O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? No; to the spital go, And from the powdering tub of infamy 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. 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. 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, Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand. Nym. I shall have my noble ? Pist. In cash most justly paid. 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 shaken 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. SCENE II.-Southampton. A Council Chamber. Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND. Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors. Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. West. How smooth and even they do bear themselves! As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, Bed. The king hath note of all that they in tend, By interception which they dream not of. 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 Trumpet sounds. Enter KING HENRY, SCROOP, CAM- 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, Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do 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 loved Than is your majesty; there's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 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. And shall forget the office of our hand Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil, And labour shall refresh itself with hope, K. Hen. We judge no less. - Uncle of Exeter, Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security: Let him be punish'd, sovereign; lest example Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. Cam. Somay your highness, and yet punish too. Grey. Sir, you show great mercy if you give him life, After the taste of much correction. K. Hen. 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 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 care And tender preservation of our person, Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes; Who are the late commissioners? Cam. I one, my lord; Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. Scroop. So did you me, my liege. K. Hen. 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 Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, We will aboard to-night. - Why, how now, gen tlemen ? What see you in those papers, that you lose change! Their cheeks are paper. -Why, what read you there, |