<H HEN06><A SHAKESPEARE><K PLAY><Y 1600>

                   <T TITLE>The Chronicle Historie
            of {Henry} the fist: with his battel sought
            at {Agin Court} in {France}. Togither with
                         Auncient {Pistoll}.

<T SDD>{Enter King}, Henry, Exeter, 2. {Bishops}, Clarence, {and other}
  {Attendants.}
                         <T PROSE>{Exeter}.

Shall I call in Thambassadors my Liege?
  <S {King}.> Not yet my Cousin, til we be resolvde
Of some serious matters touching us and {France}.
  <S {Bi}.> God and his Angels guard your sacred throne,
And make you long become it.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> Shure we thank you. And good my Lord proceed
Why the Lawe {Salicke} which they have in {France},
Or should or should not, stop us in our clayme:
And God forbid my wise and learned Lord,
That yoush uld fashion, frame, or wrest the same.
For God doth know how many now in health,
Shall drop their blood in approbation,
Of what your reverence shall incite us too.
Therefore take heed how you impawne our person.
How you awake the sleeping sword of warre:
We charge you in the name of God take heed.
After this conjuration, speake my Lord:
And we will judge, note, and beleeve in heart,
That what you speake, is washt as pure
As sin in baptisme.
Then heare me gracious soveraigne, and you peeres,
Which owe your lives, your faith and services
To this imperiall throne.
There is nobar to stay your highnessed claime to {France}
But one, which they produce from {Paramount},
No female shall succeed in salicke land,
Which salicke land the French unjustly glaze
To be the realme of {France}:
And {Paramont} the founder of this law and female barre:
Yet their owne writers faithfully affirme
That the land salicke lyes in {Germany},
Betweene the flouds of {Sabeck} and of {Elme},
Where {Charles} the fist having subdude the Saxons,
There left behind, and setled certaine French,
Who holding in disdaine the Germanie women,
For some dishonest maners of their lives,
Establisht there this lawe. To wit,
No female shall succeed in falicke land:
Which falicke land as I said before,
Is at this time in {Germany} called {Mesene}:
Thus doth it well appeare the falicke lawe
Was not devised for the realme of {France},
Nor did the French possesse the falicke land,
Untill 400, one and twentie yeares
After the function of king {Faramous},
Godly supposed the founder of this lawe:
{Hugh Capet} also that usurpt the crowne,
To fine his title with some showe of truth,
When in pure truth it was corrupt and naught:
Conuaid himselfe as heire to the Lady {Inger},
Daughter to {Charles}, the foresaid Duke of {Lorain},
So that as cleare as is the sommers Sun,
King {Pippins} title and {Hugh Capets} claime,
King {Charles} his satisfaction all appeare,
To hold in right and title of the female:
So do the Lords of {France} until this day,
Howbeit they would hold up this falick lawe
To bat your highnesse claiming from the female,
And rather choose to hide them in a net,
Then amply to imbace their crooked causes,
Usurpt from you and your progenitors.      (claime?
  <S {K}.> May we with right & conscience make this
  <S {Bi}.> The sin upon my head dread soveraigne.
For in the booke of Numbers is it writ,
When the sonne dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter.
Noble Lord stand for your owne,
Unwinde your bloody flagge,
Go my dread Lord to your great graunsirs grave.
From whom you clayme:
And your great Uncle {Edward} the blacke Prince,
Who on the French ground playd a Tragedy
Making defeat on the full power of {France},
Whilest his most mighty father on a hill,
Stood smiling to behold his Lyons whelpe,
Foraging blood of French Noblitie.
O Noble English that could entertaine
With halfe their Forces the full power of {France}:
And let an other halfe stand laughing by,
All out of worke, and cold for action.
  <S {King}.> We must not onely arme us against the French,
But lay downe our proportion for the Scot,
Who will make rode upon us with all advantages.
  <S {Bi}.> The Marches gracious soveraigne, shalbe sufficient
To guardyour {England} from the pilsering borderers.
  <S {King}.> We do not meane the coursing sneakers onely,
But feare the mayne entendement of the Scot,
For you shall read, never my great grandfather
Unmaskt his power for {France},
But that the Scot on his unfurnisht Kingdome.
Came pouring like the Tide into a breach,
That {England} being empty of defences,
Hath shooke and trembled at the brute hereof.
  <S {Bi}.> She hath bin then more feared then hurt my Lord:
For heare her but examplified by her selfe,
When all her chivalry hath bene in {France}
And she a mourning widow of her Nobles,
She hath her selfe not only well defended,
But taken and impounded as a stray, the king of Scots,
Whom like a caytiffe she did leade to {France},
Filling your Chronicles as rich with praise
As is the owse and bottome of the sea
With sunken wrack and shiplesse treasurie.
  <S {Bord}.> There is a saying very old and true,
If you will {France} win,
Then with {Scotland} first begin:
For once the Eagle, England being in pray,
To his unfurnish nest the weazel Scot
Would suck her egs, playing the mouse in absence of the
To spoyle and havock more then she can eat.       (cat:
  <S {Exe}.> It followes then, the cat must stay at home,
Yet that is but a curst necessitie,
Since we have trappes to catch the petty theeves:
Whilste that the armed hand doth fight abroad
The advised head controlles at home:
For government though high or lowe, being put into parts,
Congrueth with a mutuall consent like musicke.
  <S {Bi}.> True: therefore doth heaven divide the fate of man
              in divers functions.
Whereto is added as an ayme or but, obedience:
For so live the honey Bees, creatures that by awe
Ordaine an act of order to a peopeld Kingdome:
They have a King and officers of fort,
Where some like Magistrates correct at home:
Others like Marchants venture trade abroad:
Others like souldiers armed in their stings,
Make boote upon the sommers velvet bud:
Which pillage they with mery march bring home
To the tent royall of their Emperour,
Who busied in his maiestie, behold
The singing masons building roofes of gold:
The civell citizens lading up the honey,
The fad eyde lustice with his surly humme,
Delivering up to executors pale, the lazy caning Drone.
This I infer, that 20. actions once a foote,
May all end in one moment.
As many Arrowes losed severall wayes, flye to one marke:
As many severall wayes meete in one towne:
As many fresh streames run in one selfe sea:
As many lines close in the dyall center:
So may a thousand actions once a foote,
End in one moment, and be all well borne without defect,
Therefore my Liege to {France},
Divide your happy England into soure,
Of which take you one quarter into {France},
And you withall, shall make all {Galia} shake.
If we with thrice that power left at home,
Cannot defend our owne doore from the dogge,
Let us be beaten, and from henceforth lose
The name of pollicy and hardinesse.
  <S {Ki}.> Call in the messenger sent fro the Dolphin.
And by your ayde, the noble finewes of our land,
{France} being ours, weele bring it to our awe,
Or breake it all in peeces:
Eyther our Chronicles shal with full mouth speak
Freely of our acts,
Or else like toonglesse mutes
Not worshipt with a paper Epitaph:
             <T SDD>{Enter Thambassadors from France}.
<T VERSE>Now are we well prepared to know the Dolphins pleasure,
For we heare your comming is from him.
  <S {Ambassa}.> Pleaseth your Maiestie to give us leave
Freely to render what we have in charge:
Or shall I sparingly shew a farre off,
The Dolphins pleasure and our Embassage?
  <S {King}.> We are no tyrant, but a Christian King,
To whom our spirit is as subject,
As are our wretches settered in our prisons.
Therefore freely and with uncurbed boldnesse
Tell us the Dolphins minde.
  <S {Ambas}.> Then this in fine the Dolphin faith,
Whereas you clayme certaine Townes in {France},
From your predecessor king {Edward} the third,
This he returnes.
He faith, theres nought in {France} that can be with a nimble
Galliard wonne: you cannot revel into Dukedomes there:
Therefore he sendeth meeter for your study,
This tunne of treasure: and in lieu of this,
Desires to let the Dukedomes that you crave
Heare no more from you: This the Dolphin faith.
  <S {King}.> What treasure Uncle?
  <S {Exe}.> Tennis balles my Liege.
  <S {King}.> We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with us,
Your message and his present we accept:
When we have matched our rackets to these balles,
We will by Gods grace play such a set,
Shall strike his fathers crowne into the hazard.
Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler,
That all the Courrs of {France} shall be disturbd with chases.
And we understand him well, how he comes ore us
With our wilder dayes, not measuring what use we made
          of them.
We never valued this poore seate of England.
And therefore gave our selves to barbarous licence:
As tis common seene that men are merriest when they are
         from home.
But tell the Dolphin we will keepe our state,
Be like a King, mightie and commaund,
When we do rowse us in throne of {France}:
For this have we laid by our Maiestie
And plodded lide a man for working dayes.
But we will rise there with so full of glory,
That we will dazel all the eyes of {France},
I strike the Dolphin blinde to looke to us,       (stones,
And tell him this, his mock hath turnd his balles to gun
And his soule shall sit sore charged for the wastfull
                                           (vengeance
That shall flye from them. For this his mocke
Shall mocke many a wife out of their deare husbands.
Mocke mothers from their sonnes, mocke Castles downe,
I some are yet ungotten and unborne,
That shall have cause to curse the Dolphins scorne.
But this lyes all within the will of God, to whom we doo
                                               (appeale,
And in whose name tel you the Dolphin we are coming on
To venge us as we may, and to put forth our hand
In a rightfull cause: so get you hence, and tell your Prince,
His left will favour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weepe, more then did laugh at it.
Convey them with safe conduct: see them hence.
  <S {Exe}.> This was a merry message.
  <S {King}.> We hope to make the sender blush at it:
Therfore let our collectio for the wars be soone provided:
For God before, weell check the Dolphin at his fathers
                                                  (doore.
Therefore let every man now taske his thought,
That this faire action may on foote be brought.

                                           <T SDE>{Exeunt omnes}.

          <T SDD>{Enter} Nim {and} Bardolfe.

  <T PROSE><S {Bar}.> Godmorrow Corporall {Nim}.
  <S {Nim}.> Godmorrow Lieftenant {Bardolfe}.
  <S {Bar}.> What is antient {Pistoll} and thee friends yet?
  <T VERSE><S {Nim}.> I cannot tell, things must be as they may:
I dare not sight, but I will winke and hold out mine Iron:
It is a simple one, but what tho; it will serve to toste cheese.
And it will endure cold as an other mans sword will,
And theres the humor of it.
  <S {Bar}.> Y faith mistresse quickly did thee great wrong,
For thou weart troth plight to her.
  <S {Nim}.> I must do as I may, tho patience be a tyred mare,
Yet sheel plod, and some say knives have edges,
And men may sleepe and have their throtes about them
At that time, and there is the humour of it.
  <S {Bar}.> Come y faith, Ile bestow a breakfast to make {Pistoll}
And thee friendes. What a plague should we carrie knives
To cut our owne throates.
<S {Nim}.> Y faith Ile live as long as I may, thats the certaine of it.
And when I cannot live any longer, Ile do as I may,
And theres my rest, and the randeuous of it.

     <T SDD>{Enter} Pistoll {and Hostes Quickly his wife}.
  <T VERSE><S {Bar}.> Godmorrow ancient {Pistoll}.
Here comes ancient {Pistoll}, I prithee {Nim} be quiet.
  <S {Nim}.> How do you my Hoste?
  <S {Pist}.> Base slave, callest thou me hoste?
Now by gads lugges I sweare, I scorne the title,
Nor shall my {Nell} keepe lodging.
  <S {Host}.> No by my troath not I,
For we canot bed nor boord half a score honest getlwome
That live honestly by the prick of their needle,
But it is thought straight we keepe a bawdy-house.
O Lord heeres Corporall {Nims}, now shall
We have wilful adultry and murther committed:
Good Corporall {Nim} shew the valour of a man,
And put up your sword.
  <T PROSE><S {Nim}.> Push.
  <S {Pist}.> What dost thou push thou prickeard cur of lseland?
  <S {Nim}.> Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
  <T VERSE><S {Pist}.> Solus egreious dog that solus in thy throte,
And in thy lungs, and which is worse, within
Thy messull mouth, I do retort that solus in thy
Bowels, and in thy Iaw, perdie: for I can talke,
And {Pistoll} flashing firy cock is up.
  <S {Nim}.> I am not {Barbasom}, you cannot conjure me:
I have an humour {Pistoll} to knock you indifferently well,
And you fall foule with me {Pistoll}, Ile scoure you with my
Rapier in faire termes. If you will walke off a little,
Ile prick your guts a litle in good termes,
And theres the humour of it.
  <S {Pist}.> O braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The Grave doth gape, and groaning
Death is neare, therefore exall.
                     <T SDP>{They drawe}.
  <S {Bar}.> Heare me, he that strikes the first blow,
Ile kill him, as I am a souldier.
  <S {Pist}.> An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
  <S {Nim}.> Ile cut your throat at one time or an other in faire
And theres the humour of it.                             (termes,
  <S {Pist}.> Couple gorge is the word, I thee defie agen:
A damned hound, thinkst thou my spouse to get?
No, to the powdering tub of infamy,
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cresides kind,e
Doll Tear-sheete, she by name, and her espowse
I have, and I will hold, the quandom quickly,
For the onely she and Paco, there it is inough.
                   <T SDD>{Enter the Boy}.
  <T VERSE><S {Boy}.> Hostes you must come straight to my maister,
And you Host {Pistoll}. Good {Bardolfe}
Put thy nose betweene the sheetes, and do the office of a
                                              (warming pan.
  <S {Host}.> By my troath heele yeeld the crow a pudding one
                                             (of these dayes,
Ile go to him, husband youle come?
  <S {Bar}.> Come {Pistoll} be friends.
{Nim} prithee be friends, and if thou wilt not be
Enemies with me too.
  <T PROSE><S {Ni}.> I shal have my eight shillings I woon of you at beating?
  <S {Pist}.> Base is the slave that payes.
  <S {Nim}.> That now I will have, and theres the humor of it.
  <S {Pist}.> As manhood shall compound.      <T SDP>{They draw}.
  <S {Bar}.> He that strikes the first blow,
Ile kill him by this sword.
  <S {Pist}.> Sword is an oath, and oathes must have their course.
  <S {Nim}.> I shall have my eight shillings I wonne of you at
             beating?
  <T VERSE><S {Pist}.> A noble shalt thou have, and readie pay,
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combind and brotherhood:
Ile live by {Nim} as {Nim} shall live by me:
Is not this just? for I shall Sutler be
Unto the Campe, and profit will occrue.
  <T PROSE><S {Nim}.> I shall have my noble?
  <S {Pist}.> In cash most truly paid.
  <S {Nim}.> Why theres the humour of it.

                    <T SDD>{Enter Hostes}.
  <T VERSE><S {Hostes}.> As ever you came of men come in,
Sir {John} poore soule is so troubled
With a burning tashan contigian fever, tis wonderfull.
  <S {Pist}.> Let us condoll the knight: for Iamkins we will live,
                                                  <T SDE>{Exeunt omnes}.
                  <T SDD>{Enter Exeter and Gloster}.

  <T VERSE><S {Glost}.> Before God my Lord, his Grace is too bold to trust
                   these traytors.
  <S {Exe}.> They shalbe apprehended by and by.
  <S {Glost}.> I but the man that was his bedfellow
Whom he hath cloyed and graced with princely favours
That he should for a forraine purse, to sell
His Soveraignes life to death and trechery.
  <S {Exe}.> O the Lord of {Massham}.

             <T SDD>{Enter the King and three Lords}.

  <T VERSE><S {King}.> Now sirs the windes faire, and we wil aboord;
My Lord of {Cambridge}, and my Lord of {Massham},
And you my gentle Knight, give me your thoughts.
Do you not thinke the power we beare with us,
Will make us conquerors in the field of {France}?
  <T PROSE><S {Masha}.> No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best.
  <S {Cam}.> Never was Monarch better feared and loved then
              is your maiestie.
  <S {Gray}.> Even those that were your fathers enemies
Have steeped their galles in honey for your sake.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> We therefore have great cause of thankfulnesse,
And shall forget the office of our hands:
Sooner then reward and merit,
According to their cause and worthinesse.
  <S {Masha}.> So service shall with steeled sinewes shine,
And labour shall refresh it selfe with hope
To do your Grace incessant service.
  <S {King}.> Uncle of {Exeter}, enlarge the man
Committed yesterday, that rayled against our person,
We consider it was the heare of wine that set him on,
And on his more advice we pardon him.
  <S {Masha}.> That is mercie, but too much securitie:
Let him bee punisht Soveraigne, least the example of
                                               (him,
Breed more of such a kinde.
  <S {King}.> O let us yet be mercifull.
  <S {Cam}.> So may your highnesse, and punish too.
  <S {Gray}.> You shew great mercie if you give him life,
After the taste of his correction.
  <S {King}.> Alas your too much care and love of me
Are heavy orisons gainst the poore wretch,
If litle faults proceeding on distemper should not bee
                                              (winked at,
How should we stretch our eye, when captiall crimes,
Chewed, swallowed and disgested, appeare before us:
Well yet enlarge the man, tho Cambridge and the rest
In their deare loves, and tender preservation of our state,
Would have him punisht.
Now to our French causes.
Who are the late Commissioners?
  <T PROSE><S {Cam}.> Me one my Lord, your highnesse bad me aske for
             it to day.
  <S {Mash}.> So did you me my Soveraigne.
  <S {Gray}.> And me my Lord.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> Then {Richard} Earle of {Cambridge} there is yours.
There is your my Lord of {Masham}.
And sir {Thomas Gray} knight of {Northumberland}, this same is
Read them, and know we know your worthinesse.          (yours:
Unckle {Exeter} I will aboord to night.
Why how now Gentlemen, why change you colour?
What see you in those papers
That hath so chased your blood out of apparance?
  <S {Cam}.> I do confesse my fault, and do submit me
To your highnesse mercie.
  <S {Mash}.> To which we all appeale.
  <S {King}.> The mercy which was quit in us but late,
By your owne reasons is forestald and done:
You must not dare for shame to aske for mercy,
For your owne conscience turne upon your bosomes,
As dogs upon their maisters worrying them.
See you my Princes, and my noble Peeres.
These English monsters:
My Lord of {Cambridge} here,
You know how apt we were to grace him,
In all things belonging to his honour:
And this vilde man hath for a fewe light crownes,
Lightly conspired and sworne unto the practises of {France}:
To kill us here in {Hampton}. To the which,
This knight no lesse in bountie bound to us
Then {Cambridge} is, haah likewise sworne.
But oh what shall I say to thee salfe man,
Thou cruell ingratefull and inhumane creature.
Thou that didst heare the key of all my counsell,
That knewst the very secrets of my heart,
That almost mightest a coyned me into gold,
Wouldest thou a practisde on me for thy use:
Can it be possible that out of thee
Should proceed one sparke that might annoy my finger?
Tis so strange, that tho the truth doth showe as grose
As black from white, mine eye wil scarcely see it.
Their faults are open, arrest them to the answer of the lawe,
And God acquit them of their practises.
  <S {Exe}.> I arrest thee of high treason,
By the name of {Richard}, Earle of {Cambridge}.
I arest thee of high treason,
By the name of {Henry}, Lord of {Masham}.
I arest thee of high treason,
By the name of {Thomas Gray}, knight of {Northumberland}.
  <S {Mash}.> Our purposes God justly hath discovered,
And I repent my fault more then my death,
Which I beseech your maiestie forgive,
Altho my body pay the price of it.
  <S {King}.> God quit you in his mercy. Heare your sentence
You have conspired against our royall person,
Ioyned with an enemy proclaimed and fixed.
And fro his coffers received the golden earnest of our death
Touching our person we seeke no redresse.
But we our kingdomes safetie must so tender
Whose ruine you have sought,
That to our lawes we do deliver you,                 (death,
Get ye therefore hence: poore miserable creatures to your
The taste whereof, God in his mercy give you        (amisse:
Patience to endure, and true repentance of all your deeds
Beare them hence.
                                   <T SDE>{Exit three Lords}.
<T VERSE>Now Lords to {France}. The enterprise whereof,
Shall be to you as us, successively.
Since God cut off this dangerous treason lurking in our way
Cheerly to sea, the signes of war advance:
No King of England, if not King of {France}.

                                              <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.


      <T SDD>{Enter Nim, Pistoll, Bardolfe, Hostes and a Boy}.

  <T PROSE><S {Host}.> I prethy sweete heart, let me bring thee so farre a
                                                                    ({Stanes},
  <S {Pist}.> No fur, no fur.
  <S {Bar}.> Well sir {Joh} is gone. God be with him.
  <T VERSE><S {Host}.> I, he is in {Arthors} bosom, if ever any were:
He went away as if it were a cry sombd childe,
Betweene twelve and one,
Just at turning of the tide:
His nose was as sharpe as a pen:
For when I saw him fumble with the sheetes,
And talk of floures, and smile upo his fingers ends
I knew there was no way but one.
How now sir {John} quoth I?
And he cryed three times, God, God, God,
Now I to comfort him, bad him not think of God,
I hope there was no such need.
Then he bad me pur more cloathes at his feere:
And I felt to them, and they were as cold as any stone:
And to his knees, and they were as cold as any stone.
And so upward, and upword, and all was as cold as any stone.
  <T PROSE><S {Nim}.> They say he cride out on Sack.
  <S {Host}.> I that he did.
  <S {Boy}.> And of women.
  <S {Host}.> No that he did not.
  <S {Boy}.> Yes that he did: and he fed they were divels incarnat.
  <S {Host}.> Indeed carnation was a colour he never loved.
  <S {Nim}.> Well he did cry out on women.
  <T VERSE><S {Host}.> Indeed he did in some sort handle women,
But then he was rumaticke, and talkt of the whore of
                                               ({Babylon}.
  <S {Boy}.> Hostes do you remember he saw a Flea stand
Upon {Bardolfes} Nose, and fed it was a black soule
Burning in hell fire?
  <S {Bar}.> Well, God be with him,
That was all the wealth I got in his service.
  <S {Nim}.> Shall we shog off?
The king wil be gone from {Southampton}.
  <S {Pist}.> Cleare up thy cristalles,
Looke to my chattels and my moveables.
Trust none: the word is pitch and pay:
Mens words are wafer cakes,
And holdfast is the only dog my deare.
Therefore cophetua be thy counsellor,
Touch her soft lips and part.
  <S {Bar}.> Farewell hostes.
  <S {Nim}.> I cannot kis: and theres the humor of it,
But adieu.
  <S {Pist}.> Keepe fast thy buggle boe.
                                         <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.

         <T SDD>{Enter King of} France, Bourbon, Dolphin,
                            and others.

  <T VERSE><S {King}.> Now you Lords of {Orleance},
Of {Bourbon}, and of {Berry},
You see the King of England is not slack,
For he is footed on this land alreadie.
  <S {Dolphin}. My gratious Lord, tis meet we all goe
And arme us against the foe:                 (foorth,
And view the weak & sickly parts of {France}:
But let us do it with no show of feare,
No with no more, then if we heard
England were busied with a Moris dance.
For my good Lord, she is so idely kingd,
Her scepter so frantically borne,
So guided by a shallow humorous youth,
That teare attends her not.
  <S {Con}.> O peace Prince {Dolphin}, you deceive your selfe,
Question your grace the late Embassador,
With what regard he heard his Embassage,
How well supplied with aged Counsellours,
And how his resolution andswered him,
You then would say that {Harry} was not wilde.
  <S {King}.> Well thinke we {Harry} strong:
And strongly arme us to prevent the foe.
  <S {Con}.> My Lord here is an Embassador
From the King of England.
  <S {Kin}.> Bid him come in.
You see this chase is hotly followed Lords.
  <S {Dol}.> My gracious father, cut up this English shore,
Selfelove my Liege is not so vile a thing,
As selfe neglecting.
                       <T SDD>{Enter Exeter}.
  <T VERSE><S {king}.> From our brother England?
  <S {Exe}.> From him, and thus he greets your Maiesties
He wils you in the name of God Almightie,
That you devest your selfe and lay apart
That borrowed tytle, which by gift of heaven,
Of lawe of nature, and of nations, longs
To him and to his heires, namely the crowne
And all wide stretched titles that belongs
Unto the Crowne of {France}, that you may know
Tis no sinister, nor no awkeward claime,
Pickt from the worm holes of old vanisht dayes,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rackte,
He sends you these most memorable lynes,
In every branch truly demonstrated:
Willing you overlooke this pedrigree,
And when you finde him evenly derived
From his most famed and famous ancestors,
{Edward} the third, he bids you then resigne
Your crowne and kingdome, indirectly held
From him, the native and true challenger.
  <S {King}.> If not, what followes?
  <S {Exe}.> Bloody costraint, for if you hide the crow
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it:
Therefore in fierce tempest is he comming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a {love},
That if requiring faile, he will compell it:
And on your heads turnes he the widowes teares,
The Orphanes cries, the dead mens bones,
The pining maydens grones.
For husbands, fathers, and distressed lovers,
Which shall be swallowed in this controversie.
This is his claime, his threatning, and my message,
Unles the {Dolphin} be in presence here,
To whom expresly we bring greeting too.
  <S {Dol}.> For the {Dolphin}? I stand here for him,
What to heare from England.
  <S {Exe}.> Scorn & defiance, slight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not misbecome
The mightie sender, doth he prise you at:
Thus faith my king. Vnles your fathers highnesse
Sweeten the bitter mocke you sent his Maiestie,
Heele call you to so loud an answere for it,
That caves and wombely vaultes of {France}
Shall chide your trespasse, and return your mock,
In second accent of his ordenance.
  <S {Dol}.> Say that my father render faire reply,
It is against my will:
For I desire nothing so much,
As oddes with England.
And for that cause according to his youth
I did present him with those {Paris} balles.
  <S {Exe}.> Heele make your {Paris} Lover shake for it,
Were it the mistresse Court of mightie {Europe}.
And be assured, youle finde a difference
As we his subjects have in wonder found:
Betweene his yonger dayes and these he musters now,
Now he wayes time even to the latest graine,
Which you shall finde in your owne losses
If he stay in {France}.
  <S {King}.> Well for us, you shall returne our answere backe
To our brother England.
                                                   <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.
          <T SDD>{Enter} Nim, Bardolfe, Pistoll, Boy.
  <T PROSE><S {Nim}.> Before God here is hote service.
  <S {Pist}.> Tis hot indeed, blowes go and come,
Gods vassals drop and die.
  <S {Nim}.> Tis honor, and theres the humor of it.
  <S {Boy}.> Would I were in London:
Ide given all my honor for a pot of Ale.
  <S {Pist}.> And I. If wishes would prevaile,
I would not stay, but thither would I hie.
           <T SDD>{Enter} Elewellen {and beates them in}.
  <T PROSE><S {Fleur}.> Godes plud up to the breaches
You rascals, will you not up to the breaches?
  <S {Nim}.> Abate thy rage sweete knight,
Abate thy rage.
  <T VERSE><S {Boy}.> Well I would I were once from them:
They would have me as familiar
With mens pockets, as their gloves, and their
Handkerchers, they will steale any thing.
{Bardolfe} stole a Lute cafe, carryed it three mile,
And fold it for three hapence.
{Nim} stole a fier shovell.
I knew by that, they meant to carry coales:
Well, if they will not leave me,
I meane to leave them.
      <T SDE>{Exit} Nim, Bardolfe, Pistoll, {and the Boy}.
                      <T SDD>{Enter} Gower.
  <T VERSE><S {Gower}.> Captain {Flewellen}, you must come strait
To the Mines, to the Duke of {Gloster}.
  <S {Fleu}.> Looke you, tell the Duke it is not so good
To come to the mines: the concuaveties is otherwise.
You may discusse to the Duke, the enemy is digd
Himselfe five yardes under the countermines:
By {Iesu} I thinke heele blowe up all
If there be no better direction.

          <T SDD>{Enter the King and his Lords alarum}.

  <T VERSE><S {King}.> How yet resolves the Governour of the Towne?
This is the latest parley weele admit:
Therefore to our best mercie give your selves,
Or like to men proud of destruction, defie us to our worst,
For as I am a souldier, a name that in my thoughts
Becomes me best, if we begin the battery once againe
I will not leave the halfe archieved Harslew,
Till in her ashes be buried,
The gates of mercie are all shut up.
What say you, will you yeeld and this auoyd,
Or guiltie in defence be thus destoyd?

                  <T SDD>{Enter Governour}.
  <T VERSE><S {Gover}.> Our expectation hath this day end:
The Dolphin whom of succour we entreated,
Returnes us word, his powers are not yet ready,
To raise so great a siege: therefore dread King,
We yeeld our towne and lives to thy soft mercie:
Enter our gates, dispose of us and ours,
For we no long or are defensive now.

                <T SDD>{Enter} Katherine, Allice.

  <T VERSE><S {Kate}.> {Alice} venecia, yous aves cates en,
Vou parte fort bon Angloys englatara,
Coman sae palla vou la main en francoy.
  <T PROSE><S {Allice}.> La main madam de han.
  <S {Kate}.> E da bras.
  <S {Allice}.> De arma madam.
  <S {Kate}.> Le main da han la bras de arma.
  <S {Allice}.> Ow ye madam.
  <S {Kate}.> E Coman sa pella vow la menton a la coll.
  <S {Allice}.> De neck, e de cin, madam,
  <S {Kate}.> E de neck, e de cin, e de code.
  <S {Allice}.> De cudie ma soy Ie oblye, mais Ie remembre,
Le tude, o de elbo madam.
  <S {Kate}.> Ecowte Ie rehersera, towt cella que Iac apoandre,
De han, de arma, de neck, du cin, e de bilbo.
  <S {Allice}.> De elbo madam.
  <S {Kate}.> O lesu, Iea obloye ma soy, ecoute Ie recontera
De han, de arma, de neck, de cin, e de elbo, e ca bon.
  <S {Allice}.> Ma foy madam, vow parla au fe bon Angloys
Asie vous aues ettue en Englatara.
  <S {Katie}.> Par la grace de deu an pettie tanes, Ie parle milleur
Coman se pella vou le peid e le robe.
  <S {Allice}.> Le foot, ele con.
  <S {Kate}.> Le fot, e le con, o^ Iesu! Ie ne vew poinct parle,
Sie plus devant le che chevalires de franca,
Pur one million ma foy.
  <S {Allice},> Madam, de foote, e le con.
  <S {Kate}.> O et ill ausie, ecowte Allice, de han, de arma,
De neck, de cin, le foote, e de con.
  <S {Allice}.> Cet fort bon madam.
  <S {Kate}.> Aloves a diner.
                                                     <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.

    <T SDD>{Enter King of} France {Lord Constable, the Dolphin},
                            {and} Burbon.

<T VERSE><S {King}.> Tis certaine he is past the River Some.
<S {Con}.> Mordeu ma via: Shall a few spranes of us,
The emptying of our fathers luxerie,
Outgrow their grafters.
  <S {Bur}.> Normanes, basterd Normanes, mor du
And if they passe unsought withall,
Ile fell my Dukedome for a foggy farme
In that short nooke Ile of England.
  <S {Const}.> Why whence have they this mettall?
Is not their clymate raw, foggy and colde.
On whom as in disdaine, the Sunne lookes pale?
Can barley broath, a drench for swolne lades
Their sodden water decockt such lively blood?
And shall our quick blood spirited with wine
Seeme frosty? O for honour of our names,
Let us not hang like frozen Icesickles
Upon our houses tops, while they a more frosty clymate
Sweare drops of youthfull blood.
  <S {King}.> Constable dispatch, send Montioy forth,
To know what willing raunsome he will give?
Sonne {Dolphin} you shall stay in {Rome} with me.
  <T PROSE><S {Dol}.> Not so I do beseech your Maiestis.
  <S {King}.> Well, I say it shalbe so.
                                        <T SDE>{Exeunt omnes}.

                   <T SDD>{Enter} Gower.

  <T PROSE><S {Go}.> How now Captain {Flewellen}, come you fro the bridget?
  <S {Flem}.> By Iesus thers excellet service comitted at y bridge.
  <S {Gour}.> Is the Duke of {Exter} safe?
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> The duke of {Exeter} is a ma/ whom I love, & I honor,
And I worship, with my soule, and my heart, and my life.
And my lands and my livings,
The Duke is looke you,
God be praised and pleased for it, no harme in the worell.
He is maintain the bridge very gallently: there is an Ensigne
There, I do not know how you call him, but by Iesus I think
He is as valient a man as {Marke Anthonie}, he doth maintain
the bridge most gallantly:yet he is a man of no recknoning:
But I did fed him do gallant service.
  <T PROSE><S {Gover}.> How do you call him?
  <S {Flew}.> His name is ancient {Pistoll}.
  <S {Gover}.> I know him not.

                    <T SDD>{Enter Ancient} Pistoll.

  <T PROSE><S {Flew}.> Do you not know him, here comes the man.
  <S {Pist}.> Captaine, I thee beseech to do me favour,
The Duke of {Exeter} doth love thee well.
  <S {Flew}.> I, and I praise God I have merrited some love at
                                                   (his hands.
  <T VERSE><S {Pist}.> {Bardolfe} a souldier, one of buxsome valour,
Hath by furious fate
And giddy Fortunes sickle wheele,
That Godes blinde that stands upon the rowling restlesse
                                                 (stone.
  <S {Flew}.> By your patience ancient {Pistoll},
Fortune, looke you is painted,
Plind with a mufler before her eyes,
To signifie to you, that Fortune is plind:
And she is moreover painted with a wheele,
Which is the morall that Fortune is turning,
And inconstant, and variation; and mutabiliteis:
And her fate is fixed at a sphericall stone
Which roules, and roules, and roules:
Surely the Poet is make an excellet descriptio of Fortune.
Fortune looke you is and excellent morall.
  <S {Pist}.> Fortune is {Bardolfes} foe, and frownes on him,
For he hath stolne a packs, and hanged must he be:
A damned death, let gallowes gape for dogs,
Let man go free, and let not death his windpipe stop.
But {Exeter} hath given the doome of death,
For packs of pettie price:
Therefore go speake the Duke will heare thy voyce,
And let not {Bardolfes} vitall threed be cut,
With edge of penny cord, and vile approach.
Speake Captaine for his life, and I will thee require.
  <T PROSE><S {Flew}.> Captain {Pistoll}, I partly understand your meaning,
  <S {Pist}.> Why then rejoyce therefore.
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> Certainly Ancient {Pistol}, tis not a thing to rejoyce at,
For if he were my owne brother, I would wish the Duke
To do his pleasure, and put him to executions: for look you,
Disciplines ought to be kept, they ought to be kept.
  <T PROSE><S {Pist}.> Die and be damned, and figa for thy friendship,
  <S {Flew}.> That is good.
  <S {Pist}.> The figge of {Spaine} within thy Iawe.
  <S {Flew}.> That is very well.
  <S {Pist}.> I say the fig within thy bowels and thy durty maw.
                                                  <T SDE>{Exit Pistoll}.
  <T PROSE><S {Fle}.> Captain {Govn}, cannot you hear it lighten & thunder?
  <S {Gove}.> Why is this the Ancient you told me of?
I remember him now, he is a bawd, a cut purse.
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> By Iesus heeis viter as prave words upon the bridge
As you shall desire to see in a sommers day, but its all one,
What he hath fed to me, looke you, is all one.
  <S {Go}.> Why this is a gull, a foole, a rogue that goes to the wars
Onely to grace himselfe at his returne to London:
And such fellowes as he,
Are perfect in great Commaunders names.
They will learne by rote where services were done,
At such and such a sconce, at such a breach,
  At such a convoy: who came off bravely, who was shot,
Who disgraced, what termes the enemie stood on.
And this they con perfectly in phrase of warre,
Which they trick up with new tuned oathes, & what a berd
Of the Generalls cut, and a hond shout of the campe
Will do among the soming bottler and ale washt wits
Is wonderfull to be thought on: but you must learne
To know such flaunders of this age,
Or else you may marvellously be mistooke,
  <S {Flew}.> Certain captain {Gover}, it is not the man, looke you,
That I did take him to be: but when time shall serve,
I shall tell him a litle of my desires: here comes his Maiestie.
           <T SDD>{Enter King}, Clarence, Gloster {and others}.
  <T PROSE><S {King}.> How now {Flewellen}, come you from the bridge?
  <S {Flew}.> I and it shall please your Maiestie,
There is excellent service at the bridge.
  <S {King}.> What men have you lost {Flewellen}?
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> And it shall please your Maiestie,
The partition of the adversarie hath bene great,
Very reasonably great: but for our own parts, like you now,
I thinke we have lost never a man, unlesse it be one
For robbing of a church, one {Bardolfe}, if your Maiestie
Know the man, his face is full of whelkes and knubs,
And pumples, and his breath blowes at his nose
Like a cole, sometimes red, sometimes plew:
But god be praised, now his nose is executed, & his fire out.
  <S {King}.> We would have all offenders so cut off,
And we here give expresse commaundment,
That there be nothing taken from the villages but paid for,
None of the French abused.
Or abraided with disdainfull language:
For when cruelty and lenitie play for a Kingdome,
The gentlest gamester is the sooner winner.
               <T SDD>{Enter French Herauld}.
  <T PROSE><S {Hera}.> You know me by my habit.
  <S {Ki}.> Well the, we know thee, what shuld we know of thee?
  <S {Hera}.> My maisters minde.
  <S {King}.> Unfold it.
  <T VERSE><S {Heral}.> Go thee unto {Harry} of {England}, and tell him,
Advantage is a better souldier then rashnesse:
Altho we did seeme dead, we did but slumber.
Now we speake upon our kue, and our voyce is imperiall,
England shall repent her folly: see her rashinesse,
And admire our sufferance. Which to raunsome,
His pettinesse would bow under:
For the effusion of our blood, his army is too weake:
Kneeling at our feete, a weake and worthlesse satisfaction.
To this, adde defyance. So much from the king my maister.
  <T PROSE><S {King}.> What is thy name? we know thy qualitie.
  <S {Herald}.> {Montioy}.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> Thou dost thy office faire, returne thee backe,
And tell thy King, I do not seeke him now:
But could be well content, without impeach,
To march on to {Callis}: for to say the sooth,
Though tis no wisdome to confesse so much
Unto an enemie of craft and vantage.
My souldiers are with sicknesse much infeebled,
My Army lessoned, and those fewe I have,
Almost no better then so many French:
Who when they were in heart, I tell thee Herauld,
I thought upon one paire of English legges,
Did match three French mens.
Yet forgive me God, that I do brag thus:
This your heire of {France} hath blowne this vice in me.
I must repent, go tell thy maister here I am,
My raunsome is this frayle and worthlesse body,
My Army but a weake and sickly guarde.
Yet God before, we will come on,
If {France} and such an other neighbour stood in our way:
If we may passe, we will: if we be hundered,
We shal your tawny ground with your red blood discolour.
So {Money} get you gone, there is for your paines:
The sum of all our answere is but this,
We would not seeke a battle as we are.
Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it.
  <T PROSE><S {Herauld}.> I shall deliver so: thanks to your Maiestie.
  <S {Glos}.> My Liege, I hope they will not come upon us now.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> We are in Gods hand brother, not in theirs:
To night we will encampe beyond the bridge,
And on to morrow bid them march away.
      <T SDD>{Enter} Burbon, Constable, Orleance, Gebon.
  <S {Const}.> Tut I have the best armour in the world.
  <S {Orleance}.> You have an excellence armour,
But let my horse have his due.
  <S {Burbon}.> Now you talke of a horse, I have a fleed like the
Palfrey of the sun nothing but pure ayre said fire,
And hath none of this dull element of earth within him.
  <S {Orleance}.> He is of the colour of the Nutmeg.
  <S {Bur}.> And of the heate, a the Ginger.
Turne all the sands into eloquent tongues,
And my horse is argument for them all:
I once writ a Sonnet in the praise of my horse,
And began thus. Wonder opf nature.
  <S {Con}.> I have heard a Sonnet begin so,
In the praise of ones Mistress.
  <S {Burb}.> Why then did they immitate that
Which I writ in praise of my horse,
For my horse is my mistresse.
  <S {Con}.> Ma soy the other day, me thought
Your mistresse shooke you shrewdly,
  <S {Bur}.> I bearing me. I tell thee Lord Constable,
My mistresse weares her owne haire.
  <S {Con}.> I could make as good a boast of that,
If I had had a sow to my mistresse.
  <S {Bur}.> Tut thou wilt make use of any thing,
  <S {Con}.> Yet I do not use my horse for my mistresse.
  <S {Bur}.> Will it never be morning?
Ile ride too morrow a mile,
And my way shalbe paved with English faces.
  <S {Con}.> By my faith so will not I,
For feare I be outfaced of my way.
  <T PROSE><S {Bur}.> Well ile go arme my selfe hay.
  <S {Gibon}.> The Duke of {Burbon} longs for morning
  <S {Or}.> I he longs to eate the Enlgish.
  <S {Con}.> I thinketh heele eate all he killes.
  <S {Crle}.> O peace, ill will never said well.
  <S {Con}.> Ile cap that proverbe,
With there is flattery in friendship.
  <S {Or}.> O sir, I can answere that,
With give the divel his due.
  <S {Con}.> Have at the eye of that proverbe,
With a Iogge of the divel.
  <S {Or}.> Well the Duke of {Burbon}, is simply,
The most active Gentleman of {France}.
  <S {Con}.> Doing his activitie, and heele stil be doing.
  <S {Or}.> He never did hurt as I heard off.
  <S {Con}.> No I warrant you, nor never will.
  <S {Or}.> I hold him to be exceeding valiant.
  <S {Con}.> I was told so by one that knows him better the you.
  <S {Or}.> Whose that?
  <S {Con}.> Why he told me so himselfe:
And said he cared not who knew it.
  <S {Or}.> Well who will go with me to hazard,
For a hundred English prisoners?
  <S {Con}.> You must go to hazard your selfe.
Before you have them.
                  <T SDD>{Enter a Messenger}.
  <T PROSE><S {Mess}.> My Lord, the English lye within a hundred
Paces of your Tent.
  <S {Con}.> Who hath measured the ground?
  <S {Mess}.> The Lord {Granpeere}.
  <S {Con}.> A valiant man, a. an expert Gentleman.
  Come, come away:
The Sun is hie, and we weare out the day.     <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.
        <T SDD>{Enter the King disguised, so him} Pistoll.
  <T PROSE><S {Pist}.> Ke ve la?
  <S {King}.> A friend.
  <S {Pist}.> Discus unto me, art thou Gentleman?
Or art thou common, base, and popeler?
  <S {King}.> No sir, I am a Gentleman of a Company.
  <S {Pist}.> Trailes thou the puissant pike?
  <S {king}.> Even so sir. What are you?
  <S {Pist}.> As good a gentleman as the Emperour.
  <S {King}.> O then thou art better then the King?
  <S {Pist}.> The kings a bago, and a hart of gold.
  <T VERSE><S {Pist}.> A ;ad pf ;ofe. am o,[e pf fa,e"
Of parents good, of fist most valiant:
I kis his durrie shoe: and from my hart strings
I love the lovely bully. Whats is thy name?
  <T PROSE><S {King}.> {Harry} le Roy.
  <S {Pist}.> Le Roy, a Cornish man:
Art thou of Cornish man:
  <S {Kin}.> No sir, I am a Wealchman.
  <S {Pist}.> A Wealchman: knowst thou {Flewellen}?
  <S {Kin}.> I sir, he is my kinsman.
  <S {Pist}.> Art thou his friend?
  <S {Kin}.> I sir.
  <S {Pist}.> Figa for thee then: my name is {Pistoll}.
  <S {Kin}.> It sorts well with your fiercenesse.
  <S {Pist}.> {Pistoll} is my name.
                                     <T SDE>{Exit} Pistoll.
                  <T SDD>{Enter Gower and Flewellen}.
  <T VERSE><S {Gour}.> Captaine {Flewellen}.
  <S {Flew}.> In the name of Iesu speake lewer.
It is the greatest folly in the worell, when the aunciene
Prerogatives of the warres be not kept.
I warrant you, if you looke into the warres of the Romanes,
You shall finde no tittle tattle, now bible bable there:
But you shall finde the cares, and the feares,
And the ceremonies, to be otherwise.
  <S {Gour}.> Why the enemy is loud : you heard him all night.
  <S {Flew}.> Godes follud, if the enemy be an Asse & a Foole,
And a prating cocks-come, is it meet that we be also a foole,
And a prating cocks-come, in your coscience now?
  <S {Gour}.> Ile speake lower.
  <S {Flew}.> I beseech you do, good Captaine {Gower}.
                                  <T SDE>{Exit Gower, and Flewellen}.
  <T VERSE><S {Kin}.> Tho it appeare a litle out of fashion,
Yet theres much care in this.

               <T SDD>{Enters three Souldiers}.

  <T VERSE><S I. {Soul}.> Is not that the morning yonder?
  <S 2. {Soul}.> I we see the beginning,
God knowes whether we shall see the end or no.
  <S 3. {Soul}.> Well I thinke the king could wish himselfe
Up to the necke in the middle of the Thames,
And so I would he were, at all adventures, and I with him.
  <S {Kin}.> Now masters god morrow, what cheare?
  <S 3. S.> I faith small cheer some of us is like to have,
Ere this day ende.
  <S {Kin}.> Why fear nothing man, the king is frolike,
  <S 2. S.> I he may be, for he hath no such casue as we
  <S {Kin}.> Nay say not so, he is a man as we are.
The Violet smels to him as to us:
Therefore if he see reasons, he feares as we do.
  <S 2. {Sol}.> But the king hath a heavy reckoning to make,
If his cause be not good: when all those soules
Whose bodies shall be slaughtered here,
Shall joyne together at the latter day,
And say I dyed at such a place. Some swearing:
Some their wives rawly left:
Some leaving their children poore behind them.
Now if his cause be bad, I think it will be a greeuous matter
                                                     (to him.
  <S {King}.> Why so you may say, if a man send his servant
As Factor into another Countrey,
And he by any meanes miscarry,
You may say the businesse of the maister,
Was the author of his servants misfortune,
Or if a sonne be imployd by his father,
And he fall into any leavd action, you may say the father
Was the author of his sonnes damnation.
But the master is not to answere for his servants,
The father for his sonne, nor the king for his subjects:
For they purpose not their deaths, whe they crave their ser-
Some there are that have the gift of premeditated    (uices:
Murder on them:
Others the broken scale of Forgery, in beguiling may dens.
Now if these outstrip the lawe,
Yet they cannot escape God, punishment.
War is Gods Beadel. War is Gods vengeance:
Every mans service is the kings:
But every mans soule is his owne.
Therefore I would have every souldier examine himselfe,
And wash every moath out of his conscience:
That in so doing, he may be the readier for death:
Or not dying, why the time was well spent,
Wherein such preparation was made.
  <S 3. {Lord}.> Y faith he faies true:
Every mans fault on his owne head,
I would not have the king answere for me.
Yet I intend to fight justily for him.
  <S {King}.> Well, I heard the king, he wold not be ransomde.
  <S 2. {L}.> I he said so, to make us fight:
But when our throates be cut, he may be ransomde,
And we never the wiser.
  <S {King}.> If I live to see that, Ile never trust his word againe.
  <S 2. {Sol}.> Mas youle pay him then, tis a great displeasure
That an elder gun, can do against a cannon,
Or a subject against a monarke.
Youle nere take his word again, your a naffe goe.
  <S {King}.> Your reproofe is somewhat too bitter:
Were it not at this time I could be angry.
  <S 2.{Sol}.> Why let it be a quarrell if thou wilt.
  <S {King}.> How shall I know thee?
  <S 2.{Sol}.> Here is my glove, which if ever I see in thy hat,
Ile challenge thee, and strike thee.
  <S {Kin}.> Here is likewise another of mine,
And assure thee ile weare it.
  <S 2.{Sol}.> Thou dar'st as well be hangd.
  <S 3.{Sol}.> Be friends you fooles,
We have no need of English broyles.
  <S {Kin}.> Tis no treason to cut French crownes,
For to morrow the king himselfe wil be a clipper,
                              <T SDE>{Exit the souldiers}.

       <T SDD>{Enter the King, Gloster, Epingam, and}
                      {Attendants}.

  <T VERSE><S {K}.> O God of battels steele my souldiers harts,
Take from them now the sence of rekconing,
That the apposed multitudes which stand before them,
May not appall their courage.
O not to day, not to day o^ God,
Thinke on the fault my father made,
In compassing the crowne.
I {Richards} bodie have interred new,
And on it hath bestowed more contrite teares,
Then from it issued forced drops of blood:
A hundred men have I in yearly pay,
Which every day their withered hands hold up
To heaven to pardon blood,
And I have built two chanceries, more wil I do:
Tho all that I can do, is all too litle.

                <T SDD>{Enter Gloster}.
  <T PROSE><S {Glost}.> My Lord.
  <S {King}.> My brother {Glosters} voyce.
  <S {Gloster}.> My Lord, the Army stayes upon your presence.
  <S {King}.> Stay {Gloster} stay, and I will go with thee,
The day my friends, and all thing, stayes for me.

     <T SDD>{Enter} Clarence, Gloster, Exeter, and Salisburie.

  <T PROSE><S {War}.> My Lords the French are very strong.
  <S {Exe}.> There is five to one, and yet they all are fresh.
  <S {War}.> Of sighting men they have full fortie thousand.
  <T VERSE><S {Sal}.> The oddes is all too great. Farewell kind Lords:
Brave {Clarence}, and my Lord of {Gloster},
My Lord of {Warwicke}, and to all farewell.
  <S {Clar}.> Farewell kind Lord, sight valiantly to day,
And yet in truth, I do thee wrong,
For thou art made on the rrue sparkes of honour.
                 <T SDD>{Enter King}.
  <T VERSE><S {War}.> O would we had but ten thousand men
Now at this instant, that doth not worke in England,
  <S {King}.> Whose that, that wishes so, Cousen {Warwick}?
Gods will, I would not loose the honour
One man would share from me,
Not for my Kingdome.
No faith my Cousen, wish not one man more,
Rather proclaime it prefectly through our campe,
That he that hath no stomacke to this feast,
Let him depart, his pasport shall bee drawne,
And crownes for convoy put into his purse,
We would not die in that mans company,
That feares his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the day of Cryspin,
He that outlives this day, and fees old age,
Shall stand a tiptoe when this day is named,
And rowse him at the name of Cryspin.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Shall yearely on the uygill feast his friends,
And say, to morrow is S.Cryspines day:
Then shall we in their flowing bowles
Be newly remembred. {Harry} the King,
{Bedford} and {Exeter, Clarence} and {Gloster},
{Warwick} and {Yorke}.
Familiar in their mouthes as houshold words.
This story shall the good man tell his sonne,
And from this day, unto the generall doome:
But we in it shall be remembred.
We fewe, we happie fewe, we bond of brothers,
For he to day that sheads his bloody by mine,
Shalbe my brother : be he nere so base,
This day shall gentle his condition.
Then shall he strip his sleeves, and shew his skars,
And say, these wounds I had on Crispines day:
And Gentlemen in England now a bed,
Shall thinke themselves accurst,
And hold their manhood cheape,
While any speak that sought with us
Upon Saint Crispines day.
  <T PROSE><S {Glost}.> My gracious Lord,
The French is in the field.
  <S {Kin}.> Why all things are ready, if our minds be so.
  <S {War}.> Perish man whose mind is backward now.
  <S {King}.> Thou dost not wish more help fro England cousen?
  <T VERSE><S {War}.> Gods will my Liege, would you and I alone,
Without more helpe, might fight this battle out.
Why well said. That doth please me better,
Then to wish me one. You know your charge,
God be with you all.
         <T SDD>{Enter the Herald from the French}.
  <T PROSE><S {Herald}.> Once more I come to know of thee king {Henry},
What thou wilt give for raunsome?
  <S {Kin}.> Who hath sent thee now?
  <S {Her}.> The Constable of {France}.
  <T VERSE><S {Kin}.> I prethy beare my former answer backe:
Bid them atchieve me, and then fell my bones,
Good God, why should they mock good fellowes
The man that once did sell the Lions skin, (thus?
While the beast hued, was kild with hunting him.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Finde graves within your realme of {France}:
Tho buried in your dunghils, we shalbe famed,
For there the Sun shall greete them,
And draw up their honors reaking up to heaven,
Leabing their earthly parts to choke your clyme:
The smel wherof, shall breed a plague in {France}:
Marke then abundant valour in our English,
That being dead, like to the bullets crasing,
Breakes forth into a second course of mischiefe,
Killing in relaps of mortailitie:
Let me speake proudly,
Ther's not a peece of feather in our campe,
Good argument I hope we shall not flye:
And time hath worne us into flouendry.
But by the mas, our hearts are in the trim,
And my poore souldiers tel me, yet ere night
Thayle be in fresher robes, or they will plucke
The gay new cloathes ore your French souldiers eares,
And turne them out of service. If they do this,
As if it please God they shall,
Then shall our ransome soone be levied.
Save thou thy labour Herauld:
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle Herauld.
They shall have nought I sweare, but these my bones:
Which if they have, as I wil leave am them,
Will yeeld them litle, tell the Constable.
  <S {Her}.> I shall deliver so.
                                           <T SDE>{Exit Herauld}.
  <T VERSE><S {Yorke}.> My gracious Lord, upon my knee I crave,
The leading of the vaward.
  <S {Kin}.> Take it brave {Yorke}. Come souldiers lets away:
And as thou pleast God, dispose the day.
                                                           <T SDE>{Exit}.

         <T SDD>{Enter the foure French Lords}.

  <T PROSE><S {Ge}.> O diabello.
  <S {Const}.> Mor du ma vie.
  <S {Or}.> O what a day is this!
  <S {Bur}.> O Iour dei houre all is gone, all is loft.
  <T VERSE><S {Con}.> We are inough yet living in the field,
To smother up the English,
If any order might be thought upon.
  <S {Bur}.> A plague of order, once more to the field,
And he that will not follow {Burbon} now,
Let him go home, and with his cap in hand,
Like a bace leno hold the chamber doore,
Why least by a slave no gentler then my dog,
His fairest daughter is contamuracke.
  <S {Con}.> Disorder that hath spoyld us, right us now,
Come we in heapes, weele offer up our lives
Unto these English, or else die with fame.
  Come, come along,
Lets dye with honour, our shame doth last too long.

                                       <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.
      <T SDD>{Enter Pistoll, the French man, and the Boy}.
  <T PROSE><S {Pist}.> Eyld cur, eyld cur.
  <S {French}.> O Monfire, ie vous en pree aves petie de moy.
  <S {Pist}.> Moy shall not serve. I will have fortie moys.
Boy aske him his name.
  <S {Boy}.> Comant ettes vous apelles?
  <S {French}.> Monsier Fer.
  <S {Boy}.> He faies his name is Master Fer.
  <S {Pist}.> Ile Fer him, and ferit him, and ferke him:
Boy discus the same in French.
  <S {Boy}.> Sir I do not know, whats French
For fer, ferit and fearkt.
  <S {Pist}.> Bid him prepare, for I wil cut his throate.
  <S {Boy}.> Feate, you preat, il voullers coupele votre gage.
  <S {Pist}.> Onye ma foy couple la gorge.
Unlesse thou give to me egregious raunsome, dye.
                                  One poynt of a foxe.
  <S {French}.> Qui dit ill monfiere,
Ill ditye si vou ny vouly pa domy luy.
  <S {Boy}.> La gran ransome, all vou tueres.
  <T VERSE><S {French}.> O lee vous en pri pertit gentelhome, parle
A cee, gran captaine, pour avez mercie
A moy, ey I ee donerees pour mon ransome
Cuiquante ocious, le fuyes ungentelhome de {France}.
  <S {Pist}.> What sayes he boy?
  <S {Boy}.> Marry sir he fayes, he is a Gentleman of a great
House, of {France}: and for his ransome,
He will give you 500. crownes.
  <S {Pist}.> My fury shall abate,
And I the Crownes will take.
And as I suck blood, I will some mercie shew.
Follow me cur.
                                            <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.
          <T SDD>{Enter the King and his Nobles}, Pistoll.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> WHat the French retire?
Yet all is not done, yet keepe the French the field.
  <S {Exe}.> The Duke of {Yorke} commends him to your Grace.
  <S {King}.>  Lives he good Unckle, twise I sawe him downe,
Twise up againe:
From helmet to the spurre, all bleeding ore,
  <S {Exe}.> In which aray, brave souldier doth he lye,
Larding the plaines and by his bloody side,
Yoake fellow to his honour dying wounds,
The noble Earle of {Suffolke} also lyes.
{Suffolke} first dyde, and {Yorke} all hasted ore,
Comes to him where in blood he lay steept,
And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yane upon his face,
And cryde aloud, tary deare cousin {Suffoke}:
My soule shall thine keep company in heaven:
Tary deare soule awhile, then she to rest:
And in this glorious and well foughten field,
We kept togither in our chivaldry.
Upon these words I came and cheerd them up,
He tooke me by the hand, said deare my Lord,
Commend my service to my soveraigne.
So did he turne, and over {Suffolkes} necke
He threw his wounded arme, and so espoused to death,
With blood he sealed. An argument
Of never ending love. The pretie and sweet maner of it,
Forst those waters from me, which I would have stopt,
But I not so much of man in me,
But all my mother came into my eyes,
And gave me up to teares.
  <S {Kin}.> I blame you not: for hearing you,
I must conveit to teares.
                  {Alarum soundes}.
What new alarum is this?
Bid every souldier kill his prisoner.
  <S {Pist}.> Couple gorge.          <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.
        <T SDD>{Enter Flewellen, and Captaine Gower}.
  <T VERSE><S {Flewe}.> Godes plud kill the boyes and the lugyge,
Ti sthe arranes peece of knavery as can be desired,
In the worell now, in your conscience now.
  <S {Gour}.> Tis certaine, there is not a Boy left alive.
And the cowerdly rascals that ran from the battell,
Themselves have done this slaughter:
Beside, they have carried away and burnt,
All that was in the kings Tent:
Whereupon the king caused every prisoners
Throat to be cut. O he is a worthy king.
  <S {Flew}.> I he was born at {Monmorth}.
Captain {Gower}, what call you the place where
{Alexander} the big was borne?
  <S {Gour}.> {Alexander} the great.
  <S {Flew}.> Why I pray, is nat big great?
As if I say, big or great, or magnanimous,
I hope it is all one reconing,
Save the frase is a litle varation.
  <S {Gour}.> I thinke a {Alexander} the great
Was borne at {Macedon}.
His father was called {Philip} of {Macedon},
As I take it.
  <S {Flew}.> I thinke it was {Macedon} indeed where {Alexander}
Was borne: looke you captaine {Gower},
And if you looke into the mappes of the worell well,
You shall finde litle difference betweene
{Macedon} and {Monmorth}. Looke you, there is
A River in {Macedon}, and there is also a River
In {Monmorth}, the Rivers name at {Monmorth},
Is called Wye.
But tis out of my braine, what is the name of the other:
But tis all one, tis so like, as my fingers is to my fingers,
And there is Samons in both.
Looke you captaine {Gower}, and you marke it,
You shall finde our King is come after {Alexander}.
God knowes, and you know, that {Alexander} in his
Bowles, and his alles, and his wrath, and his displeasures.
And indignations, was kill his friend {Clitus}.
  <S {Gower}.> I but our King is not like him in that,
For he never killd any of his friends.
  <S {Flew}.> Looke you, tis not well done to take the tale out
Of a mans mouth, ere it is made an end and finished:
I speake in the comparitios, as {Alexander} is kill
His friend {Clitus}: so our King being in his ripe
Wits and judgements, is turne away, the fat knite
With the great belly doubler: I am forget his name.
  <S {Gower}.> Sir {John Falstaffe}.
  <S {Flew}.> I, I thinke it is Sir John {Falstaffe} indeed,
I can tell you, theres good men borne at {Monmorth}.
            <T SDD>{Enter King and the Lord}.
  <T VERSE><S {King}.> I was not angry since I came into {France},
Untill this houre.
Take a trumpet Herauld,
And ride unto the horsmen on yon hill:
If they will fight with us bid them come downe,
Or leave the field, they do offend our fight:
Will they do neither, we will come to them,
And make them skyr away, as fast
As stones enforst from the old Affirian slings.
Besides, weele cut the throats of those we have,
And not one alive shall taste our mercy.
              <T SDD>{Enter the Herauld}.
<T VERSE>Gods will what meanes this? knowst thou not
That we have fined these bones of ours for ransome?
  <S {Herauld}.> I come great king for charitable favour,
To soit our Nobles from our common men,
We may have leave to bury all our dead,
Which in the field lye spoyled and troden on.
  <S {Kin}.> I tell thee truly Herauld, I do not know whether
The day be ours or no:
For yet a many of your French do keep the field.
  <S {Hera}.> The day is yours.
  <S {Kin}.> Praised be God therefore.
What Castle call you that?
  <S {Hera}.> We call it {Agincourt}.
  <S {Kin}.> Then call we this the field of {Agincourt}.
Fought on the day of {Cryspin, Cryspin}.
  <S {Flew}.> Your grandfather of famous memorie,
If your grace be remembred,
Is do good service in {France}.
  <S {Kin}.> Tis true {Flewellen}.
  <S {Flew}.> Your Maiestie sayes verie true.
And it please your Maiestie,
The Wealchmen there was do good service,
In a garden where Leekes did grow.
And I thinke your Maiestie wil take no scorne,
To weare a Leake in your cap upon S. {Davies} day.
  <S {Kin}.> No {Flewellen}, for I am wealth as well as you.
  <S {Flew}.> All the water in {Wye} wil not wash your wealth
Blood out of you, God keep it, and preserve it,
To his graces will and pleasure.
  <S {Kin}.> Thankes good countryman.
  <S {Flew}.> By Jesus I am your Maiesties countryman:
I care not who know it, so long as your maiesty is an honest
  <S {K}.> God keep me so. Our Herald go with him,
And bring us the number of the scattred French.

                                        <T SDE>{Exit Heralds}.
Call yonder souldier hither.
  <S {Flew}.> You fellow come to the king.
  <S {Kin}.> Fellow why doost thou weare that glove in thy hat?
  <S {Soul}.> And please your maiestie, tis a rascals that swagard
With me the other day: and he hath one of mine,
Which if ever I see, I have sworne to strike him.
So hath he sworne the like to me.
  <S {K}.> How think you {Flewellen}, is it lawfull he keep his oath?
  <S {Fl}.> And it please your maiesty, tis lawful he keep his vow.
If he be periur'd once, he is as arrant a beggerly knave,
As treads upon too blacke shues.
  <S {Kin}.> His enemy may be a gentleman of worth.
  <S {Flew}.> And if he be as good a gentleman as Lucifer
And Belzebub, and the divel himselfe,
Tis meete he keepe his vowe.
  <S {Kin}.> Well sirrha keep your word.
Under what Captain servest thou?
  <S {Soul}.> Under Captaine {Gower}.
  <S {Flwe}.> Captaine {Gower} is a good Captaine
And hath good littrature in the warres.
  <S {Kin}.> Go call him hther.
  <S {Soul}.> I will my Lord.
                                                <T SDE>{Exit souldier}.

  <T VERSE><S {Kin}.> Captain {Flewellen}, when {Alonson} and I was
Downe together, I tooke this glove off from his helmet,
Here {Flewellen}, weare it. If any do challenge it,
He is a friend of {Alansons},
And an enemy to mee.
  <S {Fle}.> Your maiestie doth me as great a favour
As can be desired in the harts of his subjects.
I would see that man now that should chalenge this glove:
And it please God of his grace, I would but see him,
That is all.
  <S {Kin}.> {Flewellen} knowst thou Captaine {Gower}?
  <S {Fle}.> Captaine {Gower} is my friend.
And if it like your maiestie, I know him very well.
  <S {Kin}.> Go call him hither.
  <S {Flew}.> I will and it shall please your maiestie.
  <S {Kin}.> Follow {Flewellen} closely at the heeles,
The glove he weares, it was the souldiers:
It may be there will be harme betweene them,
For I do know {Flewellen} valiant,
And being toucht, as hot as gunpowde:
And quickly will returne an injury.
Go see there be no harme betweene them.
        <T SDD>{Enter Gower, Flewellen, and the Souldier}.
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> Captain {Gower}, in the name of Iesu,
Come to his Maiessie, there is more good toward you,
Then you can dreame off.
  <S {Soul}.> Do you heare you sir? do you know this glove?
  <S {Flew}.> I know the the glove is a glove.
  <S {Soul}.> Sir I know this, and thus I challenge it.
                                                  <T SDP>{He strikes him}.
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> Gode plut, and his. Captain {Gower} stand away:
Ile give treason his due presently.
     <T SDD>{Enter the King, Warwicke, Clarence, and Exeter}.
  <T VERSE><S {Kin}.> How now, what is the matter?
  <S {Flew}.> And it shall please your Maiestie,
Here is the notablest peece of treason come to light,
As you shall desire to fee in a sommers day.
Here is a rascall, beggerly rascall, is strike the glove,
Which your Maiestie will beare me witnes, and testimony,
And auouchments, that this is the glove.
  <S {Soul}.> And it please your Maiestie, that was my glove.
He that I gave it too in the night,
Promised me to weare it in his hat:
I promised to strike him if he did.
I met tht Gentleman, with my glove in his hat,
And I thinke I have bene as good as my word.
  <S {Flew}.> Your Maiestie heares, under your Maiesties
Manhood, what a beggerly lowsie knave it is.
  <S {Kin}.> Let me see thy glove. Looke you,
This is the fellow of it.
It was I indeed you promised to strike.
And thou thou hast given me most bitter words.
How canst thou make us amends?
  <S {Flew}.> Let his necke answere it,
If there be any marshals lawe in the worell.
  <S {Soul}.> My Liege, all offences come from the heart:
Never came any from mine to offend your Maiestie.
You appeard to me as a common man:
Witnesse the night, your garments, your lowlinesse,
And whatsoever you received under that habit,
I beseech your Maiestie impute it to your owne fault
And not mine. For your selfe came not like your selfe:
Had you bene as you seemed, I had made no offence.
Therefore I beseech your grace to pardon me.
  <S {Kin}.> Unckle, fill the glove with crownes,
And give it to the souldier. Weare it fellow,
As an honour in thy cap, till I do challenge it.
Give him the crownes. Come Captaine {Flewellen},
I must needs have you friends.
  <S {Flew}.> By Jesus, the fellow hath mertall enough
In his belly. Harke you souldier, there is a shilling for you,
And keep your selfe out of brawles & brables, & dissentios,
And looke you, it shall be the better for you.
  <S {Soul}.> Ile none of your money sir, not I.
  <S {Flew}.> Why tis a good shilling man.
Why should you be queamish? Your shoes are not so good:
It will serve you to mend your shoes.
  <S {Kin}.> What men of sort are taken unckle?
  <S {Exe}.> {Charles} Duke of {Orleance}, Nephew to the Kings,
{John} Duke of {Burbon}, and Lord {Bowchquall}.
Of other Lords and Barrons, Knights and Squiers,
Full fifteene hundred, besides common men.
This note doth tell me of ten thousand
French, that in the field lyes slaine.
Of Nobles bearing banners in the field,
{Charles de le Brute}, hie Constable of {France}.
{Jaques} of {Chattillian}, Admirall of {France},
The Maister of the crosbows, {John} Duke {Aloson}.
Lord {Rambieres}, hie Maister of {France}.
The brave sir {Gwigzard, Dolphin}. Of {Nobelle Charillas},
Gran {Prie}, and {Rosse, Fawconbridge} and {Foy}.
{Gerard} and {Verton. Vandemant} and {Lestra}.
Here was a royall fellowship of death.
Where is the number of our English dead?
{Edward} the Duke of {Yorke}, the Earle of {Suffolke},
Sir {Richard Ketly, Davy Gam} Esquier:
And of all other, but five and twentie.
O God thy arme was here,
And unto thee alone, ascribe we praise.
When without strtegem,
And in even shock of battle, was ever heard
So great, and litle losse, on one part and an other.
Take it God, for it is onely thine.
  <S {Exe}.> Tis wonderfull.
  <S {King}.> Come let us go on procession through the camp:
Let it be death proclaimed to any man,
To boast hereof, or take the praise from God,
Which is his due.
  <S {Flew}.> Is it lawful, and it please your Maiestie,
To tell how many is kild?
  <S {King}.> Yes {Flewellen}, but with this acknowledgement,
That God fought for us.
  <S {Flew}.> Yes in my conscience, he did us great good.
  <S {King}.> Let there be sung, Nououes and te Deum.
The dead with charitie enterred in day:
Weele then to {Calice}, and to England then,
Where nere from {France}, arrivde more happier men.
                                             <T SDE>{Exit omnes}.
           <T SDD>{Enter Gower, and Flewellen}.
  <T VERSE><S {Gower}.> But why do you weare your Lecke to day?
Saint {Danies} day is past?
  <S {Flew}.> There is occasion Captaine {Gower},
Looke you why, and wherefore,
The other day looke you, {Pistolles}
Which you know is a man of no merites
In the worell, is come where I was the other day,
And brings bread and fault, and bids me
Eate my Leeke: twas in a place, looke you,
Where I could move no discentions:
But if I can see him, I shall tell him,
A litle of my desires.
  <S {Gow}.> Here a comes, swelling like a Turkecocke.

                     <T SDD>{Enter Pistoll}.
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> Tis no matter for his swelling, and his turkecocks,
God plesse you Antient {Pistoll}, you scall,
Beggerly, lowsie knave, God plesse you.
  <S {Pist}.> Ha, art thou bedlem?
Dost thou thurst base Troyan,
To have me folde up {Parcas} fatall web?
Hence, I am qualmish at the smell of Leeke.
  <S {Flew}.> Antient {Pistoll}. I would desire you because
It doth not agree with your stomacke, and your appetite,
And you digestions, to eate this Leeke.
  <S {Pist}.> Not for {Cadwalleder} and all his goates.
  <S {Flew}.> There is one goate for you Antient Pistol.
                                                <T SDP>{He strikes him},
  <T PROSE><S {Pist}.> Bace Troyan, thou shall dye.
  <S {Flew}.> I, I know I shall dye, meane time, I would
Desire you to live and eate this Leeke.
  <S {Gower}.> Inough Captaine, you have astonisht him.
  <S {Flew}.> Astonisht him, by Iesu, Ile beate his head
Foure dayes, and foure nights, but Ile
Make him eate some part of my Lecke.
  <S {Pist}.> Well must I byte?
  <S {Flew}.> I out of question or doubt, or ambiguities
You must byres.
  <S {Pist}.> Good good.
  <S {Flew}.> I Leekes are good, Antient {Pistoll}.
There is a shilling for you to heale your bloody coxkome.
  <S {Pist}.> Me a shilling.
  <S {Flew}.> If you will not take it,
I have an other Leeke for you.
  <S {Pist}.> I take thy shilling in earnest of reconing.
  <T VERSE><S {Flew}.> If I owe you any thing, ile pay you in cudgels,
You shalbe a woodmonger,
And by cudgels, God bwv you,
Antient {Pistoll}, God blesse you,
And heale your broken pate.
Antient {Pistoll}, if you see Leekes an other time,
Mocke at them, that is all: God bwy you.
                                 <T SDE>{Exit Flewellen}.
  <T VERSE><S {Pist}.> All hell shall stir for this.
Doth Fortune play the huswye with me now?
Is honour cudgeld from my warlike lines?
Well {France} farwell, newes have I certainly
That Doll is sicke. One mallydie of {France},
The warres affordeth nought, home will I trug.
Bawd will I turne, and use the flyte of hand:
To England will I steale,
And there Ile steale.
And patches will I get unto these skarres,
And sweare I gat them in the Gallia warres.
                                             <T SDE>{Exit Pistoll}.

<T SDD>{Enter at one doore, the King of} England {and his Lords, And at}
  {the other doore, the King of} France, {Queene} Katherine, {the}
  {Duke of} Burbon, {and others}.

  <T VERSE><S {Harry}.> Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met.
And to our brorher {France}, Faire time of day.
Faire health unto our lovely consen {Katherine}.
And as a branch, and member of this stock:
We do salute you Duke of {Burgondie}.
  <S {Fran}.> Brother of {England}, right ioyous are we to behold
Your face, so are we Princes English every one.
  <S {Duk}.> With pardon unto both your mightines.
Let it not displease you, if I demaund
What rub or bar hath thus far hindred you,
To keepe you from the gentle speech of peace?
  <S {Har}.> If Duke of {Burgondy}, you wold have peace,
You must buy that peace,
According as we have drawne our articles.
  <S {Fran}.> We have but with a cursenary eye,
Oreviewed them pleaseth your Grace,
To let some of your Counsell sit with us,
We shall returne our peremptory answere.
  <S {Har}.> Go Lords, and sit with them,
And bring us answere backe.
Yet leave our cousen {Katherine} here behind.
  <S {France}.> Withall our hearts.

  <T SDE>{Exit King and the Lords. Manet}, Hrry, Kathe-
          rine, {and the Gentlewoman}.

  <T VERSE><S {Hate}.> Now {Kate}, you have a blunt wooer here
Left with you.
If I could win thee at leapfrog,
Or with vawting with my armour on my backe,
Into my saddle,
Without brag be it spoken,
Ide make compare with any.
But leaving that {Kate},
If thou takest me now,
Thou shalt have me at the worst:
And in wearing, thou shalt have me better and better,
Thou shalt have a face that is not worth fun-burning.
But doost thou thinke, that thou and I,
Betweene Saint {Denis},
And Saint {George}, shall get a boy,
That shall goe to {Constantinople},
And take the great Turke by the beard, ha {Kate}?
  <S {Kate}.> Is it possible dt me fall
Love de enemie de {France}.
  <S {Harry}.> No {Kate}, tis unpossible
You should love the enemie of {France}:
For {Kate}, I love {France} so well,
That Ile not leave a Village,
Ile have it all mine: then {Kate},
When {France} is mine,
And I am yours,
Then {France} is yours,
And you are mine.
  <S {Kate}.> I cannot tell what is dat.
  <S {Harry}.> No {Kate},
Why Ile tell it you in French,
Which will hang upon my tongue, like a bride
On her new married Husband,
Let me see, Saint {Dennis} be my speed.
Quan {France} et mon.
  <T PROSE><S {Kate}.> Dat is, when {France} is yours.
  <S {Harry}.> Et vous ettes annoy.
  <S {Kate}.> And I am to you.
  <S {Harry}.> Douck {France} ettes a vous:
  <S {Kate}.> Den {France} fall be mine.
  <S {Harry}.> Et Ie suyues a vous.
  <S {Kate}.> And you will be to me.
  <T VERSE><S {Har}.> Wilt beleeve me {Kate}? tis easier for me
To conquer the kingdome, the to speak so much
More French.
  <S {Kate}.> A your Maiesty has salfe {France} inough
To deceive de best Lady in {France}.
  <S {Harry}.> No faith {Kate} not I. But {Kate},
In plaine termes, do you love me?
  <S {Kate}.> I cannot tell.
  <S {Harry}.> No, can any of your neighbours tell?
Ile aske them.
Come {Kate}, I know you love me.
And soone when you are in your closset,
Youle question this Lady of me.
But I pray thee sweete {Kate}, use me mercifully,
Because I love thee cruelly.
That I shall dye {Kate}, is sure:
But for thy love, by the Lord never.
What Wench,
A straight backe will growe crooked.
A round eye will growe hollowe.
A great leg will waxe small,
A curld pate proue balde:
But a good heart Kate, is the fun and the moone,
And rather the Sun and not the Moone:
And therefore {Kate} take me,
Take a souldier:take a souldier,
Take a King.
Therefore tell me {Kate}, with thou have me?
  <S {Kate}.> Dat is as please the King my father.
  <S {Harry}.> Nay it will please him:
Nay it shall please him {Kate}.
And upon that condition {Kate} Ile kisse you.
  <S {Ka}.> O mon du Ie ne voudroy faire quelke chosse
Pour toute le monde,
Ce ne poynt votree fachion en fouor.
  <S {Harry}.> What saies she Lady?
  <S {Lady}.> Dat it is not de fasion en {France},
For de maides, before da be married to
May foy ie oblye, what is to bassie?
  <S {Har}.> To kis, to kis. O that tis not the
Fashion in {France}, for the maycies to kis
Before they are married.
  <S {Lady}.> Owye see votree grace.
  <S {Har}.> Well, weele breake that custome.
Therefore {Kate} patience perforce and yeeld.
Before God {Kate}, you have witchcraft
In your kisses:
And may perswade with me more,
Then all the French Councell.
Your father is returned.

        <T SDD>{Enter the King of France, and}
                     {the Lordes}.

<T VERSE>How now my Lords?
  <S {France}.> Brother of England,
We have orered the Articles,
And have agreed to all that we in sedule had.
  <S {Exe}.> Only he hath not subscribed this,
Where your maiestie demaunds,
That the king of {France} having any occasion
To write for matter of graunt,
Shall name your highnesse, in this forme:
And with this addition in French.
{Nostre tresher fitz, Henry Roy D'anglaterre},
{E heare de France}. And thus in Latin:
{Preclarissimus filuis noster Henricus Rex Anglie},
{Et heres Francie}.
  <S {Fran}.> Nor this have we so nicely stood upon,
But you faire brother may intreat the same.
  <S {Har}.> Why then let this among the rest,
Have his full course: And withall,
Your daughter {Katherine} in mariage,
  <S {Fran}.> This and what else,
Your maiestie shall crave.
God that disposeth all, give you much joy.
  <S {Har}.> Why then faire {Katherine},
Come give me thy hand.
Our marriage will we present solemnise,
And end our hatred by a bond of love.
Then will I sweare to {Kate}, and {Kate} to mee:
And may our vowes once made, unbroken bee.


                F I N I S.