K. Henry. We're glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us, His prefent and your pains we thank you for. When we have match'd our rackets to these balls, We will in France, by God's grace, play a fet Shall ftrike his father's crown into the hazard. Tell him h'ath made a match with fuch a wrangler, That all the Courts of France will be disturb'd With chaces. And we understand him well, How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them. We never valu'd this poor feat of England, And therefore living here, did give our felf To barb'rous licence; as 'tis ever common, That men are merrieft when they are from home. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my ftate, Be like a King, and fhew my fail of greatness, When I do rowze me in my throne of France. For that I have laid by my Majesty, And plodded like a man for working days; But I will rife there with fo full a glory, That I will dazle all the eyes of France, Yea, ftrike the Dauphin blind to look on us. And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his Hath turn'd his balls to gun-ftones, and his foul Shall ftand fore charged for the waftful vengeance That fhall fly with them: many thousand widows Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands j Mock mothers from their fons, mock caftles down; And fome are yet ungotten and unborn, That fhall have caufe to curfe the Dauphin's fcorn, But this lyes all within the will of God, To whom I do appeal, and in whose name Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on To venge me as I may, and to put forth My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd caufe. So get you bence in peace, and tell the Dauphin His jeft will favour but of fhallow wit, When thoufands weep more than did laugh at it. Convey them with fafe conduct. Fare ye well.

[Exeunt Ambaladers.

Exc.

Exe. This was a merry meffage.

K. Henry. We hope to make the fender blush at it:
Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy hour,
That may give furth'rance to our expedition;
For we have now no thoughts in us but France,
Save thofe to God that run before our bufinefs.
Therefore let our proportions for these wars
Be foon collected, and all thought upon
That may with reasonable fwiftnefs add
More feathers to our wings: for, God before,
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
Therefore let every man now task his thought,
That this fair action may on foot be brought.
Enter Chorus.

Cho. Now all the youth of England are on fire,
And filken dalliance in the wardrobe lyes:
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns folely in the breast of every man.
They fell the pafture now to buy the horse,
Following the mirror of all chriftian Kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
For now fits expectation in the air,
And hides a fword from hilts unto the point
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,
Promis'd to Harry and his followers.
The French, advis'd by "good intelligence
Of this moft dreadful prepiration,
Shake in their fear, and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.
O England! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart;

[Exeunt"}

What might'ft thou do, that honour would thee do,

Were all thy children kind and natural !

But fee thy fault! France hath in thee found out
A neft of hollow bofoms, which fhe fills

With treach'rous crowns; and three corrupted men,
One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the fecond
Henry Lord Scroop of Maham, and the third
Sir Thomas Gray Knight of Northumberland,
Have for the gilt of France (O guilt indeed!)

Confirm

Confirmed confpiracy with fearful France,
And by their hands this grace of Kings muft die,
If hell and treafon hold their promises,

Ere he take fhip for France. Then in Southampton
Linger your patience on, and well digeft
Th' abufe of diftance, while we force a play.
The fum is paid, the traitors are agreed,
The King is fet from London, and the scene
Is now tranfported, gentles, to Southampton :
There is the play-houfe now, there muft you fit,
And thence to France fhall we convey you safe,
And brink you back : charming the narrow feas
To give you gentle pafs; for if we may,
We'll not offend one ftomach with our play.
But when the King comes forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.

Bard.

ACT II. SCENE 1.
Enter Corporal Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolph.

Well met, Corporal Nym.

[Exit.

Nym. Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. Bard. What, are Ancient Piftol and you friends yet? Nym. For my part I care not: I fay little; but when time fhall ferve there fhall be - [Smiles.] but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron; it is a fimple one, but what though? it will toaft cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's fword will; and there's an end.

Bard. I will beftow a breakfast to make you friends, and we'll be all three fworn brothers to France: let it be fo, good Corporal Nym.

Nym. 'Faith, I will live fo long as I may, that's the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may that is my reft, that is the rendezvous of it.

Bard. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to, Nel Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.

Nym. I cannot tell, things must be as they may; men may fleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time, and fome fay knives have edges: it must be as

it

it may; though patience be a tir'd dame, yet the will plod; there must be conclufions; well, I cannot tell. Enter Piftol and Quickly.

Bard. Here comes Ancient Piftol and his wife; good Corporal, be patient here. How now, mine hoft Piftol? Pift. Bafe tyke, call it thou me hoft? now by this hand, I fwear I fcorn the term, nor fhall my Nel keep lodgers.

Quick. No, by my troth, not long: for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honeftly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. O welliday lady, if he be not drawn now! we fhall fee wilful adultery and murther committed.

Bard, Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here,

Nym. Pish!

Pift. Pifh for thee, Island dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Inland.

Quick. Good Corporal Nym, fhew thy valour and put up thy fword,

Nym. Will you fhog off? I would have you folus.
Pift. Solus, egregious dog! O viper vile;
The folus in thy moft marvellous face,

The folus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,

And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy 3

And, which is worfe, within thy hafty mouth!

I do retort the folus in thy bowels;

For I can take, and Piftol's cock is up

And flashing fire will follow.

Nym. I am not Barbafon, you cannot conjure me: I have an humour to knock you indifferently well; if you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will fcour you with my rapier as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little in good terms as I may, and that's the humour of it.

Pift. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape, and groaning death is near; Therefore exhale!

Bard. Hear me, hear me what I fay: he that ftrikes the firft ftroke, I'll run him up to the hilts as I am a foldier.

Pift,

Pift. An oath of mickle might and fury shall abate. Give me thy fift, thy fore-foot to me give:

Thy fpirits are most tall.

Nym. I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humour of it.

Pift. Coupe a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee again.
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my fpoufe to get?
No, to the fpittle go,

And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar Kite of Creffid's kind,
Del Tear-feet, the by name, and her efpouse.
I have, and I will hold the Quondam Quickly
For th' only fhe; and pauca, there's enough,

Go to.

Enter the Boy.

Bay. Mine hoft Pistol, you must come to my mafter, and you, hoftefs: he is very fick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nofe between his fheets, and do the office of a warming-pan: 'faith he's very ill.

Bard. Away, you rogue..

Quick. By my troth, he'll yield the Crow a pudding one of these days; the King has kill'd his heart. Good hufband, come home prefently. [Exit Quick. Bard. Come, fhall I make you two friends we must to France together: why the devil fhould we keep knives to cut one another's throats?

Pift. Let floods o'erfwell, and fiends for food howl on. Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?

Pit. Bafe is the flave that pays.

Nym. That now I will have; that's the humour of it. Piff. As manhood fhall compound, push home. [Drate. Bard. By this fword, he that makes the first thruft, I'll kill him; by this fword, I will.

Pift. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their courfe. Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too pr'ythee, put up.

Pift. A noble halt thou have and present pay, And liquor likewife will I give to thee,

And