Grey.
K. Henry.
Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
My lord of Cambridge, and my lord of Masham,
And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts:
Think you not that the pow'rs we bear with us,
Will cut their passage through the force of France?
Scroop.
No doubt, my liege; if each man do his best.
K. Henry.
I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded,
-- 23 --
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair consent with ours;
And leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.
Camb.
Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd,
Than is your majesty; there's not a subject,
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness,
Under the sweet shade of your government.
Grey.
True; those that were your father's enemies,
Have steept their gauls in honey, and observe you,
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.* note
K. Henry.
We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
Inlarge 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 we pardon him.
Scroop.
That's mercy, but too much security:† note
Let him be punish'd, sovereign, lest example
Breed, by his suff'rance, more of such a kind.
K. Henry.
O let us yet be merciful.
Camb.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.
Grey.
You shew great mercy, if you give him life,
After the taste of much correction.
K. Henry.
Alas! your too much love and care of me
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch.
If little faults, proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye,
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appear before us? We'll enlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care,
-- 24 --
And tender preservation of our person,
Would have him punish'd. Now to our French causes;
Who are the late commissionors?
Camb.
I one, my lord.
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
Scroop.
So did you me, my liege.
Grey.
And I, my sovereign.
K. Henry.
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?
Camb.
I confess my fault,
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
Grey. Scroop.
To which we all appeal.
K. Henry.
The mercy that was quick in us but late,* note
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 upon your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
See you, my princes, and my noble peers,
These English monsters! my Lord Cambridge here,
You know how apt our love was to accord,
To furnish him with all appertinents,
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, conspir'd,
And sworn into the practices of France,
-- 25 --
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 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 stand off as gross,
As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.* note
Arrest them to the answer of the law,
And Heav'n 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 Thomas
Lord Scroop of Masham.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas
Grey, Knight of Northumberland.
Scroop.
Our purposes Heav'n 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,
Although I did admit it as a motive,
-- 26 --
The soone to effect what I intended;
But Heaven be thanked for prevention,
Which I in sufferance heartily rejoice for,
Beseeching Heav'n 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 enterprise:
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
K. Henry.
Heav'n quit you in its mercy; hear your sentence;
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. Go therefore hence,
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.
Now, lords, for France, the enterprize whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
Then forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of Heav'n,
Putting it strait in expedition.
Chearly to sea the signs of war advance,
No King of England, if not King of France.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE changes again to London.
Enter Pistol, Nim, Bardolph, Boy and Hostess.
Host.
Pr'ythee honey-sweet husband, let me bring
thee to Staines.
Pist.
No, for my manly heart doth yern.
Bardolph, be blith: Nym, rouze thy vaunting vein:
Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,
And we must yern, therefore.
Bard.
Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is,
either in heaven or in hell.
Host.
Nay, sure he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's
bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. He made
a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom
child; a parted even just between twelve and one, even
-- 27 --
at the turning o'th' tide: for after I saw him fumble
with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon
his finger's end, I knew there was but one way; for
his nose was as sharp as a pen. How now, Sir John?
quoth I: what man? be of good cheer: so a cried out,
Heav'n, Heav'n, Heav'n, three or four times. Now
I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of Heaven:
I hop'd there was no need to trouble himself
with any such thoughts, yet: so a bade me lay more
clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and
felt them, and they were as cold as a stone: then I felt
to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as
cold as any stone.* note
Nym.
They say he cried out of sack.
Host.
Ay, that a did.
Bard.
And of women.
Host.
Nay, that a did not.
Boy.
Yes that he did, and said they were devils incarnate.
Host.
A could never abide carnation, 'twas a colour
he never lik'd.
Boy.
He said once the deule would have him about
women.
Host.
He did, in some sort, indeed, handle women;
but then he was rheumatick, and talk'd of the whore
of Babylon.
Boy.
Do you not remember he saw a flea stick upon
Bardolph's nose, and said it was a black soul burning in
hell.
Bard.
Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that
fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.
Nym.
Shall we shogg?† note the king will be gone from
Southampton.
Pist.
Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips:
-- 28 --
Look to my chattels, and my moveables;
Let senses rule; the word is pitch and pay;
Trust none, for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck,
Therefore Caveto be thy counsel;
Go, clear thy chrystals. Yoke fellows in arms,
Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck.
Boy.
And that's but unwholsome food, they say.
Pist.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.
Bard.
Farewel, hostess.
Nym.
I cannot kiss, that's the humour of it; but adieu.
Pist.
Let housewifry appear; keep close, I thee
command.
Host.
Farewel; adieu.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE changes to France.
Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, and the Constable.* note
Fr. King.
Thus come the English with full power upon us;
And more than carefully it us concerns
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britain,
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,
And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch;
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 gulf.
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.
Daup.
My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe:
-- 29 --
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom
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 shew of fear;
No, with no more than if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitsun morrice-dance.
For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd,
Her scepter so fantastically born.
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.
Question your grace the late ambassadors,
With what great state he heard their embassy,
How well supply'd with noble counsellors,
How modest in exception, and withal,
How terrible in constant resolution.
And you shall find his vanities, fore-spent,
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly.
Daup.
Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable;
But tho' we think it so, it is no matter.
In causes of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd.
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,
That haunted us, in our familiar paths.
Witness our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy battle fatally was struck,
And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand
Of that black name, Edward, the prince of Wales:
-- 30 --
While that his mountain fire, on mountain standing,* note
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,
Saw his heroic seed, and smil'd to see him,
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns, that by Heav'n 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.† note
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Ambassadors from Harry, king of England,
Do crave admittance to your majesty.
Fr. King.
We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them.
You see this chace is hotly follow'd, friends.
Daup.
Turn head, and stop pursuit; for coward dogs
Most spend their mouths, 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,‡ note
As self-neglecting.
Enter Exeter.
Fr. King.
From our brother England?
Exe.
From him; and thus he greets your majesty.
He wills you, in the awful name of Heav'n,
-- 31 --
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 the wide-stretch'd 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,
Willing you overlook his 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* note
Ev'n in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
And therefore, in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove:
That if requiring fail, he may compell.
He bids you, in compassion to your subjects,
Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy
On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws; upon your head,
Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the pining maiden's groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd in this controversy.
This is his claim, his threatning, and my message;
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
To whom, expresly I bring greeting, too.
Fr. King.
For us, we will consider of this, further.
-- 32 --
To-morrow, shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England.
Daup.
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 an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France,
Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock,
In second accent to his ordinance.
Daup.
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,
Between the promise of his greener days,
And these he masters, now. Now he weighs time
Even to the utmost grain, which you shall read
In your own losses, if he stay in France.
Fr. King.
To-morrow, you shall know our mind at
full.
Exe.
Dispatch 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 dispatch'd with fair conditions:
A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this consequence.
[Exeunt.* note
End of the Second Act.
-- 33 --
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
