And plodded like a man for working-days;
But I will rise there with so full a glory,
That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
And tell the pleasant prince, this mock of his
Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful ven-
geance

That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows

Shall this his mock mock out of their dear hus

bands;

Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down:

And some are yet ungotten and unborn,

That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
But this lies all within the will of God,

To whom I do appeal; and in whose name,
Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on
To venge me as may, and to put forth
My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
So, get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin,
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,

When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
Convey them with safe conduct.-Fare you well.
[Exeunt Ambassadors.
Exe. This was a merry message.

K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush at it. [Descends from his throne. Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour, That may give furtherance to our expedition : For we have now no thought in us but France; Save those to God, that run before our business. Therefore, let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected; and all things thought upon, That may, with reasonable swiftness, add 46

с

More feathers to our wings; for, God before,
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
Therefore, let every man now task his thought,
That this fair action may on foot be brought.
[Exeunt.

OW 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 !)
Confirm'd 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
The 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, when the king comes forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.

SCENE I.-London. Eastcheap.

Enter NYм and BARDOLPH.

Bard. Well met, corporal Nym.

Nym. Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph. Bard. 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.

:

Bard. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France; let it 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.

Bard. 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.

Bard. Here comes ancient Pistol and his wife :-good corporal, be patient here.-How now, mine host Pistol?

Pist. Base tike, call'st thou me host?

Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.

Host. 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 and PISTOL draw.] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. Good lieutenant Bardolph

Bard. Good corporal, offer nothing here.
Nym. Pish!

Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prickeared cur of Iceland.

Host. Good corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up thy sword.

solus.

Nym. Will you shog off? I would have you
[Sheathing his sword.
Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile!
The solus in thy most marvellous 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 say, in fair terms: if you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may say; and that's the humour of it.

Pist. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight !

The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; Therefore exhale. [PISTOL and NYм draw. Bard. 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.

Pist. An oath of mickle might; and fury

shall abate.

Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot 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.

Pist. Coupe le gorge, that's the word ?—I defy thee again.