Gower.
Gower.
Nay, that's right; but why wear you your Leek
to day? St. David's day is past.
Flu.
There is occasions and causes why, and wherefore
in all things; I will tell you asse my Friend, Captain Gower;
the rascally, scauld, beggarly, lowsie, pragging Knave Pistol,
which, you and your self, and all the World know to
be no petter than a Fellow, look you now, of no merits; he
is come to me, and prings me Pread and Salt yesterday,
look you, and bid me eat my Leek; it was in a place were
I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be
so pold as to wear it in my Cap 'till I see him once again,
and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
-- 1365 --
Enter Pistol.
Gow.
Why, here he comes, swelling like a Turky-cock.
Flu.
'Tis no matter for his swelling, nor his Turky-cocks.
God plesse you aunchient Pistol: You scurvy lowsie Knave,
God plesse you.
Pist.
Ha! art thou Bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
to have me fold up Parcas fatal Web? Hence; I am qualmish
at the smell of Leek.
Flu.
I beseech you heartily, scurvy lowsie Knave, at my
Desires, and my Requests, and my Petitions, to eat, look
you, this Leek, because, look you, you do not love it, nor
your Affections, and your Appetites, and your Digestions
does not agree with it; I would desire you to eat it.
Pist.
Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats.
Flu.
There is one Goat for you,
[Strikes him.
Will you be so good, scald Knave, as eat it?
Pist.
Base Trojan, thou shalt dye.
Flu.
You say very true, scald Knave, when God's will is:
I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your Victuals;
come, there is Sawce for it. You call'd me yesterday
Mountain-Squire, but I will make you to day a Squire
of low degree. I pray you fall too; if you can mock a Leck,
you can eat a Leek.
[beating him.
Gow.
Enough, Captain, you have astonish'd him.
Flu.
I say I will make him eat some part of my Leek, or
I will peat his Pate four days: Pite, I pray you, it is good
for your green Wound, and your ploody Coxcomb.
Pist.
Must I bite?
Flu.
Yes certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question
too, and ambiguities.
Pist.
By this Leek, I will most horribly revenge; I ea
and eat—I swear—
Flu.
Eat, I pray you; will you have some more Sawce to
your Leek: There is not enough Leek to swear by.
Pist.
Quiet thy Cudgel, thou dost see I eat.
Ful.
Much good do you, scald Knave, heartily. Nay, pray
you throw none away, the Skin is good for your brok e
Coxcomb: When you take occasions to see Leeks hereafter
I pray you mock at 'em, that's all.
Pist.
Good.
-- 1366 --
Flu.
Ay, Leeks is good; hold you, there is a Groat to
heal your Pate.
Pist.
Me a Groat?
Flu.
Yes, verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I have
another Leek in my Pocket, which you shall eat.
Pist.
I take thy Groat in earnest of Revenge.
Flu.
If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cudgels,
you shall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but
Cudgels: God be wi'you, and keep you, and heal your Pate.
[Exit.
Pist.
All Hell shall stir for this.
Gow.
Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knave: Will
you mock at an ancient Tradition, began upon an honourable
Respect, and worn as a memorable Trophy of predeceased
Valour, and dare not avouch in your Deeds any of your
Words. I have seen you gleeking and galling at this Gentleman
twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not
speak English in the native Garb, he could not therefore handle
an English Cudgel; you find it otherwise, and henceforth
let a Welsh Correction teach you a good English Condition,
fare ye well.
[Exit.
Pist.
Doth Fortune play the Huswife with me now? News
have I that my Doll is dead i'th'Spittle, of a malady of France,
and there my rendezvous is quite cut off: Old I do wax,
and from my weary Limbs Honour is cudgell'd. Well, Bawd
I'll turn, and something lean to Cut-purse of quick Hand:
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal;
And patches will I get unto these cudgel'd Scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia Wars.
[Exit.
Enter at one Door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwick, and other Lords; at another, the French King, Queen Isabel, the Duke of Burgundy, and other 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 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.
-- 1367 --
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 have 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 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,
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 chac'd,
And all her Husbandry doth lye on heaps,
Corrupting in its own Fertility.
Her Vine, the merry chearer of the Heart,
Unpruned dies; 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,
-- 1368 --
Wanting the Sythe, 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 Natures, grow to wildness.
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.
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 Inconveniences,
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 Tenures 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 cursolary Eye
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 Answer.
K. Henry.
Brother, we shall. Go, Uncle Exeter,
And Brother Clarence, and Brother Gloucester,
Warwick and Huntington, go with the King,
And take with you free Power to ratifie,
Augment, or alter, as your Wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our Dignity,
Any thing in or out of our Demands,
-- 1369 --
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 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.
Manet King Henry, Katharine and a Lady.
K. Henry.
Fair Katharine, 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?
Kath.
Your Majesty shall mock at me, I cannot speak your
England.
K. Henry.
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. Henry.
An Angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an
Angel.
Kath.
Que dit-il, que je suis semblable à les Anges?
Lady.
Ouy verament (sauf vostre Grace) ainsi dit-il.
K. Henry.
I said so, dear Katharine, and I must not blush
to affirm it.
Kath.
O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont plein 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 Princess.
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 Crown. I know no
ways to mince it in Love, but directly to say, I love you;
then if you urge me farther, than to say, Do you in faith?
I wear out my suit: Give me your answer i'faith do, and
clap Hands, and a Bargain; how say you, Lady?
-- 1370 --
Kath.
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 I have no cunning in Protestation; only downright
Oaths, which I never used till urg'd, 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 thee plain Soldier; if thou canst
love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I shall
dye, 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 me; and take me, take a Soldier; take a
Soldier; take a King: And what say'st thou then my Love?
speak my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
Kath.
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.
-- 1371 --
Kath.
I cannot tell vhat is dat.
K. Henry.
No, Kate? I will tell 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 oft:
Je quand sur le possession de France, & quand vous aves le
possession de moy, (Let me see, what then? Saint 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.
Kath.
Sauf vostre honneur, le Francois que vous parlez, il
est melieur quel' Anglois le quel 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 of English? Can'st thou love me?
Kath.
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
Saint Dennis and St. George, compound a Boy, half French,
half English, that shall go to Constantinople, and take the
Turk by the Beard. Shall we not? what say'st thou, my
fair Flower-de-Luce.
Kath.
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 bello
Katharine du monde mon tres chere & divine deesse.
Kath.
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
-- 1372 --
not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter
me, that thou do'st; 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 Katharine, will you have me? Put off those 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 Goodfellows.
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 le roy mon pere.
K. Henry.
Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please
him, Kate.
Kath.
Den it shall also content me.
K. Henry.
Upon that I kiss your Hand, and I call you my
Queen.
Kath.
Laissez mon Seigneur, laissez, laissez, may foy: Je ne
veus point que vous abbaissez vostre grandeur, en baisant le main
d' une vostre, Seigneur, indignie serviteur, excusez moy. Je vous
supplie mon tres-puissant Seigneur.
K. Henry.
Then I will kiss your Lips, Kate.
Kath.
Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baiseé devant leur
nopces il n'e't pas le Coutume de France.
K. Henry.
Madam, my Interpreter, what says she?
Lady.
Dat is not to be de fashion pour le Ladies of France;
I cannot tell what is buisse en English.
K. Henry.
To kiss.
Lady.
Your Majesty entendre bettre que moy.
-- 1373 --
K. Henry.
Is it not a fashion for the Maids in France to
kiss before they are married, would she say?
Lady.
Ouy verayment.
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 mouths 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 Witch-craft
in your Lips, Kate; there is more Eloqrence in a Sugar
touch of them, than in the Tongues of the French Council;
and they shouldsooner persuade Harry of England, than a
general Petition of Monarchs. Here comes your Father.
Enter the French Power, and the English Lords.
Burg.
God save your Majesty, my Royal Cousin, teach
you our Princess English?
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, Coz, 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.
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 likennss, 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; for Maids well Summer'd,
and warm kept, are like Flies at Bartholomew-tyde, blind,
-- 1374 --
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.
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 entred.
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 Natures.
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.
Nor 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 the contending Kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shoars look pale,
With envy of each others happiness,
May cease their hatred; and this dear Conjunction
Plant Neighbourhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet Bosoms; that never War advance
-- 1375 --
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.
Q. Isa.
God, the best maker of all Marriages,
Combine your Hearts in one, your Realms in one,
As Man and Wise 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 Passion of these Kingdoms,
To make divorce of their incorporate League:
That English may as French, French English men,
Receive each other. God speak this Amen.
All.
Amen.
K. Henry.
Prepare we for our Marriage; on which day,
My Lord of Burgundy well 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.
[Epilogue]
Sonnet. 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 cime, but in that small, most greatly lived,
This Star of England. Fortune made his Sword;
By which, the Worlds best Garden he atchieved,
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 State hath shown; and for her sake,
In your fair minds let this acceptance take.
