Henry V

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Original text
Flourish. Enter Chorus.
Now all the Youth of England are on fire,
And silken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes:
Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thought
Reignes solely in the breast of euery man.
They sell the Pasture now, to buy the Horse;
Following the Mirror of all Christian Kings,
With winged heeles, as English Mercuries.
For now sits Expectation in the Ayre,
And hides a Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point,
With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and Coronets,
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.
The French aduis'd by good intelligence
Of this most dreadfull preparation,
Shake in their feare, and with pale Pollicy
Seeke to diuert the English purposes.
O England: Modell to thy inward Greatnesse,
Like little Body with a mightie Heart:
What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kinde and naturall:
But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A nest of hollow bosomes, which he filles
With treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted men:
One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the second
Henry Lord Scroope of Masham, and the third
Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,
Haue for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)
Confirm'd Conspiracy with fearefull France,
And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye.
If Hell and Treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton.
Linger your patience on, and wee'l digest
Th' abuse of distance; force a play:
The summe is payde, the Traitors are agreed,
The King is set from London, and the Scene
Is now transported (Gentles) to Southampton,
There is the Play-house now, there must you sit,
And thence to France shall we conuey you safe,
And bring you backe: Charming the narrow seas
To giue you gentle Passe: for if we may,
Wee'l not offend one stomacke with our Play.
But till the King come forth, and not till then,
Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.
Exit
Original text
Act II, Scene I
Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.

Bar.
Well met Corporall Nym.

Nym.
Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe.

Bar.
What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet?

Nym.
For my part, I care not: I say little: but when time
shall serue, there shall be smiles, but that shall be as it
may. I dare not fight, but I will winke and holde out mine
yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It will toste
Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans sword
will: and there's an end.

Bar.
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friendes,
and wee'l bee all three sworne brothers to France: Let't
be so good Corporall Nym.

Nym.
Faith, I will liue so long as I may, that's the certaine
of it: and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe as I
may: That is my rest, that is the rendeuous of it.

Bar.
It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed to
Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to her.

Nym.
I cannot tell, Things must be as they may: men may
sleepe, and they may haue their throats about them at
that time, and some say, kniues haue edges: It must be as
it may, though patience be a tyred name, yet shee will
plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot tell.
Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.

Bar.
Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: good
Corporall be patient heere.
How now mine Hoaste Pistoll?

Pist.
Base Tyke, cal'st thou mee Hoste,
now by this hand I sweare I scorne the terme:
nor shall my Nel keep Lodgers.

Host.
No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge
and board a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue
honestly by the pricke of their Needles, but it will bee
thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight.

O welliday Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall
see wilful adultery and murther committed.

Bar.
Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer
nothing heere.

Nym.
Pish.

Pist.
Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard cur of Island.

Host.
Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put
vp your sword.

Nym.
Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus.


Pist.
Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile;
The solus in thy most meruailous face,
the solus in thy teeth, and in thy throate,
and in thy hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw perdy;
and which is worse, within thy nastie mouth.
I do retort the solus in thy bowels,
for I can take, and Pistols cocke is vp,
and flashing fire will follow.

Nym.
I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I haue
an humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you grow
fowle with me Pistoll, I will scoure you with my Rapier,
as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you would walke off, I would
pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as I may, and
that's the humor of it.

Pist.
O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The Graue doth gape, and doting death is neere,
Therefore exhale.

Bar.
Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikes
the first stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a
soldier.


Pist.
An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
Giue me thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue:
spirites are most tall.

Nym.
I will cut thy throate one time or other in faire termes,
that is the humor of it.

Pistoll.
Couple a gorge,
that is the word. I defie thee againe.
O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spittle goe,
and from the Poudring tub of infamy,
fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressids kinde,
Doll Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse.
I haue, and I will hold the Quondam Quickely
for the onely shee: and Pauca, there's enough
to go to.
Enter the Boy.

Boy.
Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster, and
your Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed. Good
Bardolfe, put thy face betweene his sheets, and do the
Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill.

Bard.
Away you Rogue.

Host.
By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one
of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good
Husband come home presently.
Exit

Bar.
Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must
to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues
to cut one anothers throats?

Pist.
Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle on.

Nym.
You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you at
Betting?

Pist.
Base is the Slaue that payes.

Nym.
That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it.

Pist.
As manhood shal compound: push home.
Draw

Bard.
By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust,
Ile kill him: By this sword, I wil.

Pi.
Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their course


Bar.
Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be
frends, and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me
to: prethee put vp.

Pist.
A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay,
and Liquor likewise will I giue to thee,
and friendshippe shall combyne, and brotherhood.
Ile liue by Nymme, & Nymme shall liue by me,
is not this iust? For I shal Sutler be
vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue.
Giue mee thy hand.

Nym.
I shall haue my Noble?

Pist.
In cash, most iustly payd.

Nym.
Well, then that the humor of't.
Enter Hostesse.

Host.
As euer you come of women, come in quickly
to sir Iohn: A poore heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning
quotidian Tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold.
Sweet men, come to him.

Nym.
The King hath run bad humors on the Knight, that's
the euen 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 bee as it may: he
passes some humors, and carreeres.

Pist.
Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we will liue.

Original text
Act II, Scene II
Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.

Bed.
Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors

Exe.
They shall be apprehended by and by.

West.
How smooth and euen they do bear themselues,
As if allegeance in their bosomes sate
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty.

Bed.
The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception, which they dreame not of.

Exe.
Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious fauours;
That he should for a forraigne purse, so sell
His Soueraignes life to death and treachery.
Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge,
and Gray.

King.
Now sits the winde faire, and we will aboord.
My Lord of Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masham,
And you my gentle Knight, giue me your thoughts:
Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vs
Will cut their passage through the force of France?
Doing the execution, and the acte,
For which we haue in head assembled them.

Scro.
No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best.

King.
I doubt not that, since we are well perswaded
We carry not a heart with vs from hence,
That growes not in a faire consent with ours:
Nor leaue not one behinde, that doth not wish
Successe and Conquest to attend on vs.

Cam.
Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd,
Then is your Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiect
That sits in heart-greefe and vneasinesse
Vnder the sweet shade of your gouernment.

Kni.
True: those that were your Fathers enemies,
Haue steep'd their gauls in hony, and do serue you
With hearts create of duty, and of zeale.

King.
We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes,
And shall forget the office of our hand
Sooner then quittance of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthinesse.

Scro.
So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle,
And labour shall refresh it selfe with hope
To do your Grace incessant seruices.

King.
We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter,
Inlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rayl'd against our person: We consider
It was excesse of Wine that set him on,
And on his more aduice, We pardon him.

Scro.
That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd Soueraigne, least example
Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a kind.

King.
O let vs yet be mercifull.

Cam.
So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too.

Grey.
Sir,
you shew great mercy if you giue him life,
After the taste of much correction.

King.
Alas, your too much loue and care of me,
Are heauy Orisons 'gainst this poore wretch:
If little faults proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
When capitall crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appeare before vs? Wee'l yet inlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in theirdeere care
And tender preseruation of our person
Wold haue him punish'd. And now to our French causes,
Who are the late Commissioners?

Cam.
I one my Lord,
Your Highnesse bad me aske for it to day.

Scro.
So did you me my Liege.

Gray.
And I my Royall Soueraigne.

King.
Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours:
There yours Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight:
Gray of Northumberland, this same is yours:
Reade them, and know I know your worthinesse.
My Lord of Westmerland, and Vnkle Exeter,
We will aboord to night. Why how now Gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you loose
So much complexion? Looke ye how they change:
Their cheekes are paper. Why, what reade you there,
That haue so cowarded and chac'd your blood
Out of apparance.

Cam.
I do confesse my fault,
And do submit me to your Highnesse mercy.

Gray. Scro.
To which we all appeale.

King.
The mercy that was quicke in vs but late,
By your owne counsaile is supprest and kill'd:
You must not dare (for shame) to talke of mercy,
For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes,
As dogs vpon their maisters, worrying you:
See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres,
These English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere,
You know how apt our loue was, to accord
To furnish with all appertinents
Belonging to his Honour; and this man,
Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'd
And sworne vnto the practises of France
To kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which,
This Knight no lesse for bounty bound to Vs
Then Cambridge is, hath likewise sworne. But O,
What shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou cruell,
Ingratefull, sauage, and inhumane Creature?
Thou that didst beare the key of all my counsailes,
That knew'st the very bottome of my soule,
That (almost) might'st haue coyn'd me into Golde,
Would'st thou haue practis'd on me, for thy vse?
May it be possible, that forraigne hyer
Could out of thee extract one sparke of euill
That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stands off as grosse
As black and white, my eye will scarsely see it.
Treason, and murther, euer kept together,
As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers purpose,
Working so grossely in an naturall cause,
That admiration did not hoope at them.
But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring in
Wonder to waite on treason, and on murther:
And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it was
That wrought vpon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence:
And other diuels that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle vp damnation,
With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht
From glist'ring semblances of piety:
But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp,
Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,
He might returne to vastie Tartar backe,
And tell the Legions, I can neuer win
A soule so easie as that Englishmans.
Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected
The sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull,
Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned?
Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family?
Why so didst thou. Seeme they religious?
Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger,
Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
Not working with the eye, without the eare,
And but in purged iudgement trusting neither,
Such and so finely boulted didst thou seeme:
And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,
To make thee full fraught man, and best indued
With some suspition, I will weepe for thee.
For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is like
Another fall of Man. Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the Law,
And God acquit them of their practises.

Exe.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of
Richard Earle of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Lord
Scroope of Marsham.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
Grey, Knight of Northumberland.

Scro.
Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd,
And I repent my fault more then my death,
Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue,
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 motiue,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be thanked for preuention,
Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce,
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee.

Gray.
Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce
At the discouery of most dangerous Treason,
Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe,
Preuented from a damned enterprize;
My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne.

King.
God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence
You haue conspir'd against Our Royall person,
Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers,
Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death:
Wherein you would haue sold your King to slaughter,
His Princes, and his Peeres to seruitude,
His Subiects to oppression, and contempt,
And his whole Kingdome into desolation:
Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge,
But we our Kingdomes safety must so tender,
Whose ruine you sought, that to her Lawes
We do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence,
(Poore miserable wretches) to your death:
The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue
You patience to indure, and true Repentance
Of all your deare offences. Beare them hence.
Exit.
Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you as vs, like glorious.
We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous Treason, lurking in our way,
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now,
But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our way.
Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer
Our Puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance,
No King of England, if not King of France.
Flourish.
Original text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.

Hostesse.
'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring thee
to Staines.

Pistoll.
No: for my manly heart doth erne.
Bardolph, be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines:
Boy, brissle thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead,
and wee must erne therefore.

Bard.
Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,
eyther in Heauen, or in Hell.

Hostesse.
Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs
Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made
a finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome
Childe: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n
at the turning o'th'Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with
the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his
fingers end, I knew there was but one way: for his
Nose was as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene
fields. How now Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be
a good cheare: so a cryed out, God, God, God, three
or foure times: now I, to comfort him, bid him a should
not thinke of God; I hop'd there was no neede to
trouble himselfe with any such thoughts yet: so a bad
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 vp-peer'd, and vpward, and
all was as cold as any stone.

Nim.
They say he cryed out of Sack.

Hostesse.
I, that a did.

Bard.
And of Women.

Hostesse.
Nay, that a did not.

Boy.
Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate.

Woman.
A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour
he neuer lik'd.

Boy.
A said once, the Deule would haue him about Women.

Hostesse.
A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women: but
then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
Babylon.

Boy.
Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon
Bardolphs Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning in
Hell.

Bard.
Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that
fire: that's all the Riches I got in his seruice.

Nim.
Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone from
Southampton.

Pist.
Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes:
Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables:
Let Sences rule: The world is, Pitch and pay:
trust none:
for Oathes are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes,
and hold-fast is the onely Dogge: My Ducke,
therefore Caueto bee thy Counsailor.
Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yoke-fellowes in Armes,
let vs to France, like Horse-leeches my Boyes,
to sucke, to sucke, the very blood to sucke.

Boy.
And that's but vnwholesome food, they say.

Pist.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bard.
Farwell Hostesse.


Nim.
I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but adieu.

Pist.
Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee command.

Hostesse
Farwell: adieu.
Exeunt
Original text
Act II, Scene IV
Flourish. Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the
Dukes of Berry and Britaine.

King.
Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs,
And more then carefully it vs concernes,
To answer Royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine,
Of Brabant and of Orleance, shall make forth,
And you Prince Dolphin, with all swift dispatch
To lyne and new repayre our Townes of Warre
With men of courage, and with meanes defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As Waters to the sucking of a Gulfe.
It fits vs then to be as prouident,
As feare may teach vs, out of late examples
Left by the fatall and neglected English,
Vpon our fields.

Dolphin.
My most redoubted Father,
It is most meet we arme vs 'gainst the Foe:
For Peace it selfe should not so dull a Kingdome,
(Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in question)
But that Defences, Musters, Preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
As were a Warre in expectation.
Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth,
To view the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let vs doe it with no shew of feare,
No, with no more, then if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitson Morris-dance:
For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd,
Her Scepter so phantastically borne,
By a vaine giddie shallow humorous Youth,
That feare attends her not.

Const.
O peace, Prince Dolphin,
You are too much mistaken in this King:
Question your Grace the late Embassadors,
With what great State he heard their Embassie,
How well supply'd with Noble Councellors,
How modest in exception; and withall,
How terrible in constant resolution:
And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent,
Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly;
As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those Roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate.

Dolphin.
Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable.
But though we thinke it so, it is no matter:
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The Enemie more mightie then he seemes,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd:
Which of a weake and niggardly proiection,
Doth like a Miser spoyle his Coat, with scanting
A little Cloth.

King.
Thinke we King Harry strong:
And Princes, looke you strongly arme to meet him.
The Kindred of him hath beene flesht vpon vs:
And he is bred out of that bloodie straine,
That haunted vs in our familiar Pathes:
Witnesse our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy Battell fatally was strucke,
And all our Princes captiu'd, by the hand
Of that black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:
Whiles that his Mountaine Sire, on Mountaine standing
Vp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden Sunne,
Saw his Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the Worke of Nature, and deface
The Patternes, that by God and by French Fathers
Had twentie yeeres been made. This is a Stem
Of that Victorious Stock: and let vs feare
The Natiue mightinesse and fate of him.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
Embassadors from Harry King of England,
Doe craue admittance to your Maiestie.

King.
Weele giue them present audience. Goe, and bring them.
You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends.

Dolphin.
Turne head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs
Most spend their mouths, whẽ what they seem to threaten
Runs farre before them. Good my Soueraigne
Take vp the English short, and let them know
Of what a Monarchie you are the Head:
Selfe-loue, my Liege, is not so vile a sinne,
As selfe-neglecting.
Enter Exeter.

King.
From our Brother of England?

Exe.
From him, and thus he greets your Maiestie:
He wills you in the Name of God Almightie,
That you deuest your selfe, and lay apart
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heauen,
By Law of Nature, and of Nations, longs
To him and to his Heires, namely, the Crowne,
And all wide-stretched Honors, that pertaine
By Custome, and the Ordinance of Times,
Vnto the Crowne of France: that you may know
'Tis no sinister, nor no awk-ward Clayme,
Pickt from the worme-holes of long-vanisht dayes,
Nor from the dust of old Obliuion rakt,
He sends you this most memorable Lyne,
In euery Branch truly demonstratiue;
Willing you ouer-looke this Pedigree:
And when you find him euenly deriu'd
From his most fam'd, of famous Ancestors,
Edward the third; he bids you then resigne
Your Crowne and Kingdome, indirectly held
From him, the Natiue and true Challenger.

King.
Or else what followes?

Exe.
Bloody constraint: for if you hide the Crowne
Euen in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
Therefore in fierce Tempest is he comming,
In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a Ioue:
That if requiring faile, he will compell.
And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,
Deliuer vp the Crowne, and to take mercie
On the poore Soules, for whom this hungry Warre
Opens his vastie Iawes: and on your head
Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans Cryes,
The dead-mens Blood, the priuy Maidens Groanes,
For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Louers,
That shall be swallowed in this Controuersie.
This is his Clayme, his Threatning, and my Message:
Vnlesse the Dolphin be in presence here;
To whom expressely I bring greeting to.

King.
For vs, we will consider of this further:
To morrow shall you beare our full intent
Back to our Brother of England.

Dolph.
For the Dolphin,
I stand here for him: what to him from England?

Exe.
Scorne and defiance, sleight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mis-become
The mightie Sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus sayes my King: and if your Fathers Highnesse
Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his Maiestie;
Hee'le call you to so hot an Answer of it,
That Caues and Wombie Vaultages of France
Shall chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock
In second Accent of his Ordinance.

Dolph.
Say: if my Father render faire returne,
It is against my will: for I desire
Nothing but Oddes with England.
To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanitie,
I did present him with the Paris-Balls.

Exe.
Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it,
Were it the Mistresse Court of mightie Europe:
And be assur'd, you'le find a diff'rence,
As we his Subiects haue in wonder found,
Betweene the promise of his greener dayes,
And these he masters now: now he weighes Time
Euen to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade
In your owne Losses, if he stay in France.

King.
To morrow shall you know our mind at full.
Flourish.

Exe.
Dispatch vs with all speed, least that our King
Come here himselfe to question our delay;
For he is footed in this Land already.

King.
You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions.
A Night is but small breathe, and little pawse,
To answer matters of this consequence.
Exeunt.
Modern text
Flourish. Enter Chorus

CHORUS
Now all the youth of England are on fire,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies.
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,
Following the mirror of all Christian kings
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
For now sits expectation in the air,
And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets,
Promised to Harry and his followers.
The French, advised by good intelligence
Of this most dreadful preparation,
Shake in their fear, and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.
O England! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart,
What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kind and natural!
But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills
With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men –
One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second,
Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third,
Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland –
Have, for the gilt of France – O guilt indeed! –
Confirmed conspiracy with fearful France;
And by their hands this grace of kings must die,
If hell and treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.
Linger your patience on, and we'll digest
Th' abuse of distance, force a play.
The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed;
The King is set from London; and the scene
Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton.
There is the playhouse now, there must you sit,
And thence to France shall we convey you safe
And bring you back, charming the narrow seas
To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,
We'll not offend one stomach with our play.
But till the King come forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.
Exit
Modern text
Act II, Scene I
Enter Corporal Nym and Lieutenant Bardolph

BARDOLPH
Well met, Corporal Nym.

NYM
Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

BARDOLPH
What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

NYM
For my part, I care not. I say little; but when time
shall serve, there shall be smiles – but that shall be as it
may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine
iron. It is a simple one, but what though? it will toast
cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword
will – and there's an end.

BARDOLPH
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends,
and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France. Let't
be so, good Corporal Nym.

NYM
Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain
of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I
may. That is my rest, that is the rendezvous of it.

BARDOLPH
It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to
Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to her.

NYM
I cannot tell; things must be as they may. Men may
sleep, and they may have their throats about them at
that time, and some say knives have edges: it must be as
it may – though patience be a tired mare, yet she will
plod – there must be conclusions – well, I cannot tell.
Enter Pistol and Hostess Quickly

BARDOLPH
Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good
Corporal, be patient here.

NYM
How now, mine host Pistol?

PISTOL
Base tike, call'st thou me host?
Now by this hand I swear I scorn the term;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.

HOSTESS
No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge
and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live
honestly by the prick of their needles but it will be
thought we keep a bawdy-house straight.
Nym draws his sword
O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! We shall
see wilful adultery and murder committed.

BARDOLPH
Good Lieutenant! Good Corporal! Offer
nothing here.

NYM
Pish!

PISTOL
Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-eared cur of Iceland!

HOSTESS
Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put
up your sword.

NYM
Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
He sheathes his sword

PISTOL
Solus,’ egregious dog? O viper vile!
The ‘ solus ’ in thy most mervailous face!
The ‘ solus ’ in thy teeth and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy!
And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth!
I do retort the ‘ solus ’ in thy bowels,
For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.

NYM
I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have
an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow
foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier,
as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would
prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may, and
that's the humour of it.

PISTOL
O braggart vile, and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and doting death is near:
Therefore exhale!
They both draw

BARDOLPH
Hear me, hear me what I say! He that strikes
the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a
soldier.
Draws

PISTOL
An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
Pistol and Nym sheathe their swords
Give me thy fist, thy forefoot to me give;
Thy spirits are most tall.

NYM
I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms,
that is the humour of it.

PISTOL
Couple a gorge!
That is the word. I thee defy again!
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spital go,
And from the powdering tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse.
I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she; and – pauca, there's enough.
Go to!
Enter the Boy

BOY
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master – and
you, Hostess: he is very sick, and would to bed. Good
Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and do the
office of a warming-pan. Faith, he's very ill.

BARDOLPH
Away, you rogue!

HOSTESS
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.
Exit with Boy

BARDOLPH
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?

PISTOL
Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on!

NYM
You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at
betting?

PISTOL
Base is the slave that pays!

NYM
That now I will have; that's the humour of it.

PISTOL
As manhood shall compound. Push home!
They draw

BARDOLPH
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust,
I'll kill him! By this sword, I will.

PISTOL
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
He sheathes his sword

BARDOLPH
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be
friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me
too. Prithee put up.

NYM
I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting?

PISTOL
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me.
Is not this just? For I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.
Nym sheathes his sword

NYM
I shall have my noble?

PISTOL
In cash most justly paid.

NYM
Well then, that's the humour of't.
Enter Hostess

HOSTESS
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.

PISTOL
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.

PISTOL
Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene II
Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmorland

BEDFORD
Fore God, his grace is bold to trust these traitors.

EXETER
They shall be apprehended by and by.

WESTMORLAND
How smooth and even they do bear themselves!
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,
Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.

BEDFORD
The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception which they dream not of.

EXETER
Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath dulled and cloyed with gracious favours –
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life to death and treachery!
Sound trumpets. Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge,
Grey, and attendants

KING HENRY
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.

KING HENRY
I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded
We carry not a heart with us from hence
That grows not in a fair consent with ours,
Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.

CAMBRIDGE
Never was monarch better feared and loved
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 steeped their galls in honey, and do serve you
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.

KING HENRY
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness,
And shall forget the office of our hand
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
According to the weight and worthiness.

SCROOP
So service shall with steeled sinews toil,
And labour shall refresh itself with hope
To do your grace incessant services.

KING HENRY
We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday
That railed against our person. We consider
it was excess of wine that set him on,
And on his more advice we pardon him.

SCROOP
That's mercy, but too much security.
Let him be punished, sovereign, lest example
Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.

KING HENRY
O, let us yet be merciful.

CAMBRIDGE
So may your highness, and yet punish too.

GREY
Sir,
You show great mercy if you give him life
After the taste of much correction.

KING HENRY
Alas, your too much love and care of me
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch!
If little faults, proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be winked at, how shall we stretch our eye
When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested,
Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care
And tender preservation of our person
Would have him punished. And now to our French causes:
Who are the late commissioners?

CAMBRIDGE
I one, my lord.
Your highness bade me ask for it today.

SCROOP
So did you me, my liege.

GREY
And I, my royal sovereign.

KING HENRY
Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours;
There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, sir knight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours.
Read them, and know I know your worthiness.
My Lord of Westmorland, and uncle Exeter,
We will aboard tonight. – Why, how now, gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you lose
So much complexion? Look ye, how they change!
Their cheeks are paper. – Why, what read you there
That have so cowarded and chased your blood
Out of appearance?

CAMBRIDGE
I do confess my fault,
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.

GREY and SCROOP
To which we all appeal.

KING HENRY
The mercy that was quick in us but late
By your own counsel is suppressed and killed.
You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy,
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms
As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
See you, my Princes, and my noble peers,
These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here –
You know how apt our love was to accord
To furnish him with all appertinents
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired,
And sworn unto the practices of France,
To kill us here in Hampton: to the which
This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But O,
What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature?
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost mightst have coined me into gold,
Wouldst thou have practised on me, for thy use?
May it be possible that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange
That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.
Treason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
Working so grossly in a natural cause
That admiration did not whoop at them.
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason and on murder:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
That wrought upon thee so preposterously
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence.
All other devils that suggest by treasons
Do botch and bungle up damnation
With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetched
From glistering semblances of piety;
But he that tempered thee bade thee stand up,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same demon that hath gulled thee thus
Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar back,
And tell the legions, ‘ I can never win
A soul so easy as that Englishman's.’
O, how hast thou with jealousy infected
The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
Why, so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned?
Why, so didst thou. Come they of noble family?
Why, so didst thou. Seem they religious?
Why, so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
Garnished and decked in modest complement,
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but in purged judgement trusting neither?
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem:
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot
To mark the full-fraught man and best endued
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Another fall of man. Their faults are open.
Arrest them to the answer of the law;
And God acquit them of their practices!

EXETER
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 discovered,
And I repent my fault more than my death,
Which I beseech your highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.

CAMBRIDGE
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
At the discovery of most dangerous treason
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself,
Prevented from a damned enterprise.
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.

KING HENRY
God quit you in His mercy! Hear your sentence.
You have conspired against our royal person,
Joined with an enemy proclaimed, and from his coffers
Received the golden earnest of our death;
Wherein you would have sold your King to slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom into desolation.
Touching our person seek we no revenge,
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
Poor miserable wretches, to your death;
The taste whereof God of His mercy give
You patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences. Bear them hence.
Exeunt Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, guarded
Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous treason lurking in our way
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now
But every rub is smoothed on our way.
Then forth, dear countrymen! Let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Cheerly to sea! The signs of war advance!
No King of England if not King of France!
Flourish. Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Pistol, Hostess, Nym, Bardolph, and Boy

HOSTESS
Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee
to Staines.

PISTOL
No, for my manly heart doth earn.
Bardolph, be blithe! Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins!
Boy, bristle thy courage up! For Falstaff, he is dead,
And we must earn therefor.

BARDOLPH
Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is,
either in heaven or in hell!

HOSTESS
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 e'en just between twelve and one, e'en
at the turning o'th' 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
o' 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 up'ard and up'ard, and
all was as cold as any stone.

NYM
They say he cried out of sack.

HOSTESS
Ay, that 'a did.

BARDOLPH
And of women.

HOSTESS
Nay, that 'a did not.

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

HOSTESS
'A could never abide carnation, 'twas a colour
he never liked.

BOY
'A said once, the devil would have him about women.

HOSTESS
'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?

BARDOLPH
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.

PISTOL
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!’
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck.
Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!

BOY
And that's but unwholesome food, they say.

PISTOL
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

BARDOLPH
Farewell, Hostess.
He kisses her

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

PISTOL
Let housewifery appear. Keep close, I thee command.

HOSTESS
Farewell! Adieu!
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene IV
Flourish. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the
Dukes of Berri and Britaine, the Constable and others

FRENCH KING
Thus comes the English with full power upon us,
And more than carefully it us concerns
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Britaine,
Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth,
And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch,
To line and new repair our towns of war
With men of courage and with means defendant;
For England his approaches makes as fierce
As waters to the sucking of a gulf.
It fits us then to be as provident
As fear may teach us, out of late examples
Left by the fatal and neglected English
Upon our fields.

DAUPHIN
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 question,
But that defences, musters, preparations,
Should be maintained, assembled, and collected,
As were a war in expectation.
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
Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance;
For, my good liege, she is so idly kinged,
Her sceptre so fantastically borne
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,
That fear attends her not.

CONSTABLE
O peace, Prince Dauphin!
You are too much mistaken in this King.
Question your grace the late ambassadors,
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.

DAUPHIN
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 filled;
Which of a weak and niggardly projection
Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth.

FRENCH KING
Think we King Harry strong;
And, Princes, look you strongly arm to meet him.
The kindred of him hath been fleshed upon us,
And he is bred out of that bloody strain
That haunted us in our familiar paths.
Witness our too much memorable shame
When Crécy battle fatally was struck,
And all our princes captived by the hand
Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales;
Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain standing,
Up in the air, crowned with the golden sun,
Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to see him,
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him.
Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER
Ambassadors from Harry King of England
Do crave admittance to your majesty.

FRENCH KING
We'll give them present audience. Go and bring them.
Exeunt Messenger and certain lords
You see this chase is hotly followed, friends.

DAUPHIN
Turn head, and stop pursuit, for coward dogs
Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign,
Take up the English short, and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting.
Enter lords, with Exeter and train

FRENCH KING
From our brother of England?

EXETER
From him; and thus he greets your majesty:
He wills you, in the name of God Almighty,
That you divest yourself, and lay apart
The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven,
By law of nature and of nations, 'longs
To him and to his heirs – namely, the crown,
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain
By custom and the ordinance of times
Unto the crown of France. That you may know
'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim
Picked from the worm-holes of long-vanished days,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked,
He sends you this most memorable line,
In every branch truly demonstrative,
Willing you overlook this pedigree;
And when you find him evenly derived
From his most famed of famous ancestors,
Edward the Third, he bids you then resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him, the native and true challenger.

FRENCH KING
Or else what follows?

EXETER
Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove,
That, if requiring fail, he will compel;
And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy
On the poor souls for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head
Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the prived maidens' groans,
For husbands, fathers and betrothed lovers
That shall be swallowed in this controversy.
This is his claim, his threatening, and my message –
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
To whom expressly I bring greeting too.

FRENCH KING
For us, we will consider of this further.
Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother of England.

DAUPHIN
For the Dauphin,
I stand here for him. What to him from England?

EXETER
Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt,
And anything that may not misbecome
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus says my King: an if your father's highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty,
He'll call you to so hot an answer of it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock
In second accent of his ordinance.

DAUPHIN
Say, if my father render fair return,
It is against my will, for I desire
Nothing but odds with England. To that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
I did present him with the Paris balls.

EXETER
He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe:
And, be assured, you'll find a difference,
As we his subjects have in wonder found,
Between the promise of his greener days
And these he masters now. Now he weighs time
Even to the utmost grain; that you shall read
In your own losses, if he stay in France.

FRENCH KING
Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full.
Flourish

EXETER
Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our King
Come here himself to question our delay,
For he is footed in this land already.

FRENCH KING
You shall be soon dispatched with fair conditions.
A night is but small breath and little pause
To answer matters of this consequence.
Exeunt
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2018 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL