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Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love, Great kings of France and England! That I have labourd, With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, To bring your most imperial majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. Since then my office hath so far prevaild, That, face to face, and royal eye to eye, You have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me, If I demand, before this royal view, What rub, or what impediment, there is, Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not, in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? Alas! she hath from France too long been chas'd; And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, Corrupting in its own fertility. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached, Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair, Put forth disorder'd twigs : her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, Doth root upon; while that the coulter rusts, That should deracinate such savagery: The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems, But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
K. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Bur. The king hath heard them; to the which, as yet, There is no answer made.
K. Hen. Well then, the peace,
Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye
K. Hen. Brother, we shall.-Go, uncle Exeter,
Warwick,—and Huntington,-go with the king :
Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with them;
K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us; She is our capital demand, compris'd Within the fore-rank of our articles. Q. Isa. She hath good leave.
[Exeunt all but Henry, KATHARINE,
and her Gentlewoman.
Kath. Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot speak your England.
K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
Kath. Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is—like me.
K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate; and you are like an angel.
Kath, Que dit-il? que je suis semblable à les unyes? Alice. Ouy, vrayment, (sauf vostre grace) ainsi dit il,
K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to affirm it.
Kath. O bon Dieu ! les langues des hommes sont pleines des tromperies.
K. Hen. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are full of deceits ?
Alice. Ouy; dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits : dat is de princess.
K. Hen. The princess is the better Englishwoman. I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad, thou canst speak no better English; for, if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king, that thou would'st think, I had sold my farm to buy my
I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say—I love you : then, if you urge me further than to say-Do you in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; i’faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain : How say you, lady?
Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well.
K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me: for the one, I have neither words nor measure; and for the other, I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife. Or, if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off: but, before God, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urged,
nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst love me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee—that I shall die, is true; but--for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places : for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours,—they do always reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me: And take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
Kath. Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France ?
K. Hen. No; it is not possible, you should love the enemy of France, Kate : but, in loving me, you should love the friend of France; for I love France so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine.
Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat.