Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them: and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse

Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the sea: behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, and wives, and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd

sea,

Which, like a mighty whiffler (1) 'fore the king,
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought, that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath:
Where that his lords desire him, to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword,
Before him through the city, he forbids it;
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent,
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
(*) Old copy omits, and.

In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
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 conqu'ring 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, [cause,
To welcome him?a much more, and much more
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 abridgment, and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, straight back again to France,

a To welcome him?] See the Preliminary Notice.

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, peggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol,-which you and yourself, and all the 'orld, know to pe no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could not preed no contention with him; but I will pe 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.

Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

FLU. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.

Enter PISTOL.

Got pless you, auncient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy 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, lousy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to cat, look you, this leek; pecause, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your disgestions, 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

PIST. Me a groat!

FLU. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leck 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 pe a woodmonger, and puy nothing of me put cudgels. Got pe 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. [Exit.

PIST. Doth fortune play the huswife with me now?

News have I, that my Nell* is dead i'the spittal Oft malady of France;

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!

K. CHA. 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 vertom 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.

BUR. My duty to you both, on equal love, Great kings of France and England! That I have labour'd

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 prevail'd,

(*) First folio, cudgeld scarres. (t) Old copy, swore. (1) First folio, Ireland.

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 it own fertility.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleach'd,-
Like prisoners wildly overgrown 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, allt 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,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow, like savages,-as soldiers will,
That nothing do but meditate on blood,-
To swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd attire,
And every thing that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our former favour,
You are assembled; and my speech entreats,
That I may know the let, why gentle Peace
Should not expel these inconveniencies,
And bless us with her former qualities.

[peace,

Haply a woman's voice may do some good,
When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.
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
ALICE.

K. HEN. Fair Katharine, and most fair! Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms, Such as will enter at a lady's car, And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? KATH. Your majesty sall 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-moi, 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 anges?

ALICE. Oui, vraiment, (sauf votre 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 de tromperies.

K. HEN. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are full of deceits?

ALICE. Oui; 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 wouldst think, I had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say-I love you then, if you urge me farther than to sayDo 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 votre 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