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How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,-
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cæsar in :
As, by a lower but by loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracious empress
(As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him? much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
(As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the king of England's stay at home :
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them ;) and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd,
Till Harry's back-return again to France;
There must we bring him; and myself have play'd
The interim, by remembering you—'tis past.
Then brook abridgement; and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

[Exit.

Ince.

SCENE 1.– France. An English Court of Guard.

Enter FlueLLEN and Gower. Gow. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint Davy's day is past.

Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend, captain

Gower; The rascally, scald, beggarly, lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol,--which you and yourself, and all the 'orld, know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits,-he is come to me, and brings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could not breed no contentions with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.

Enter Pistol. Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkeycock.

Flu. "Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkeycocks.-Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Got pless you! Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base

Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy lowsy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.

Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it.

Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat

your victuals ; come, there is sauce for it. [Striking him again.] You called me yesterday, mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to; if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

Gow. Enough, captain ; you have astonished him.

Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days :—Pite, I pray you; it is goot for your green wound, and your ploody coxcomb.

Pist. Must I bite?

Flu. Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out of questions too, and ambiguities.

Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; I eat, and eke I swear

Flu. Eat, I pray you: Will you have some more sauce to your leek ? there is not enough leek to swear by.

Pist. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see, I eat.

Flu. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, 'pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them; that is all.

Pist. Good.

Flu. Ay, leeks is goot :-Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.

Pist. Me a groat!

Flu. Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.

Pist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge.

Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but

cudgels. God be wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate.

[Exit. Pist. All hell shall stir for this. Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition,-begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour,--and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel : you find it otherwise; and, henceforth, let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well.

[Erit. Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I, that my Nell is dead i'the spital Of malady of France; And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs Honour is cudgell’d. Well, bawd will I turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and there I'll steal: And patches will I get unto these scars, And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars. [Exit.

SCENE II.— Troyes in Champagne. An Apartment in

the French King's Palace.

Enter, at one Door, King HENRY, BEDFORD, GLOSTER,

EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and other Lords ; at another, the French King, Queen Is Abel, the Princess KATHARINE, Lords, Ladies, &c. the Duke of BURGUNDY, and his Train.

K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met! Unto our brother France,—and to our sister, Health and fair time of day: joy and good wishes To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine; And (as a branch and member of this royalty, By whom this great assembly is contriv’d,) We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ;And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!

Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England; fairly met:-
So are you, princes English, every one.

Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks:
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love.

K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you,

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