ACT V. PROLOGUE.  Enter CHORUS    CHORUS. 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, with wives, and boys,     Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea,     Which, like a mighty whiffler, 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     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 th' antique Rome,     With the plebeians swarming at their heels-     Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in;     As, by a lower but 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     To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause,     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 rememb'ring you 'tis past.     Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance,     After your thoughts, straight back again to France.     Exit     SCENE I. France.  The English camp  Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER    GOWER. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint     Davy's day is past.   FLUELLEN. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all     things. I will tell you, ass my friend, Captain Gower: the     rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol- which     you and yourself and all the world 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 bid me eat my leek; it     was in a place where I could not breed no contendon with him; but     I will be so bold 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.                            Enter PISTOL    GOWER. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.   FLUELLEN. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks.     God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God     pless you!   PISTOL. Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan,     To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?     Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.   FLUELLEN. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy 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.   PISTOL. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.   FLUELLEN. There is one goat for you.  [Strikes him]  Will you be so     good, scald knave, as eat it?   PISTOL. Base Troyan, thou shalt die.   FLUELLEN. You say very true, scald knave- when God's will is. I     will desire you to live in the meantime, and eat your victuals;     come, there is sauce for it.  [Striking him again]  You call'd 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.   GOWER. Enough, Captain, you have astonish'd him.   FLUELLEN. I say I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will     peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you, it is good for your     green wound and your ploody coxcomb.   PISTOL. Must I bite?   FLUELLEN. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question     too, and ambiguides.   PISTOL. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge- I eat and eat,     I swear-   FLUELLEN. Eat, I pray you; will you have some more sauce to your     leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.   PISTOL. Quiet thy cudgel: thou dost see I eat.   FLUELLEN. Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you     throw none away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When     you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at     'em; that is all.   PISTOL. Good.   FLUELLEN. Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal     your pate.   PISTOL. Me a groat!   FLUELLEN. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have     another leek in my pocket which you shall eat.   PISTOL. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.   FLUELLEN. If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels; you     shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God bye     you, and keep you, and heal your pate.  Exit   PISTOL. All hell shall stir for this.   GOWER. Go, go: you are a couterfeit 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   PISTOL. Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?     News have I that my Nell is dead i' th' spital     Of malady of France;     And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.     Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs     Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd I'll turn,     And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.     To England will I steal, and there I'll steal;     And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars,     And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.                Exit     SCENE II. France. The FRENCH KING'S palace  Enter at one door, KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and other LORDS; at another, the FRENCH KING, QUEEN ISABEL, the PRINCESS KATHERINE, ALICE, and other LADIES; the DUKE OF BURGUNDY, and his train    KING HENRY. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!     Unto our brother France, and to our sister,     Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes     To our most fair and princely cousin Katherine.     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!   FRENCH KING. Right joyous are we to behold your face,     Most worthy brother England; fairly met!     So are you, princes English, every one.   QUEEN ISABEL. 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 home in them,     Against the French that met them in their bent,     The fatal balls of murdering basilisks;     The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,     Have lost their quality; and that this day     Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.   KING HENRY. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.   QUEEN ISABEL. You English princes an, I do salute you.   BURGUNDY. 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     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, all 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 everything that seems unnatural.     Which to reduce into our former favout     You are assembled; and my speech entreats     That I may know the let why gentle Peace     Should not expel these inconveniences     And bless us with her former qualities.   KING HENRY. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace     Whose want gives growth to th' imperfections     Which you have cited, you must buy that peace     With full accord to all our just demands;     Whose tenours and particular effects     You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands.   BURGUNDY. The King hath heard them; to the which as yet     There is no answer made.   KING HENRY. Well then, the peace,     Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer.   FRENCH KING. I have but with a cursorary eye     O'erglanced the articles; pleaseth your Grace     To appoint some of your council presently     To sit with us once more, with better heed     To re-survey them, we will suddenly     Pass our accept and peremptory answer.   KING HENRY. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,     And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester,     Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King;     And take with you free power to ratify,     Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best     Shall see advantageable for our dignity,     Any thing in or out of our demands;     And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister,     Go with the princes or stay here with us?   QUEEN ISABEL. Our gracious brother, I will go with them;     Haply a woman's voice may do some good,     When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.   KING HENRY. Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us;     She is our capital demand, compris'd     Within the fore-rank of our articles.   QUEEN ISABEL. She hath good leave.                    Exeunt all but the KING, KATHERINE, and ALICE   KING HENRY. Fair Katherine, and most fair,     Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms     Such as will enter at a lady's ear,     And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?   KATHERINE. Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your England.   KING HENRY. O fair Katherine, 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?   KATHERINE. Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is like me.   KING HENRY. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.   KATHERINE. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les anges?   ALICE. Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.   KING HENRY. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to     affirm it.   KATHERINE. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de     tromperies.   KING HENRY. 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.   KING HENRY. The Princess is the better English-woman. 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 say 'Do 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?   KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.   KING HENRY. 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 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, Kate, I     cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my cloquence, nor I have no     cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use     till urg'd, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a     fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning,     that never looks in his glass for love of anything 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 thee that I     shall die is true- but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love     thee too. And while thou liv'st, 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 curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will     wither; a full eye will wax hollow. But a good heart, Kate, is     the sun and the 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, and fairly, I pray thee.   KATHERINE. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?   KING HENRY. 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.   KATHERINE. I cannot tell vat is dat.   KING HENRY. 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. Je quand sur le     possession de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi-     let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!- donc votre est     France et vous etes 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.   KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est     meilleur que l'Anglais lequel je parle.   KING HENRY. 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?   KATHERINE. I cannot tell.   KING HENRY. 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 beest 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 Denis 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?   KATHERINE. I do not know dat.   KING HENRY. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise; 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 Katherine du monde, mon    tres cher et divin deesse?   KATHERINE. Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de     most sage damoiselle dat is en France.   KING HENRY. 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 in 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 Katherine, will you have     me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your     heart 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 music- for thy voice is     music and thy English broken; therefore, Queen of all, Katherine,     break thy mind to me in broken English, wilt thou have me?   KATHERINE. Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere.   KING HENRY. Nay, it will please him well, Kate- it shall please     him, Kate.   KATHERINE. Den it sall also content me.   KING HENRY. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I can you my queen.   KATHERINE. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne     veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en baisant la main     d'une, notre seigneur, indigne serviteur; excusez-moi, je vous     supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur.   KING HENRY. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.   KATHERINE. Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant leur     noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France.   KING HENRY. Madame my interpreter, what says she?   ALICE. Dat it is not be de fashion pour le ladies of France- I     cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish.   KING HENRY. To kiss.   ALICE. Your Majestee entendre bettre que moi.   KING HENRY. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss     before they are married, would she say?   ALICE. Oui, vraiment.   KING HENRY. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate,     you and I cannot be confin'd 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 mouth of all find-faults- 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 Henry of England     than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father.               Enter the FRENCH POWER and the ENGLISH LORDS    BURGUNDY. God save your Majesty! My royal cousin,     Teach you our princess English?   KING HENRY. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I     love her; and that is good English.   BURGUNDY. Is she not apt?   KING HENRY. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not     smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of     flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in     her that he will appear in his true likeness.   BURGUNDY. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for     that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if     conjure up love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked     and blind. Can you blame her, then, being a maid yet ros'd over     with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of     a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a     hard condition for a maid to consign to.   KING HENRY. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and     enforces.   BURGUNDY. They are then excus'd, my lord, when they see not what     they do.   KING HENRY. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent     winking.   BURGUNDY. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach     her to know my meaning; for maids well summer'd and warm kept are     like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their     eyes; and then they will endure handling, which before would not     abide looking on.   KING HENRY. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and     so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she     must be blind too.   BURGUNDY. As love is, my lord, before it loves.   KING HENRY. It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my     blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair     French maid that stands in my way.   FRENCH KING. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities     turned into a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls     that war hath never ent'red.   KING HENRY. Shall Kate be my wife?   FRENCH KING. So please you.   KING HENRY. I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait     on her; so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show     me the way to my will.   FRENCH KING. We have consented to all terms of reason.   KING HENRY. Is't so, my lords of England?   WESTMORELAND. The king hath granted every article:     His daughter first; and then in sequel, all,     According to their firm proposed natures.   EXETER. Only he hath not yet subscribed this:       Where your Majesty demands that the King of France, having any     occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your Highness     in this form and with this addition, in French, Notre tres cher     fils Henri, Roi d'Angleterre, Heritier de France; and thus in     Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae et     Haeres Franciae.   FRENCH KING. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied     But our request shall make me let it pass.   KING HENRY. I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance,     Let that one article rank with the rest;     And thereupon give me your daughter.   FRENCH KING. Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up     Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms     Of France and England, whose very shores look pale     With envy of each other's happiness,     May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction     Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord     In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance     His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.   LORDS. Amen!   KING HENRY. Now, welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all,     That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.       [Floulish]   QUEEN ISABEL. God, the best maker of all marriages,     Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one!     As man and wife, being two, are one in love,     So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal     That never may ill office or fell jealousy,     Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,     Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms,     To make divorce of their incorporate league;     That English may as French, French Englishmen,     Receive each other. God speak this Amen!   ALL. Amen!   KING HENRY. Prepare we for our marriage; on which day,     My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,     And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.     Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me,     And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be!                                                   Sennet. Exeunt  EPILOGUE                            EPILOGUE.                            Enter CHORUS    CHORUS. Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen,     Our bending author hath pursu'd the story,     In little room confining mighty men,     Mangling by starts the full course of their glory.     Small time, but, in that small, most greatly lived     This star of England. Fortune made his sword;     By which the world's best garden he achieved,     And of it left his son imperial lord.     Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd king     Of France and England, did this king succeed;     Whose state so many had the managing     That they lost France and made his England bleed;     Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake,     In your fair minds let this acceptance take.            Exit  THE END