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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 theethat 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 curld pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full
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 say'st thou then to my love? speak, my fair, ånd 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.
K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be shook off. Quand j'ay la possession de France, & quand vous avez le possession de moi, (let me see, what then? Saint Dennis be my speed!)—donc vostre est France, fi vous estes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom, as to speak so much more French: I shall never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.
Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, le François que vous parlez, est meilleur que l'Anglois lequel je parle.
K. Hen. No, 'faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English: Canst thou love me?
Kath. I cannot tell.
K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me: and at night when you come into your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, that you love with your heart: but, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be’st mine, Kate, (as I have a saving faith within me, tells me,
- thou shalt,) I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder: Shall not thou and I, between saint Dennis and saint George, compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk by the beard? shall we not? what say’st thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
Kath. I do not know dat.
K. Hen. No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to proinise: do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy; and, for my English moiety, take the word of a king and a bachelor.
How answer you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon tres chere et divine deesse?
Kath. Your mujesté ’ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage damoiselle dat is en France.
K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honour I dare not swear, thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father's ambition !
he was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better; And therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand, and say--Harry of England, I am thine: which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud-England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken musick; for thy voice is musick, and thy English broken: therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English, Wilt thou have me?
Kath. Dat is, as it shall please de roy mon pere.
K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.
Kath. Den it shall also content me.
K. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I call you—my queen.
Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez : ma foy, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez vostre grandeur, en
baisant la main d'une vostre indigne serviteure; excusez moy, je vous supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur.
K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
Kath. Les dames, & damoiselles, pour estre baiseés devant leur nopces, il n'est pas le coûtume de France. K. Hen. Madam my interpreter, what
she? Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France,- I cannot tell what is, baiser, en English.
K. Hen. To kiss.
K. Hen. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say?
Alice. Ouy, vrayment.
K. Hen. O, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places, stops the mouths of all findfaults; as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently, and yielding. [Kissing her.] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father.
Enter the French King and Queen, Burgundy, Bedford, Glo'ster, Exeter, Westmoreland, and cther French and English Lords.
Bur. God save your majesty! my royal cousin, teach you our princess English?