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 sate,
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 bed-fellow,
Whom he hath lull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours;
That he should for a foreign purse so sell
His Soveraign's life to death and treachery! [Trumpets sound. Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, Grey, and Attendants.

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;

Doing the execution and the act
For which we have in head assembled them?

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

K. Henry.
I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded,
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair consent with ours:
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 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 do serve you
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.

K. Henry.
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness;
And shall forget the office of our hand,
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 it self with hope,
To do your Grace incessant services.

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:
Let him be punish'd, Soveraign, lest example
Breed (by his suff'rance) more of such a kind.

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

Cam.
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 yet enlarge that man,

Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care
And tender preservation of our person,
Would have him punish'd. Now to our French causes,
Who are the late Commissioners?

Cam.
I one, my lord.
Your Highness bad me ask for it to-day.

Scroop.
So did you me, my Liege.

Grey.
And I, my Soveraign.

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 Westmorland 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 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,
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 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 stand off as gross
As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.
Treason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoak-devils sworn to either's purpose:
Working so grosly in a natural cause,
That admiration did not whoop at them.
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason, and on murther:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was,
That wrought upon thee so prepost'rously,
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 fetcht
From glist'ring semblances of piety:
But he, that temper'd thee, bad thee stand up;
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst 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-gate walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar back,
And tell the legions, I can never win
A soul so easy as that Englishman's.
Oh, how hast thou with jealousie infected
The sweetness of affiance! Shew men dutiful?
Why so didst thou: or seem they grave and learned?
Why so didst thou: come they of noble family?
Why so didst thou: seem they religious?
Why so didst thou: or are they spare in diet,
Free from gross passion or of mirth, or anger,
Constant in spirit, nor swerving with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment,

Not working with the ear, but with the eye,(15) ^note

And but in purged judgment trusting neither?
Such, and so finely boulted didst thou seem.
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,(16) ^note

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(17) ^note Lord Scroop 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,
Although I did admit it as a motive
The sooner to effect what I intended;
But God be thanked for prevention,
Which I in suff'rance heartily rejoice for,
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 my self,
Prevented from a damned enterprize:
My fault, but not my body, pardon, Soveraign.

K. Henry.
God quit you in his mercy! hear your sentence;
You have conspir'd against our royal person,
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, 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. 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.

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 beginning. Now we doubt not,
But every rub is smoothed in our way:
Then forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it strait in expedition.
Chearly to sea; the signs of war advance;
No King of England, if not King of France. [Exeunt. Scene 3 SCENE changes to Quickly's house in Eastcheap. Enter Pistol, Nim, Bardolph, Boy and Quickly.

Quick.

Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

Pist.
No, for my manly heart doth yern.
Bardolph, be blith: Nim, rouze thy vaunting veins:
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.

Quick.

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 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 (18) ^notehis nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babled of green fields. How now, Sir John? quoth I: what,

man? be of good cheer: so a' cried out God, God, God, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him, a' shou'd not think of God; I hop'd, there was no need to trouble himself 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 a stone: then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.

Nim.

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 he did; and said, they were devils incarnate.

Quick.

A' could never abide carnation, 'twas a colour he never lik'd.

Boy.

He said once, the deule would have him about women.

Quick.

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.

Nim.

Shall we shogg? 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; 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 counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals. 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.

Nim.

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

Pist.

Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command.

Quick.

Farewel; adieu.

Scene 4 SCENE changes to the French King's Palace. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, and the Constable.

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.

Dau.
My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe:
For peace it self should not so dull a Kingdom,
(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 shew of fear;
No, with no more, than if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitson morris-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 embassie;
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 out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly;
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 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;
Which of a weak and niggardly projection,
Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth.

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-battel fatally was struck;
And all our princes captiv'd by the hand
Of that black name, Edward black Prince of Wales:
While that his mounting sire, on mountain standing,(19) ^note

Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,
Saw his heroick seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the work of nature: and deface
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. Enter a 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 chase is hotly follow'd, friends.

Dau.
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,
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 name of God Almighty,
That you divest your self, 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 awkward 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,
In every branch truly demonstrative, [Gives the French King a Paper.
Willing you over-look 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
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 compel.
He 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; upon your head
Turning the widows tears, the orphans cries,
The dead mens blood, the pining maidens groans,(20) ^note

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 mis-become
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 hide your trespass, and return your mock
In second accent to his ordinance.

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; 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. [Flourish.

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. Enter Chorus.
Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies,
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen
The well-appointed King at Hampton Peer(21) ^note

Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails,
Born with th' invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms thro' the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think,
You stand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on th' inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this Fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow.
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women;
Or past, or not arriv'd, to pith and puissance:
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege:
Behold the ordnance on their carriages
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose, th' ambassador from France comes back;
Tells Harry, that the King doth offer him
Catharine his daughter, and with her to dowry
Some petty and unprofitable Dukedoms:
The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner
With lynstock now the devilish cannon touches,
And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit.

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