Burgundy, and his Train.
K. Hen.
Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met5 note
!
Unto our brother France,—and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day:—joy and good wishes
-- 464 --
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine;
And (as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,)
We do salute you, duke of Burgundy;—
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!
Fr. King.
Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England; fairly met:—
So are you, princes English, every one.
Q. Isa.
So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks6 note
:
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love.
K. Hen.
To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
Q. Isa.
You English princes all, I do salute you.
Bur.
My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great kings of France and England! That I have labour'd
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial majesties
Unto this bar7 note and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd,
That face to face, and royal eye to eye,
You have congreeted; let it not disgrace me,
-- 465 --
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub, or what impediment, there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not, in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas! she hath from France too long been chas'd;
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies8 note
: her hedges even-pleached,
Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair9 note
,
-- 466 --
Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulter1 note rusts,
That should deracinate2 note
such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all3 note uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.
And as our vineyards4 note, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures5 note, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
-- 467 --
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow, like savages,—as soldiers will,
That nothing do but meditate on blood,—
To swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd attire6 note
,
And every thing that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our former favour7 note
,
You are assembled: and my speech entreats,
That I may know the let, why gentle peace
Should not expel these inconveniencies,
And bless us with her former qualities.
K. Hen.
If, duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands;
Whose tenours and particular effects
You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands.
Bur.
The king hath heard them; to the which, as yet,
There is no answer made.
K. Hen.
Well then, the peace,
Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer.
Fr. King.
I have but with a cursorary eye
-- 468 --
O'er-glanc'd the articles: pleaseth your grace
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will, suddenly,
Pass our accept, and peremptory answer5 note
.
K. Hen.
Brother, we shall.—Go, uncle Exeter,—
And brother Clarence9 note,—and you, brother Gloster,—
Warwick,—and Huntington,—go with the king:
And take with you free power, to ratify,
-- 469 --
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
Any thing in, or out of, our demands;
And we'll consign thereto.—Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes, or stay here with us?
Q. Isa.
Our gracious brother, I will go with them;
Haply, a woman's voice may do some good,
When articles, too nicely urg'd, be stood on.
K. Hen.
Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us;
She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
Q. Isa.
She hath good leave.
[Exeunt all but Henry, Katharine, and her Gentlewoman.
K. Hen.
Fair Katharine, and most fair1 note
!
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms,
Such as will enter at a lady's ear,
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
Kath.
Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot
speak your England.
K. Hen.
O fair Katharine, if you will love me
soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to
hear you confess it brokenly with your English
tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
Kath.
Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is—like
me.
K. Hen.
An angel is like you, Kate; and you
are like an angel.
Kath.
Que dit-il? que je suis semblable à les
anges?
-- 470 --
Alice.
Ouy, vrayment, (sauf vostre grace) ainsi
dit il.
K. Hen.
I said so, dear Katharine; and I must
not blush to affirm it.
Kath.
O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont
pleines des tromperies.
K. Hen.
What says she, fair one? that the
tongues of men are full of deceits?
Alice.
Ouy; dat de tongues of de mans is be
full of deceits: dat is de princess2 note
.
K. Hen.
The princess is the better English-woman.
I' faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding:
I am glad, thou can'st speak no better
English; for, if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me
such a plain king3 note
, that thou would'st think, I had
-- 471 --
sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways
to mince it in love, but directly to say—I love you:
then, if you urge me further than to say—Do you
in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me your answer;
i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain4 note:
How say you, lady?
Kath.
Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well.
K. Hen.
Marry, if you would put me to verses,
or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me:
for the one, I have neither words nor measure; and
for the other, I have no strength in measure5 note
, yet
a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a
lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle
with my armour on my back, under the correction
of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into
a wife. Or, if I might buffet for my love, or bound
my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a
butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off: but,
before God, I cannot look greenly6 note
, nor gasp out
-- 472 --
my eloquence, nor have I no cunning in protestation;
only downright oaths, which I never use till
urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst
love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not
worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for
love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy
cook. I speak to thee plain soldier7 note
: If thou canst
love me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee—
that I shall die, is true; but—for thy love, by the
Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou
livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined
constancy8 note
; for he perforce must do thee right,
because he hath not the gift to woo in other places:
for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme
themselves into ladies' favours,—they do always
reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is
but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg
will fall9 note; a straight back will stoop; a black beard
will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair
face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a
good heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather,
the sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and
never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou
would have such a one, take me: And take me,
-- 473 --
take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And
what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair,
and fairly, I pray thee.
Kath.
Is it possible dat I should love the enemy
of France1 note
?
K. Hen.
No; it is not possible, you should love
the enemy of France, Kate: but, in loving me, you
should love the friend of France; for I love France
so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I
will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is
mine and I am yours, then yours is France, and you
are mine.
Kath.
I cannot tell vat is dat.
K. Hen.
No, Kate? I will tell thee in French:
which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a
new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly
to be shook off. Quand j'ay la possession de France,
et quand vous avez le possession de moi, (let me see,
what then? Saint Dennis be my speed!)—donc vostre
est France, et vous estes mienne. It is as easy for
me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom, as to speak so
much more French: I shall never move thee in
French, unless it be to laugh at me.
Kath.
Sauf vostre honneur, le François que vous
parlez, est meilleur que l' Anglois lequel je parle.
K. Hen.
No, 'faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking
of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely,
must needs be granted to be much at one. But,
Kate, dost thou understand thus much English?
Canst thou love me?
Kath.
I cannot tell.
K. Hen.
Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate?
I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me: and
-- 474 --
at night when you come into your closet, you'll
question this gentlewoman about me; and I know,
Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me,
that you love with your heart: but, good Kate,
mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess,
because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st
mine, Kate, (as I have a saving faith within me,
tells me,—thou shalt,) I get thee with scambling2 note,
and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder:
Shall not thou and I, between Saint Dennis
and Saint George, compound a boy, half French,
half English, that shall go to Constantinople3 note, and
take the Turk by the beard? shall we not? what
sayest thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
Kath.
I do not know dat.
K. Hen.
No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now
to promise: do but now promise, Kate, you will
endeavour for your French part of such a boy; and,
for my English moiety, take the word of a king and
a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katharine
du monde, mon tres chere et divine deesse?
Kath.
Your majesté 'ave fausse French enough
to deceive de most sage damoiselle dat is en France.
K. Hen.
Now, fye upon my false French! By
mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate:
by which honour I dare not swear, thou lovest me;
yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost,
notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect4 note
-- 475 --
of my visage. Now beshrew my father's ambition!
he was thinking of civil wars when he got me:
therefore was I created with a stubborn outside,
with an aspéct of iron, that, when I come to woo
ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder
I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is,
that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no
more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, if thou
hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if
thou wear me, better and better; And therefore
tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me?
Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts
of your heart with the looks of an empress; take
me by the hand, and say—Harry of England, I am
thine: which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine
ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud—England is
thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry
Plantagenet is thine; who, though I speak it before
his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou
shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come,
your answer in broken musick; for thy voice is
musick, and thy English broken: therefore, queen
of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken
English, Wilt thou have me?
Kath.
Dat is, as it shall please de roy mon pere.
K. Hen.
Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it
shall please him, Kate.
Kath.
Den it shall also content me.
-- 476 --
K. Hen.
Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I
call you—my queen.
Kath.
Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez:
ma foy, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez vostre
grandeur, en baisant la main d'une vostre indigne
serviteure; excusez moy, je vous supplie, mon tres
puissant seigneur.
K. Hen.
Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
Kath.
Les dames, et damoiselles, pour estre
baisées devant leur nopces, il n'est pas le coûtume de
France.
K. Hen.
Madam my interpreter, what says she?
Alice.
Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies
of France,—I cannot tell what is, baiser, en English.
K. Hen.
To kiss.
Alice.
Your majesty entendre bettre que moy.
K. Hen.
It is not the fashion for the maids in
France to kiss before they are married, would she
say?
Alice.
Ouy, vrayment.
K. Hen.
O, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great
kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined
within the weak list5 note
of a country's fashion: we
are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty
that follows our places stops the mouths of all
find-faults; as I will do yours, for upholding the
nice fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss:
therefore, patiently, and yielding. [Kissing her.]
You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is
more eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than in
the tongues of the French council; and they should
sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general
petition of monarchs6 note. Here comes your father.
-- 477 --
Enter the French King and Queen, Burgundy,
Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, Westmoreland,
and other French and English Lords.
Bur.
God save your majesty! my royal cousin,
teach you our princess English?
K. Hen.
I would have her learn, my fair cousin,
how perfectly I love her; and that is good English.
Bur.
Is she not apt?
K. Hen.
Our tongue is rough, coz; and my condition
is not smooth7 note
: so that, having neither the
voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot
so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will
appear in his true likeness.
Bur.
Pardon the frankness of my mirth8 note, if I
answer you for that. If you would conjure in her
you must make a circle: if conjure up love in
her in his true likeness, he must appear naked,
and blind: Can you blame her then, being a maid
yet rosed over with the virgin crimson of modesty,
if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in
her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard
condition for a maid to consign to.
K. Hen.
Yet they do wink, and yield; as love is
blind, and enforces.
Bur.
They are then excused, my lord, when they
see not what they do.
K. Hen.
Then, good my lord, teach your cousin
to consent to winking.
-- 478 --
Bur.
I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if
you will teach her to know my meaning: for maids,
well summered and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide,
blind, though they have their eyes;
and then they will endure handling, which before
would not abide looking on.
K. Hen.
This moral9 note
ties me over to time, and
a hot summer; and so I will catch the fly, your
cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too.
Bur.
As love is, my lord, before it loves.
K. Hen.
It is so: and you may, some of you,
thank love for my blindness; who cannot see many
a fair French city, for one fair French maid that
stands in my way.
Fr. King.
Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively,
the cities turned into a maid1 note
; for they are
all girdled with maiden walls, that war hath never
entered2 note
.
K. Hen.
Shall Kate be my wife?
Fr. King.
So please you.
K. Hen.
I am content; so the maiden cities
you talk of, may wait on her: so the maid, that
-- 479 --
stood in the way of my wish, shall show me the
way to my will.
Fr. King.
We have consented to all terms of reason.
K. Hen.
Is't so, my lords of England?
West.
The king hath granted every article:
His daughter, first; and then, in sequel, all3 note,
According to their firm proposed natures.
Exe.
Only, he hath not yet subscribed this:—
Where your majesty demands,—That the king of
France, having any occasion to write for matter of
grant, shall name your highness in this form, and
with this addition, in French,—Notre tres cher filz
Henry roy d'Angleterre, heretier de France; and
thus in Latin,—Præclarissimus filius4 note
noster Henricus,
rex Angliæ, et hæres Franciæ.
Fr. King.
Nor this I have not, brother, so denied,
But your request shall make me let it pass.
K. Hen.
I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,
Let that one article rank with the rest:
-- 480 --
And, thereupon, give me your daughter.
Fr. King.
Take her, fair son; and from her blood raise up
Issue to me: that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale,
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction
Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
All.
Amen!
K. Hen.
Now welcome, Kate:—and bear me witness all,
That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.
[Flourish.
Q. Isa.
God, the best maker of all marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one!
As man and wife, being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal,
That never may ill office, or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms5 note,
To make divorce of their incorporate league;
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receive each other!—God speak this Amen!
All.
Amen!
K. Hen.
Prepare we for our marriage:—on which day6 note
,
-- 481 --
My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.—
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me;
And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be!
[Exeunt.
[Epilogue]
Enter Chorus.
Thus far, with rough, and all unable pen,
Our bending author7 note has pursu'd the story;
In little room confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts8 note the full course of their glory.
Small time, but, in that small, most greatly liv'd
This star of England: fortune made his sword;
By which the world's best garden9 note
he achiev'd,
And of it left his son imperial lord.
Henry the sixth, in infant bands crown'd king
Of France and England did this king succeed;
Whose state so many had the managing,
That they lost France, and made his England bleed:
Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake,
In your fair minds let this acceptance take.
[Exit1.
