Bard.

Hear me, hear me what I say:—he that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.

Pist.
An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give;
Thy spirits are most tall.

Nym.

I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms; that is the humour of it.

Pist.
Coupe le gorge, that's the word?—I thee defy again.
O hound of Crete^{9 note}

Enter the Boy.

Boy.

Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master,—and you, hostess^{3 note};—he is very sick, and would to bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy nose between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan: 'faith, he's very ill.

Bard.

Away, you rogue.

Quick.

By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days: the king has killed his heart.—Good husband, come home presently.

Bard.

Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together; Why, the devil, should we keep knives to cut one another's throats?

Pist.

Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on!

Nym.

You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?

Pist.

Base is the slave that pays^{4 note}
.

Nym.

That now I will have; that's the humour of it.

Pist.

As manhood shall compound; Push home.

Bard.

By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.

Pist.

Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.

Bard.

Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Pr'ythee, put up.

Nym.

I shall have my eight shillings, I won of you at betting?

Pist.
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood:
I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me;—
Is not this just?—for I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nym.

I shall have my noble?

Pist.

In cash most justly paid.

Nym.

Well then, that's the humour of it.

Quick.

As ever you came of women, come in quickly to sir John: Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked^{5 note}
of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.

Nym.

The king hath run bad humours on the knight, that's the even of it.

Pist.
Nym, thou hast spoke the right;
His heart is fracted, and corroborate.

Nym.

The king is a good king: but it must be as it may; he passes some humours, and careers.

Pist.

Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins we will live^{6 note}

SCENE II. Southampton. A Council-Chamber. Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland.

Bed.
'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors.

Exe.
They shall be apprehended by and by.

West.
How smooth and even they do bear themselves!
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty.

Bed.
The king hath note of all that they intend,
By interception which they dream not of.

Exe.
Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow^{7 note}

Whom he hath cloy'd and grac'd^{8 note} with princely favours.—
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life to death and treachery^{9 note}
! Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, Scroop, Cambridge, Grey, Lords, and Attendants.

K. Hen.
Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
My lord of Cambridge,—and my kind lord of Masham,—
And you, my gentle knight,—give me your thoughts:
Think you not, that the powers we bear with us,
Will cut their passage through the force of France;
Doing the execution, and the act,
For which we have in head assembled them^{1 note}

Scroop.
No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.

K. Hen.
I doubt not that: since we are well persuaded,
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair concent with ours^{2 note}

Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.

Cam.
Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd,
Than is your majesty; there's not, I think, a subject,
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness
Under the sweet shade of your government.

Grey.
Even those, that were your father's enemies,
Have steep'd their galls in honey; and do serve you
With hearts create^{3 note} of duty and of zeal.

K. Hen.
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness;
And shall forget the office of our hand^{4 note},
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthiness.

Scroop.
So service shall with steeled sinews toil;
And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
To do your grace incessant services.

K. Hen.
We judge no less.—Uncle of Exeter,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rail'd against our person: we consider,
It was excess of wine that set him on;
And, on his more advice^{5 note}

Scroop.
That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd, sovereign; lest example
Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.

K. Hen.
O, let us yet be merciful.

Cam.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.

Grey.
Sir, you show great mercy, if you give him life,
After the taste of much correction.

K. Hen.
Alas, your too much love and care of me
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch.
If little faults, proceeding on distemper^{6 note}

Cam.
I one, my lord;
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.

Scroop.
So did you me, my liege.

Grey.
And me, my royal sovereign.

K. Hen.
Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there is yours:—
There yours, lord Scroop of Masham:—and, sir knight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours:—
Read them; and know, I know your worthiness.—
My lord of Westmoreland,—and uncle Exeter,—
We will aboard to-night.—Why, how now, gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you lose
So much complexion?—look ye, how they change!
Their cheeks are paper.—Why, what read you there,
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance?

Cam.
I do confess my fault;
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.

Grey. Scroop.
To which we all appeal.

K. Hen.
The mercy that was quick^{9 note} in us but late,
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd;
You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying them* ^note.—
See you, my princes, and my noble peers,
These English monsters! My lord of Cambridge here,—
You know, how apt our love was, to accord
To furnish him^{1 note} with all appertinents
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd,
And sworn unto the practices of France,

To kill us here in Hampton: to the which,
This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
Than Cambridge is,—hath likewise sworn.—But O!
What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop; thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature!
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold,
Would'st thou have practis'd on me for thy use?
May it be possible, that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil,
That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white^{1 note}
, my eye will scarcely see it.
Treason, and murder, ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
Working so grossly^{3 note} in a natural cause,
That admiration did not whoop at them^{2 note}:
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason, and on murder:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was,
That wrought upon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence:
And other devils that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation
With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
From glistering semblances of piety:
But he, that temper'd thee^{4 note}

Gave thee no instance why thou should'st do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same dæmon, that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar^{5 note}

Not working with the eye without the ear^{8 note},
And, but in purged judgment trusting neither?
Such and so finely bolted, didst thou seem^{9 note}

Arrest them to the answer of the law;—
And God acquit them of their practices!

Exe.

I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard earl of Cambridge.

I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry lord Scroop^{2 note}
, of Masham.

I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland.

Scroop.
Our purposes God justly hath discover'd;
And I repent my fault more than my death;
Which I beseech your highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.

Cam.
For me,—the gold of France did not seduce^{3 note};
Although I did admit it as a motive,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be thanked for prevention;
Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice^{4 note},

Beseeching God and you to pardon me.

Grey.
Never did faithful subject more rejoice
At the discovery of most dangerous treason,
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself,
Prevented from a damned enterprize:
My fault^{5 note}

K. Hen.
God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
You have conspir'd against our royal person,
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd^{6 note}, and from his coffers
Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death;
Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom into desolation.
Touching our person, seek we no revenge;
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence^{7 note},
Poor miserable wretches, to your death:
The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you

Patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences!—Bear them hence. [Exeunt Conspirators, guarded.
Now, lords, for France; the enterprize whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war;
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous treason, lurking in our way,
To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now,
But every rub is smoothed on our way.
Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance^{8 note}
:
No king of England, if not king of France^{9 note}
. [Exeunt. SCENE III. London. Mrs. Quickly's House in Eastcheap. Enter Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Nym, Bardolph, and Boy.

Quick.

Pry'thee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines^{1 note}

.

Pist.
No; for my manly heart doth yearn.—

Bardolph, be blithe;—Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins;
Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,
And we must yearn therefore.

Bard.

'Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven, or in hell!

Quick.

Nay, sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end^{3 note}

Nym.

They say, he cried out of sack.

Quick.

Ay, that 'a did.

Bard.

And of women.

Quick.

Nay, that 'a did not.

Boy.

Yes, that 'a did; and said, they were devils incarnate.

Quick.

'A could never abide carnation^{2 note}

Boy.

'A said once, the devil would have him about women.

Quick.

'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women: but then he was rheumatick^{3 note}; and talked of the whore of Babylon.

Boy.

Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose; and 'a said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire?

Bard.

Well, the fuel is gone, that maintained that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.

Nym.

Shall we shog off; the king will be gone from Southampton.

Pist.
Come, let's away.—My love, give me thy lips.
Look to my chattels, and my moveables:
Let senses rule^{4 note}

For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog^{6 note}, my duck;
Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor^{7 note}

Boy.
And that is but unwholesome food, they say,

Pist.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bard.

Farewell, hostess.

Nym.

I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.

Pist.
Let housewifery appear; keep close^{9 note}

Quick.

Farewell; adieu.

SCENE IV. France. A Room in the French King's Palace. Enter the French King attended; the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Constable, and Others.

Fr. King.
Thus come the English with full power upon us;
And more than carefully it us concerns^{1 note},
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne,
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,—
And you, prince Dauphin,—with all swift despatch,
To line, and new repair, our towns of war,
With men of courage, and with means defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As waters to the sucking of a gulph.
It fits us then to be as provident
As fear may teach us, out of late examples
Left by the fatal and neglected English
Upon our fields.

Dau.
My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe:
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom^{2 note}
,
(Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in question,)
But that defences, musters, preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
As were a war in expectation.

Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth,
To view the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let us do it with no show of fear;
No, with no more, than if we heard that England
Were busied^{3 note} with a Whitsun morris dance:
For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd^{4 note}
,
Her scepter so fantastically borne
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,
That fear attends her not.

Con.
O peace, prince Dauphin!
You are too much mistaken in this king^{5 note}:
Question your grace the late ambassadors,—
With what great state he heard their embassy,
How well supplied with noble counsellors,
How modest in exception^{6 note}, and, withal,
How terrible in constant resolution,—
And you shall find, his vanities forespent
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly^{7 note}

As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate.

Dau.
Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable,
But though we think it so, it is no matter:
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd;

Which, of a weak and niggardly projection^{8 note}

Fr. King.
Think we king Harry strong;
And, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet him.
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us;
And he is bred out of that bloody strain^{9 note}
,
That haunted us^{1 note} in our familiar paths:
Witness our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy battle fatally was struck^{2 note}

And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand
Of that black name, Edward black prince of Wales;
Whiles that his mountain sire,—on mountain standing^{3 note}

The patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him^{5 note}

Mess.
Ambassadors from Henry King of England
Do crave admittance to your majesty.

Fr. King.
We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them. [Exeunt Mess. and certain Lords.
You see, this chase is hotly follow'd, friends.

Dau.
Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward dogs
Most spend their mouths^{6 note}, when what they seem to threaten,
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign,
Take up the English short; and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head:
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting. Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and Train.

Fr. King.
From our brother England* ^note?

Exe.
From him; and thus he greets your majesty.
He wills you, in the name of God Almighty,
That you divest yourself, and lay apart
The borrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven,

By law of nature, and of nations, 'long
To him, and to his heirs; namely, the crown,
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain,
By custom and the ordinance of times,
Unto the crown of France. That you may know,
'Tis no sinister, nor no aukward claim,
Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd,
He sends you this most memorable line^{7 note}, [Gives a paper.
In every branch truly demonstrative;
Willing you, overlook this pedigree:
And, when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
Edward the third, he bids you then resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger.

Fr. King.
Or else what follows?

Exe.
Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it:
And therefore^{8 note} in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove;
(That, if requiring fail, he will compel;)
And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy
On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws: and on your head
Turns he^{9 note} the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood^{1 note}

For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd in this controversy.
This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message;
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
To whom expressly I bring greeting too.

Fr. King.
For us, we will consider of this further:
To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England.

Dau.
For the Dauphin,
I stand here for him; What to him from England?

Exe.
Scorn, and defiance; slight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not misbecome
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus says my king: and, if your father's highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty,
He'll call you to so hot* ^note an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trespass^{2 note}

In second accent of his ordnance^{3 note}.

Dau.
Say, if my father render fair reply,
It is against my will: for I desire
Nothing but odds with England; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
I did present him with those Paris balls.

Exe.
He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe:
And, be assur'd, you'll find a difference,
(As we, his subjects, have in wonder found,)
Between the promise of his greener days,
And these he masters now^{4 note}

Fr. King.
To-morrow shall you know our mind at full.

Exe.
Despatch us with all speed, lest that our king
Come here himself to question our delay;
For he is footed in this land already.

Fr. King.
You shall be soon despatch'd, with fair conditions:

A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this consequence. [Exeunt.

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