom glist'ring semblances of piety:But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp,Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor.If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus,Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,He might returne to vastie Tartar backe,And tell the Legions, I can neuer winA soule so easie as that Englishmans.Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infectedThe sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull,Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned?Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family?Why so didst thou. Seeme they religious?Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger,Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood,Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,Not working with the eye, without the eare,And but in purged iudgement trusting neither,Such and so finely boulted didst thou seeme:And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,To make thee full fraught man, and best induedWith some suspition, I will weepe for thee.For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is likeAnother fall of Man. Their faults are open,Arrest them to the answer of the Law,And God acquit them of their practises
Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name ofRichard Earle of Cambridge.I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of ThomasLord Scroope of Marsham.I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of ThomasGrey, Knight of Northumberland
Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd,And I repent my fault more then my death,Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue,Although my body pay the price of it
Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not seduce,Although I did admit it as a motiue,The sooner to effect what I intended:But God be thanked for preuention,Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce,Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee
Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyceAt the discouery of most dangerous Treason,Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe,Preuented from a damned enterprize;My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne
King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentenceYou haue conspir'd against Our Royall person,Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers,Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death:Wherein you would haue sold your King to slaughter,His Princes, and his Peeres to seruitude,His Subiects to oppression, and contempt,And his whole Kingdome into desolation:Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge,But we our Kingdomes safety must so tender,Whose ruine you sought, that to her LawesWe do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence,(Poore miserable wretches) to your death:The taste whereof, God of his mercy giueYou patience to indure, and true RepentanceOf all your deare offences. Beare them hence.Enter.
Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereofShall be to you as vs, like glorious.We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,Since God so graciously hath brought to lightThis dangerous Treason, lurking in our way,To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now,But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our way.Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuerOur Puissance into the hand of God,Putting it straight in expedition.Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance,No King of England, if not King of France.
Flourish.
Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.
Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring thee to Staines
Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph, be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must erne therefore
Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is, eyther in Heauen, or in Hell
Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome Childe: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fingers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now I, to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I hop'd there was no neede to trouble himselfe with any such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and so vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone
Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack
Hostesse. I, that a did
Bard. And of Women
Hostesse. Nay, that a did not
Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate
Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colourhe neuer lik'd
Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him aboutWomen
Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women: but then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon
Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon Bardolphs Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning in Hell
Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:that's all the Riches I got in his seruice
Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone fromSouthampton
Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes: Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oathes are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-fast is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee thy Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yokefellowes in Armes, let vs to France, like Horseleeches my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very blood to sucke
Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say
Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march
Bard. Farwell Hostesse
Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: butadieu
Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I theecommand
Hostesse. Farwell: adieu.
Exeunt.
Flourish.
Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry andBritaine.
King. Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs,And more then carefully it vs concernes,To answer Royally in our defences.Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine,Of Brabant and of Orleance, shall make forth,And you Prince Dolphin, with all swift dispatchTo lyne and new repayre our Townes of WarreWith men of courage, and with meanes defendant:For England his approaches makes as fierce,As Waters to the sucking of a Gulfe.It fits vs then to be as prouident,As feare may teach vs, out of late examplesLeft by the fatall and neglected English,Vpon our fields
Dolphin. My most redoubted Father,It is most meet we arme vs 'gainst the Foe:For Peace it selfe should not so dull a Kingdome,(Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in question)But that Defences, Musters, Preparations,Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,As were a Warre in expectation.Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth,To view the sick and feeble parts of France:And let vs doe it with no shew of feare,No, with no more, then if we heard that EnglandWere busied with a Whitson Morris-dance:For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd,Her Scepter so phantastically borne,By a vaine giddie shallow humorous Youth,That feare attends her not
Const. O peace, Prince Dolphin,You are too much mistaken in this King:Question your Grace the late Embassadors,With what great State he heard their Embassie,How well supply'd with Noble Councellors,How modest in exception; and withall,How terrible in constant resolution:And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent,Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly;As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those RootsThat shall first spring, and be most delicate
Dolphin. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable.But though we thinke it so, it is no matter:In cases of defence, 'tis best to weighThe Enemie more mightie then he seemes,So the proportions of defence are fill'd:Which of a weake and niggardly proiection,Doth like a Miser spoyle his Coat, with scantingA little Cloth
King. Thinke we King Harry strong:And Princes, looke you strongly arme to meet him.The Kindred of him hath beene flesht vpon vs:And he is bred out of that bloodie straine,That haunted vs in our familiar Pathes:Witnesse our too much memorable shame,When Cressy Battell fatally was strucke,And all our Princes captiu'd, by the handOf that black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:Whiles that his Mountaine Sire, on Mountaine standingVp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden Sunne,Saw his Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see himMangle the Worke of Nature, and defaceThe Patternes, that by God and by French FathersHad twentie yeeres been made. This is a StemOf that Victorious Stock: and let vs feareThe Natiue mightinesse and fate of him.Enter a Messenger.