[Canterbury.] My lord, I'll tell you,—that self bill is urg'd Which, in the eleventh year of the last king's reign, Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd,
But that the scambling and unquiet time,
Did push it out of further question.
[Ely.] But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
[Canterbury.] It must be thought on: if it pass against us,
We lose the better half of our possessions:
For all the tempo'ral lands which men devout
By testament have given to the church,
Would they strip from us.
[Ely.] But what prevention ?
[Canterbury.] The king is full of grace and fair regard,
And a true lover of the holy church,
Albeit that his youth promis'd it not.
But life had scarcely left his father's body,
When all his wildness, mortified in him,
Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an angel came,
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him.
Never was such a sudden scholar made;
Never came reformation in a flood
With such a current; never wilfulness
So soon did lose its seat, and all at once,
As in this king.
[Ely.] We are blessed in the change.
Canterbury.] Hear him but reason in divinity,
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish.
You would desire the king were made a prelate:
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,
You'd say, it had been all-in-all his study:
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear
A fearful battle render'd you in music.
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,
And a mute wonder lurketh in men's ears.
[Ely.] It seems the art and practic part of life
Hath been the mistress of this theoric:
But 'tis a wonder how his grace should glean it;
Since his addiction was to courses vain ;
His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow;
His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports;
And never noted in him any study,
Any retirement, any sequestration,
From open haunts and popularity.
[Canterbury.] The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality :
And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation
Under the veil of wildness, which, no.doubt,
Grew, like the summer grass, fastest by night.
[Ely.] It must be so; for miracles are ceas'd,
And therefore we must needs admit the means
How things are perfected. But, my good lord,
How now for mitigation of this bill
Urg'd by the commons? Doth his majesty
Incline to it or not?
[Canterbury.] He seems indifferent;
Or rather, swaying more upon our part:
For I have made the offer to his majesty,—
As touching France, to give a greater sum
Than ever, at one time, the clergy yet
Did to his predecessors part withal.
[Ely.] How did our offer seem receiv'd, my lord?
[Canterbury.] With good acceptance of his majesty;
So far at least as there was time to hear.
The French ambassador, upon that instant,
Crav'd audience: and the hour I think is come
To give him hearing: is it four o'clock?
[Canterbury.] Then go we in to know his embassy.
Upon entering the audience-chamber, in company with the prelates, we find king Henry on his throne, surrounded by princes of the blood, and other noblemen and gentlemen. The archbishop speaks on entering:
[Canterbury.] Heaven and his angels guard your sacred And make you long become it!
[K. Henry.] Sure we thank you,
My gracious lord of Canterbury and,
Ere we call in the ambassador, we would
Hear you, my lord, resolve a thing of weight
That tasks our thoughts concerning us and France,—
Why the law Salique, that they have in France,
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim.
And heaven forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading:
For heaven doth know, how many now in health
Shall drop their blood in approbation
Of what your reverence shall incite us to:
Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,
How you awake the sleeping sword of war.
[Canterbury.] Then hear me, gracious king. There is no bar
To make against your highness' claim to France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond;—
"No woman shall succeed in Salique land ;”-
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze
To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this law and female bar.
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
That the land Salique lies in Germany,
Between the floods of Sala and the Elbe:
Nor did the French possess the Salique land
Until four hundred, one-and-twenty years
After defunction of king Pharamond,
Idly supposed the founder of this law:
Besides, their own approved writers say
King Pepin, who deposed Childeric,
Did hold in right and title of the female:
So do the kings of France unto this day;
Howbeit, they hold up this Salique law
To bar your highness claiming from the female.
[K. Henry.] May I, with right and conscience, make this
[Canterbury.] The sin upon my head, dread sovereign !
For in the book of Numbers it is written,—
When the son dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter.
[K. Henry.] You have said:
Now are we well resolv'd, and, by heaven's help,
And yours, who stand around us, we will bend
France to our awe, or break it all to pieces.
Call in the messengers sent from the dauphin.
We now are well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our fair cousin dauphin; for we hear
Your greeting is from him, not from the king.
The ambassadors from France, who have just entered, on being thus addressed, answer by their chief:
[Ambassador.] May i't please your majesty to give us leave Freely to render what we have in charge?
[K. Henry.] With frank and uncurb'd plainness, let me know The dauphin's mind.
[Ambassador.] Then this it is, in few:
Your highness, lately sending into France,
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right
Of your great ancestor, Edward the Third:
In answer of which claim, the prince, our master,
Says, that you savour too much of your youth;
And bids you be advis'd, there's nought in France
That can be with a nimble galliard won :
You cannot revel into dukedoms there.
He therefore sends you, fitter for your spirit,
A tun of tennis-balls, and, in return,
Desires you'll let the dukedoms, that you claim,
Hear nothing more of you. Thus speaks the dauphin.
[K. Henry.] We're glad the dauphin is so pleasant with us.
His present, and your pains, we thank you for.
When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,
We will, in France, by heaven's grace, play a set
Shall strike the hazard to his father's crown.
We never valued this poor throne of England:
But tell the dauphin, I will keep my state,
Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,
When I do rouse me in my throne of France.
Now, get you hence in peace,—and tell the dauphin,
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weep for hundreds that do laugh.
Convey them with safe conduct:-fare you well!
[a pause.]
This was a merry message, good my lords;
And yet we hope to make the sender blush at it.
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 heaven that run before our business.
My lords, let all things for these wars, I pray,
Be soon collected, all things that may add
More feathers to our wings; for, heaven before
We'll chide this dauphin at his father's door.
The persons of the imagined scene are gone; and I, your reader, now take their place, and address you, as a chorus, in the words which Shakspeare furnishes, till the next scene opens:
[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,
Follo'wing the mirror of all Christian kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
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