K. Hen.
Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?

Exe. (L.)
Not here in presence.

K. Hen.
Send for him, good uncle. [Exeter beckons to a Herald, who goes off, L.H.

West. (L.)
Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege?

K. Hen.
Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolv'd,
Before we hear him, of some things of weight,
That task^{1 note} our thoughts, concerning us and France. Re-enter Herald with the Archbishop of Canterbury,(F)8Q0057^{2 note} and Bishop of Ely,^{3 note} L.H. The Bishops cross to R.C.

Cant. (R.C.)
Heaven and its angels guard your sacred throne,
And make you long become it!

K. Hen.
Sure, we thank you.
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed,

And justly and religiously unfold,
Why the law Salique,(G)8Q0058 that they have in France,
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim:
And Heaven forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
That you should fashion, wrest,^{4 note} or bow your reading,^{5 note}
Or nicely charge your understanding soul^{6 note}
With opening titles miscreate,^{7 note} whose right
Suits not in native colours with the truth.
For Heaven doth know how many, now in health,
Shall drop their blood in approbation^{8 note}
Of what your reverence shall incite us to.
Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,^{9 note}
How you awake the sleeping sword of war:
We charge you, in the name of Heaven, take heed:
Under this conjuration, speak, my lord.

Cant. (R.C.)
Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers,
That owe your lives, your faith, and services,
To this imperial throne.—There is no bar
To make against your highness' claim to France
But this, which they produce from Pharamond,—
No woman shall succeed in Salique land:
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze^{10 note}
To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this law and female bar.
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
That the land Salique lies in Germany,
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe;
Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons,

There left behind and settled certain French:
Nor did the French possess the Salique land
Until four hundred one and twenty years
After defunction of King Pharamond,
Idly supposed the founder of this law.
Besides, their writers say,
King Pepin, which deposed Childerick,
Did hold in right and title of the female:
So do the kings of France unto this day;
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law
To bar your highness claiming from the female;
And rather choose to hide them in a net
Than amply to imbare their crooked titles^{11 note}
Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.

K. Hen.
May I with right and conscience make this claim?

Cant. (R.C.)
The sin upon my head, dread sovereign!
For in the book of Numbers is it writ,—
When the son dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;
Look back unto your mighty ancestors:
Go, my dread lord, to your great grandsire's tomb,
From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
And your great uncle's, Edward the black prince,
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full power of France,
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
Forage in blood of French nobility.^{12 note}

Ely. (R.C.)
Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
And with your puissant arm renew their feats:
You are their heir; you sit upon their throne;
The blood and courage, that renowned them,
Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege
Is in the very May-morn of his youth,
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.

Exe. (L.)
Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth

Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood.

West. (L.)
They know your grace hath cause, and means and might:
So hath your highness;^{13 note} never king of England
Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects,
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England,
And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France.

Cant.
O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,
With blood, and sword, and fire to win your right:
In aid whereof we of the spiritualty
Will raise your highness such a mighty sum,
As never did the clergy at one time
Bring in to any of your ancestors.

K. Hen.
We must not only arm to invade the French,
But lay down our proportions to defend
Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
With all advantages.

Cant. (R.C.)
They of those marches,^{14 note} gracious sovereign,
Shall be a wall sufficient to defend
Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
Therefore to France, my liege.
Divide your happy England into four;
Whereof take you one quarter into France,
And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
If we, with thrice that power left at home,
Cannot defend our own door from the dog,
Let us be worried, and our nation lose
The name of hardiness and policy.

K. Hen.
Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. [Exit Herald with Lords, L.H.
Now are we well resolv'd; and by Heaven's help,
And yours, the noble sinews of our power,—
France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe,
Or break it all to pieces.

Re-enter Herald and Lords, L.H., with the Ambassador of France, French Bishops, Gentlemen, and Attendants carrying a treasure chest, L.H.
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear
Your greeting is from him, not from the king.

Amb. (L.C.)
May it please your majesty to give us leave
Freely to render what we have in charge;
Or shall we sparingly show you far off
The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy?

K. Hen.
We are no tyrant, but a Christian king;
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness
Tell us the Dauphin's mind.

Amb.
Thus, then, in few.^{15 note}
Your highness, lately sending into France,
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right
Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third.
In answer of which claim, the prince our master
Says,—that you savour too much of your youth;
And bids you be advis'd, there's nought in France
That can be with a nimble galliard won;^{16 note}
You cannot revel into dukedoms there.
He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this,
Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.

K. Hen.
What treasure, uncle?

Exe. (Opening the chest.)
Tennis-balls, my liege.(H)8Q0059

K. Hen.
We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
His present and your pains we thank you for:
When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,
We will, in France, by Heaven's grace, play a set
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
And we understand him well,
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.

But tell the Dauphin,—I will keep my state;
Be like a king, and show my soul of greatness,
When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
For I will rise there with so full a glory,
That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
But this lies all within the will of Heaven,
To whom I do appeal; And in whose name,
Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
So, get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin,
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.—
Convey them with safe conduct.—Fare you well. [Exeunt Ambassador, and Attendants, L.H.

Exe.
This was a merry message.

K. Hen.
We hope to make the sender blush at it. [The King rises.
Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour
That may give furtherance to our expedition;
For we have now no thought in us but France,
Save those to Heaven, that run before our business.
Therefore let our proportions for these wars
Be soon collected, and all things thought upon
That may with reasonable swiftness add
More feathers to our wings; for, Heaven before,
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. [The characters group round the King. Trumpets sound. Scene II. —EASTCHEAP, LONDON. Enter Bardolph,(I)8Q0060 Nym, Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, and Boy, L. 2 E.

Quick. (L.C.)

Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.^{17 note}

Pist. (C.)
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. (R.)
'Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is!

Quick. (C.)

Sure, he's in Arthur's bosom,^{18 note} if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end,^{19 note} and went away, an it had been any christom child;^{20 note} 'a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at turning o' the tide:^{21 note} for after I saw him fumble with the sheets,^{22 note} and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. How now, Sir John! quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So a' cried out—Heaven, Heaven, Heaven! three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of Heaven; I hoped, 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 any stone.

Nym. (R.C.)

They say be cried out of sack.

Quick.

Ay, that 'a did.

Bard.

And of women.

Quick.

Nay, that 'a did not.

Boy. (L.)

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

Quick. (crosses L.C.)

'A could never abide carnation;^{23 note} 'twas a colour he never liked.

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?^{24 note} 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;^{25 note} the word is, Pitch and pay;^{26 note}
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog,^{27 note} my duck:
Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor.^{28 note}
Go, clear thy crystals.^{29 note}—Yoke-fellows in arms, [Crosses L.H.
Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! [Crosses R.H.

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

Pist.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bard.
Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her.

Nym.

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

Pist.
Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command.

Quick.

Farewell; adieu.