The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 161

WESTMORELAND. But there's a saying, very old and true:

'If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin.'

For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To tear and havoc more than she can eat.

EXETER. It follows, then, the cat must stay at home; Yet that is but a crush'd necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.

While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, Th' advised head defends itself at home; For government, though high, and low, and lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music.

CANTERBURY. Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion; To which is fixed as an aim or but Obedience; for so work the honey bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom.

They have a king, and officers of sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home; Others like merchants venture trade abroad; Others like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, That many things, having full reference To one consent, may work contrariously; As many arrows loosed several ways Come to one mark, as many ways meet in one town, As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea, As many lines close in the dial's centre; So many a thousand actions, once afoot, End in one purpose, and be all well home Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.

Divide your happy England into four; Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.

If we, with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let us be worried, and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy.

KING HENRY. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.

Exeunt some attendants Now are we well resolv'd; and, by G.o.d's help And yours, the n.o.ble sinews of our power, France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, Or break it all to pieces; or there we'll sit, Ruling in large and ample empery O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them.

Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not wors.h.i.+pp'd with a waxen epitaph.

Enter AMBa.s.sADORS of France

Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear Your greeting is from him, not from the King.

AMBa.s.sADOR. May't please your Majesty to give us leave Freely to render what we have in charge; Or shall we sparingly show you far of The Dauphin's meaning and our emba.s.sy?

KING HENRY. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, Unto whose grace our pa.s.sion is as subject As are our wretches fett'red in our prisons; Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness Tell us the Dauphin's mind.

AMBa.s.sADOR. Thus then, in few.

Your Highness, lately sending into France, Did claim some certain dukedoms in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third.

In answer of which claim, the Prince our master Says that you savour too much of your youth, And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France That can be with a nimble galliard won; You cannot revel into dukedoms there.

He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.

KING HENRY. What treasure, uncle?

EXETER. Tennis-b.a.l.l.s, my liege.

KING HENRY. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us; His present and your pains we thank you for.

When we have match'd our rackets to these b.a.l.l.s, We will in France, by G.o.d's grace, play a set Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.

Tell him he hath made a match with such 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 seat of England; And therefore, living hence, did give ourself To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home.

But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness, When I do rouse 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 rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.

And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his Hath turn'd his b.a.l.l.s to gun-stones, and his soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly with them; for many a thousand widows Shall this his mock mock of their dear husbands; Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; And some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.

But this lies all within the will of G.o.d, 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 cause.

So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.

Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.

Exeunt AMBa.s.sADORS EXETER. This was a merry message.

KING HENRY. We hope to make the sender blush at it.

Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour That may give furth'rance to our expedition; For we have now no thought in us but France, Save those to G.o.d, that run before our business.

Therefore let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected, and all things thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness ad More feathers to our wings; for, G.o.d 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. Exeunt

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ACT II. PROLOGUE.

Flourish. Enter CHORUS

CHORUS. Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man; They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, Following the mirror of all Christian kings With winged heels, as English Mercuries.

For now sits Expectation in the air, And hides a sword 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 most dreadful preparation, 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, What mightst thou do that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural!

But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men- One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second, Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third, Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland, Have, for the gilt of France- O guilt indeed!- Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France; And by their hands this grace of kings must die- If h.e.l.l and treason hold their promises, Ere he take s.h.i.+p for France- and in Southampton.

Linger your patience on, and we'll digest Th' abuse of distance, force a play.

The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed, The King is set from London, and the scene Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton; There is the play-house now, there must you sit, And thence to France shall we convey you safe And bring you back, charming the narrow seas To give you gentle pa.s.s; for, if we may, We'll not offend one stomach with our play.

But, till the King come forth, and not till then, Unto Southampton do we s.h.i.+ft our scene. Exit

SCENE I.

London. Before the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap

Enter CORPORAL NYM and LIEUTENANT BARDOLPH

BARDOLPH. Well met, Corporal Nym.

NYM. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

BARDOLPH. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

NYM. For my part, I care not; I say little, but when time shall serve, there shall 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 simple one; but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end.

BARDOLPH. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France. Let't be so, good Corporal Nym.

NYM. Faith, I will live so 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 rest, that is the rendezvous of it.

BARDOLPH. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell 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 sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time; and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may; though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell.

Enter PISTOL and HOSTESS

BARDOLPH. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be patient here.

NYM. How now, mine host Pistol!

PISTOL. Base tike, call'st thou me host?

Now by this hand, I swear I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.

HOSTESS. No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the p.r.i.c.k of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. [Nym draws] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.

BARDOLPH. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here.

NYM. Pis.h.!.+

PISTOL. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou p.r.i.c.k-ear'd cur of Iceland!

HOSTESS. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword.

NYM. Will you shog off? I would have you solus.

PISTOL. 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile!

The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face; The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth!

I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels; For I can take, and Pistol's c.o.c.k is up, And flas.h.i.+ng fire will follow.

NYM. I am not Barbason: you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms; if you would walk off I would p.r.i.c.k your guts a little, in good terms, as I may, and thaes the humour of it.

PISTOL. O braggart vile and d.a.m.ned furious wight!

The grave doth gape and doting death is near; Therefore exhale. [PISTOL draws]

BARDOLPH. Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.

[Draws]

PISTOL. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.

[PISTOL and Nym sheathe their swords]