Quick. 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, an went away, an it had been any christom child ; ’a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at 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

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.

Nyın. They say, he cried out of sack.
Quick. Ay, that 'a did.
Bard. And of women.
Quick. Nay, that 'a did not.

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

Quick. 'A could never abide carnation ; 'twas a colour he never liked.

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

Quick. '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-fire?

Bard. Well, the fuel is gone, that maintained the fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.

Nym. Shall we shog off? the king will be gone from Southampton.

Pist. Come, let's away.—My love, give me thy lips.
Look to my chattels, and my moveables:
Let senses rule; the word is, Pitch and pay;
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast 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 is but unwholsome food, they say.
Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march.
Bard. Farewell, hostess.

[Kissing her. Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.

Pist. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command. Quick. Farewell; adieu.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.- France. A Room in the French King's

Palace.

Enter the French King attended; the Dauphin, the Duke

of BURGUNDY, the Constable, and Others. Fr. King. Thus come the English with full power

upon us; And more than carefully it us concerns,

To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne,
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,
And you, prince Dauphin,—with all swift despatch,
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 gulph.
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.

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 question,)
But that defences, musters, preparations,
Should be maintain'd, 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 king’d,
Her sceptre so fantastically borne
By a vain, giddy, shallow, bumorous youth,
That fear attends her not.

Con. 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 fore-spent
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 us in our familiar paths :
Witness our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy battle fatally was struck,
And all our princes captiv’d, by the hand
Of that black name, Edward black prince of Wales;
Whiles that his mountain sire,—on mountain standing,
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, -
Saw his heroical seed, and smild 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. Mess. Ambassadors from Henry King of England Do crave admittance to your majesty. Fr. King. We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them.

(Exeunt Mess. and certain Lords. You see, this chase is hotly follow'd, friends.

Dau. 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.

Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and Train. Fr. King. From our brother England ?

Exe. 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 borrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven, By law of nature, and of nations, 'long 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 aukward claim, Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days,