French.
K. Henry.
Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met:
Unto our brother France, and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day; joy, and good wishes,
To our most fair and princely cousin Catharine;
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 born in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murthering basilisks:
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. Henry.
To cry Amen to that, thus we appear.
Q. Isa.
You English Princes all, I do salute you.
Burg.
My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great Kings of France, and England. That I've labour'd
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial Majesties
Unto this bar and royal interview,
Your Mightinesses on both parts can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd,
That, face to face and royal eye to eye,
-- 96 --
You have congreeted: let it not disgrace me,
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 lye on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.
Her vine, the merry chearer of the heart,(40) note
Unpruned lyes; her hedges even pleach'd,
Like prisoners, wildly over-grown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory
Doth root upon; while that the culter rusts,
That should deracinate such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility;
And all our vineyards, fallows, meads and hedges,
Defective in their nurtures, grow to wildness.(41) note
Even so our houses, and our selves and children
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 attire,
And every thing that seems unnatural.
-- 97 --
Which to reduce into our former favour,
You are assembled; and my speech intreats,
That I may know the Let, why gentle peace
Should not expel these inconveniencies;
And bless us with her former qualities.
K. Henry.
If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Whose want gives growth to th' 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.
Burg.
The King hath heard them; to the which as yet
There is no answer made.
K. Henry.
Well, then; the peace,
Which you before so urg'd, lyes in his answer.
Fr. King.
I have but with a cursorary eye
O'er-glanc'd the articles; pleaseth your Grace
T' appoint some of your Council presently
To sit with us, once more with better heed
To re-survey them; we will suddenly(42) note
Pass, or, accept, and peremptory answer.
K. Henry.
Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,
And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester,
Warwick and Huntington, go with the King;
And take with you free Pow'r to ratifie,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
Any thing in, or out of, our Demands;
-- 98 --
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. Henry.
Yet leave our cousin Catharine here with us,
She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
Q. Isa.
She hath good leave.
[Exeunt.
Manent King Henry, Catharine, and a Lady.
K. Henry.
Fair Catharine, most fair,
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?
Cath.
Your Majesty shall mock at me, I cannot speak
your England.
K. Henry.
O fair Catharine, 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?
Cath.
Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is like me.
K. Henry.
An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like
an angel.
Cath.
Que dit-il, que je suis semblable à les Anges?
Lady.
Ouy, vrayement, (sauf vostre grace) ainsi dit-il.
K. Henry.
I said so, dear Catharine, and I must not
blush to affirm it.
Cath.
O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de
tromperies.
K. Henry.
What says she, fair one? that tongues of
men are full of deceits?
Lady.
Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits:
dat is de Princes.
K. Henry.
The Princess is the better English Woman.
I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding; I
am glad thou canst speak no better English, for if thou
could'st, thou would'st find me such a plain King, that
thou would'st think I had sold my farm to buy my
-- 99 --
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 bargain;
how say you, lady?
Cath.
Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well.
K. Henry.
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 measure, 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, Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp
out my eloquence, nor have I cunning in protestation;
only downright oaths, which I never use till urg'd, and
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 plain
soldier; 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 liv'st, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined
constancy, 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 rhime themselves
into ladies favours, they do always reason themselves
out again. What? a speaker is but a prater; a
rhime is but a ballad; a good leg will fall, a straight
back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curl'd
pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye
will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun
and the moon; or rather the sun, and not the moon;
for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps
his course truly. If thou would'st have such a one, take
-- 100 --
me; take a soldier; take a King: and what say'st
thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I
pray thee.
Cath.
Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?
K. Henry.
No, it is not possible that 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.
Cath.
I cannot tell vhat is dat.
K. Henry.
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 le possession de France, & quand vous aves le
possession de moi (let me see, what then? St. Dennis be
my speed!) donc vostre est France, & vous estes mienne.
It is as easie 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.
Cath.
Sauf vostre honneur, le Francois que vous parlez,
est mellieur que l' Anglois lequel je parle.
K. Henry.
No, faith,' is't not, Kate; but thy speaking
of my tongue and I thine, most truly falsly, must
needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou
understand thus much English? canst thou love me?
Cath.
I cannot tell.
K. Henry.
Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll
ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me; and 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
beest mine, Kate, (as I have saving faith within me, tells
me, thou shalt) I get thee with scambling, and thou must
therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder: shall not
thou and I between St. Dennis and St. George, compound
a boy half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople
-- 101 --
and take the Turk by the beard? shall we not?
what say'st thou, my fair Flower-de-luce?(43) note
Cath.
I do not know dat.
K. Henry.
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 batchelor.
How answer you, La plus belle Catharine du monde,
mon tres chere & divine deesse.
Cath.
Your Majestee ave fause Frenche enough to deceive
de most sage damoisel dat is en France.
K. Henry.
Now, fie 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 effect 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 aspect 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 Catharine,
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, tho' 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
-- 102 --
broken: therefore Queen of all, Catharine, break thy
mind to me in broken English, wilt thou have me?
Cath.
Dat is, as it shall please le roy mon pere.
K. Henry.
Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall
please him, Kate.
Cath.
Den it shall also content me.
K. Henry.
Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you
my Queen.
Cath.
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. Henry.
Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
Cath.
Les dames & damoisels pour estre baisées devant leur
nopces, il n'est pas le coutume de France.
K. Henry.
Madam my interpreter, what says she?
Lady.
Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of
France; I cannot tell, what is baisser en English.
K. Henry.
To kiss.
Lady.
Your Majesty entendre bettre que moy.
K. Henry.
Is it not a fashion for the maids in France to
kiss before they are married, would she say?
Lady.
Ouy, vrayement.
K. Henry.
O Kate, nice customs curt'sie to great Kings.
Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confin'd within the weak
list of a country's fashion; we are the makers of manners,
Kate; and the liberty, that follows our places,
stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours, for
the 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 touch of them, than in the tongues of the
French Council; and they should sooner persuade Harry
of England, than a general petition of monarchs. Here
comes your father.
Enter the French King and Queen, with French and English Lords.
Burg.
God save your Majesty! my royal cousin, teach
you our Princess English?
-- 103 --
K. Henry.
I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how
perfectly I love her, and that is good English.
Burg.
Is she apt?
K. Henry.
Our tongue is rough, and my condition is
not smooth; 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.(44) note
Burg.
Pardon the frankness of my mirth, 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 ros'd 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. Henry.
Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind
and enforces.
Burg.
They are then excus'd, my lord, when they see
not what they do.
K. Henry.
Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to
consent to winking.
Burg.
I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you
will teach her to know my meaning. Maids, well summer'd
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. Henry.
This moral ties me over to time, and a hot
summer; and so I shall catch the Flie your cousin in the
latter end, and she must be blind too.
-- 104 --
Burg.
As love is, my lord, before it loves.
K. Henry.
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 turn'd into a maid; for they are all girdled
with maiden walls, that war hath never enter'd.
K. Henry.
Shall Kate be my wife?
Fr. King.
So please you.
K. Henry.
I am content, so the maiden cities you talk
of may wait on her; so the maid, that stood in the way
for my wish, shall shew me the way to my will.
Fr. King.
We have consented to all terms of reason.
K. Henry.
Is't so, my lords of England?
West.
The King hath granted every article:
His daughter first; and then in sequel all,
According to their firm proposed nature.
Exe.
Only he hath not yet subscribed this:
Where your Majesty demands, That the King of France,
having occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name
your Highness in this form, and with this addition in
French: nostre tres cher filz Henry Roy d' Angleterre, heretier
de France: and thus in Latin; Præclarissimus filius
noster Henricus Rex Angliæ & hæres Franciæ.
Fr. King.
Yet this I have not (brother) so deny'd,
But your request shall make me let it pass.
K. Henry.
I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,
Let that one article rank with the rest,
And thereupon give me your daughter.
Fr. King.
Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me; that these contending Kingdoms,
England and France, 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 breasts; that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
Lords.
Amen!
K. Henry.
Now welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all,
That here I kiss her, as my Soveraign Queen.
[Flourish.
-- 105 --
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 jealousie,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms,(45) 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. Henry.
Prepare we for our marriage; on which day,
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 prosp'rous be!
[Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Thus far with rough, and all-unable, pen
Our bending author hath pursu'd the story;
In little room confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts 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 garden he atchiev'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 i'th' 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.
