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 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 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?

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 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 sunburning; 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 me; take a soldier; take a King: and what say'st thou then to 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.

Kath.

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.

Kath.

Sauf vostre honneur, le François 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?

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 St. 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 belle Catharine 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 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 Katharine, 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 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, ma foy: je ne veus point que vous abbaissez vostre grandeur, en baisant le main d'une vostre indigne serviteur, excusez moy. Je vous supplie mon tres-puissant Seigneur.

K. Henry.

Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.

Kath.

Les dames and damoisels pour estre baisee 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 le ladies of France; I cannot tell what is buisse 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.

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