Bard. Away, you rogue! Host. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days: the king has killed his heart. Good husband, come home presently. [Exeunt Hostess and Boy. Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together: why, the devil, should we keep knives to cut one another's throats? 'Pist. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on! Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting? Pist. Base is the slave that pays. Nym. That now I will have: that's the humour of it. Pist. As manhood shall compound: push home. [They draw. Bard. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword, I will. Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too. Pr'ythee, put up. Nym. I shall have my eight shillings, I won of you at betting? Pist. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: Nym. I shall have my noble? Nym. Well then, that's the humour of it. Re-enter Hostess. Host. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. Nym. The king hath run bad humours on the knight, that's the even of it. Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; His heart is fracted, and corroborate. Nym. The king is a good king: but it must be as it may; he passes some humours, and careers. Pist. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins we will live. [Exeunt. As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours, That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell Trumpets sound. Enter KING HENRY, SCROOP, CAMBRIDGE, GREY, Lords, and Attendants. K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. My lord of Cambridge,—and my kind lord of Masham, And you, my gentle knight,-give me your thoughts: Think you not, that the powers we bear with us Will cut their passage through the force of France, Doing the execution, and the act, For which we have in head assembled them? Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. K. Hen. I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded, We carry not a heart with us from hence, Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd, Than is your majesty: there's not, I think, a subject, That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government. Grey. True: those that were your father's enemies, Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal. K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thank. fulness; And shall forget the office of our hand, Scroop. So service shall with steclèd sinews toil, K. Hen. We judge no less.-Uncle of Exeter, Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security: Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. life, After the taste of much correction. K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons 'gainst this wretch! poor If little faults, proceeding on distemper, Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, Appear before us?-We'll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood Out of appearance? my Cam. K. Hen. The mercy that was quick in us but late, You know how apt our love was to accord Could out of thee extract one spark of evil, With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetch'd But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up, A soul so easy as that Englishman's." Exe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard earl of Cambridge. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry lord Scroop of Masham. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discover'd; And I repent my fault more than my death; Which I beseech your highness to forgive, Although my body pay the price of it. Cam. For me, the gold of France did not seduce; Although I did admit it as a motive, The sooner to effect what I intended: But God be thanked for prevention; Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me. Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. sentence. You have conspir'd against our royal person, Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-LONDON. The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap. Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy. Host. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines. Pist. 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. 'Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell! Host. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, 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-"God, God, God!" three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him, 'a should not think of God; 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; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone. Nym. They say, he cried out of sack. Host. Ay, that 'a did. Bard. And of women. Host. Nay, that 'a did not. Boy. Yes, that 'a did; and said, they were devils incarnate. Host. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never liked. Boy. 'A said once, the devil would have him about women. Host. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon. 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? Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service. Nym. Shall we shog? the king will be gone from Southampton. Pist. Come, let's away.-My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattels, and my movables: Let senses rule; the word is, "Pitch and pay;" For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, Go, clear thy crystals.-Yoke-fellows in arms, Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they say. And more than carefully it us concerns, To answer royally in our defences. Dau. My most redoubted father, It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe; For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, (Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in ques tion,) But that defences, musters, preparations, Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth, To view the sick and feeble parts of France: And let us do it with no show of fear; No, with no more, than if we heard that England For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd, By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, Con. O peace, prince Dauphin! You are too much mistaken in this king: Question your grace the late embassadors,— With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with noble counsellors, How modest in exception, and, withal, How terrible in constant resolution,— And you shall find, his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly; As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring, and be most delicate. Dau. Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable; But though we think it so, it is no matter; In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh The enemy more mighty than he seems: So the proportions of defence are fill'd; Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting A little cloth. Fr. King. Think we king Harry strong; And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us; And he is bred out of that bloody strain, That haunted ús in our familiar paths: Witness our too much memorable shame, |