John duke of Alençon; Antony duke of Brabant, [Herald presents another paper. Ascribe we all.-When, without stratagem, On one part and on the other?-Take it, God, Exe. "Tis wonderful! K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the village: And be it death proclaimed through our host, To boast of this, or take that praise from God, Which is his only. Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how many is killed? K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for us. Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot. Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum. Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. [Exeunt. ACT V. Enter Chorus. Cho. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, That I may prompt them: and of such as have, sea, Which, like a mighty whiffler* fore the king, Quite from himself, to God 1. But now behold, * An officer who walks first in processions. ti. e. To order it to be borne. Transferring all the honours of conquest from himself to God. § Similitude. Were now the general of our gracious empress * ; To welcome him? much more, and much more cause, SCENE I. 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 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 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. *The earl of Essex in the reign of Elizabeth. Enter Pistol. Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkeycock. Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.-Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Got bless you! Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web* ? 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. * Dost thou desire to have me put thee to death?' VOL. V. + Stunned. L L 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 leak 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. Pist. All hell shall stir for this. [Exit. 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 pre-deceased 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 spital § * Scoffing, sneering. For jilt. + Temper. § Hospital. |