We need no more of your advice : the matter ,
The loss , the gain , the ordering on't , is all 
Properly ours .
And I wish , my liege ,
You had only in your silent judgment tried it ,
Without more overture .
How could that be ?
Either thou art most ignorant by age ,
Or thou wert born a fool . Camillo's flight ,
Added to their familiarity ,
Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture ,
That lack'd sight only , nought for approbation 
But only seeing , all other circumstances 
Made up to the deed , doth push on this proceeding :
Yet , for a greater confirmation ,
For in an act of this importance 'twere 
Most piteous to be wild ,I have dispatch'd in post 
To sacred Delphos , to Apollo's temple ,
Cleomenes and Dion , whom you know 
Of stuff'd sufficiency . Now , from the oracle 
They will bring all ; whose spiritual counsel had ,
Shall stop or spur me . Have I done well ?
Well done , my lord .
Though I am satisfied and need no more 
Than what I know , yet shall the oracle 
Give rest to the minds of others , such as he 
Whose ignorant credulity will not 
Come up to the truth . So have we thought it good 
From our free person she should be confin'd ,
Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence 
Be left her to perform . Come , follow us :
We are to speak in public ; for this business 
Will raise us all .
To laughter , as I take it ,
If the good truth were known .
The keeper of the prison , call to him ;
Let him have knowledge who I am .
Good lady ,
No court in Europe is too good for thee ;
What dost thou then in prison ?
Now , good sir ,
You know me , do you not ?
For a worthy lady 
And one whom much I honour .
Pray you then ,
Conduct me to the queen .
I may not , madam : to the contrary 
I have express commandment .
Here's ado ,
To lock up honesty and honour from 
The access of gentle visitors ! Is't lawful , pray you ,
To see her women ? any of them ? Emilia ?
So please you , madam ,
To put apart these your attendants , I 
Shall bring Emilia forth .
I pray now , call her .
Withdraw yourselves .
And , madam ,
I must be present at your conference .
Well , be't so , prithee .
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain ,
As passes colouring .
Dear gentlewoman ,
How fares our gracious lady ?
As well as one so great and so forlorn 
May hold together . On her frights and griefs ,
Which never tender lady hath borne greater ,
She is something before her time deliver'd .
A boy ?
A daughter ; and a goodly babe ,
Lusty and like to live : the queen receives 
Much comfort in't ; says , 'My poor prisoner ,
I am innocent as you .' 
I dare be sworn :
These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king , beshrew them !
He must be told on't , and he shall : the office 
Becomes a woman best ; I'll take't upon me .
If I prove honey-mouth'd , let my tongue blister ,
And never to my red-look'd anger be 
The trumpet any more . Pray you , Emilia ,
Commend my best obedience to the queen :
If she dares trust me with her little babe ,
I'll show it to the king and undertake to be 
Her advocate to the loud'st . We do not know 
How he may soften at the sight of the child :
The silence often of pure innocence 
Persuades when speaking fails .
Most worthy madam ,
Your honour and your goodness is so evident 
That your free undertaking cannot miss 
A thriving issue : there is no lady living 
So meet for this great errand . Please your ladyship 
To visit the next room , I'll presently 
Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer ,
Who but to-day hammer'd of this design ,
But durst not tempt a minister of honour ,
Lest she should be denied .
Tell her , Emilia ,
I'll use that tongue I have : if wit flow from't 
As boldness from my bosom , let it not be doubted 
I shall do good .
Now be you blest for it !
I'll to the queen . Please you , come something nearer .
Madam , if't please the queen to send the babe ,
I know not what I shall incur to pass it ,
Having no warrant .
You need not fear it , sir :
The child was prisoner to the womb , and is 
By law and process of great nature thence 
Freed and enfranchis'd ; not a party to 
The anger of the king , nor guilty of ,
If any be , the trespass of the queen .
I do believe it .
Do not you fear : upon mine honour , I 
Will stand betwixt you and danger .
Nor night , nor day , no rest ; it is but weakness 
To bear the matter thus ; mere weakness . If 
The cause were not in being ,part o' the cause ,
She the adultress ; for the harlot king 
Is quite beyond mine arm , out of the blank 
And level of my brain , plot-proof ; but she 
I can hook to me : say , that she were gone ,
Given to the fire , a moiety of my rest 
Might come to me again . Who's there ?
My lord ?
How does the boy ?
He took good rest to-night ;
'Tis hop'd his sickness is discharg'd .
To see his nobleness !
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother ,
He straight declin'd , droop'd , took it deeply ,
Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself ,
Threw off his spirit , his appetite , his sleep ,
And downright languish'd . Leave me solely : go ,
See how he fares .
Fie , fie ! no thought of him ;
The very thought of my revenges that way 
Recoil upon me : in himself too mighty ,
And in his parties , his alliance ; let him be 
Until a time may serve : for present vengeance ,
Take it on her . Camillo and Polixenes 
Laugh at me ; make their pastime at my sorrow :
They should not laugh , if I could reach them , nor 
Shall she within my power .
You must not enter .
Nay , rather , good my lords , be second to me :
Fear you his tyrannous passion more , alas ,
Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul ,
More free than he is jealous .
That's enough .
Madam , he hath not slept to-night ; commanded 
None should come at him .
Not so hot , good sir ;
I come to bring him sleep . 'Tis such as you ,
That creep like shadows by him and do sigh 
At each his needless heavings , such as you 
Nourish the cause of his awaking : I 
Do come with words as med'cinal as true ,
Honest as either , to purge him of that humour 
That presses him from sleep .
What noise there , ho ?
No noise , my lord ; but needful conference 
About some gossips for your highness .
Away with that audacious lady ! Antigonus ,
I charg'd thee that she should not come about me :
I knew she would .
I told her so , my lord ,
On your displeasure's peril , and on mine ,
She should not visit you .
What ! canst not rule her ?
From all dishonesty he can : in this ,
Unless he take the course that you have done ,
Commit me for committing honour , trust it ,
He shall not rule me .
La you now ! you hear ;
When she will take the rein I let her run ;
But she'll not stumble .
Good my liege , I come ,
And I beseech you , hear me , who professes 
Myself your loyal servant , your physician ,
Your most obedient counsellor , yet that dares 
Less appear so in comforting your evils 
Than such as most seem yours : I say , I come 
From your good queen .
Good queen !
Good queen , my lord , good queen ; I say , good queen ;
And would by combat make her good , so were I 
A man , the worst about you .
Force her hence .
Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes 
First hand me : on mine own accord I'll off ;
But first I'll do my errand . The good queen ,
For she is good , hath brought you forth a daughter :
Here 'tis ; commends it to your blessing .
A mankind witch ! Hence with her , out o' door :
A most intelligencing bawd !
Not so ;
I am as ignorant in that as you 
In so entitling me , and no less honest 
Than you are mad ; which is enough , I'll warrant ,
As this world goes , to pass for honest .
Traitors !
Will you not push her out ? Give her the bastard .
Thou dotard ! thou art woman-tir'd , unroosted 
By thy dame Partlet here . Take up the bastard ;
Take't up , I say ; give't to thy crone .
For ever 
Unvenerable be thy hands , if thou 
Tak'st up the princess by that forced baseness 
Which he has put upon't !
He dreads his wife .
So I would you did ; then , 'twere past all doubt ,
You'd call your children yours .
A nest of traitors !
I am none , by this good light .
Nor I ; nor any 
But one that's here , and that's himself ; for he 
The sacred honour of himself , his queen's ,
His hopeful son's , his babe's , betrays to slander ,
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's ; and will not ,
For , as the case now stands , it is a curse 
He cannot be compell'd to't ,once remove 
The root of his opinion , which is rotten 
As ever oak or stone was sound .
A callat 
Of boundless tongue , who late hath beat her husband 
And now baits me ! This brat is none of mine ;
It is the issue of Polixenes :
Hence with it ; and , together with the dam 
Commit them to the fire !
It is yours ;
And , might we lay the old proverb to your charge ,
'So like you , 'tis the worse .' Behold , my lords ,
Although the print be little , the whole matter 
And copy of the father ; eye , nose , lip ,
The trick of's frown , his forehead , nay , the valley ,
The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek , his smiles ,
The very mould and frame of hand , nail , finger :
And thou , good goddess Nature , which hast made it 
So like to him that got it , if thou hast 
The ordering of the mind too , 'mongst all colours 
No yellow in't ; lest she suspect , as he does ,
Her children not her husband's .
A gross hag !
And , lozel , thou art worthy to be hang'd ,
That wilt not stay her tongue .
Hang all the husbands 
That cannot do that feat , you'll leave yourself 
Hardly one subject .
Once more , take her hence .
A most unworthy and unnatural lord 
Can do no more .
I'll ha' thee burn'd .
I care not :
It is a heretic that makes the fire ,
Not she which burns in't . I'll not call you tyrant ;
But this most cruel usage of your queen ,
Not able to produce more accusation 
Than your own weak-hing'd fancy ,something savours 
Of tyranny , and will ignoble make you ,
Yea , scandalous to the world .
On your allegiance ,
Out of the chamber with her ! Were I a tyrant ,
Where were her life ? she durst not call me so 
If she did know me one . Away with her !
I pray you do not push me ; I'll be gone .
Look to your babe , my lord ; 'tis yours : Jove send her 
A better guiding spirit ! What need these hands ?
You , that are thus so tender o'er his follies ,
Will never do him good , not one of you .
So , so : farewell ; we are gone .
Thou , traitor , hast set on thy wife to this .
My child ! away with't !even thou , that hast 
A heart so tender o'er it , take it hence 
And see it instantly consum'd with fire :
Even thou and none but thou . Take it up straight :
Within this hour bring me word 'tis done ,
And by good testimony ,or I'll seize thy life ,
With what thou else call'st thine . If thou refuse 
And wilt encounter with my wrath , say so ;
The bastard brains with these my proper hands 
Shall I dash out . Go , take it to the fire ;
For thou sett'st on thy wife .
I did not , sir :
These lords , my noble fellows , if they please ,
Can clear me in't .
We can , my royal liege ,
He is not guilty of her coming hither .
You are liars all .
Beseech your highness , give us better credit :
We have always truly serv'd you , and beseech you 
So to esteem of us ; and on our knees we beg ,
As recompense of our dear services 
Past and to come , that you do change this purpose ,
Which being so horrible , so bloody , must 
Lead on to some foul issue . We all kneel .
I am a feather for each wind that blows .
Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel 
And call me father ? Better burn it now 
Than curse it then . But , be it ; let it live :
It shall not neither .
You , sir , come you hither ;
You that have been so tenderly officious 
With Lady Margery , your midwife there ,
To save this bastard's life ,for 'tis a bastard ,
So sure as thy beard's grey ,what will you adventure 
To save this brat's life ?
Any thing , my lord ,
That my ability may undergo ,
And nobleness impose : at least , thus much :
I'll pawn the little blood which I have left ,
To save the innocent : any thing possible .
It shall be possible . Swear by this sword 
Thou wilt perform my bidding .
I will , my lord .
Mark and perform it ,seest thou !for the fail 
Of any point in't shall not only be 
Death to thyself , but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife ,
Whom for this time we pardon . We enjoin thee ,
As thou art liegeman to us , that thou carry 
This female bastard hence ; and that thou bear it 
To some remote and desart place quite out 
Of our dominions ; and that there thou leave it ,
Without more mercy , to its own protection ,
And favour of the climate . As by strange fortune 
It came to us , I do in justice charge thee ,
On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture ,
That thou commend it strangely to some place ,
Where chance may nurse or end it . Take it up .
I swear to do this , though a present death 
Had been more merciful . Come on , poor babe :
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens 
To be thy nurses ! Wolves and bears , they say ,
Casting their savageness aside have done 
Like offices of pity . Sir , be prosperous 
In more than this deed doth require ! And blessing 
Against this cruelty fight on thy side ,
Poor thing , condemn'd to loss !
No ; I'll not rear 
Another's issue .
Please your highness , posts 
From those you sent to the oracle are come 
An hour since : Cleomenes and Dion ,
Being well arriv'd from Delphos , are both landed ,
Hasting to the court .
So please you , sir , their speed 
Hath been beyond account .
Twenty-three days 
They have been absent : 'tis good speed ; foretells 
The great Apollo suddenly will have 
The truth of this appear . Prepare you , lords ;
Summon a session , that we may arraign 
Our most disloyal lady ; for , as she hath 
Been publicly accus'd , so shall she have 
A just and open trial . While she lives 
My heart will be a burden to me . Leave me ,
And think upon my bidding .
The climate's delicate , the air most sweet ,
Fertile the isle , the temple much surpassing 
The common praise it bears .
I shall report ,
For most it caught me , the celestial habits ,
Methinks I so should term them ,and the reverence 
Of the grave wearers . O , the sacrifice !
How ceremonious , solemn , and unearthly 
It was i' the offering !
But of all , the burst 
And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle ,
Kin to Jove's thunder , so surpris'd my sense ,
That I was nothing .
If the event o' the journey 
Prove as successful to the queen ,O , be't so !  
As it hath been to us rare , pleasant , speedy ,
The time is worth the use on't .
Great Apollo 
Turn all to the best ! These proclamations ,
So forcing faults upon Hermione ,
I little like .
The violent carriage of it 
Will clear or end the business : when the oracle ,
Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up ,
Shall the contents discover , something rare 
Even then will rush to knowledge .Go :fresh horses !
And gracious be the issue !
This sessions , to our great grief we pronounce ,
Even pushes 'gainst our heart : the party tried 
The daughter of a king , our wife , and one 
Of us too much belov'd . Let us be clear'd 
Of being tyrannous , since we so openly 
Proceed in justice , which shall have due course ,
Even to the guilt or the purgation .
Produce the prisoner .
It is his highness' pleasure that the queen 
Appear in person here in court . Silence !
Read the indictment .
Hermione , queen to the worthy Leontes , King of Sicilia , thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason , in committing adultery with Polixenes , King of Bohemia , and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king , thy royal husband : the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open , thou , Hermione , contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject , didst counsel and aid them , for their better safety , to fly away by night .
Since what I am to say must be but that 
Which contradicts my accusation , and 
The testimony on my part no other 
But what comes from myself , it shall scarce boot me 
To say 'Not guilty :' mine integrity 
Being counted falsehood , shall , as I express it ,
Be so receiv'd . But thus : if powers divine 
Behold our human actions , as they do ,
I doubt not then but innocence shall make 
False accusation blush , and tyranny 
Tremble at patience . You , my lord , best know ,
Who least will seem to do so ,my past life 
Hath been as continent , as chaste , as true ,
As I am now unhappy ; which is more 
Than history can pattern , though devis'd 
And play'd to take spectators . For behold me ,
A fellow of the royal bed , which owe 
A moiety of the throne , a great king's daughter ,
The mother to a hopeful prince , here standing 
To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore 
Who please to come and hear . For life , I prize it .
As I weigh grief , which I would spare : for honour ,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine ,
And only that I stand for . I appeal 
To your own conscience , sir , before Polixenes 
Came to your court , how I was in your grace ,
How merited to be so ; since he came ,
With what encounter so uncurrent I 
Have strain'd , to appear thus : if one jot beyond 
The bound of honour , or in act or will 
That way inclining , harden'd be the hearts 
Of all that hear me , and my near'st of kin 
Cry fie upon my grave !
I ne'er heard yet 
That any of these bolder vices wanted 
Less impudence to gainsay what they did 
Than to perform it first .
That's true enough ;
Though 'tis a saying , sir , not due to me .
You will not own it .
More than mistress of 
Which comes to me in name of fault , I must not 
At all acknowledge . For Polixenes ,
With whom I am accus'd ,I do confess 
I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd ,
With such a kind of love as might become 
A lady like me ; with a love even such ,
So and no other , as yourself commanded :
Which not to have done I think had been in me 
Both disobedience and ingratitude 
To you and toward your friend , whose love had spoke ,
Even since it could speak , from an infant , freely 
That it was yours . Now , for conspiracy ,
I know not how it tastes , though it be dish'd 
For me to try how : all I know of it 
Is that Camillo was an honest man ;
And why he left your court , the gods themselves ,
Wotting no more than I , are ignorant .
You knew of his departure , as you know 
What you have underta'en to do in's absence .
You speak a language that I understand not :
My life stands in the level of your dreams ,
Which I'll lay down .
Your actions are my dreams :
You had a bastard by Polixenes ,
And I but dream'd it . As you were past all shame ,
Those of your fact are so ,so past all truth :
Which to deny concerns more than avails ; for as 
Thy brat hath been cast out , like to itself ,
No father owning it ,which is , indeed ,
More criminal in thee than it ,so thou 
Shalt feel our justice , in whose easiest passage 
Look for no less than death .
Sir , spare your threats :
The bug which you would fright me with I seek .
To me can life be no commodity :
The crown and comfort of my life , your favour ,
I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone ,
But know not how it went . My second joy ,
And first-fruits of my body , from his presence 
I am barr'd , like one infectious . My third comfort ,
Starr'd most unluckily , is from my breast ,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth ,
Hal'd out to murder : myself on every post 
Proclaim'd a strumpet : with immodest hatred 
The child-bed privilege denied , which 'longs 
To women of all fashion : lastly , hurried 
Here to this place , i'the open air , before 
I have got strength of limit . Now , my liege ,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive ,
That I should fear to die ? Therefore proceed .
But yet hear this ; mistake me not ; no life ,
I prize it not a straw :but for mine honour ,
Which I would free , if I shall be condemn'd 
Upon surmises , all proofs sleeping else 
But what your jealousies awake , I tell you 
'Tis rigour and not law . Your honours all ,
I do refer me to the oracle :
Apollo be my judge !
This your request 
Is altogether just : therefore , bring forth ,
And in Apollo's name , his oracle .
The Emperor of Russia was my father :
O ! that he were alive , and here beholding 
His daughter's trial ; that he did but see 
The flatness of my misery ; yet with eyes 
Of pity , not revenge !
You here shall swear upon this sword of justice ,
That you , Cleomenes and Dion , have 
Been both at Delphos , and from thence have brought 
This seal'd-up oracle , by the hand deliver'd 
Of great Apollo's priest , and that since then 
You have not dar'd to break the holy seal ,
Nor read the secrets in't .
All this we swear .
All this we swear .
Break up the seals , and read .
Hermione is chaste ; Polixenes blameless ; Camillo a true subject ; Leontes a jealous tyrant ; his innocent babe truly begotten ; and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found !
Now blessed be the great Apollo !
Praised !
Hast thou read truth ?
Ay , my lord ; even so 
As it is here set down .
There is no truth at all i' the oracle :
The sessions shall proceed : this is mere falsehood .
My lord the king , the king !
What is the business ?
O sir ! I shall be hated to report it :
The prince your son , with mere conceit and fear 
Of the queen's speed , is gone .
How ! gone !
Is dead .
Apollo's angry ; and the heavens themselves 
Do strike at my injustice .
How now , there !
This news is mortal to the queen : look down ,
And see what death is doing .
Take her hence :
Her heart is but o'ercharg'd ; she will recover :
I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion :
Beseech you , tenderly apply to her 
Some remedies for life .
Apollo , pardon 
My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle !
I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ,
New woo my queen , recall the good Camillo ,
Whom I proclaim a man of truth , of mercy ;
For , being transported by my jealousies 
To bloody thoughts and to revenge , I chose 
Camillo for the minister to poison 
My friend Polixenes : which had been done ,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied 
My swift command ; though I with death and with 
Reward did threaten and encourage him ,
Not doing it , and being done : he , most humane 
And fill'd with honour , to my kingly guest 
Unclasp'd my practice , quit his fortunes here ,
Which you knew great , and to the certain hazard 
Of all incertainties himself commended ,
No richer than his honour : how he glisters 
Thorough my rust ! and how his piety 
Does my deeds make the blacker !
Woe the while !
O , cut my lace , lest my heart , cracking it ,
Break too !
What fit is this , good lady ?
What studied torments , tyrant , hast for me ?
What wheels ? racks ? fires ? What flaying ? or what boiling 
In leads , or oils ? what old or newer torture 
Must I receive , whose every word deserves 
To taste of thy most worst ? Thy tyranny ,
Together working with thy jealousies ,
Fancies too weak for boys , too green and idle 
For girls of nine , O ! think what they have done ,
And then run mad indeed , stark mad ; for all 
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it .
That thou betray'dst Polixenes , 'twas nothing ;
That did but show thee of a fool , inconstant 
And damnable ingrateful ; nor was't much 
Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour 
To have him kill a king ; poor trespasses ,
More monstrous standing by : whereof I reckon 
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter 
To be or none or little ; though a devil 
Would have shed water out of fire ere done't :
Nor is't directly laid to thee , the death 
Of the young prince , whose honourable thoughts ,
Thoughts high for one so tender ,cleft the heart 
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire 
Blemish'd his gracious dam : this is not , no ,
Laid to thy answer : but the last ,O lords !
When I have said , cry , 'woe !' the queen , the queen ,
The sweetest , dearest creature's dead , and vengeance for't 
Not dropp'd down yet .
The higher powers forbid !
I say she's dead ; I'll swear't : if word nor oath 
Prevail not , go and see : if you can bring 
Tincture or lustre in her lip , her eye ,
Heat outwardly , or breath within , I'll serve you 
As I would do the gods . But , O thou tyrant !
Do not repent these things , for they are heavier 
Than all thy woes can stir ; therefore betake thee 
To nothing but despair . A thousand knees 
Ten thousand years together , naked , fasting ,
Upon a barren mountain , and still winter 
In storm perpetual , could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert .
Go on , go on ;
Thou canst not speak too much : I have deserv'd 
All tongues to talk their bitterest .
Say no more :
Howe'er the business goes , you have made fault 
I' the boldness of your speech .
I am sorry for't :
All faults I make , when I shall come to know them ,
I do repent . Alas ! I have show'd too much 
The rashness of a woman : he is touch'd 
To the noble heart . What's gone and what's past help 
Should be past grief : do not receive affliction 
At my petition ; I beseech you , rather 
Let me be punish'd , that have minded you 
Of what you should forget . Now , good my liege ,
Sir , royal sir , forgive a foolish woman :
The love I bore your queen ,lo , fool again !
I'll speak of her no more , nor of your children ;
I'll not remember you of my own lord ,
Who is lost too : take your patience to you ,
And I'll say nothing .
Thou didst speak but well ,
When most the truth , which I receive much better 
Than to be pitied of thee . Prithee , bring me 
To the dead bodies of my queen and son :
One grave shall be for both : upon them shall 
The causes of their death appear , unto 
Our shame perpetual . Once a day I'll visit 
The chapel where they lie , and tears shed there 
Shall be my recreation : so long as nature 
Will bear up with this exercise , so long 
I daily vow to use it . Come and lead me 
Unto these sorrows .
Thou art perfect , then , our ship hath touch'd upon 
The desarts of Bohemia ?
Ay , my lord ; and fear 
We have landed in ill time : the skies look grimly 
And threaten present blusters . In my conscience ,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry ,
And frown upon's .
Their sacred wills be done ! Go , get aboard ;
Look to thy bark : I'll not be long before 
I call upon thee .
Make your best haste , and go not 
Too far i' the land : 'tis like to be loud weather ;
Besides , this place is famous for the creatures 
Of prey that keep upon't .
Go thou away :
I'll follow instantly .
I am glad at heart 
To be so rid of the business .
Come , poor babe :
I have heard , but not believ'd , the spirits o' the dead 
May walk again : if such thing be , thy mother 
Appear'd to me last night , for ne'er was dream 
So like a waking . To me comes a creature ,
Sometimes her head on one side , some another ;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow ,
So fill'd , and so becoming : in pure white robes ,
Like very sanctity , she did approach 
My cabin where I lay ; thrice bow'd before me ,
And , gasping to begin some speech , her eyes 
Became two spouts : the fury spent , anon 
Did this break from her : 'Good Antigonus ,
Since fate , against thy better disposition ,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out 
Of my poor babe , according to thine oath ,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia ,
There weep and leave it crying ; and , for the babe 
Is counted lost for ever , Perdita ,
I prithee , call't : for this ungentle business ,
Put on thee by my lord , thou ne'er shalt see 
Thy wife Paulina more :' and so , with shrieks ,
She melted into air . Affrighted much ,
I did in time collect myself , and thought 
This was so and no slumber . Dreams are toys ;
Yet for this once , yea , superstitiously ,
I will be squar'd by this . I do believe 
Hermione hath suffer'd death ; and that 
Apollo would , this being indeed the issue 
Of King Polixenes , it should here be laid ,
Either for life or death , upon the earth 
Of its right father . Blossom , speed thee well !
There lie ; and there thy character : there these ;
Which may , if fortune please , both breed thee , pretty ,
And still rest thine . The storm begins : poor wretch !
That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd 
To loss and what may follow . Weep I cannot ,
But my heart bleeds , and most accurs'd am I 
To be by oath enjoin'd to this . Farewell !
The day frowns more and more : thou art like to have 
A lullaby too rough . I never saw 
The heavens so dim by day . A savage clamour !
Well may I get aboard ! This is the chase :
I am gone for ever .
I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty , or that youth would sleep out the rest ; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child , wronging the ancientry , stealing , fighting . Hark you now ! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather ? They have scared away two of my best sheep ; which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master : if anywhere I have them , 'tis by the sea-side , browsing of ivy . Good luck , an't be thy will ! what have we here ?
Mercy on's , a barne ; a very pretty barne ! A boy or a child , I wonder ? A pretty one ; a very pretty one ; sure some scape : though I am not bookish , yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape . This has been some stair-work , some trunk-work , some behind-door-work ; they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here . I'll take it up for pity ; yet I'll tarry till my son come ; he hollaed but even now . Whoa , ho , hoa !
Hilloa , loa !
What ! art so near ? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten , come hither . What ailest thou , man ?
I have seen two such sights by sea and by land ! but I am not to say it is a see , for it is now the sky : betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point .
Why , boy , how is it ?
I would you did but see how it chafes , how it rages , how it takes up the shore ! but that's not to the point . O ! the most piteous cry of the poor souls ; sometimes to see 'em , and not to see 'em ; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast , and anon swallowed with yest and froth , as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead . And then for the land-service : to see how the bear tore out his shoulderbone ; how he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus , a nobleman . But to make an end of the ship : to see how the sea flap-dragoned it : but , first , how the poor souls roared , and the sea mocked them ; and how the poor gentleman roared , and the bear mocked him , both roaring louder than the sea or weather .
Name of mercy ! when was this , boy ?
Now , now ; I have not winked since I saw these sights : the men are not yet cold under water , nor the bear half dined on the gentleman : he's at it now .
Would I had been by , to have helped the old man !
I would you had been by the ship's side , to have helped her : there your charity would have lacked footing .
Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! but look thee here , boy . Now bless thyself : thou mettest with things dying , I with things new born . Here's a sight for thee ; look thee , a bearing-cloth for a squire's child ! Look thee here : take up , take up , boy ; open't . So , let's see : it was told me , I should be rich by the fairies : this is some changeling .Open't . What's within , boy ?
You're a made old man : if the sins of your youth are forgiven you , you're well to live . Gold ! all gold !
This is fairy gold , boy , and 'twill prove so : up with't , keep it close : home , home , the next way . We are lucky , boy ; and to be so still , requires nothing but secrecy . Let my sheep go . Come , good boy , the next way home .
Go you the next way with your findings . I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman , and how much he hath eaten : they are never curst but when they are hungry . If there be any of him left , I'll bury it .
That's a good deed . If thou mayst discern by that which is left of him what he is , fetch me to the sight of him .
Marry , will I ; and you shall help to put him i' the ground .
'Tis a lucky day , boy , and we'll do good deeds on't .
I , that please some , try all , both joy and terror 
Of good and bad , that make and unfold error ,
Now take upon me , in the name of Time ,
To use my wings . Impute it not a crime 
To me or my swift passage , that I slide 
O'er sixteen years , and leave the growth untried 
Of that wide gap ; since it is in my power 
To o'erthrow law , and in one self-born hour 
To plant and o'erwhelm custom . Let me pass 
The same I am , ere ancient'st order was 
Or what is now receiv'd : I witness to 
The times that brought them in ; so shall I do 
To the freshest things now reigning , and make stale 
The glistering of this present , as my tale 
Now seems to it . Your patience this allowing ,
I turn my glass and give my scene such growing 
As you had slept between . Leontes leaving ,
The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving ,
That he shuts up himself ,imagine me ,
Gentle spectators , that I now may be 
In fair Bohemia ; and remember well ,
I mention'd a son o' the king's , which Florizel 
I now name to you ; and with speed so pace 
To speak of Perdita , now grown in grace 
Equal with wondering : what of her ensues 
I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news 
Be known when 'tis brought forth . A shepherd's daughter ,
And what to her adheres , which follows after ,
Is th' argument of Time . Of this allow ,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now :
If never , yet that Time himself doth say 
He wishes earnestly you never may .
I pray thee , good Camillo , be no more importunate : 'tis a sickness denying thee anything ; a death to grant this .
It is fifteen years since I saw my country : though I have for the most part been aired abroad , I desire to lay my bones there . Besides , the penitent king , my master , hath sent for me ; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay , or I o'erween to think so , which is another spur to my departure .
As thou lovest me , Camillo , wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now . The need I have of thee thine own goodness hath made : better not to have had thee than thus to want thee . Thou , having made me businesses which none without thee can sufficiently manage , must either stay to execute them thyself or take away with thee the very services thou hast done ; which if I have not enough considered ,as too much I cannot ,to be more thankful to thee shall be my study , and my profit therein , the heaping friendships . Of that fatal country , Sicilia , prithee speak no more , whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent , as thou callest him , and reconciled king , my brother ; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented . Say to me , when sawest thou the Prince Florizel , my son ? Kings are no less unhappy , their issue not being gracious , than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues .
Sir , it is three days since I saw the prince . What his happier affairs may be , are to me unknown ; but I have missingly noted he is of late much retired from court , and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared .
I have considered so much , Camillo , and with some care ; so far , that I have eyes under my service which look upon his removedness ; from whom I have this intelligence , that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd ; a man , they say , that from very nothing , and beyond the imagination of his neighbours , is grown into an unspeakable estate .
I have heard , sir , of such a man , who hath a daughter of most rare note : the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage .
That's likewise part of my intelligence ; but I fear , the angle that plucks our son thither . Thou shalt accompany us to the place ; where we will , not appearing what we are , have some question with the shepherd ; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither . Prithee , be my present partner in this business , and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia .
I willingly obey your command .
My best Camillo !We must disguise ourselves .
When daffodils begin to peer ,
With heigh ! the doxy , over the dale ,
Why , then comes in the sweet o' the year ;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale .
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge ,
With heigh ! the sweet birds , O , how they sing !
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king 
The lark , that tirra-lirra chants ,
With , heigh ! with , heigh ! the thrush and the jay ,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts ,
While we lie tumbling in the hay .
I have served Prince Florizel , and in my time wore three-pile ; but now I am out of service :
But shall I go mourn for that , my dear ?
The pale moon shines by night ;
And when I wander here and there ,
I then do most go right .
If tinkers may have leave to live ,
And bear the sow-skin bowget ,
Then my account I well may give ,
And in the stocks avouch it 
My traffic is sheets ; when the kite builds , look to lesser linen . My father named me Autolycus ; who being , as I am , littered under Mercury , was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles . With die and drab I purchased this caparison , and my revenue is the silly cheat . Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway : beating and hanging are terrors to me : for the life to come , I sleep out the thought of it . A prize ! a prize !
Let me see : Every 'leven wether tods ; every tod yields pound and odd shilling : fifteen hundred shorn , what comes the wool to ?
If the springe hold , the cock's mine .
I cannot do't without compters . Let me see ; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast ? 'Three pound of sugar ; five pound of currants ; rice ,' what will this sister of mine do with rice ? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast , and she lays it on . She hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the shearers , three-man song-men all , and very good ones ; but they are most of them means and bases : but one puritan amongst them , and he sings psalms to hornpipes . I must have saffron , to colour the warden pies ; mace , dates ,none ; that's out of my note :nutmegs seven ; a race or two of ginger ,but that I may beg ;four pound of prunes , and as many of raisins o' the sun .
O ! that ever I was born !
I' the name of me !
O ! help me , help me ! pluck but off these rags , and then death , death !
Alack , poor soul ! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee , rather than have these off .
O , sir ! the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received , which are mighty ones and millions .
Alas , poor man ! a million of beating may come to a great matter .
I am robbed , sir , and beaten ; my money and apparel ta'en from me , and these detestable things put upon me .
What , by a horseman or a footman ?
A footman , sweet sir , a footman .
Indeed , he should be a footman , by the garments he hath left with thee : if this be a horseman's coat , it hath seen very hot service . Lend me thy hand , I'll help thee : come , lend me thy hand .
O ! good sir , tenderly , O !
Alas , poor soul !
O ! good sir ; softly , good sir ! I fear , sir , my shoulder-blade is out .
How now ! canst stand ?
Softly , dear sir ;
good sir , softly . You ha' done me a charitable office .
Dost lack any money ? I have a little money for thee .
No , good sweet sir : no , I beseech you , sir . I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile hence , unto whom I was going : I shall there have money , or anything I want : offer me no money , I pray you ! that kills my heart .
What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ?
A fellow , sir , that I have known to go about with trol-my-dames : I knew him once a servant of the prince . I cannot tell , good sir , for which of his virtues it was , but he was certainly whipped out of the court .
His vices , you would say : there's no virtue whipped out of the court : they cherish it , to make it stay there , and yet it will no more but abide .
Vices , I would say , sir . I know this man well : he hath been since an ape-bearer ; then a process-server , a bailiff ; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son , and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies ; and having flown over many knavish professions , he settled only in rogue : some call him Autolycus .
Out upon him ! Prig , for my life , prig : he haunts wakes , fairs , and bear-baitings .
Very true , sir ; he , sir , he : that's the rogue that put me into this apparel .
Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia : if you had but looked big and spit at him , he'd have run .
I must confess to you , sir , I am no fighter : I am false of heart that way , and that he knew , I warrant him .
How do you now ?
Sweet sir , much better than I was : I can stand and walk . I will even take my leave of you , and pace softly towards my kinsman's .
Shall I bring thee on the way ?
No , good-faced sir ; no , sweet sir .
Then fare thee well : I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing .
Prosper you , sweet sir !
Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice . I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too . If I make not this cheat bring out another , and the shearers prove sheep , let me be unrolled , and my name put in the book of virtue .
Jog on , jog on , the footpath way ,
And merrily hent the stile-a :
A merry heart goes all the day ,
Your sad tares in a mile-a .
These your unusual weeds to each part of you 
Do give a life : no shepherdess , but Flora 
Peering in April's front . This your sheep-shearing 
Is as a meeting of the petty gods ,
And you the queen on't .
Sir , my gracious lord ,
To chide at your extremes it not becomes me :
O ! pardon , that I name them . Your high self ,
The gracious mark o' the land , you have obscur'd 
With a swain's wearing , and me , poor lowly maid ,
Most goddess-like prank'd up . But that our feasts 
In every mess have folly , and the feeders 
Digest it with a custom , I should blush 
To see you so attired ,swoon , I think ,
To show myself a glass .
I bless the time 
When my good falcon made her flight across 
Thy father's ground .
Now , Jove afford you cause !
To me the difference forges dread ; your greatness 
Hath not been us'd to fear . Even now I tremble 
To think , your father , by some accident ,
Should pass this way as you did . O , the Fates !
How would he look , to see his work , so noble ,
Vilely bound up ? What would he say ? Or how 
Should I , in these my borrow'd flaunts , behold 
The sternness of his presence ?
Apprehend 
Nothing but jollity . The gods themselves ,
Humbling their deities to love , have taken 
The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter 
Became a bull , and bellow'd ; the green Neptune 
A ram , and bleated ; and the fire-rob'd god ,
Golden Apollo , a poor humble swain ,
As I seem now . Their transformations 
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer ,
Nor in a way so chaste , since my desires 
Run not before mine honour , nor my lusts 
Burn hotter than my faith .
O ! but , sir ,
Your resolution cannot hold , when 'tis 
Oppos'd , as it must be , by the power of the king .
One of these two must be necessities ,
Which then will speak , that you must change this purpose ,
Or I my life .
Thou dearest Perdita ,
With these forc'd thoughts , I prithee , darken not 
The mirth o' the feast : or I'll be thine , my fair ,
Or not my father's ; for I cannot be 
Mine own , nor anything to any , if 
I be not thine : to this I am most constant ,
Though destiny say no . Be merry , gentle ;
Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing 
That you behold the while . Your guests are coming :
Lift up your countenance , as it were the day 
Of celebration of that nuptial which 
We two have sworn shall come .
O lady Fortune ,
Stand you auspicious !
See , your guests approach :
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly ,
And let's be red with mirth .
Fie , daughter ! when my old wife liv'd , upon 
This day she was both pantler , butler , cook ;
Both dame and servant ; welcom'd all , serv'd all ,
Would sing her song and dance her turn ; now here ,
At upper end o' the table , now i' the middle ;
On his shoulder , and his ; her face o' fire 
With labour and the thing she took to quench it ,
She would to each one sip . You are retir'd ,
As if you were a feasted one and not 
The hostess of the meeting : pray you , bid 
These unknown friends to's welcome ; for it is 
A way to make us better friends , more known .
Come , quench your blushes and present yourself 
That which you are , mistress o' the feast : come on ,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing ,
As your good flock shall prosper .
Sir , welcome :
It is my father's will I should take on me 
The hostess-ship o' the day :
You're welcome , sir .
Give me those flowers there , Dorcas . Reverend sirs ,
For you there's rosemary and rue ; these keep 
Seeming and savour all the winter long :
Grace and remembrance be to you both ,
And welcome to our shearing !
Shepherdess ,
A fair one are you ,well you fit our ages 
With flowers of winter .
Sir , the year growing ancient ,
Not yet on summer's death , nor on the birth 
Of trembling winter , the fairest flowers o' the season 
Are our carnations , and streak'd gillyvors ,
Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind 
Our rustic garden's barren , and I care not 
To get slips of them .
Wherefore , gentle maiden ,
Do you neglect them ?
For I have heard it said 
There is an art which in their piedness shares 
With great creating nature .
Say there be ;
Yet nature is made better by no mean 
But nature makes that mean : so , over that art ,
Which you say adds to nature , is an art 
That nature makes . You see , sweet maid , we marry 
A gentler scion to the wildest stock ,
And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
By bud of nobler race : this is an art 
Which does mend nature , change it rather , but 
The art itself is nature .
So it is .
Then make your garden rich in gillyvors ,
And do not call them bastards .
I'll not put 
The dibble in earth to set one slip of them ;
No more than , were I painted , I would wish 
This youth should say , 'twere well , and only therefore 
Desire to breed by me . Here's flowers for you ;
Hot lavender , mints , savory , marjoram ;
The marigold , that goes to bed wi' the sun ,
And with him rises weeping : these are flowers 
Of middle summer , and I think they are given 
To men of middle age . You're very welcome .
I should leave grazing , were I of your flock ,
And only live by gazing .
Out , alas !
You'd be so lean , that blasts of January 
Would blow you through and through . Now , my fair'st friend ,
I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might 
Become your time of day ; and yours , and yours ,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
Your maidenheads growing : O Proserpina !
For the flowers now that frighted thou let'st fall 
From Dis's waggon ! daffodils ,
That come before the swallow dares , and take 
The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim ,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes 
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale prime-roses ,
That die unmarried , ere they can behold 
Bright Ph bus in his strength , a malady 
Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips and 
The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds ,
The flower-de-luce being one . O ! these I lack 
To make you garlands of , and my sweet friend ,
To strew him o'er and o'er !
What ! like a corse ?
No , like a bank for love to lie and play on ;
Not like a corse ; or if ,not to be buried ,
But quick and in mine arms . Come , take your flowers :
Methinks I play as I have seen them do 
In Whitsun pastorals : sure this robe of mine 
Does change my disposition .
What you do 
Still betters what is done . When you speak , sweet ,
I'd have you do it ever : when you sing ,
I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ;
Pray so ; and , for the ordering your affairs ,
To sing them too : when you do dance , I wish you 
A wave o' the sea , that you might ever do 
Nothing but that ; move still , still so ,
And own no other function : each your doing ,
So singular in each particular ,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deed ,
That all your acts are queens .
O Doricles !
Your praises are too large : but that your youth ,
And the true blood which fairly peeps through it ,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd ,
With wisdom I might fear , my Doricles ,
You woo'd me the false way .
I think you have 
As little skill to fear as I have purpose 
To put you to't . But , come ; our dance , I pray .
Your hand , my Perdita : so turtles pair 
That never mean to part .
I'll swear for 'em .
This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever 
Ran on the green-sord : nothing she does or seems 
But smacks of something greater than herself ;
Too noble for this place .
He tells her something 
That makes her blood look out . Good sooth , she is 
The queen of curds and cream .
Come on , strike up .
Mopsa must be your mistress : marry , garlic ,
To mend her kissing with .
Now , in good time !
Not a word , a word : we stand upon our manners .
Come , strike up .
Pray , good shepherd , what fair swain is this 
Which dances with your daughter ?
They call him Doricles , and boasts himself 
To have a worthy feeding ; but I have it 
Upon his own report and I believe it :
He looks like sooth . He says he loves my daughter :
I think so too ; for never gaz'd the moon 
Upon the water as he'll stand and read 
As 'twere my daughter's eyes ; and , to be plain ,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose 
Who loves another best .
She dances featly .
So she does any thing , though I report it 
That should be silent . If young Doricles 
Do light upon her , she shall bring him that 
Which he not dreams of .
O master ! if you did but hear the pedlar at the door , you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe ; no , the bagpipe could not move you . He sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money ; he utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's ears grew to his tunes .
He could never come better : he shall come in : I love a ballad but even too well , if it be doleful matter merrily set down , or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably .
He hath songs for man or woman , of all sizes ; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves : he has the prettiest love-songs for maids ; so without bawdry , which is strange ; with such delicate burthens of dildos and fadings , 'jump her and thump her ;' and where some stretchmouthed rascal would , as it were , mean mischief and break a foul gap into the matter , he makes the maid to answer , 'Whoop , do me no harm , good man ;' puts him off , slights him with 'Whoop , do me no harm , good man .' 
This is a brave fellow .
Believe me , thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow . Has he any unbraided wares ?
He hath ribands of all the colours i' the rainbow ; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle , though they come to him by the gross ; inkles , caddisses , cambrics , lawns : why , he sings 'em over , as they were gods or goddesses . You would think a smock were a she-angel , he so chants to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't .
Prithee , bring him in , and let him approach singing .
Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's tunes .
You have of these pedlars , that have more in them than you'd think , sister .
Ay , good brother , or go about to think .
Lawn as white as driven snow ;
Cyprus black as e'er was crow ;
Gloves as sweet as damask roses ;
Masks for faces and for noses ;
Bugle-bracelet , necklace-amber ,
Perfume for a lady's chamber ;
Golden quoifs and stomachers ,
For my lads to give their dears ;
Pins and poking-sticks of steel ;
What maids lack from head to heel :
Come buy of me , come ; come buy , come buy ;
Buy , lads , or else your lasses cry :
Come buy .
If I were not in love with Mopsa , thou shouldst take no money of me ; but being enthralled as I am , it will also be the bondage of certain ribands and gloves .
I was promised them against the feast ; but they come not too late now .
He hath promised you more than that , or there be liars .
He hath paid you all he promised you : may be he has paid you more , which will shame you to give him again .
Is there no manners left among maids ? will they wear their plackets where they should bear their faces ? Is there not milking-time , when you are going to bed , or kiln-hole , to whistle off these secrets , but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests ? 'Tis well they are whispering : clamour your tongues , and not a word more .
I have done . Come , you promised me a tawdry lace and a pair of sweet gloves .
Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way , and lost all my money ?
And indeed , sir , there are cozeners abroad ; therefore it behoves men to be wary .
Fear not thou , man , thou shalt lose nothing here .
I hope so , sir ; for I have about me many parcels of charge .
What hast here ? ballads ?
Pray now , buy some : I love a ballad in print , a-life , for then we are sure they are true .
Here's one to a very doleful tune , how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden ; and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed .
Is it true , think you ?
Very true , and but a month old .
Bless me from marrying a usurer !
Here's the midwife's name to't , one Mistress Taleporter , and five or six honest wives' that were present . Why should I carry lies abroad ?
Pray you now , buy it .
Come on , lay it by : and let's first see moe ballads ; we'll buy the other things anon .
Here's another ballad of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the fourscore of April , forty thousand fathom above water , and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids : it was thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her . The ballad is very pitiful and as true .
Is it true too , think you ?
Five justices' hands at it , and witnesses more than my pack will hold .
Lay it by too : another .
This is a merry ballad , but a very pretty one .
Let's have some merry ones .
Why , this is a passing merry one , and goes to the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man :' there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it : 'tis in request , I can tell you .
We can both sing it : if thou'lt bear a part thou shalt hear ; 'tis in three parts .
We had the tune on't a month ago .
I can bear my part ; you must know 'tis my occupation : have at it with you .
Get you hence , for I must go ,
Where it fits not you to know .
Whither ?
O ! whither ?
Whither ?
It becomes thy oath full woll ,
Thou to me thy secrets tell .
Me too : let me go thither .
Or thou go'st to the grange or mill .
If to either , thou dost ill .
Neither .
What , neither ?
Neither .
Thou hast sworn my love to be 
Thou hast sworn it more to me :
Then whither go'st ? say whither ?
We'll have this song out anon by ourselves : my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk , and we'll not trouble them : come , bring away thy pack after me . Wenches , I'll buy for you both . Pedlar , let's have the first choice . Follow me , girls .
And you shall pay well for 'em .
Will you buy any tape ,
Or lace for your cape ,
My dainty duck , my dear-a ?
Any silk , any thread ,
Any toys for your head ,
Of the new'st and fin'st , fin'st wear-a ?
Come to the pedlar ;
Money's a meddler ,
That doth utter all men's ware-a .
Master , there is three carters , three shepherds , three neat-herds , three swine-herds , that have made themselves all men of hair ; they call themselves Saltiers ; and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols , because they are not in't ; but they themselves are o' the mind ,if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling ,it will please plentifully .
Away ! we'll none on't : here has been too much homely foolery already . I know , sir , we weary you .
You weary those that refresh us : pray , let's see these four threes of herdsmen .
One three of them , by their own report , sir , hath danced before the king ; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier .
Leave your prating : since these good men are pleased let them come in : but quickly now .
Why , they stay at door , sir .
O , father ! you'll know more of that hereafter .
Is it not too far gone ? 'Tis time to part them .
He's simple and tells much .
How now , fair shepherd !
Your heart is full of something that does take 
Your mind from feasting . Sooth , when I was young ,
And handed love as you do , I was wont 
To load my she with knacks : I would have ransack'd 
The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it 
To her acceptance ; you have let him go 
And nothing marted with him . If your lass 
Interpretation should abuse and call this 
Your lack of love or bounty , you were straited 
For a reply , at least if you make a care 
Of happy holding her .
Old sir , I know 
She prizes not such trifles as these are .
The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd 
Up in my heart , which I have given already ,
But not deliver'd . O ! hear me breathe my life 
Before this ancient sir , who , it should seem ,
Hath sometime lov'd : I take thy hand ; this hand ,
As soft as dove's down , and as white as it ,
Or Ethiopian's tooth , or the fann'd snow 
That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er .
What follows this ?
How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
The hand was fair before ! I have put you out :
But to your protestation : let me hear 
What you profess .
Do , and be witness to't .
And this my neighbour too ?
And he , and more 
Than he , and men , the earth , the heavens , and all ;
That , were I crown'd the most imperial monarch ,
Thereof most worthy , were I the fairest youth 
That ever made eye swerve , had force and knowledge 
More than was ever man's , I would not prize them 
Without her love : for her employ them all ;
Commend them and condemn them to her service 
Or to their own perdition .
Fairly offer'd .
This shows a sound affection .
But , my daughter ,
Say you the like to him ?
I cannot speak 
So well , nothing so well ; no , nor mean better :
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out 
The purity of his .
Take hands ; a bargain ;
And , friends unknown , you shall bear witness to't :
I give my daughter to him , and will make 
Her portion equal his .
O ! that must be 
I' the virtue of your daughter : one being dead ,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet ;
Enough then for your wonder . But , come on ;
Contract us 'fore these witnesses .
Come , your hand ;
And , daughter , yours .
Soft , swain , awhile , beseech you .
Have you a father ?
I have ; but what of him ?
Knows he of this ?
He neither does nor shall .
Methinks a father 
Is , at the nuptial of his son , a guest 
That best becomes the table . Pray you , once more ,
Is not your father grown incapable 
Of reasonable affairs ? is he not stupid 
With age and altering rheums ? can he speak ? hear ?
Know man from man ? dispute his own estate ?
Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does nothing 
But what he did being childish ?
No , good sir :
He has his health and ampler strength indeed 
Than most have of his age .
By my white beard ,
You offer him , if this be so , a wrong 
Something unfilial . Reason my son 
Should choose himself a wife , but as good reason 
The father ,all whose joy is nothing else 
But fair posterity ,should hold some counsel 
In such a business .
I yield all this ;
But for some other reasons , my grave sir ,
Which 'tis not fit you know , I not acquaint 
My father of this business .
Let him know't .
He shall not .
Prithee , let him .
No , he must not .
Let him , my son : he shall not need to grieve 
At knowing of thy choice .
Come , come , he must not .
Mark our contract .
Mark your divorce , young sir ,
Whom son I dare not call : thou art too base 
To be acknowledg'd : thou a sceptre's heir ,
That thus affect'st a sheep-hook ! Thou old traitor ,
I am sorry that by hanging thee I can 
But shorten thy life one week . And thou , fresh piece 
Of excellent witchcraft , who of force must know 
The royal fool thou cop'st with ,
O , my heart !
I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers , and made 
More homely than thy state . For thee , fond boy ,
If I may ever know thou dost but sigh 
That thou no more shalt see this knack ,as never 
I mean thou shalt ,we'll bar thee from succession ;
Not hold thee of our blood , no , not our kin ,
Far than Deucalion off : mark thou my words :
Follow us to the court . Thou , churl , for this time ,
Though full of our displeasure , yet we free thee 
From the dead blow of it . And you , enchantment ,
Worthy enough a herdsman ; yea , him too ,
That makes himself , but for our honour therein ,
Unworthy thee ,if ever henceforth thou 
These rural latches to his entrance open ,
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces ,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee 
As thou art tender to't .
Even here undone !
I was not much afeard ; for once or twice 
I was about to speak and tell him plainly ,
The self-same sun that shines upon his court 
Hides not his visage from our cottage , but 
Looks on alike . Will't please you , sir , be gone ?
I told you what would come of this : beseech you ,
Of your own state take care : this dream of mine 
Being now awake , I'll queen it no inch further ,
But milk my ewes and weep .
Why , how now , father !
Speak , ere thou diest .
I cannot speak , nor think ,
Nor dare to know that which I know . O sir !
You have undone a man of fourscore three ,
That thought to fill his grave in quiet , yea ,
To die upon the bed my father died ,
To lie close by his honest bones : but now 
Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me 
Where no priest shovels in dust . O cursed wretch !
That knew'st this was the prince , and wouldst adventure 
To mingle faith with him . Undone ! undone !
If I might die within this hour , I have liv'd 
To die when I desire .
Why look you so upon me ?
I am but sorry , not afeard ; delay'd ,
But nothing alter'd . What I was , I am :
More straining on for plucking back ; not following 
My leash unwillingly .
Gracious my lord ,
You know your father's temper : at this time 
He will allow no speech , which I do guess 
You do not purpose to him ; and as hardly 
Will he endure your sight as yet , I fear :
Then , till the fury of his highness settle ,
Come not before him .
I not purpose it .
I think , Camillo ?
Even he , my lord .
How often have I told you 'twould be thus !
How often said my dignity would last 
But till 'twere known !
It cannot fail but by 
The violation of my faith ; and then 
Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together 
And mar the seeds within ! Lift up thy looks :
From my succession wipe me , father ; I 
Am heir to my affection .
Be advis'd .
I am ; and by my fancy : if my reason 
Will thereto be obedient , I have reason ;
If not , my senses , better pleas'd with madness ,
Do bid it welcome .
This is desperate , sir .
So call it ; but it does fulfil my vow ,
I needs must think it honesty . Camillo ,
Not for Bohemia , nor the pomp that may 
Be thereat glean'd , for all the sun sees or 
The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides 
In unknown fathoms , will I break my oath 
To this my fair belov'd . Therefore , I pray you ,
As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend ,
When he shall miss me ,as , in faith , I mean not 
To see him any more ,cast your good counsels 
Upon his passion : let myself and fortune 
Tug for the time to come . This you may know 
And so deliver , I am put to sea 
With her whom here I cannot hold on shore ;
And most opportune to our need , I have 
A vessel rides fast by , but not prepar'd 
For this design . What course I mean to hold 
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge , nor 
Concern me the reporting .
O my lord !
I would your spirit were easier for advice ,
Or stronger for your need .
Hark , Perdita .
I'll hear you by and by .
He's irremovable ,
Resolv'd for flight . Now were I happy if 
His going I could frame to serve my turn ,
Save him from danger , do him love and honour ,
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia 
And that unhappy king , my master , whom 
I so much thirst to see .
Now , good Camillo ,
I am so fraught with curious business that 
I leave out ceremony .
Sir , I think 
You have heard of my poor services , i' the love 
That I have borne your father ?
Very nobly 
Have you deserv'd : it is my father's music 
To speak your deeds , not little of his care 
To have them recompens'd as thought on .
Well , my lord ,
If you may please to think I love the king 
And through him what's nearest to him , which is 
Your gracious self , embrace but my direction ,
If your more ponderous and settled project 
May suffer alteration , on mine honour 
I'll point you where you shall have such receiving 
As shall become your highness ; where you may 
Enjoy your mistress ,from the whom , I see ,
There's no disjunction to be made , but by ,
As , heavens forfend ! your ruin ,marry her ;
And with my best endeavours in your absence 
Your discontenting father strive to qualify ,
And bring him up to liking .
How , Camillo ,
May this , almost a miracle , be done ?
That I may call thee something more than man ,
And , after that trust to thee .
Have you thought on 
A place whereto you'll go ?
Not any yet ;
But as the unthought-on accident is guilty 
To what we wildly do , so we profess 
Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies 
Of every wind that blows .
Then list to me :
This follows ; if you will not change your purpose 
But undergo this flight , make for Sicilia ,
And there present yourself and your fair princess ,
For so , I see , she must be ,'fore Leontes ;
She shall be habited as it becomes 
The partner of your bed . Methinks I see 
Leontes opening his free arms and weeping 
His welcomes forth ; asks thee , the son , forgiveness 
As 'twere i' the father's person ; kisses the hands 
Of your fresh princess ; o'er and o'er divides him 
'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness : the one 
He chides to hell , and bids the other grow 
Faster than thought or time .
Worthy Camillo ,
What colour for my visitation shall I 
Hold up before him ?
Sent by the king your father 
To greet him and to give him comforts . Sir ,
The manner of your bearing towards him , with 
What you as from your father shall deliver ,
Things known betwixt us three , I'll write you down :
The which shall point you forth at every sitting 
What you must say ; that he shall not perceive 
But that you have your father's bosom there 
And speak his very heart .
I am bound to you .
There is some sap in this .
A course more promising 
Than a wild dedication of yourselves 
To unpath'd waters , undream'd shores , most certain 
To miseries enough : no hope to help you ,
But as you shake off one to take another ;
Nothing so certain as your anchors , who 
Do their best office , if they can but stay you 
Where you'll be loath to be . Besides , you know 
Prosperity's the very bond of love ,
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
Affliction alters .
One of these is true :
I think affliction may subdue the cheek ,
But not take in the mind .
Yea , say you so ?
There shall not at your father's house these seven years 
Be born another such .
My good Camillo ,
She is as forward of her breeding as 
She is i' the rear o' her birth .
I cannot say 'tis pity 
She lacks instructions , for she seems a mistress 
To most that teach .
Your pardon , sir ; for this 
I'll blush you thanks .
My prettiest Perdita !
But O ! the thorns we stand upon . Camillo ,
Preserver of my father , now of me ,
The med'cine of our house , how shall we do ?
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son ,
Nor shall appear in Sicilia .
My lord ,
Fear none of this : I think you know my fortunes 
Do all lie there : it shall be so my care 
To have you royally appointed as if 
The scene you play were mine . For instance , sir ,
That you may know you shall not want , one word .
Ha , ha ! what a fool Honesty is ! and Trust , his sworn brother , a very simple gentleman ! I have sold all my trumpery : not a counterfeit stone , not a riband , glass , pomander , brooch , table-book , ballad , knife , tape , glove , shoe-tie , bracelet , horn-ring , to keep my pack from fasting : they throng who should buy first , as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer : by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture ; and what I saw , to my good use I remembered . My clown ,who wants but something to be a reasonable man ,grew so in love with the wenches' song that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words ; which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears : you might have pinched a placket , it was senseless ; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse ; I would have filed keys off that hung in chains : no hearing , no feeling , but my sir's song , and admiring the nothing of it ; so that , in this time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their festival purses ; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's son , and scared my choughs from the chaff , I had not left a purse alive in the whole army .
Nay , but my letters , by this means being there 
So soon as you arrive , shall clear that doubt .
And those that you'll procure from King Leontes 
Shall satisfy your father .
Happy be you !
All that you speak shows fair .
Whom have we here ?
We'll make an instrument of this : omit 
Nothing may give us aid .
If they have overheard me now , why , hanging .
How now , good fellow ! Why shakest thou so ? Fear not , man ; here's no harm intended to thee .
I am a poor fellow , sir .
Why , be so still ; here's nobody will steal that from thee ; yet , for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange ; therefore , discase thee instantly ,thou must think , there's a necessity in't ,and change garments with this gentleman : though the pennyworth on his side be the worst , yet hold thee , there's some boot .
I am a poor fellow , sir .
I know ye well enough .
Nay , prithee , dispatch : the gentleman is half flayed already .
Are you in earnest , sir ?
I smell the trick on't .
Dispatch , I prithee .
Indeed , I have had earnest ; but I cannot with conscience take it .
Unbuckle , unbuckle .
Fortunate mistress ,let my prophecy 
Come home to ye !you must retire yourself 
Into some covert : take your sweetheart's hat 
And pluck it o'er your brows ; muffle your face ;
Dismantle you , and , as you can , disliken 
The truth of your own seeming ; that you may ,
For I do fear eyes over you ,to shipboard 
Get undescried .
I see the play so lies 
That I must bear a part .
No remedy .
Have you done there ?
Should I now meet my father 
He would not call me son .
Nay , you shall have no hat .
Come , lady , come . Farewell , my friend .
Adieu , sir .
O Perdita , what have we twain forgot !
Pray you , a word .
What I do next shall be to tell the king 
Of this escape , and whither they are bound ;
Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail 
To force him after : in whose company 
I shall review Sicilia , for whose sight 
I have a woman's longing .
Fortune speed us !
Thus we set on , Camillo , to the sea-side .
The swifter speed the better .
I understand the business ; I hear it . To have an open ear , a quick eye , and a nimble hand , is necessary for a cut-purse : a good nose is requisite also , to smell out work for the other senses . I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive . What an exchange had this been without boot ! what a boot is here with this exchange ! Sure , the gods do this year connive at us , and we may do anything extempore . The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity ; stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels . If I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal , I would not do't : I hold it the more knavery to conceal it , and therein am I constant to my profession . Aside , aside : here is more matter for a hot brain . Every lane's end , every shop , church , session , hanging , yields a careful man work .
See , see , what a man you are now ! There is no other way but to tell the king she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood .
Nay , but hear me .
Nay , but hear me .
Go to , then .
She being none of your flesh and blood , your flesh and blood has not offended the king ; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him . Show those things you found about her ; those secret things , all but what she has with her : this being done , let the law go whistle : I warrant you .
I will tell the king all , every word , yea , and his son's pranks too ; who , I may say , is no honest man neither to his father nor to me , to go about to make me the king's brother-in-law .
Indeed , brother-in-law was the furthest off you could have been to him , and then your blood had been the dearer by I know not how much an ounce .
Very wisely , puppies !
Well , let us to the king : there is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard .
I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master .
Pray heartily he be at palace .
Though I am not naturally honest , I am so sometimes by chance : let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement . [Takes off his false beard .] How now , rustics ! whither are you bound ?
To the palace , an it like your worship .
Your affairs there , what , with whom , the condition of that fardel , the place of your dwelling , your names , your ages , of what having , breeding , and anything that is fitting to be known , discover .
We are but plain fellows , sir .
A lie ; you are rough and hairy . Let me have no lying ; it becomes none but tradesmen , and they often give us soldiers the lie ; but we pay them for it with stamped coin , not stabbing steel ; therefore they do not give us the lie .
Your worship had like to have given us one , if you had not taken yourself with the manner .
Are you a courtier , an't like you , sir ?
Whether it like me or no , I am a courtier . Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings ? hath not my gait in it the measure of the court ? receives not thy nose court-odour from me ? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt ? Think'st thou , for that I insinuate , or toaze from thee thy business , I am therefore no courtier ? I am courtier , cap-a-pe , and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there : whereupon I command thee to open thy affair .
My business , sir , is to the king .
What advocate hast thou to him ?
I know not , an't like you .
Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant : say you have none .
None , sir ; I have no pheasant , cock nor hen .
How bless'd are we that are not simple men !
Yet nature might have made me as these are ,
Therefore I'll not disdain .
This cannot be but a great courtier .
His garments are rich , but he wears them not handsomely .
He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical : a great man , I'll warrant ; I know by the picking on's teeth .
The fardel there ? what's i' the fardel ?
Wherefore that box ?
Sir , there lies such secrets in this fardel and box which none must know but the king ; and which he shall know within this hour if I may come to the speech of him .
Age , thou hast lost thy labour .
Why , sir ?
The king is not at the palace ; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air himself : for , if thou be'st capable of things serious , thou must know the king is full of grief .
So 'tis said , sir , about his son , that should have married a shepherd's daughter .
If that shepherd be not now in hand-fast , let him fly : the curses he shall have , the torture he shall feel , will break the back of man , the heart of monster .
Think you so , sir ?
Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter ; but those that are germane to him , though removed fifty times , shall all come under the hangman : which though it be great pity , yet it is necessary . An old sheep-whistling rogue , a ram-tender , to offer to have his daughter come into grace ! Some say he shall be stoned ; but that death is too soft for him , say I : draw our throne into a sheep cote ! all deaths are too few , the sharpest too easy .
Has the old man e'er a son , sir , do you hear , an't like you , sir ?
He has a son , who shall be flayed alive ; then 'nointed over with honey , set on the head of a wasp's nest ; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead ; then recovered again with aqua-vit  or some other hot infusion ; then , raw as he is , and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims , shall he be set against a brick-wall , the sun looking with a southward eye upon him , where he is to behold him with flies blown to death . But what talk we of these traitorly rascals , whose miseries are to be smiled at , their offences being so capital ? Tell me ,for you seem to be honest plain men ,what you have to the king : being something gently considered , I'll bring you where he is aboard , tender your persons to his presence , whisper him in your behalfs ; and if it be in man besides the king to effect your suits , here is a man shall do it .
He seems to be of great authority : close with him , give him gold ; and though authority be a stubborn bear , yet he is oft led by the nose with gold . Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand , and no more ado . Remember , 'stoned ,' and 'flayed alive !' 
An't please you , sir , to undertake the business for us , here is that gold I have : I'll make it as much more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you .
After I have done what I promised ?
Ay , sir .
Well , give me the moiety . Are you a party in this business ?
In some sort , sir : but though my case be a pitiful one , I hope I shall not be flayed out of it .
O ! that's the case of the shepherd's son : hang him , he'll be made an example .
Comfort , good comfort ! we must to the king and show our strange sights : he must know 'tis none of your daughter nor my sister ; we are gone else . Sir , I will give you as much as this old man does when the business is performed ; and remain , as he says , your pawn till it be brought you .
I will trust you . Walk before toward the sea-side ; go on the right hand , I will but look upon the hedge and follow you .
We are blessed in this man , as I may say , even blessed .
Let's before as he bids us . He was provided to do us good .
If I had a mind to be honest I see Fortune would not suffer me : she drops booties in my mouth . I am courted now with a double occasion , gold , and a means to do the prince my master good ; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement ? I will bring these two moles , these blind ones , aboard him : if he think it fit to shore them again , and that the complaint they have to the king concerns him nothing , let him call me rogue for being so far officious ; for I am proof against that title and what shame else belongs to't . To him will I present them : there may be matter in it .
Sir , you have done enough , and have perform'd 
A saint-like sorrow : no fault could you make 
Which you have not redeem'd ; indeed , paid down 
More penitence than done trespass . At the last ,
Do as the heavens have done , forget your evil ;
With them forgive yourself .
Whilst I remember 
Her and her virtues , I cannot forget 
My blemishes in them , and so still think of 
The wrong I did myself ; which was so much ,
That heirless it hath made my kingdom , and 
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man 
Bred his hopes out of .
True , too true , my lord ;
If one by one you wedded all the world ,
Or from the all that are took something good ,
To make a perfect woman , she you kill'd 
Would be unparallel'd .
I think so . Kill'd !
She I kill'd ! I did so ; but thou strik'st me 
Sorely to say I did : it is as bitter 
Upon thy tongue as in my thought . Now , good now 
Say so but seldom .
Not at all , good lady :
You might have spoken a thousand things that would 
Have done the time more benefit , and grac'd 
Your kindness better .
You are one of those 
Would have him wed again .
If you would not so ,
You pity not the state , nor the remembrance 
Of his most sovereign name ; consider little 
What dangers , by his highness' fail of issue ,
May drop upon his kingdom and devour 
Incertain lookers-on . What were more holy 
Than to rejoice the former queen is well ?
What holier than for royalty's repair ,
For present comfort , and for future good ,
To bless the bed of majesty again 
With a sweet fellow to't ?
There is none worthy ,
Respecting her that's gone . Besides , the gods 
Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes ;
For has not the divine Apollo said ,
Is't not the tenour of his oracle ,
That King Leontes shall not have an heir 
Till his lost child be found ? which that it shall ,
Is all as monstrous to our human reason 
As my Antigonus to break his grave 
And come again to me ; who , on my life ,
Did perish with the infant . 'Tis your counsel 
My lord should to the heavens be contrary ,
Oppose against their wills .
Care not for issue ;
The crown will find an heir : great Alexander 
Left his to the worthiest , so his successor 
Was like to be the best .
Good Paulina ,
Who hast the memory of Hermione ,
I know , in honour ; O ! that ever I 
Had squar'd me to thy counsel ! then , even now ,
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes ,
Have taken treasure from her lips ,
And left them 
More rich , for what they yielded .
Thou speak'st truth .
No more such wives ; therefore , no wife : one worse ,
And better us'd , would make her sainted spirit 
Again possess her corpse and on this stage ,
Where we're offenders now ,appear soul-vex'd ,
And begin , 'Why to me ?' 
Had she such power ,
She had just cause .
She had ; and would incense me 
To murder her I married .
I should so :
Were I the ghost that walk'd , I'd bid you mark 
Her eye , and tell me for what dull part in't 
You chose her ; then I'd shriek , that even your ears 
Should rift to hear me ; and the words that follow'd 
Should be 'Remember mine .' 
Stars , stars !
And all eyes else dead coals . Fear thou no wife ;
I'll have no wife , Paulina .
Will you swear 
Never to marry but by my free leave ?
Never , Paulina : so be bless'd my spirit !
Then , good my lords , bear witness to his oath .
You tempt him over much .
Unless another ,
As like Hermione as is her picture ,
Affront his eye .
Good madam ,
I have done .
Yet , if my lord will marry ,if you will , sir ,
No remedy , but you will ,give me the office 
To choose you a queen , she shall not be so young 
As was your former ; but she shall be such 
As , walk'd your first queen's ghost , it should take joy 
To see her in your arms .
My true Paulina ,
We shall not marry till thou bidd'st us .
Shall be when your first queen's again in breath ;
Never till then .
One that gives out himself Prince Florizel ,
Son of Polixenes , with his princess ,she 
The fairest I have yet beheld ,desires access 
To your high presence .
What with him ? he comes not 
Like to his father's greatness ; his approach ,
So out of circumstance and sudden , tells us 
'Tis not a visitation fram'd , but forc'd 
By need and accident . What train ?
But few ,
And those but mean .
His princess , say you , with him ?
Ay , the most peerless piece of earth , I think ,
That e'er the sun shone bright on .
O Hermione !
As every present time doth boast itself 
Above a better gone , so must thy grave 
Give way to what's seen now . Sir , you yourself 
Have said and writ so ,but your writing now 
Is colder than that theme ,'She had not been ,
Nor was not to be equall'd ;' thus your verse 
Flow'd with her beauty once : 'tis shrewdly ebb'd 
To say you have seen a better .
Pardon , madam :
The one I have almost forgot your pardon 
The other , when she has obtain'd your eye ,
Will have your tongue too . This is a creature ,
Would she begin a sect , might quench the zeal 
Of all professors else , make proselytes 
Of who she but bid follow .
How ! not women ?
Women will love her , that she is a woman 
More worth than any man ; men , that she is 
The rarest of all women .
Go , Cleomenes ;
Yourself , assisted with your honour'd friends ,
Bring them to our embracement . Still 'tis strange ,
He thus should steal upon us .
Had our prince 
Jewel of children seen this hour , he had pair'd 
Well with this lord : there was not full a month 
Between their births .
Prithee , no more : cease ! thou know'st 
He dies to me again when talk'd of : sure ,
When I shall see this gentleman , thy speeches 
Will bring me to consider that which may 
Unfurnish me of reason . They are come .
Your mother was most true to wedlock , prince ;
For she did print your royal father off ,
Conceiving you . Were I but twenty-one ,
Your father's image is so hit in you ,
His very air , that I should call you brother ,
As I did him ; and speak of something wildly 
By us perform'd before . Most dearly welcome !
And you , fair princess ,goddess ! O , alas !
I lost a couple , that 'twixt heaven and earth 
Might thus have stood begetting wonder as 
You , gracious couple , do : and then I lost 
All mine own folly the society ,
Amity too , of your brave father , whom ,
Though bearing misery , I desire my life 
Once more to look on him .
By his command 
Have I here touch'd Sicilia ; and from him 
Give you all greetings that a king , at friend ,
Can send his brother : and , but infirmity ,
Which waits upon worn times ,hath something seiz'd 
His wish'd ability , he had himself 
The land and waters 'twixt your throne and his 
Measur'd to look upon you , whom he loves 
He bade me say so more than all the sceptres 
And those that bear them living .
O , my brother !
Good gentleman ,the wrongs I have done thee stir 
Afresh within me , and these thy offices 
So rarely kind , are as interpreters 
Of my behind-hand slackness ! Welcome hither ,
As is the spring to the earth . And hath he too 
Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage 
At least ungentle of the dreadful Neptune ,
To greet a man not worth her pains , much less 
The adventure of her person ?
Good my lord ,
She came from Libya .
Where the war-like Smalus ,
That noble honour'd lord , is fear'd and lov'd ?
Most royal sir , from thence ; from him , whose daughter 
His tears proclaim'd his , parting with her : thence 
A prosperous south-wind friendly we have cross'd ,
To execute the charge my father gave me 
For visiting your highness : my best train 
I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd ;
Who for Bohemia bend , to signify 
Not only my success in Libya , sir ,
But my arrival and my wife's , in safety 
Here where we are .
The blessed gods 
Purge all infection from our air whilst you 
Do climate here ! You have a holy father ,
A graceful gentleman ; against whose person ,
So sacred as it is , I have done sin :
For which the heavens , taking angry note ,
Have left me issueless ; and your father's bless'd 
As he from heaven merits it with you ,
Worthy his goodness . What might I have been ,
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on ,
Such goodly things as you !
Most noble sir ,
That which I shall report will bear no credit ,
Were not the proof so nigh . Please you , great sir ,
Bohemia greets you from himself by me ;
Desires you to attach his son , who has 
His dignity and duty both cast off 
Fled from his father , from his hopes , and with 
A shepherd's daughter .
Where's Bohemia ? speak .
Here in your city ; I now came from him :
I speak amazedly , and it becomes 
My marvel and my message . To your court 
Whiles he was hastening ,in the chase it seems 
Of this fair couple ,meets he on the way 
The father of this seeming lady and 
Her brother , having both their country quitted 
With this young prince .
Camillo has betray'd me ;
Whose honour and whose honesty till now 
Endur'd all weathers .
Lay't so to his charge :
He's with the king your father .
Who ? Camillo ?
Camillo , sir : I spake with him , who now 
Has these poor men in question . Never saw I 
Wretches so quake : they kneel , they kiss the earth ,
Forswear themselves as often as they speak :
Bohemia stops his ears , and threatens them 
With divers deaths in death .
O my poor father !
The heaven sets spies upon us , will not have 
Our contract celebrated .
You are married ?
We are not , sir , nor are we like to be ;
The stars , I see , will kiss the valleys first :
The odds for high and low's alike .
My lord ,
Is this the daughter of a king ?
She is ,
When once she is my wife .
That 'once ,' I see , by your good father's speed ,
Will come on very slowly . I am sorry ,
Most sorry , you have broken from his liking 
Where you were tied in duty ; and as sorry 
Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty ,
That you might well enjoy her .
Dear , look up :
Though Fortune , visible an enemy ,
Should chase us with my father , power no jot 
Hath she to change our loves . Beseech you , sir ,
Remember since you ow'd no more to time 
Than I do now ; with thought of such affections ,
Step forth mine advocate ; at your request 
My father will grant precious things as trifles 
Would he do so , I'd beg your precious mistress ,
Which he counts but a trifle .
Sir , my liege ,
Your eye hath too much youth in't : not a month 
'Fore your queen died , she was more worth such gazes 
Than what you look on now .
I thought of her ,
Even in these looks I made .
But your petition 
Is yet unanswer'd . I will to your father :
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires ,
I am friend to them and you ; upon which errand 
I now go toward him . Therefore follow me ,
And mark what way I make : come , good my lord .
Beseech you , sir , were you present at this relation ?
I was by at the opening of the fardel , heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it : whereupon , after a little amazedness , we were all commanded out of the chamber ; only this methought I heard the shepherd say , he found the child .
I would most gladly know the issue of it .
I make a broken delivery of the business ; but the changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were very notes of admiration : they seemed almost , with staring on one another , to tear the cases of their eyes ; there was speech in their dumbness , language in their very gesture ; they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed , or one destroyed : a notable passion of wonder appeared in them ; but the wisest beholder , that knew no more but seeing , could not say if the importance were joy or sorrow ; but in the extremity of the one it must needs be .
Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more . The news , Rogero ?
Nothing but bonfires : the oracle is fulfilled ; the king's daughter is found : such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it .
Here comes the lady Paulina's steward : he can deliver you more . How goes it now , sir ? this news which is called true is so like an old tale , that the verity of it is in strong suspicion : has the king found his heir ?
Most true , if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance : that which you hear you'll swear you see , there is such unity in the proofs . The mantle of Queen Hermione , her jewel about the neck of it , the letters of Antigonus found with it , which they know to be his character ; the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother , the affection of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding , and many other evidences proclaim her with all certainty to be the king's daughter . Did you see the meeting of the two kings ?
Then have you lost a sight , which was to be seen , cannot be spoken of . There might you have beheld one joy crown another , so , and in such manner that , it seemed , sorrow wept to take leave of them , for their joy waded in tears . There was casting up of eyes , holding up of hands , with countenances of such distraction that they were to be known by garment , not by favour . Our king , being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter , as if that joy were now become a loss , cries , 'O , thy mother , thy mother !' then asks Bohemia forgiveness ; then embraces his son-in-law ; then again worries he his daughter with clipping her ; now he thanks the old shepherd , which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns . I never heard of such another encounter , which lames report to follow it and undoes description to do it .
What , pray you , became of Antigonus that carried hence the child ?
Like an old tale still , which will have matter to rehearse , though credit be asleep and not an ear open . He was torn to pieces with a bear : this avouches the shepherd's son , who has not only his innocence which seems much to justify him , but a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows .
What became of his bark and his followers ?
Wracked , the same instant of their master's death , and in the view of the shepherd : so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found . But , O ! the noble combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina . She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband , another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled : she lifted the princess from the earth , and so locks her in embracing , as if she would pin her to her heart that she might no more be in danger of losing .
The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes , for by such was it acted .
One of the prettiest touches of all , and that which angled for mine eyes ,caught the water though not the fish ,was when at the relation of the queen's death , with the manner how she came to it ,bravely confessed and lamented by the king ,how attentiveness wounded his daughter ; till , from one sign of dolour to another , she did , with an 'alas !' I would fain say , bleed tears , for I am sure my heart wept blood . Who was most marble there changed colour ; some swounded , all sorrowed : if all the world could have seen't , the woe had been universal .
Are they returned to the court ?
No ; the princess hearing of her mother's statue , which is in the keeping of Paulina a piece many years in doing , and now newly performed by that rare Italian master , Julio Romano ; who , had he himself eternity and could put breath into his work , would beguile Nature of her custom , so perfectly he is her ape : he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of answer : thither with all greediness of affection are they gone , and there they intend to sup .
I thought she had some great matter there in hand , for she hath privately , twice or thrice a day , ever since the death of Hermione , visited that removed house . Shall we thither and with our company piece the rejoicing ?
Who would be thence that has the benefit of access ? every wink of an eye some new grace will be born : our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge . Let's along .
Now , had I not the dash of my former life in me , would preferment drop on my head . I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince ; told him I heard them talk of a fardel and I know not what ; but he at that time , overfond of the shepherd's daughter ,so he then took her to be ,who began to be much sea-sick , and himself little better , extremity of weather continuing , this mystery remained undiscovered . But 'tis all one to me ; for had I been the finder out of this secret , it would not have relished among my other discredits . Here come those I have done good to against my will , and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune .
Come , boy ; I am past moe children , but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born .
You are well met , sir . You denied to fight with me this other day , because I was no gentleman born : see you these clothes ? say , you see them not and think me still no gentleman born : you were best say these robes are not gentleman born . Give me the lie , do , and try whether I am not now gentleman born .
I know you are now , sir , a gentleman born .
Ay , and have been so any time these four hours .
And so have I , boy .
So you have : but I was a gentleman born before my father ; for the king's son took me by the hand and called me brother ; and then the two kings called my father brother ; and then the prince my brother and the princess my sister called my father father ; and so we wept : and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed .
We may live , son , to shed many more .
Ay ; or else 'twere hard luck , being in so preposterous estate as we are .
I humbly beseech you , sir , to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship , and to give me your good report to the prince my master .
Prithee , son , do ; for we must be gentle , now we are gentlemen .
Thou wilt amend thy life ?
Ay , an it like your good worship .
Give me thy hand : I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia .
You may say it , but not swear it .
Not swear it , now I am a gentleman ? Let boors and franklins say it , I'll swear it .
How if it be false , son ?
If it be ne'er so false , a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend : and I'll swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk ; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be drunk : but I'll swear it , and I would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands .
I will prove so , sir , to my power .
Ay , by any means prove a tall fellow : if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk , not being a tall fellow , trust me not . Hark ! the kings and the princes , our kindred , are going to see the queen's picture . Come , follow us : we'll be thy good masters .
O grave and good Paulina , the great comfort 
That I have had of thee !
What , sovereign sir ,
I did not well , I meant well . All my services 
You have paid home ; but that you have vouchsaf'd ,
With your crown'd brother and these your contracted 
Heirs of your kingdoms , my poor house to visit ,
It is a surplus of your grace , which never 
My life may last to answer .
O Paulina !
We honour you with trouble : but we came 
To see the statue of our queen : your gallery 
Have we pass'd through , not without much content 
In many singularities , but we saw not 
That which my daughter came to look upon ,
The statue of her mother .
As she liv'd peerless ,
So her dead likeness , I do well believe ,
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon 
Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it 
Lonely , apart . But here it is : prepare 
To see the life as lively mock'd as ever 
Still sleep mock'd death : behold ! and say 'tis well .
I like your silence : it the more shows off 
Your wonder ; but yet speak : first you , my liege .
Comes it not something near ?
Her natural posture !
Chide me , dear stone , that I may say , indeed 
Thou art Hermione ; or rather , thou art she 
In thy not chiding , for she was as tender 
As infancy and grace . But yet , Paulina ,
Hermione was not so much wrinkled ; nothing 
So aged as this seems .
O ! not by much .
So much the more our carver's excellence ;
Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her 
As she liv'd now .
As now she might have done ,
So much to my good comfort , as it is 
Now piercing to my soul . O ! thus she stood ,
Even with such life of majesty ,warm life ,
As now it coldly stands ,when first I woo'd her .
I am asham'd : does not the stone rebuke me 
For being more stone than it ? O , royal piece !
There's magic in thy majesty , which has 
My evils conjur'd to remembrance , and 
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits ,
Standing like stone with thee .
And give me leave ,
And do not say 'tis superstition , that 
I kneel and then implore her blessing . Lady ,
Dear queen , that ended when I but began ,
Give me that hand of yours to kiss .
O , patience !
The statue is but newly fix'd , the colour's 
Not dry .
My lord , your sorrow was too sore laid on ,
Which sixteen winters cannot blow away ,
So many summers dry : scarce any joy 
Did ever so long live ; no sorrow 
But kill'd itself much sooner .
Dear my brother ,
Let him that was the cause of this have power 
To take off so much grief from you as he 
Will piece up in himself .
Indeed , my lord ,
If I had thought the sight of my poor image 
Would thus have wrought you ,for the stone is mine ,
I'd not have show'd it .
Do not draw the curtain .
No longer shall you gaze on't , lest your fancy 
May think anon it moves .
Let be , let be !
Would I were dead , but that , methinks , already 
What was he that did make it ? See , my lord ,
Would you not deem it breath'd , and that those veins 
Did verily bear blood ?
Masterly done :
The very life seems warm upon her lip .
The fixure of her eye has motion in't ,
As we are mock'd with art .
I'll draw the curtain ;
My lord's almost so far transported that 
He'll think anon it lives .
O sweet Paulina !
Make me to think so twenty years together :
No settled senses of the world can match 
The pleasure of that madness . Let't alone .
I am sorry , sir , I have thus far stirr'd you : but 
I could afflict you further .
Do , Paulina ;
For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
As any cordial comfort . Still , methinks ,
There is an air comes from her : what fine chisel 
Could ever yet cut breath ? Let no man mock me ,
For I will kiss her .
Good my lord , forbear .
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet :
You'll mar it if you kiss it ; stain your own 
With oily painting . Shall I draw the curtain ?
No , not these twenty years .
So long could I 
Stand by , a looker-on .
Either forbear ,
Quit presently the chapel , or resolve you 
For more amazement . If you can behold it ,
I'll make the statue move indeed , descend ,
And take you by the hand ; but then you'll think ,
Which I protest against ,I am assisted 
By wicked powers .
What you can make her do ,
I am content to look on : what to speak ,
I am content to hear ; for 'tis as easy 
To make her speak as move .
It is requir'd 
You do awake your faith . Then , all stand still ;
Or those that think it is unlawful business 
I am about , let them depart .
Proceed :
No foot shall stir .
Music , awake her : strike !
'Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more : approach ;
Strike all that look upon with marvel . Come ;
I'll fill your grave up : stir ; nay , come away ;
Bequeath to death your numbness , for from him 
Dear life redeems you . You perceive she stirs :
Start not ; her actions shall be holy as 
You hear my spell is lawful : do not shun her 
Until you see her die again , for then 
You kill her double . Nay , present your hand :
When she was young you woo'd her ; now in age 
Is she become the suitor !
O ! she's warm .
If this be magic , let it be an art 
Lawful as eating .
She embraces him .
She hangs about his neck :
If she pertain to life let her speak too .
Ay ; and make't manifest where she has liv'd ,
Or how stol'n from the dead .
That she is living ,
Were it but told you , should be hooted at 
Like an old tale ; but it appears she lives ,
Though yet she speak not . Mark a little while .
Please you to interpose , fair madam . kneel 
And pray your mother's blessing . Turn , good lady ;
Our Perdita is found .
You gods , look down ,
And from your sacred vials pour your graces 
Upon my daughter's head ! Tell me , mine own ,
Where hast thou been preserv'd ? where liv'd ? how found 
Thy father's court ? for thou shalt hear that I ,
Knowing by Paulina that the oracle 
Gave hope thou wast in being , have preserv'd 
Myself to see the issue .
There's time enough for that ;
Lest they desire upon this push to trouble 
Your joys with like relation . Go together ,
You precious winners all : your exultation 
Partake to every one . I , an old turtle ,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough , and there 
My mate , that's never to be found again ,
Lament till I am lost .
O ! peace , Paulina .
Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent ,
As I by thine a wife : this is a match ,
And made between's by vows . Thou hast found mine ;
But how , is to be question'd ; for I saw her ,
As I thought dead , and have in vain said many 
A prayer upon her grave . I'll not seek far ,
For him , I partly know his mind ,to find thee 
An honourable husband . Come , Camillo ,
And take her by the hand ; whose worth and honesty 
Is richly noted , and here justified 
By us , a pair of kings . Let's from this place .
What ! look upon my brother : both your pardons ,
That e'er I put between your holy looks 
My ill suspicion . This' your son-in-law ,
And son unto the king ,whom heavens directing ,
Is troth-plight to your daughter . Good Paulina ,
Lead us from hence , where we may leisurely 
Each one demand and answer to his part 
Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first 
We were dissever'd : hastily lead away .
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA
In Troy there lies the scene . From isles of Greece 
The princes orgulous , their high blood chaf'd ,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships ,
Fraught with the ministers and instruments 
Of cruel war : sixty and nine , that wore 
Their crownets regal , from the Athenian bay 
Put forth toward Phrygia ; and their vow is made 
To ransack Troy , within whose strong immures 
The ravish'd Helen , Menelaus' queen ,
With wanton Paris sleeps ; and that's the quarrel .
To Tenedos they come ,
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 
Their war-like fraughtage : now on Dardan plains 
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch 
Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city ,
Dardan , and Tymbria , Ilias , Chetas , Trojan ,
And Antenorides , with massy staples 
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts ,
Sperr up the sons of Troy .
Now expectation , tickling skittish spirits ,
On one and other side , Trojan and Greek ,
Sets all on hazard . And hither am I come 
A prologue arm'd , but not in confidence 
Of author's pen or actor's voice , but suited 
In like conditions as our argument ,
To tell you , fair beholders , that our play 
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils ,
Beginning in the middle ; starting thence away 
To what may be digested in a play .
Like or find fault ; do as your pleasures are :
Now good or bad , 'tis but the chance of war .
Call here my varlet , I'll unarm again :
Why should I war without the walls of Troy ,
That find such cruel battle here within ?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart ,
Let him to field ; Troilus , alas ! has none .
Will this gear ne'er be mended ?
The Greeks are strong , and skilful to their strength .
Fierce to their skill , and to their fierceness valiant ;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear ,
Tamer than sleep , fonder than ignorance ,
Less valiant than the virgin in the night ,
And skilless as unpractis'd infancy .
Well , I have told you enough of this : for my part , I'll not meddle nor make no further . He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding .
Have I not tarried ?
Ay , the grinding ; but you must tarry the bolting .
Have I not tarried ?
Ay , the bolting ; but you must tarry the leavening .
Still have I tarried .
Ay , to the leavening ; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter' the kneading , the making of the cake , the heating of the oven , and the baking ; nay , you must stay the cooling too , or you may chance to burn your lips .
Patience herself , what goddess e'er she be ,
Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do .
At Priam's royal table do I sit ;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts ,
So , traitor ! 'when she comes' !When is she thence ?
Well , she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look , or any woman else .
I was about to tell thee : when my heart ,
As wedged with a sigh , would rive in twain ,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me ,
I have as when the sun doth light a storm 
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile ;
But sorrow , that is couch'd in seeming gladness ,
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness .
An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's ,well , go to ,there were no more comparison between the women : but , for my part , she is my kins woman ; I would not , as they term it , praise her , but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday , as I did : I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit , but 
O Pandarus ! I tell thee , Pandarus ,
When I do tell thee , there my hopes lie drown'd ,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
They lie indrench'd . I tell thee I am mad 
In Cressid's love : thou answer'st , she is fair ;
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
Her eyes , her hair , her cheek , her gait , her voice ;
Handlest in thy discourse , O ! that her hand ,
In whose comparison all whites are ink ,
Writing their own reproach ; to whose soft seizure 
The cygnet's down is harsh , and spirit of sense 
Hard as the palm of ploughman : this thou tell'st me ,
As true thou tell'st me , when I say I love her ;
But , saying thus , instead of oil and balm ,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me 
The knife that made it .
I speak no more than truth .
Thou dost not speak so much .
Faith , I'll not meddle in't . Let her be as she is : if she be fair , 'tis the better for her ; an she be not , she has the mends in her own hands .
Good Pandarus , how now , Pandarus !
I have had my labour for my travail ; ill-thought on of her , and ill-thought on of you : gone between , and between , but small thanks for my labour .
What ! art thou angry , Pandarus ? what ! with me ?
Because she's kin to me , therefore she's not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin to me , she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday . But what care I ? I care not an she were a black-a-moor ; 'tis all one to me .
Say I she is not fair ?
I do not care whether you do or no . She's a fool to stay behind her father : let her to the Greeks ; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her . For my part , I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter .
Pandarus ,
Not I .
Sweet Pandarus ,
Pray you , speak no more to me ! I will leave all as I found it , and there an end .
Peace , you ungracious clamours ! peace , rude sounds !
Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs bo fair ,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus .
I cannot fight upon this argument ;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword .
But Pandarus ,O gods ! how do you plague me .
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar ;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo 
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit .
Tell me , Apollo , for thy Daphne's love ,
What Cressid is , what Pandar , and what we ?
Her bed is India ; there she lies , a pearl :
Between our Ilium and where she resides 
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood ;
Ourself the merchant , and this sailing Pandar 
Our doubtful hope , our convoy and our bark .
How now , Prince Troilus ! wherefore not afield ?
Because not there : this woman's answer sorts ,
For womanish it is to be from thence .
What news ,  neas , from the field to-day ?
That Paris is returned home , and hurt .
By whom ,  neas ?
Troilus , by Menelaus .
Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn ;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn .
Hark , what good sport is out of town to-day !
Better at home , if 'would I might' were 'may .' 
But to the sport abroad : are you bound thither ?
In all swift haste .
Come , go we then together .
Who were those went by ?
Queen Hecuba and Helen .
And whither go they ?
Up to the eastern tower ,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale ,
To see the battle . Hector , whose patience 
Is as a virtue fix'd , to-day was mov'd :
He chid Andromache , and struck his armourer ;
And , like as there were husbandry in war ,
Before the sun rose he was harness'd light ,
And to the field goes he ; where every flower 
Did , as a prophet , weep what it foresaw 
In Hector's wrath .
What was his cause of anger ?
The noise goes , this : there is among the Greeks 
A lord of Trojan blood , nephew to Hector ;
They call him Ajax .
Good ; and what of him ?
They say he is a very man per se 
And stands alone .
So do all men , unless they are drunk , sick , or have no legs .
This man , lady , hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions : he is as valiant as the lion , churlish as the bear , slow as the elephant : a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into folly , his folly sauced with discretion : there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of , nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it . He is melancholy without cause , and merry against the hair ; he hath the joints of every thing , but every thing so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus , many hands and no use ; or purblind Argus , all eyes and no sight .
But how should this man , that makes me smile , make Hector angry ?
They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down ; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking .
Who comes here ?
Madam , your uncle Pandarus .
Hector's a gallant man .
As may be in the world , lady .
What's that ? what's that ?
Good morrow , uncle Pandarus .
Good morrow , cousin Cressid . What do you talk of ? Good morrow , Alexander .
How do you , cousin ? When were you at Ilium ?
This morning , uncle .
What were you talking of when I came ? Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium ? Helen was not up , was she ?
Hector was gone , but Helen was not up .
E'en so : Hector was stirring early .
That were we talking of , and of his anger .
Was he angry ?
So he says here .
True , he was so ; I know the cause too : he'll lay about him to-day , I can tell them that : and there's Troilus will not come far behind him ; let them take heed of Troilus , I can tell them that too .
What ! is he angry too ?
Who , Troilus ? Troilus is the better man of the two .
O Jupiter ! there's no comparison .
What ! not between Troilus and Hector ?
Do you know a man if you see him ?
Ay , if I ever saw him before and knew him .
Well , I say Troilus is Troilus .
Then you say as I say ; for I am sure he is not Hector .
No , nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees .
'Tis just to each of them ; he is himself .
Himself ! Alas , poor Troilus , I would he were .
So he is .
Condition , I had gone bare-foot to India .
He is not Hector .
Himself ! no , he's not himself . Would a' were himself : well , the gods are above ; time must friend or end : well , Troilus , well , I would my heart were in her body . No , Hector is not a better man than Troilus .
Excuse me .
He is elder .
Pardon me , pardon me .
Th' other's not come to't ; you shall tell me another tale when the other's come to't . Hector shall not have his wit this year .
He shall not need it if he have his own .
Nor his qualities .
No matter .
Nor his beauty .
'Twould not become him ; his own's better .
You have no judgment , niece : Helen herself swore th' other day , that Troilus , for a brown favour ,for so 'tis I must confess ,not brown neither ,
No , but brown .
Faith , to say truth , brown and not brown .
To say the truth , true and not true .
She prais'd his complexion above Paris .
Why , Paris hath colour enough .
So he has .
Then Troilus should have too much : if she praised him above , his complexion is higher than his : he having colour enough , and the other higher , is too flaming a praise for a good complexion . I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose .
I swear to you , I think Helen loves him better than Paris .
Then she's a merry Greek indeed .
Nay , I am sure she does . She came to him th' other day into the compassed window , and , you know , he has not past three or four hairs on his chin ,
Indeed , a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total .
Why , he is very young ; and yet will he , within three pound , lift as much as his brother Hector .
Is he so young a man , and so old a lifter ?
But to prove to you that Helen loves him : she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin ,
Juno have mercy ! how came it cloven ?
Why , you know , 'tis dimpled . I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia .
O ! he smiles valiantly .
Does he not ?
O ! yes , an 'twere a cloud in autumn .
Why , go to , then . But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus ,
Troilus will stand to the proof , if you'll prove it so .
Troilus ! why he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg .
If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head , you would eat chickens i' the shell .
I cannot choose but laugh , to think how she tickled his chin : indeed , she has a marvell's white hand , I must needs confess ,
Without the rack .
And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin .
Alas ! poor chin ! many a wart is richer .
But there was such laughing : Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran o'er .
With millstones .
And Cassandra laughed .
But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes : did her eyes run o'er too ?
And Hector laughed .
At what was all this laughing ?
Marry , at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin .
An't had been a green hair , I should have laughed too .
They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer .
What was his answer ?
Quoth she , 'Here's but one-and-fifty hairs on your chin , and one of them is white .' 
This is her question .
That's true ; make no question of that . 'One-and-fifty hairs ,' quoth he , 'and one white : that white hair is my father , and all the rest are his sons .' 'Jupiter !' quoth she , 'which of these hairs is Paris , my husband ?' 'The forked one ,' quoth he ; 'pluck't out , and give it him .' But there was such laughing , and Helen so blushed , and Paris so chafed , and all the rest so laughed , that it passed .
So let it now , for it has been a great while going by .
Well , cousin , I told you a thing yesterday ; think on't .
So I do .
I'll be sworn 'tis true : he will weep you , an 'twere a man born in April .
And I'll spring up in his tears , an 'twere a nettle against May .
Hark ! they are coming from the field . Shall we stand up here , and see them as they pass toward Ilium ? good niece , do ; sweet niece , Cressida .
At your pleasure .
Here , here ; here's an excellent place : here we may see most bravely . I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by , but mark Troilus above the rest .
Speak not so loud .
That's  neas : is not that a brave man ? he's one of the flowers of Troy , I can tell you : but mark Troilus ; you shall see anon .
Who's that ?
That's Antenor : he has a shrewd wit , I can tell you ; and he's a man good enough : he's one o' the soundest judgments in Troy , whosoever , and a proper man of person . When comes Troilus ? I'll show you Troilus anon : if he see me , you shall see him nod at me .
Will he give you the nod ?
You shall see .
If he do , the rich shall have more .
That's Hector , that , that , look you , that ; there's a fellow ! Go thy way , Hector ! There's a brave man , niece . O brave Hector ! Look how he looks ! there's a countenance ! Is't not a brave man ?
O ! a brave man .
Is a' not ? It does a man's heart good . Look you what hacks are on his helmet ! look you yonder , do you see ? look you there : there's no jesting ; there's laying on , take't off who will , as they say : there be hacks !
Be those with swords ?
Swords ? any thing , he cares not ; an the devil come to him , it's all one : by God's lid , it does one's heart good . Yonder comes Paris , yonder comes Paris .
Look ye yonder , niece : is't not a gallant man too , is't not ? Why , this is brave now . Who said he came hurt home to-day ? he's not hurt : why , this will do Helen's heart good now , ha ! Would I could see Troilus now ! You shall see Troilus anon .
Who's that ?
That's Helenus . I marvel where Troilus is . That's Helenus . I think he went not forth to-day . That's Helenus .
Can Helenus fight , uncle ?
Helenus ? no , yes , he'll fight indifferent well . I marvel where Troilus is . Hark ! do you not hear the people cry , 'Troilus ?' Helenus is a priest .
What sneaking fellow comes yonder ?
Where ? yonder ? that's Deiphobus .
Tis Troilus ! there's a man , niece ! Hem ! Brave 
Troilus ! the prince of chivalry !
Peace ! for shame , peace !
Mark him ; note him : O brave Troilus ! look well upon him , niece : look you how his sword is bloodied , and his helmet more hacked than Hector's ; and how he looks , and how he goes ! O admirable youth ! he ne'er saw three-and-twenty . Go thy way , Troilus , go thy way ! Had I a sister were a grace , or a daughter a goddess , he should take his choice . O admirable man ! Paris ? Paris is dirt to him ; and , I warrant , Helen , to change , would give an eye to boot .
Here come more .
Asses , fools , dolts ! chaff and bran , chaff and bran ! porridge after meat ! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus . Ne'er look , ne'er look ; the eagles are gone : crows and daws , crows and daws ! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece .
There is among the Greeks Achilles , a better man than Troilus .
Achilles ! a drayman , a porter , a very camel .
Well , well .
'Well , well !' Why , have you any discretion ? have you any eyes ? Do you know what a man is ? Is not birth , beauty , good shape , discourse , manhood , learning , gentleness , virtue , youth , liberality , and so forth , the spice and salt that season a man ?
Ay , a minced man : and then to be baked with no date in the pie , for then the man's date's out .
You are such a woman ! one knows not at what ward you lie .
Upon my back , to defend my belly ; upon my wit , to defend my wiles ; upon my secrecy , to defend mine honesty ; my mask , to defend my beauty ; and you , to defend all these : and at all these wards I lie , at a thousand watches .
Say one of your watches .
Nay , I'll watch you for that ; and that's one of the chiefest of them too : if I cannot ward what I would not have hit , I can watch you for telling how I took the blow ; unless it swell past hiding , and then it's past watching .
You are such another !
Sir , my lord would instantly speak with you .
Where ?
At your own house ; there he unarms him .
Good boy , tell him I come .
I doubt he be hurt . Fare ye well , good niece .
Adieu , uncle .
I'll be with you , niece , by and by .
To bring , uncle ?
Ay , a token from Troilus .
By the same token , you are a bawd .
Words , vows , gifts , tears , and love's full sacrifice 
He offers in another's enterprise ;
But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see 
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be .
Yet hold I off . Women are angels , wooing :
Things won are done ; joy's soul lies in the doing :
That she belov'd knows nought that knows not this :
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is :
That she was never yet , that ever knew 
Love got so sweet as when desire did sue .
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach :
Achievement is command ; ungain'd , beseech :
Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear ,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear .
Princes ,
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks ?
The ample proposition that hope makes 
In all designs begun on earth below 
Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disasters 
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ;
As knots , by the conflux of meeting sap ,
Infect the sound pine and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant from his course of growth .
Nor , princes , is it matter new to us 
That we come short of our suppose so far 
That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand ;
Sith every action that hath gone before ,
Whereof we have record , trial did draw 
Bias and thwart , not answering the aim ,
And that unbodied figure of the thought 
That gave't surmised shape . Why then , you princes ,
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ,
And call them shames ? which are indeed nought else 
But the protractive trials of great Jove ,
To find persistive constancy in men :
The fineness of which metal is not found 
In Fortune's love ; for then , the bold and coward ,
The wise and fool , the artist and unread ,
The hard and soft , seem all affin'd and kin :
But , in the wind and tempest of her frown ,
Distinction , with a broad and powerful fan ,
Puffing at all , winnows the light away ;
And what hath mass or matter , by itself 
Lies rich in virtue and unmingled .
With due observance of thy god-like seat ,
Great Agamemnon , Nestor shall apply 
Thy latest words . In the reproof of chance 
Lies the true proof of men : the sea being smooth ,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail 
Upon her patient breast , making their way 
With those of nobler bulk !
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage 
The gentle Thetis , and anon behold 
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut ,
Bounding between the two moist elements ,
Like Perseus' horse : where's then the saucy boat 
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
Co-rivall'd greatness ? either to harbour fled ,
Or made a toast for Neptune . Even so 
Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide 
In storms of fortune ; for in her ray and brightness 
The herd hath more annoyance by the breese 
Than by the tiger ; but when the splitting wind 
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks ,
And flies fled under shade , why then the thing of courage ,
As rous'd with rage , with rage doth sympathize ,
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key ,
Retorts to chiding fortune .
Agamemnon ,
Thou great commander , nerve and bone of Greece ,
Heart of our numbers , soul and only spirit ,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all 
Should be shut up , hear what Ulysses speaks .
Besides the applause and approbation 
The which ,
most mighty for thy place and sway ,
And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life ,
I give to both your speeches , which were such 
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece 
Should hold up high in brass ; and such again 
As venerable Nestor , hatch'd in silver ,
Should with a bond of air , strong as the axle-tree 
On which heaven rides , knit all the Greekish ears 
To his experienc'd tongue , yet let it please hoth ,
Thou great , and wise , to hear Ulysses speak .
Speak , Prince of Ithaca ; and be't of less expect 
That matter needless , of importless burden ,
Divide thy lips , than we are confident ,
When rank Thersites opes his mastick jaws ,
We shall hear music , wit , and oracle .
Troy , yet upon his basis , had been down ,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master ,
But for these instances .
The specialty of rule hath been neglected :
And look , how many Grecian tents do stand 
Hollow upon this plain , so many hollow factions .
When that the general is not like the hive 
To whom the foragers shall all repair ,
What honey is expected ? Degree being vizarded ,
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask .
The heavens themselves , the planets , and this centre 
Observe degree , priority , and place ,
Insisture , course , proportion , season , form ,
Office , and custom , in all line of order :
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol 
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd 
Amidst the other ; whose med'cinable eye 
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil ,
And posts , like the commandment of a king ,
Sans check , to good and bad : but when the planets 
In evil mixture to disorder wander ,
What plagues , and what portents , what mutiny ,
What raging of the sea , shaking of earth ,
Commotion in the winds , frights , changes , horrors ,
Divert and crack , rend and deracinate 
The unity and married calm of states 
Quite from their fixure ! O ! when degree is shak'd ,
Which is the ladder to all high designs ,
The enterprise is sick . How could communities ,
Degrees in schools , and brotherhoods in cities ,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores ,
The primogenitive and due of birth ,
Prerogative of age , crowns , sceptres , laurels ,
But by degree , stand in authentic place ?
Take but degree away , untune that string ,
And , hark ! what discord follows ; each thing meets 
In mere oppugnancy : the bounded waters 
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores ,
And make a sop of all this solid globe :
Strength should be lord of imbecility ,
And the rude son should strike his father dead :
Force should be right ; or rather , right and wrong 
Between whose endless jar justice resides 
Should lose their names , and so should justice too .
Then every thing includes itself in power ,
Power into will , will into appetite ;
And appetite , a universal wolf ,
So doubly seconded with will and power ,
Must make perforce a universal prey ,
And last eat up himself . Great Agamemnon ,
This chaos , when degree is suffocate ,
Follows the choking .
And this neglection of degree it is 
That by a pace goes backward , with a purpose 
It hath to climb . The general's disdain'd 
By him one step below , he by the next ,
That next by him beneath ; so every step ,
Exampled by the first pace that is sick 
Of his superior , grows to an envious fever 
Of pale and bloodless emulation :
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot ,
Not her own sinews . To end a tale of length ,
Troy in our weakness lives , not in her strength .
Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd 
The fever whereof all our power is sick .
The nature of the sickness found , Ulysses ,
What is the remedy ?
The great Achilles , whom opinion crowns 
The sinew and the forehand of our host ,
Having his ear full of his airy fame ,
Grows dainty of his worth , and in his tent 
Lies mocking our designs . With him Patroclus 
Upon a lazy bed the livelong day 
Breaks scurril jests ,
And with ridiculous and awkward action 
Which , slanderer , he imitation calls 
He pageants us . Sometime , great Agamemnon ,
Thy topless deputation he puts on 
And , like a strutting player , whose conceit 
Lies in his hamstring , and doth think it rich 
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage ,
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming 
He acts thy greatness in :and when he speaks ,
'Tis like a chime a mending ; with terms unsquar'd ,
Which , from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd ,
Would seem hyperboles . At this fusty stuff 
The large Achilles , on his press'd bed lolling ,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ;
Cries , 'Excellent ! 'tis Agamemnon just .
Now play me Nestor ; hem , and stroke thy beard ,
As he being drest to some oration .' 
That's done ;as near as the extremest ends 
Of parallels , like as Vulcan and his wife :
Yet good Achilles still cries , 'Excellent !
'Tis Nestor right . Now play him me , Patroclus ,
Arming to answer in a night alarm .' 
And then , forsooth , the faint defects of age 
Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough and spit ,
And with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget ,
Shake in and out the rivet : and at this sport 
Sir Valour dies ; cries , 'O ! enough , Patroclus ;
Or give me ribs of steel ; I shall split all 
In pleasure of my spleen .' And in this fashion ,
All our abilities , gifts , natures , shapes ,
Severals and generals of grace exact ,
Achievements , plots , orders , preventions ,
Excitements to the field , or speech for truce ,
Success or loss , what is or is not , serves 
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes .
And in the imitation of these twain 
Whom , as Ulysses says , opinion crowns 
With an imperial voice many are infect .
Ajax is grown self-will'd , and bears his head 
In such a rein , in full as proud a place 
As broad Achilles ; keeps his tent like him ;
Makes factious feasts ; rails on our state of war ,
Bold as an oracle , and sets Thersites 
A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint 
To match us in comparison with dirt ;
To weaken and discredit our exposure ,
How rank soever rounded in with danger .
They tax our policy , and call it cowardice ;
Count wisdom as no member of the war ;
Forestall prescience , and esteem no act 
But that of hand : the still and mental parts ,
That do contrive how many hands shall strike ,
When fitness calls them on , and know by measure 
Of their observant toil the enemies' weight ,
Why , this hath not a finger's dignity :
They call this bed-work , mappery , closet-war ;
So that the ram that batters down the wall ,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise ,
They place before his hand that made the engine ,
Or those that with the fineness of their souls 
By reason guides his execution .
Let this be granted , and Achilles' horse 
Makes many Thetis' sons .
What trumpet ? look , Menelaus .
From Troy .
What would you 'fore our tent ?
Is this great Agamemnon's tent , I pray you ?
Even this .
May one , that is a herald and a prince ,
Do a fair message to his kingly ears ?
With surety stronger than Achilles' arm 
'Fore all the Greekish heads , which with one voice 
Call Agamemnon head and general .
Fair leave and large security . How may 
A stranger to those most imperial looks 
Know them from eyes of other mortals ?
I ask , that I might waken reverence ,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Ph bus :
Which is that god in office , guiding men ?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ?
This Trojan scorns us ; or the men of Troy 
Are ceremonious courtiers .
Courtiers as free , as debonair , unarm'd ,
As bending angels ; that's their fame in peace :
But when they would seem soldiers , they have galls ,
Good arms , strong joints , true swords ; and , Jove's accord ,
Nothing so full of heart . But peace ,  neas !
Peace , Trojan ! lay thy finger on thy lips !
The worthiness of praise distains his worth ,
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth ;
But what the repining enemy commends ,
That breath fame blows ; that praise , sole pure , transcends .
Sir , you of Troy , call you yourself  neas ?
Ay , Greek , that is my name .
What's your affair , I pray you ?
Sir , pardon ; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears .
He hears nought privately that comes from Troy .
Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him :
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear ,
To set his sense on the attentive bent ,
And then to speak .
Speak frankly as the wind :
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour ;
That thou shalt know , Trojan , he is awake ,
He tells thee so himself .
Trumpet , blow aloud ,
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents ;
And every Greek of mettle , let him know ,
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud .
We have , great Agamemnon , here in Troy .
A prince called Hector ,Priam is his father ,
Who in this dull and long-continu'd truce 
Is rusty grown : he bade me take a trumpet ,
And to this purpose speak : kings , princes , lords !
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece 
That holds his honour higher than his ease ,
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril ,
That knows his valour , and knows not his fear ,
That loves his mistress more than in confession ,
With truant vows to her own lips he loves ,
And dare avow her beauty and her worth 
In other arms than hers ,to him this challenge .
Hector , in view of Trojans and of Greeks ,
Shall make it good , or do his best to do it ,
He hath a lady wiser , fairer , truer ,
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ;
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call ,
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy ,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love :
If any come , Hector shall honour him ;
If none , he'll say in Troy when he retires ,
The Grecian dames are sunburnt , and not worth 
The splinter of a lance . Even so much .
This shall be told our lovers , Lord  neas ;
If none of them have soul in such a kind ,
We left them all at home : but we are soldiers ;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove ,
That means not , hath not , or is not in love !
If then one is , or hath , or means to be ,
That one meets Hector ; if none else , I am he .
Tell him of Nestor , one that was a man 
When Hector's grandsire suck'd : he is old now ;
But if there be not in our Grecian host 
One noble man that hath one spark of fire 
To answer for his love , tell him from me ,
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver ,
And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn ;
And , meeting him , will tell him that my lady 
Was fairer than his grandam , and as chaste 
As may be in the world : his youth in flood ,
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood .
Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth !
Fair Lord  neas , let me touch your hand ;
To our pavilion shall I lead you first .
Achilles shall have word of this intent ;
So shall each lord of Greece , from tent to tent :
Yourself shall feast with us before you go ,
And find the welcome of a noble foe .
Nestor !
What says Ulysses ?
I have a young conception in my brain ;
Be you my time to bring it to some shape .
What is't ?
This 'tis :
Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the seeded pride 
That hath to this maturity blown up 
In rank Achilles , must or now be cropp'd ,
Or , shedding , breed a nursery of like evil ,
To overbulk us all .
Well , and how ?
This challenge that the gallant Hector sends ,
However it is spread in general name ,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles .
The purpose is perspicuous even as substance 
Whose grossness little characters sum up :
And , in the publication , make no strain ,
But that Achilles , were his brain as barren 
As banks of Libya ,though , Apollo knows ,
'Tis dry enough ,will with great speed of judgment ,
Ay , with celerity , find Hector's purpose 
Pointing on him .
And wake him to the answer , think you ?
Yes , 'tis most meet : whom may you else oppose ,
That can from Hector bring those honours off ,
If not Achilles ? Though't be a sportful combat ,
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute 
With their fin'st palate : and trust to me , Ulysses ,
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd 
In this wild action ; for the success ,
Although particular , shall give a scantling 
Of good or bad unto the general ;
And in such indexes , although small pricks 
To their subsequent volumes , there is seen 
The baby figure of the giant mass 
Of things to come at large . It is suppos'd 
He that meets Hector issues from our choice ;
And choice , being mutual act of all our souls ,
Makes merit her election , and doth boil ,
As 'twere from forth us all , a man distill'd 
Out of our virtues ; who miscarrying ,
What heart receives from bence the conquering part ,
To steel a strong opinion to themselves ?
Which entertain'd , limbs are his instruments ,
In no less working than are swords and bows 
Directive by the limbs .
Give pardon to my speech :
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector .
Let us like merchants show our foulest wares ,
And think perchance they'll sell ; if not ,
The lustre of the better yet to show 
Shall show the better . Do not consent 
That ever Hector and Achilles meet ;
For both our honour and our shame in this 
Are dogg'd with two strange followers .
I see them not with my old eyes : what are they ?
What glory our Achilles shares from Hector ,
Were he not proud , we all should share with him :
But he already is too insolent ;
And we were better parch in Afric sun 
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes ,
Should he 'scape Hector fair : if he were foil'd ,
Why then we did our main opinion crush 
In taint of our best man . No ; make a lottery ;
And by device let blockish Ajax draw 
The sort to fight with Hector : among ourselves 
Give him allowance as the worthier man ,
For that will physic the great Myrmidon 
Who broils in loud applause ; and make him fall 
His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends .
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off ,
We'll dress him up in voices : if he fail ,
Yet go we under our opinion still 
That we have better men . But , hit or miss ,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes :
Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes .
Ulysses ,
Now I begin to relish thy advice ;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith 
To Agamemnon : go we to him straight .
Two curs shall tame each other : pride alone 
Must tarre the mastiffs on , as 'twere their bone .
Thersites !
Agamemnon , how if he had boils ? full , all over , generally ?
Thersites !
And those boils did run ? Say so , did not the general run then ? were not that a botchy core ?
Then would come some matter from him : I see none now .
Thou bitch-wolf's son , canst thou not hear ?
Feel , then .
The plague of Greece upon thee , thou mongrel beef-witted lord !
Speak then , thou vinewedst leaven , speak : I will beat thee into handsomeness .
I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness : but I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book . Thou canst strike , canst thou ? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks !
Toadstool , learn me the proclamation .
Dost thou think I have no sense , thou strikest me thus ?
The proclamation !
Thou art proclaimed a fool , I think .
Do not , porpentine , do not : my fingers itch .
I would thou didst itch from head to foot , and I had the scratching of thee ; I would make thee the loathsomest scab of Greece . When thou art forth in the incursions , thou strikest as slow as another .
I say , the proclamation !
Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles , and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty , ay that thou barkest at him .
Mistress Thersites !
Thou shouldst strike him .
Cobloaf !
He would pun thee into shivers with his fist , as a sailor breaks a biscuit .
You whoreson cur .
Do , do .
Thou stool for a witch !
Ay , do , do ; thou sodden-witted lord ! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows ; an assinego may tutor thee : thou scurvy-valiant ass ! thou art here but to thrash Trojans ; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit , like a barbarian slave . If thou use to beat me , I will begin at thy heel , and tell what thou art by inches , thou thing of no bowels , thou !
You dog !
You scurvy lord !
You cur !
Mars his idiot ! do , rudeness ; do , camel ; do , do .
Why , how now , Ajax ! wherefore do you this ?
How now , Thersites ! what's the matter , man ?
You see him there , do you ?
Ay ; what's the matter ?
Nay , look upon him .
So I do : what's the matter ?
Nay , but regard him well .
'Well !' why , so I do .
But yet you look not well upon him ; for , whosoever you take him to be , he is Ajax .
I know that , fool .
Ay , but that fool knows not himself .
Therefore I beat thee .
Lo , lo , lo , lo , what modicums of wit he utters ! his evasions have ears thus long . I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones : I will buy nine sparrows for a penny , and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow . This lord , Achilles , Ajax , who wears his wit in his belly , and his guts in his head , I'll tell you what I say of him .
I say , this Ajax ,
Nay , good Ajax .
Has not so much wit 
Nay , I must hold you .
As will stop the eye of Helen's needle , for whom he comes to fight .
Peace , fool !
I would have peace and quietness , but the fool will not : he there ; that he ; look you there .
O thou damned cur ! I shall 
Will you set your wit to a fool's ?
No , I warrant you ; for a fool's will shame it .
Good words , Thersites .
What's the quarrel ?
I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the proclamation , and he rails upon me .
I serve thee not .
Well , go to , go to .
I serve here voluntary .
Your last service was sufferance , 'twas not voluntary ; no man is beaten voluntary : Ajax was here the voluntary , and you as under an impress .
Even so ; a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews , or else there be liars . Hector shall have a great catch if he knock out either of your brains : a' were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel .
What , with me too , Thersites ?
There's Ulysses and old Nestor , whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes , yoke you like draught-oxen , and make you plough up the wars .
What , what ?
Yes , good sooth : to , Achilles ! to , Ajax ! to !
I shall cut out your tongue .
'Tis no matter ; I shall speak as much as thou afterwards .
No more words , Thersites ; peace !
I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me , shall I ?
There's for you , Patroclus .
I will see you hanged , like clotpoles , ere I come any more to your tents : I will keep where there is wit stirring and leave the faction of fools .
A good riddance .
Marry , this , sir , is proclaim'd through all our host :
That Hector , by the fifth hour of the sun ,
Will , with a trumpet , 'twixt our tents and Troy 
To morrow morning call some knight to arms 
That hath a stomach ; and such a one that dare 
Maintain I know not what : 'tis trash . Farewell .
Farewell . Who shall answer him ?
I know not : it is put to lottery ; otherwise ,
He knew his man .
O , meaning you . I will go learn more of it .
After so many hours , lives , speeches spent ,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks :
'Deliver Helen , and all damage else ,
As honour , loss of time , travail , expense ,
Wounds , friends , and what else dear that is consum'd 
In hot digestion of this cormorant war ,
Shall be struck off .' Hector , what say you to't ?
Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I ,
As far as toucheth my particular ,
Yet , dread Priam ,
There is no lady of more softer bowels ,
More spongy to suck in the sense of fear ,
More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows ?' 
Than Hector is . The wound of peace is surety ,
Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd 
The beacon of the wise , the tent that searches 
To the bottom of the worst . Let Helen go :
Since the first sword was drawn about this question ,
Every tithe soul , 'mongst many thousand dismes ,
Hath been as dear as Helen ; I mean , of ours :
If we have lost so many tenths of ours ,
To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us ,
Had it our name , the value of one ten ,
What merit's in that reason which denies 
The yielding of her up ?
Fie , fie ! my brother ,
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king 
So great as our dread father in a scale 
Of common ounces ? will you with counters sum 
The past proportion of his infinite ?
And buckle in a waist most fathomless 
With spans and inches so diminutive 
As fears and reasons ? fie , for godly shame !
No marvel , though you bite so sharp at reasons ,
You are so empty of them . Should not our father 
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons ,
Because your speech hath none that tells him so ?
You are for dreams and slumbers , brother priest ;
You fur your gloves with reason . Here are your reasons :
You know an enemy intends you harm ;
You know a sword employ'd is perilous ,
And reason flies the object of all harm :
Who marvels then , when Helenus beholds 
A Grecian and his sword , if he do set 
The very wings of reason to his heels ,
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove ,
Or like a star disorb'd ? Nay , if we talk of reason ,
Let's shut our gates and sleep : manhood and honour 
Should have hare-hearts , would they but fat their thoughts 
With this cramm'd reason : reason and respect 
Make livers pale , and lustihood deject .
Brother , she is not worth what she doth cost 
The holding .
What is aught but as 'tis valu'd ?
But value dwells not in particular will ;
It holds his estimate and dignity 
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself 
As in the prizer . 'Tis mad idolatry 
To make the service greater than the god ;
And the will dotes that is inclinable 
To what infectiously itself affects ,
Without some image of the affected merit .
I take to-day a wife , and my election 
Is led on in the conduct of my will ;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears ,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores 
Of will and judgment . How may I avoid ,
Although my will distaste what it elected ,
The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion 
To blench from this and to stand firm by honour .
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant 
When we have soil'd them , nor the remainder viands 
We do not throw in unrespective sink 
Because we now are full . It was thought meet 
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks :
Your breath of full consent bellied his sails ;
The seas and winds old wranglers took a truce 
And did him service : he touch'd the ports desir'd ,
And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive 
He brought a Grecian queen , whose youth and freshness 
Wrinkles Apollo's , and makes stale the morning .
Why keep we her ? the Grecians keep our aunt :
Is she worth keeping ? why , she is a pearl ,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships ,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants .
If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went ,
As you must needs , for you all cried 'Go , go ,' 
If you'll confess he brought home noble prize ,
As you must needs , for you all clapp'd your hands ,
And cry'd 'Inestimable !' why do you now 
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate ,
And do a deed that Fortune never did ,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd 
Richer than sea and land ? O ! theft most base ,
That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep !
But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol'n ,
That in their country did them that disgrace 
We fear to warrant in our native place .
Cry , Trojans , cry !
What noise ? what shriek ?
'Tis our mad sister , I do know her voice 
Cry , Trojans !
It is Cassandra .
Cry , Trojans , cry ! lend me ten thousand eyes ,
And I will fill them with prophetic tears .
Peace , sister , peace !
Virgins and boys , mid-age and wrinkled eld ,
Soft infancy , that nothing canst but cry ,
Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes 
A moiety of that mass of moan to come .
Cry , Trojans , cry ! practise your eyes with tears !
Troy must not be , nor goodly Ilion stand ;
Our firebrand brother , Paris , burns us all .
Cry , Trojans , cry ! a Helen and a woe !
Cry , cry ! Troy burns , or else let Helen go .
Now , youthful Troilus , do not these high strains 
Of divination in our sister work 
Some touches of remorse ? or is your blood 
So madly hot that no discourse of reason ,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause ,
Can qualify the same ?
Why , brother Hector ,
We may not think the justness of each act 
Such and no other than event doth form it ,
Nor once deject the courage of our minds ,
Because Cassandra's mad : her brain-sick raptures 
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel 
Which hath our several honours all engag'd 
To make it gracious . For my private part ,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons ;
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us 
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen 
To fight for and maintain .
Else might the world convince of levity 
As well my undertakings as your counsels ;
But I attest the gods , your full consent 
Gave wings to my propension and cut off 
All fears attending on so dire a project :
For what , alas ! can these my single arms ?
What propugnation is in one man's valour ,
To stand the push and enmity of those 
This quarrel would excite ? Yet , I protest ,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties ,
And had as ample power as I have will ,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done ,
Nor faint in the pursuit .
Paris , you speak 
Like one besotted on your sweet delights :
You have the honey still , but these the gall ;
So to be valiant is no praise at all .
Sir , I propose not merely to myself 
The pleasure such a beauty brings with it ;
But I would have the soil of her fair rape 
Wip'd off , in honourable keeping her .
What treason were it to the ransack'd queen ,
Disgrace to your great worths , and shame to me ,
Now to deliver her possession up ,
On terms of base compulsion ! Can it be 
That so degenerate a strain as this 
Should once set footing in your generous bosoms ?
There's not the meanest spirit on our party 
Without a heart to dare or sword to draw 
When Helen is defended , nor none so noble 
Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'd 
Where Helen is the subject : then , I say ,
Well may we fight for her , whom , we know well ,
The world's large spaces cannot parallel .
Paris and Troilus , you have both said well ;
And on the cause and question now in hand 
Have gloz'd , but superficially ; not much 
Unlike young men , whom Aristotle thought 
Unfit to hear moral philosophy .
The reasons you allege do more conduce 
To the hot passion of distemper'd blood 
Than to make up a free determination 
'Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge 
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
Of any true decision . Nature craves 
All dues be render'd to their owners : now ,
What nearer debt in all humanity 
Than wife is to the husband ? if this law 
Of nature be corrupted through affection ,
And that great minds , of partial indulgence 
To their benumbed wills , resist the saine ;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation 
To curb those raging appetites that are 
Most disobedient and refractory .
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king ,
As it is known she is , these moral laws 
Of nature , and of nations , speak aloud 
To have her back return'd : thus to persist 
In doing wrong extenuates not wrong ,
But makes it much more heavy . Hector's opinion 
Is this , in way of truth ; yet , ne'ertheless ,
My spritely brethren , I propend to you 
In resolution to keep Helen still ;
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance 
Upon our joint and several dignities .
Why , there you touch'd the life of our design :
Were it not glory that we more affected 
Than the performance of our heaving spleens ,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood 
Spent more in her defence . But , worthy Hector ,
She is a theme of honour and renown ,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds ,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes ,
And fame in time to come canonize us ;
For , I presume , brave Hector would not lose 
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory 
As smiles upon the forehead of this action 
For the wide world's revenue .
I am yours ,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus .
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst 
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks 
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits .
I was advertis'd their great general slept 
Whilst emulation in the army crept :
This , I presume , will wake him .
How now , Thersites ! what , lost in the labyrinth of thy fury ! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus ? he beats me , and I rail at him : O worthy satisfaction ! Would it were otherwise ; that I could beat him , whilst he railed at me . 'Sfoot , I'll learn to conjure and raise devils , but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations . Then there's Achilles , a rare enginer . If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it , the walls will stand till they fall of themselves . O ! thou great thunder-darter of Olympus , forget that thou art Jove the king of gods , and , Mercury , lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus , if ye take not that little little less than little wit from them that they have ; which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider , without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web . After this , the vengeance on the whole camp ! or , rather , the Neapolitan bone-ache ! for that , methinks , is the curse dependant on those that war for a placket . I have said my prayers , and devil Envy say Amen . What , ho ! my Lord Achilles !
Who's there ? Thersites ! Good Thersites , come in and rail .
If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit , thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation : but it is no matter ; thyself upon thyself ! The common curse of mankind , folly and ignorance , be thine in great revenue ! heaven bless thee from a tutor , and discipline come not near thee ! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death ! then , if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corpse , I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars . Amen . Where's Achilles ?
What ! art thou devout ? wast thou in prayer ?
Ay ; the heavens hear me !
Who's there ?
Thersites , my lord .
Where , where ? Art thou come ? Why , my cheese , my digestion , why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals ? Come , what's Agamemnon ?
Thy commander , Achilles . Then tell me , Patroclus , what's Achilles ?
Thy lord , Thersites . Then tell me , I pray thee , what's thyself ?
Thy knower , Patroclus . Then tell me , Patroclus , what art thou ?
Thou mayst tell that knowest .
O ! tell , tell .
I'll decline the whole question . Agamemnon commands Achilles ; Achilles is my lord ; I am Patroclus' knower ; and Patroclus is a fool .
You rascal !
Peace , fool ! I have not done .
He is a privileged man . Proceed , Thersites .
Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a fool ; Thersites is a fool ; and , as aforesaid , Patroclus is a fool .
Derive this ; come .
Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon ; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool ; and Patroclus is a fool positive .
Why am I a fool ?
Make that demand to the Creator . It suffices me thou art . Look you , who comes here ?
Patroclus , I'll speak with nobody . Come in with me , Thersites .
Here is such patchery , such juggling , and such knavery ! all the argument is a cuckold and a whore ; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon . Now , the dry serpigo on the subject ! and war and lechery confound all !
Where is Achilles ?
Within his tent ; but ill-dispos'd , my lord .
Let it be known to him that we are here .
He shent our messengers ; and we lay by 
Our appertainments , visiting of him :
Let him be told so ; lest perchance he think 
We dare not move the question of our place ,
Or know not what we are .
I shall say so to him .
We saw him at the opening of his tent :
He is not sick .
Yes , lion-sick , sick of proud heart : you may call it melancholy if you will favour the man ; but , by my head , 'tis pride : but why , why ? let him show us a cause . A word , my lord .
What moves Ajax thus to bay at him ?
Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him .
Who , Thersites ?
Then will Ajax lack matter , if he have lost his argument .
No ; you see , he is his argument that has his argument , Achilles .
All the better ; their fraction is more our wish than their faction : but it was a strong composure a fool could disunite .
The amity that wisdom knits not folly may easily untie . Here comes Patroclus .
No Achilles with him .
The elephant hath joints , but none for courtesy : his legs are legs for necessity , not for flexure .
Achilles bids me say , he is much sorry 
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure 
Did move your greatness and this noble state 
To call upon him ; he hopes it is no other 
But , for your health and your digestion sake ,
An after-dinner's breath .
Hear you , Patroclus :
We are too well acquainted with these answers :
But his evasion , wing'd thus swift with scorn ,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions .
Much attribute he hath , and much the reason 
Why we ascribe it to him ; yet all his virtues ,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld ,
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss ,
Yea , like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish ,
Are like to rot untasted . Go and tell him ,
We come to speak with him ; and you shall not sin 
If you do say we think him over-proud 
And under-honest , in self-assumption greater 
Than in the note of judgment ; and worthier than himself 
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on ,
Disguise the holy strength of their command ,
And underwrite in an observing kind 
His humorous predominance ; yea , watch 
His pettish lunes , his ebbs , his flows , as if 
The passage and whole carriage of this action 
Rode on his tide . Go tell him this , and add ,
That if he overhold his price so much ,
We'll none of him ; but let him , like an engine 
Not portable , lie under this report :
'Bring action hither , this cannot go to war :' 
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give 
Before a sleeping giant : tell him so .
I shall ; and bring his answer presently .
In second voice we'll not be satisfied ;
We come to speak with him . Ulysses , enter you .
What is he more than another ?
No more than what he thinks he is .
Is he so much ? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am ?
No question .
Will you subscribe his thought , and say he is ?
No , noble Ajax ; you are as strong , as valiant , as wise , no less noble , much more gentle , and altogether more tractable .
Why should a man be proud ? How doth pride grow ? I know not what pride is .
Your mind is the clearer , Ajax , and your virtues the fairer . He that is proud eats up himself : pride is his own glass , his own trumpet , his own chronicle ; and whatever praises itself but in the deed , devours the deed in the praise .
I do hate a proud man , as I hate the engendering of toads .
Yet he loves himself : is't not strange ?
Achilles will not to the field to-morrow .
What's his excuse ?
He doth rely on none ,
But carries on the stream of his dispose 
Without observance or respect of any ,
In will peculiar and in self-admission .
Why will he not upon our fair request 
Untent his person and share the air with us ?
Things small as nothing , for request's sake only ,
He makes important : possess'd he is with greatness ,
And speaks not to himself but with a pride 
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth 
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse ,
That 'twixt his mental and his active parts 
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages 
And batters down himself : what should I say ?
He is so plaguy proud , that the death-tokens of it 
Cry 'No recovery .' 
Let Ajax go to him .
Dear lord , go you and meet him in his tent :
'Tis said he holds you well , and will be led 
At your request a little from himself .
O Agamemnon ! let it not be so .
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
When they go from Achilles : shall the proud lord 
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam ,
And never suffers matter of the world 
Enter his thoughts , save such as do revolve 
And ruminate himself , shall he be worshipp'd 
Of that we hold an idol more than he ?
No , this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord 
Must not so stale his palm , nobly acquir'd ;
Nor , by my will , assubjugate his merit ,
As amply titled as Achilles is ,
By going to Achilles :
That were to enlard his fat-already pride ,
And add more coals to Cancer when he burns 
With entertaining great Hyperion .
This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid ,
And say in thunder , 'Achilles go to him .' 
O ! this is well ; he rubs the vein of him .
And how his silence drinks up this applause !
If I go to him , with my armed fist 
I'll pash him o'er the face .
O , no ! you shall not go .
An a' be proud with me , I'll pheeze his pride .
Let me go to him .
Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel .
A paltry , insolent fellow !
How he describes himself !
Can he not be sociable ?
The raven chides blackness .
I'll let his humours blood .
He will be the physician that should be the patient .
An all men were o' my mind ,
Wit would be out of fashion .
A' should not bear it so , a' should eat swords first : shall pride carry it ?
An't would , you'd carry half .
A' would have ten shares .
I will knead him ; I will make him supple .
He's not yet through warm : force him with praises : pour in , pour in ; his ambition is dry .
My lord , you feed too much on this dislike .
Our noble general , do not do so .
You must prepare to fight without Achilles .
Why , 'tis this naming of him does him harm .
Here is a man but 'tis before his face ;
I will be silent .
Wherefore should you so ?
He is not emulous , as Achilles is .
Know the whole world , he is as valiant .
A whoreson dog , that shall palter thus with us ! Would he were a Trojan !
What a vice were it in Ajax now ,
If he were proud ,
Or covetous of praise ,
Ay , or surly borne ,
Or strange , or self-affected !
Thank the heavens , lord , thou art of sweet composure ;
Praise him that got thee , her that gave thee suck :
Fam'd be thy tutor , and thy parts of nature 
Thrice-fam'd , beyond all erudition :
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight ,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain ,
And give him half : and , for thy vigour ,
Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield 
To sinewy Ajax . I will not praise thy wisdom ,
Which , like a bourn , a pale , a shore , confines 
Thy spacious and dilated parts : here's Nestor 
Instructed by the antiquary times ,
He must , he is , he cannot but be wise ;
But pardon , father Nestor , were your days 
As green as Ajax , and your brain so temper'd ,
You should not have the eminence of him ,
But be as Ajax .
Shall I call you father ?
Ay , my good son .
Be rul'd by him , Lord Ajax .
There is no tarrying here ; the hart Achilles 
Keeps thicket . Please it our great general 
To call together all his state of war ;
Fresh kings are come to Troy : to-morrow ,
We must with all our main of power stand fast :
And here's a lord ,come knights from east to west ,
And cull their flower , Ajax shall cope the best .
Go we to council . Let Achilles sleep :
Light boats sail swift , though greater hulks draw deep .
Friend ! you ! pray you , a word : do not you follow the young Lord Paris ?
Ay , sir , when he goes before me .
You depend upon him , I mean ?
Sir , I do depend upon the Lord .
You depend upon a noble gentleman ;
I must needs praise him .
The Lord be praised !
You know me , do you not ?
Faith , sir , superficially .
Friend , know me better . I am the 
Lord Pandarus .
I hope I shall know your honour better .
I do desire it .
You are in the state of grace .
Grace ! not so , friend ; honour and lordship are my titles .
What music is this ?
I do but partly know , sir : it is music in parts .
Know you the musicians ?
Wholly , sir .
Who play they to ?
To the hearers , sir .
At whose pleasure , friend ?
At mine , sir , and theirs that love music .
Command , I mean , friend .
Who shall I command , sir ?
Friend , we understand not one another :
I am too courtly , and thou art too cunning . At whose request do these men play ?
That's to't , indeed , sir . Marry , sir , at the request of Paris my lord , who is there in person ; with him the mortal Venus , the heartblood of beauty , love's invisible soul .
Who , my cousin Cressida ?
No , sir , Helen : could you not find out that by her attributes ?
It should seem , fellow , that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressida . I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus : I will make a complimental assault upon him , for my business seethes .
Sodden business : there's a stewed phrase , indeed .
Fair be to you , my lord , and to all this fair company ! fair desires , in all fair measures , fairly guide them ! especially to you , fair queen ! fair thoughts be your fair pillow !
Dear lord , you are full of fair words .
You speak your fair pleasure , sweet queen . Fair prince , here is good broken music .
You have broke it , cousin ; and , by my life , you shall make it whole again : you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance . Nell , he is full of harmony .
Truly , lady , no .
O , sir !
Rude , in sooth ; in good sooth , very rude .
Well said , my lord ! Well , you say so in fits .
I have business to my lord , dear queen .
My lord , will you vouchsafe me a word ?
Nay , this shall not hedge us out : we'll hear you sing , certainly .
Well , sweet queen , you are pleasant with me . But , marry , thus , my lord . My dear lord and most esteemed friend , your brother Troilus 
My Lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet lord ,
Go to , sweet queen , go to : commends himself most affectionately to you .
You shall not bob us out of our melody : if you do , our melancholy upon your head !
Sweet queen , sweet queen ! that's a sweet queen , i' faith .
And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence .
Nay , that shall not serve your turn ; that shall it not , in truth , la ! Nay , I care not for such words : no , no . And , my lord , he desires you , that if the king call for him at supper , you will make his excuse .
My Lord Pandarus ,
What says my sweet queen , my very sweet queen ?
What exploit's in hand ? where sups he to-night ?
Nay , but my lord ,
What says my sweet queen ! My cousin will fall out with you . You must know where he sups .
I'll lay my life , with my disposer Cressida .
No , no , no such matter ; you are wide . Come , your disposer is sick .
Well , I'll make excuse .
Ay , good my lord . Why should you say Cressida ? no , your poor disposer's sick .
I spy .
You spy ! what do you spy ? Come , give me an instrument . Now , sweet queen .
Why , this is kindly done .
My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have , sweet queen .
She shall have it , my lord , if it be not my Lord Paris .
He ! no , she'll none of him ; they two are twain .
Falling in , after falling out , may make them three .
Come , come , I'll hear no more of this .
I'll sing you a song now .
Ay , ay , prithee now . By my troth , sweet lord , thou hast a fine forehead .
Ay , you may , you may .
Let thy song be love : this love will undo us all . O Cupid , Cupid , Cupid !
Love ! ay , that it shall , i' faith .
Ay , good now , love , love , nothing but love .
In good troth , it begins so :
Love , love , nothing but love , still more !
For , oh ! love's bow 
Shoots buck and doe :
The shaft confounds ,
Not that it wounds ,
But tickles still the sore .
These lovers cry O ! O ! they die !
Yet that which seems the wound to kill ,
Doth turn O ! O ! to ha ! ha ! he !
So dying love lives still :
O ! O ! a while , but ha ! ha ! ha !
O ! O ! groans out for ha ! ha ! ha !
Heigh-ho !
In love , i' faith , to the very tip of the nose .
He eats nothing but doves , love ; and that breeds hot blood , and hot blood begets hot thoughts , and hot thoughts beget hot deeds , and hot deeds is love .
Is this the generation of love ? hot blood ? hot thoughts , and hot deeds ? Why , they are vipers : is love a generation of vipers ? Sweet lord , who's a-field to-day ?
Hector , Deiphobus , Helenus , Antenor , and all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain have armed to-day , but my Nell would not have it so . How chance my brother Troilus went not ?
He hangs the lip at something : you know all , Lord Pandarus .
Not I , honey-sweet queen . I long to hear how they sped to-day . You'll remember your brother's excuse ?
To a hair .
Farewell , sweet queen .
Commend me to your niece .
I will , sweet queen .
They're come from field : let us to Priam's hall 
To greet the warriors . Sweet Helen , I must woo you 
To help unarm our Hector : his stubborn buckles ,
With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd ,
Shall more obey than to the edge of steel 
Or force of Greekish sinews ; you shall do more 
Than all the island kings ,disarm great Hector .
'Twill make us proud to be his servant , Paris ;
Yea , what he shall receive of us in duty 
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have ,
Yea , overshines ourself .
Sweet , above thought I love thee .
How now ! where's thy master ? at my cousin Cressida's ?
No , sir ; he stays for you to conduct him thither .
O ! here he comes . How now , how now !
Sirrah , walk off .
Have you seen my cousin ?
No , Pandarus : I stalk about her door ,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 
Staying for waftage . O ! be thou my Charon ,
And give me swift transportance to those fields 
Where I may wallow in the lily-beds 
Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus !
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings ,
And fly with me to Cressid .
Walk here i' the orchard . I'll bring her straight .
I am giddy , expectation whirls me round .
The imaginary relish is so sweet 
That it enchants my sense . What will it be 
When that the watery palate tastes indeed 
Love's thrice-repured nectar ? death , I fear me ,
Swounding destruction , or some joy too fine ,
Too subtle-potent , tun'd too sharp in sweetness 
For the capacity of my ruder powers :
I fear it much ; and I do fear besides 
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ;
As doth a battle , when they charge on heaps 
The enemy flying .
She's making her ready : she'll come straight : you must be witty now . She does so blush , and fetches her wind so short , as if she were frayed with a sprite : I'll fetch her . It is the prettiest villain : she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow .
Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom ;
My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse ;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose ,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering 
The eye of majesty .
Come , come , what need you blush ? shame's a baby . Here she is now : swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me . What ! are you gone again ? you must be watched ere you be made tame , must you ? Come your ways , come your ways ; an you draw backward , we'll put you i' the fills . Why do you not speak to her ? Come , draw this curtain , and let's see your picture . Alas the day , how loath you are to offend day-light ! an 'twere dark , you'd close sooner . So , so ; rub on , and kiss the mistress . How now ! a kiss in fee-farm ! build there , carpenter ; the air is sweet . Nay , you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you . The falcon as the tercel , for all the ducks i' the river : go to , go to .
You have bereft me of all words , lady .
Words pay no debts , give her deeds ; but she'll bereave you of the deeds too if she call your activity in question . What ! billing again ? Here's 'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably' Come in , come in : I'll go get a fire .
Will you walk in , my lord ?
O Cressida ! how often have I wished me thus !
Wished , my lord ! The gods grant ,O my lord !
What should they grant ? what makes this pretty abruption ? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love ?
More dregs than water , if my fears have eyes .
Fears make devils of cherubins ; they never see truly .
Blind fear , that seeing reason leads , finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear : to fear the worst oft cures the worse .
O ! let my lady apprehend no fear : in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster .
Nor nothing monstrous neither ?
Nothing but our undertakings ; when we vow to weep seas , live in fire , eat rocks , tame tigers ; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed . This is the monstruosity in love , lady , that the will is infinite , and the execution confined ; that the desire is boundless , and the act a slave to limit .
They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able , and yet reserve an ability that they never perform ; vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one . They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares , are they not monsters ?
Are there such ? such are not we . Praise us as we are tasted , allow us as we prove ; our head shall go bare , till merit crown it . No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present : we will not name desert before his birth , and , being born , his addition shall be humble . Few words to fair faith : Troilus shall be such to Cressid , as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth ; and what truth can speak truest not truer than Troilus .
Will you walk in , my lord ?
What ! blushing still ? have you not done talking yet ?
Well , uncle , what folly I commit , I dedicate to you .
I thank you for that : if my lord get a boy of you , you'll give him me . Be true to my lord ; if he flinch , chide me for it .
You know now your hostages ; your uncle's word , and my firm faith .
Nay , I'll give my word for her too . Our kindred , though they be long ere they are wooed , they are constant being won : they are burrs , I can tell you ; they'll stick where they are thrown .
Boldness comes to me now , and brings me heart :
Prince Troilus , I have lov'd you night and day 
For many weary months .
Why was my Cressid then so hard to win ?
Hard to seem won ; but I was won , my lord ,
With the first glance that ever pardon me 
If I confess much you will play the tyrant .
I love you now ; but , till now , not so much 
But I might master it : in faith , I lie ;
My thoughts were like unbridled children , grown 
Too headstrong for their mother . See , we fools !
Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us 
When we are so unsecret to ourselves ?
But , though I lov'd you well , I woo'd you not ;
And yet , good faith , I wish'd myself a man ,
Or that we women had men's privilege 
Of speaking first . Sweet , bid me hold my tongue ;
For in this rapture I shall surely speak 
The thing I shall repent . See , see ! your silence ,
Cunning in dumbness , from my weakness draws 
My very soul of counsel . Stop my mouth .
And shall , albeit sweet music issues thence .
Pretty , i' faith .
My lord , I do beseech you , pardon me ;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss :
I am asham'd : O heavens ! what have I done ?
For this time will I take my leave , my lord .
Your leave , sweet Cressid ?
Leave ! an you take leave till to-morrow morning ,
Pray you , content you .
What offends you , lady ?
Sir , mine own company .
You cannot shun yourself .
Let me go and try :
I have a kind of self resides with you ;
But an unkind self , that itself will leave ,
To be another's fool . I would be gone :
Where is my wit ? I speak I know not what .
Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely .
Perchance , my lord , I show more craft than love ;
And fell so roundly to a large confession ,
To angle for your thoughts : but you are wise ,
Or else you love not , for to be wise , and love ,
Exceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods above .
O ! that I thought it could be in a woman 
As if it can I will presume in you 
To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth ,
Outliving beauty's outward , with a mind 
That doth renew swifter than blood decays :
Or that persuasion could but thus convince me ,
That my integrity and truth to you 
Might be affronted with the match and weight 
Of such a winnow'd purity in love ;
How were I then uplifted ! but , alas !
I am as true as truth's simplicity ,
And simpler than the infancy of truth .
In that I'll war with you .
O virtuous fight !
When right with right wars who shall be most right .
True swains in love shall in the world to come 
Approve their truths by Troilus : when their rimes ,
Full of protest , of oath , and big compare ,
Want similes , truth tir'd with iteration ,
As true as steel , as plantage to the moon ,
As sun to day , as turtle to her mate ,
As iron to adamant , as earth to the centre ,
Yet , after all comparisons of truth ,
As truth's authentic author to be cited ,
'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse 
And sanctify the numbers .
Prophet may you be !
If I be false , or swerve a hair from truth ,
When time is old and hath forgot itself ,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy ,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up ,
And mighty states characterless are grated 
To dusty nothing , yet let memory ,
From false to false , among false maids in love 
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said 'as false 
As air , as water , wind , or sandy earth ,
As fox to lamb , as wolf to heifer's calf ,
Pard to the hind , or stepdame to her son ;' 
Yea , let them say , to stick the heart of falsehood ,
'As false as Cressid .' 
Go to , a bargain made ; seal it , seal it : I'll be the witness . Here I hold your hand , here my cousin's . If ever you prove false one to another , since I have taken such pains to bring you together , let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name ; call them all Pandars ; let all constant men be Troiluses , all false women Cressids , and all brokers-between Pandars ! say , Amen .
Amen . Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed ; which bed , because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters , press it to death : away !
And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here 
Bed , chamber , Pandar to provide this gear !
Now , princes , for the service I have done you ,
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud 
To call for recompense . Appear it to your mind 
That through the sight I bear in things to come ,
I have abandon'd Troy , left my possession ,
Incurr'd a traitor's name ; expos'd myself ,
From certain and possess'd conveniences ,
To doubtful fortunes ; sequestering from me all 
That time , acquaintance , custom , and condition 
Made tame and most familiar to my nature ;
And here , to do you service , have become 
As new into the world , strange , unacquainted :
I do beseech you , as in way of taste ,
To give me now a little benefit ,
Out of those many register'd in promise ,
Which , you say , live to come in my behalf .
What wouldst thou of us , Trojan ? make demand .
You have a Trojan prisoner , call'd Antenor ,
Yesterday took : Troy holds him very dear .
Oft have you often have you thanks therefore 
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange ,
Whom Troy hath still denied ; but this Antenor 
I know is such a wrest in their affairs 
That their negociations all must slack ,
Wanting his manage ; and they will almost 
Give us a prince of blood , a son of Priam ,
In change of him : let him be sent , great princes ,
And he shall buy my daughter ; and her presence 
Shall quite strike off all service I have done ,
In most accepted pain .
Let Diomedes bear him ,
And bring us Cressid hither : Calchas shall have 
What he requests of us . Good Diomed ,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange :
Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow 
Be answer'd in his challenge : Ajax is ready .
This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden 
Which I am proud to bear .
Achilles stands in the entrance of his tent :
Please it our general to pass strangely by him ,
As if he were forgot ; and , princes all ,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him :
I will come last . 'Tis like he'll question me 
Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him :
If so , I have derision med'cinable 
To use between your strangeness and his pride ,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink .
It may do good : pride hath no other glass 
To show itself but pride , for supple knees 
Feed arrogance and are the poor man's fees .
We'll execute your purpose , and put on 
A form of strangeness as we pass along :
So do each lord , and either greet him not ,
Or else disdainfully , which shall shake him more 
Than if not look'd on . I will lead the way .
What ! comes the general to speak with me ?
You know my mind ; I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy .
What says Achilles ? would he aught with us ?
Would you , my lord , aught with the general ?
Nothing , my lord .
The better .
Good day , good day .
How do you ? how do you ?
What ! does the cuckold scorn me ?
How now , Patroclus ?
Good morrow , Ajax .
Good morrow .
Ay , and good next day too .
What mean these fellows ? Know they not Achilles ?
They pass by strangely : they were us'd to bend ,
To send their smiles before them to Achilles ;
To come as humbly as they us'd to creep 
To holy altars .
What ! am I poor of late ?
'Tis certain , greatness , once fall'n out with fortune ,
Must fall out with men too : what the declin'd is 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others 
As feel in his own fall ; for men , like butterflies ,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer ,
And not a man , for being simply man ,
Hath any honour , but honour for those honours 
That are without him , as places , riches , and favour ,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit :
Which when they fall , as being slippery standers ,
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too ,
Do one pluck down another , and together 
Die in the fall . But 'tis not so with me :
Fortune and I are friends : I do enjoy 
At ample point all that I did possess ,
Save these men's looks ; who do , methinks , find out 
Something not worth in me such rich beholding 
As they have often given . Here is Ulysses :
I'll interrupt his reading .
How now , Ulysses !
Now , great Thetis' son !
What are you reading ?
A strange fellow here 
Writes me ,
That man , how dearly ever parted ,
How much in having , or without or in ,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath ,
Nor feels not what he owes but by reflection ;
As when his virtues shining upon others 
Heat them , and they retort that heat again 
To the first giver .
This is not strange , Ulysses !
The beauty that is borne here in the face 
The bearer knows not , but commends itself 
To others' eyes : nor doth the eye itself 
That most pure spirit of sense behold itself ,
Not going from itself ; but eye to eye oppos'd 
Salutes each other with each other's form ;
For speculation turns not to itself 
Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there 
Where it may see itself . This is not strange at all .
I do not strain at the position ,
It is familiar , but at the author s drift ;
Who in his circumstance expressly proves 
That no man is the lord of any thing 
Though in and of him there be much consisting 
Till he communicate his parts to others :
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught 
Till he behold them form'd in the applause 
Where they're extended ; who , like an arch , reverberates 
The voice again , or , like a gate of steel 
Fronting the sun , receives and renders back 
His figure and his heat . I was much rapt in this ;
And apprehended here immediately 
The unknown Ajax .
Heavens , what a man is there ! a very horse ,
That has he knows not what . Nature , what things there are ,
Most abject in regard , and dear in use !
What things again most dear in the esteem 
And poor in worth ! Now shall we see to-morrow ,
An act that very chance doth throw upon him ,
Ajax renown'd . O heavens ! what some men do ;
While some men leave to do .
How some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall ,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes !
How one man eats into another's pride ,
While pride is fasting in his wantonness !
To see these Grecian lords ! why , even already 
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder ,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast ,
And great Troy shrinking .
I do believe it ; for they pass'd by me 
As misers do by beggars , neither gave to me 
Good word or look : what ! are my deeds forgot ?
Time hath , my lord , a wallet at his back ,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion ,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes :
Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd 
As fast as they are made , forgot as soon 
As done : perseverance , dear my lord ,
Keeps honour bright : to have done , is to hang 
Quite out of fashion , like a rusty mail 
In monumental mockery . Take the instant way ;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow 
Where one but goes abreast : keep , then , the path ;
For emulation hath a thousand sons 
That one by one pursue : if you give way ,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright ,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by 
And leave you hindmost ;
Or , like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank ,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear ,
O'errun and trampled on : then what they do in present ,
Though less than yours in past , must o'ertop yours ;
For time is like a fashionable host ,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand ,
And with his arms outstretch'd , as he would fly ,
Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles ,
And farewell goes out sighing . O ! let not virtue seek 
Remuneration for the thing it was ;
For beauty , wit ,
High birth , vigour of bone , desert in service ,
Love , friendship , charity , are subjects all 
To envious and calumniating time .
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin ,
That all with one consent praise new-born gawds ,
Though they are made and moulded of things past ,
And give to dust that is a little gilt 
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted .
The present eye praises the present object :
Then marvel not , thou great and complete man ,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye 
Than what not stirs . The cry went once on thee ,
And still it might , and yet it may again ,
If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive ,
And case thy reputation in thy tent ;
Whose glorious deeds , but in these fields of late ,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves ,
And drave great Mars to faction .
Of this my privacy 
I have strong reasons .
But 'gainst your privacy 
The reasons are more potent and heroical .
'Tis known , Achilles , that you are in love 
With one of Priam's daughters .
Ha ! known !
Is that a wonder ?
The providence that's in a watchful state 
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold ,
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps ,
Keeps place with thought , and almost , like the gods ,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles .
There is a mystery with whom relation 
Durst never meddle in the soul of state ,
Which hath an operation more divine 
Than breath or pen can give expressure to .
All the commerce that you have had with Troy 
As perfectly is ours as yours , my lord ;
And better would it fit Achilles much 
To throw down Hector than Polyxena ;
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home ,
When fame shall in our islands sound her trump ,
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing ,
'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win ,
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him .' 
Farewell , my lord : I as your lover speak ;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break .
To this effect , Achilles , have I mov'd you .
A woman impudent and mannish grown 
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man 
In time of action . I stand condemn'd for this :
They think my little stomach to the war 
And your great love to me restrains you thus .
Sweet , rouse yourself ; and the weak wanton Cupid 
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold ,
And , like a dew-drop from the lion's mane ,
Be shook to air .
Shall Ajax fight with Hector ?
Ay ; and perhaps receive much honour by him .
I see my reputation is at stake ;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd .
O ! then , beware ;
Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves :
Omission to do what is necessary 
Seals a commission to a blank of danger ;
And danger , like an ague , subtly taints 
Even then when we sit idly in the sun .
Go call Thersites hither , sweet Patroclus :
I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him 
T' invite the Trojan lords after the combat 
To see us here unarmed . I have a woman's longing ,
An appetite that I am sick withal ,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ;
To talk with him and to behold his visage ,
Even to my full of view . A labour sav'd !
A wonder !
Ajax goes up and down the field , asking for himself .
How so ?
He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector , and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing .
How can that be ?
Why , he stalks up and down like a peacock , a stride and a stand ; ruminates like a hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning ; bites his lip with a politic regard , as who should say 'There were wit in this head , an 'twould out ;' and so there is , but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint , which will not show without knocking . The man's undone for ever ; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat , he'll break't himself in vainglory . He knows not me : I said , 'Good morrow , Ajax ;' and he replies , 'Thanks , Agamemnon .' What think you of this man that takes me for the general ? He's grown a very land-fish , languageless , a monster . A plague of opinion ! a man may wear it on both sides , like a leather jerkin .
Thou must be my ambassador to him , Thersites .
Who , I ? why , he'll answer nobody ; he professes not answering ; speaking is for beggars ; he wears his tongue in his arms . I will put on his presence : let Patroclus make demands to me , you shall see the pageant of Ajax .
To him , Patroclus : tell him , I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent ; and to procure safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most illustrious , six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army , Agamemnon , et c tera . Do this .
Jove bless great Ajax !
I come from the worthy Achilles ,
Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent ,
And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon .
Agamemnon !
Ay , my lord .
What say you to't ?
God be wi' you , with all my heart .
Your answer , sir .
If to-morrow be a fair day , by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other ; howsoever , he shall pay for me ere he has me .
Your answer , sir .
Fare you well , with all my heart .
Why , but he is not in this tune , is he ?
No , but he's out o' tune thus . What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains , I know not ; but , I am sure , none , unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on .
Come , thou shalt bear a letter to him straight .
Let me bear another to his horse , for that's the more capable creature .
My mind is troubled , like a fountain stirr'd ;
And I myself see not the bottom of it .
Would the fountain of your mind were clear again , that I might water an ass at it ! I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance .
See , ho ! who is that there ?
It is the Lord  neas .
Is the prince there in person ?
Had I so good occasion to lie long 
As you , Prince Paris , nothing but heavenly business 
Should rob my bed-mate of my company .
That's my mind too . Good morrow , Lord  neas .
A valiant Greek ,  neas ; take his hand :
Witness the process of your speech , wherein 
You told how Diomed , a whole week by days ,
Did haunt you in the field .
Health to you , valiant sir ,
During all question of the gentle truce ;
But when I meet you arm'd , as black defiance 
As heart can think or courage execute .
The one and other Diomed embraces .
Our bloods are now in calm , and , so long , health !
But when contention and occasion meet ,
By Jove , I'll play the hunter for thy life 
With all my force , pursuit , and policy .
And thou shalt hunt a lion , that will fly 
With his face backward . In humane gentleness ,
Welcome to Troy ! now , by Anchises' life ,
Welcome , indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear ,
No man alive can love in such a sort 
The thing he means to kill more excellently .
We sympathize . Jove , let  neas live ,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory ,
A thousand complete courses of the sun !
But , in mine emulous honour , let him die ,
With every joint a wound , and that to-morrow !
We know each other well .
We do ; and long to know each other worse .
This is the most despiteful gentle greeting ,
The noblest hateful love , that e'er I heard of .
What business , lord , so early ?
I was sent for to the king ; but why , I know not .
His purpose meets you : 'twas to bring this Greek 
To Calchas' house , and there to render him ,
For the enfreed Antenor , the fair Cressid .
Let's have your company ; or , if you please ,
Haste there before us . I constantly do think 
Or rather , call my thought a certain knowledge 
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night :
Rouse him and give him note of our approach ,
With the whole quality wherefore : I fear 
We shall be much unwelcome .
That I assure you :
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece 
Than Cressid borne from Troy .
There is no help ;
The bitter disposition of the time 
Will have it so . On , lord ; we'll follow you .
Good morrow , all .
And tell me , noble Diomed ; faith , tell me true ,
Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship ,
Who , in your thoughts , merits fair Helen best 
Myself or Menelaus ?
Both alike :
He merits well to have her that doth seek her 
Not making any scruple of her soilure 
With such a hell of pain and world of charge ,
And you as well to keep her that defend her 
Not palating the taste of her dishonour 
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends :
He , like a puling cuckold , would drink up 
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece ;
You , like a lecher , out of whorish loins 
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors :
Both merits pois'd , each weighs nor less nor more ;
But he as he , the heavier for a whore .
You are too bitter to your country-woman .
She's bitter to her country . Hear me , Paris :
For every false drop in her bawdy veins 
A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scruple 
Of her contaminated carrion weight 
A Trojan hath been slain . Since she could speak ,
She hath not given so many good words breath 
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death .
Fair Diomed , you do as chapmen do ,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy ;
But we in silence hold this virtue well ,
We'll not commend what we intend to sell .
Here lies our way .
Dear , trouble not yourself : the morn is cold .
Then , sweet my lord , I'll call mine uncle down :
He shall unbolt the gates .
Trouble him not ;
To bed , to bed : sleep kill those pretty eyes ,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses 
As infants' empty of all thought !
Good morrow then .
I prithee now , to bed .
Are you aweary of me ?
O Cressida ! but that the busy day ,
Wak'd by the lark , hath rous'd the ribald crows ,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer ,
I would not from thee .
Night hath been too brief .
Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights she stays 
As tediously as hell , but flies the grasps of love 
With wings more momentary-swift than thought .
You will catch cold , and curse me .
Prithee , tarry :
You men will never tarry .
O foolish Cressid ! I might have still held off ,
And then you would have tarried . Hark ! there's one up .
What ! are all the doors open here ?
It is your uncle .
A pestilence on him ! now will he be mocking : I shall have such a life !
How now , how now ! how go maiden-heads ?
Here , you maid ! where's my cousin Cressid ?
Go hang yourself , you naughty mocking uncle !
You bring me to do and then you flout me too .
To do what ? to do what ? let her say what : what have I brought you to do ?
Come , come ; beshrew your heart ! you'll ne'er be good ,
Nor suffer others .
Ha , ha ! Alas , poor wretch ! a poor capocchia ! hast not slept to-night ? would he not , a naughty man , let it sleep ? a bugbear take him !
Did not I tell you ? 'would he were knock'd o' the head !
Who's that at door ? good uncle , go and see .
My lord , come you again into my chamber :
You smile , and mock me , as if I meant naughtily .
Ha , ha !
Come , you are deceiv'd , I think of no such thing .
How earnestly they knock ! Pray you , come in :
I would not for half Troy have you seen here .
Who's there ? what's the matter ? will you beat down the door ? How now ! what's the matter ?
Good morrow , lord , good morrow .
Who's there ? my Lord  neas ! By my troth ,
I knew you not : what news with you so early ?
Is not Prince Troilus here ?
Here ! what should he do here ?
Come , he is here , my lord : do not deny him : it doth import him much to speak with me .
Is he here , say you ? 'tis more than I know , I'll be sworn : for my own part , I came in late . What should he do here ?
Who ! nay , then : come , come , you'll do him wrong ere you're 'ware . You'll be so true to him , to be false to him . Do not you know of him , but yet go fetch him hither ; go .
How now ! what's the matter ?
My lord , I scarce have leisure to salute you ,
My matter is so rash : there is at hand 
Paris your brother , and Deiphobus ,
The Grecian Diomed , and our Antenor 
Deliver'd to us ; and for him forthwith ,
Ere the first sacrifice , within this hour ,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand 
The Lady Cressida .
Is it so concluded ?
By Priam , and the general state of Troy :
They are at hand and ready to effect it .
How my achievements mock me !
I will go meet them : and , my Lord  neas ,
We met by chance ; you did not find me here .
Good , good , my lord ; the secrets of nature 
Have not more gift in taciturnity .
Is't possible ? no sooner got but lost ?
The devil take Antenor ! the young prince will go mad : a plague upon Antenor ! I would they had broke's neck !
How now ! What is the matter ? Who was here ?
Ah ! ah !
Why sigh you so profoundly ? where's my lord ? gone ! Tell me , sweet uncle , what's the matter ?
Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above !
O the gods ! what's the matter ?
Prithee , get thee in . Would thou hadst ne'er been born ! I knew thou wouldst be his death . O poor gentleman ! A plague upon Antenor !
Good uncle , I beseech you , on my knees I beseech you , what's the matter ?
Thou must be gone , wench , thou must be gone ; thou art changed for Antenor . Thou must to thy father , and be gone from Troilus : 'twill be his death ; 'twill be his bane ; he cannot bear it .
O you immortal gods ! I will not go .
Thou must .
I will not , uncle : I have forgot my father ;
I know no touch of consanguinity ;
No kin , no love , no blood , no soul so near me 
As the sweet Troilus . O you gods divine !
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood 
If ever she leave Troilus ! Time , force , and death ,
Do to this body what extremes you can ;
But the strong base and building of my love 
Is as the very centre of the earth ,
Drawing all things to it . I'll go in and weep ,
Do , do .
Tear my bright hair , and scratch my praised cheeks ,
Crack my clear voice with sobs , and break my heart 
With sounding Troilus . I will not go from Troy .
It is great morning , and the hour prefix'd 
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek 
Comes fast upon . Good my brother Troilus ,
Tell you the lady what she is to do ,
And haste her to the purpose .
Walk into her house ;
I'll bring her to the Grecian presently :
And to his hand when I deliver her ,
Think it an altar , and thy brother Troilus 
A priest , there offering to it his own heart .
I know what 'tis to love ;
And would , as I shall pity , I could help !
Please you walk in , my lords .
Be moderate , be moderate .
Why tell you me of moderation ?
The grief is fine , full , perfect , that I taste ,
And violenteth in a sense as strong 
As that which causeth it : how can I moderate it ?
If I could temporize with my affection ,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate ,
The like allayment could I give my grief :
My love admits no qualifying dross ;
No more my grief , in such a precious loss .
Here , here , here he comes . Ah ! sweet ducks .
O Troilus ! Troilus !
What a pair of spectacles is here ! Let me embrace too . 'O heart ,' as the goodly saying is ,
O heart , heavy heart ,
Why sigh'st thou without breaking ?
when he answers again ,
Because thou canst not ease thy smart 
By friendship nor by speaking .
There was never a truer rime . Let us cast away nothing , for we may live to have need of such a verse : we see it , we see it . How now , lambs !
Cressid , I love thee in so strain'd a purity ,
That the bless'd gods , as angry with my fancy ,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which 
Cold lips blow to their deities , take thee from me .
Have the gods envy ?
Ay , ay , ay , ay ; 'tis too plain a case .
And is it true that I must go from Troy ?
A hateful truth .
What ! and from Troilus too ?
From Troy and Troilus .
Is it possible ?
And suddenly ; where injury of chance 
Puts back leave-taking , justles roughly by 
All time of pause , rudely beguiles our lips 
Of all rejoindure , forcibly prevents 
Our lock'd embrasures , strangles our dear vows 
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath .
We two , that with so many thousand sighs 
Did buy each other , must poorly sell ourselves 
With the rude brevity and discharge of one .
Injurious time now with a robber's haste 
Crams his rich thievery up , he knows not how :
As many farewells as be stars in heaven ,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them ,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ,
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss ,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears .
My lord , is the lady ready ?
Hark ! you are call'd : some say the Genius so 
Cries 'Come !' to him that instantly must die .
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon .
Where are my tears ? rain , to lay this wind , or my heart will be blown up by the root !
I must then to the Grecians ?
No remedy .
A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks !
When shall we see again ?
Hear me , my love . Be thou but true of heart ,
I true ! how now ! what wicked deem is this ?
Nay , we must use expostulation kindly ,
For it is parting from us :
I speak not 'be thou true ,' as fearing thee ,
For I will throw my glove to Death himself ,
That there's no maculation in thy heart ;
But , 'be thou true ,' say I , to fashion in 
My sequent protestation ; be thou true ,
And I will see thee .
O ! you shall be expos'd , my lord , to dangers 
As infinite as imminent ; but I'll be true .
And I'll grow friend with danger . Wear this sleeve .
And you this glove . When shall I see you ?
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels ,
To give thee nightly visitation .
But yet , be true .
O heavens ! 'be true' again !
Hear why I speak it , love :
The Grecian youths are full of quality ;
They're loving , well compos'd , with gifts of nature ,
Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise :
How novelty may move , and parts with person ,
Alas ! a kind of godly jealousy ,
Which , I beseech you , call a virtuous sin ,
Makes me afear'd .
O heavens ! you love me not .
Die I a villain , then !
In this I do not call your faith in question 
So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing ,
Nor heel the high lavolt , nor sweeten talk ,
Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all ,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant :
But I can tell that in each grace of these 
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil 
That tempts most cunningly . But be not tempted .
Do you think I will ?
But something may be done that we will not :
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves 
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers ,
Presuming on their changeful potency .
Nay , good my lord ,
Come , kiss ; and let us part .
Brother Troilus !
Good brother , come you hither ;
And bring  neas and the Grecian with you .
My lord , will you be true ?
Who , I ? alas , it is my vice , my fault :
While others fish with craft for great opinion ,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity ;
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns ,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare .
Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit 
Is plain , and true ; there's all the reach of it .
Welcome , Sir Diomed ! Here is the lady 
Which for Antenor we deliver you :
At the port , lord , I'll give her to thy hand ,
And by the way possess thee what she is .
Entreat her fair ; and , by my soul , fair Greek ,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword ,
Name Cressid , and thy life shall be as safe 
As Priam is in Ilion .
Fair Lady Cressid ,
So please you , save the thanks this prince expects :
The lustre in your eye , heaven in your cheek ,
Pleads your fair usage ; and to Diomed 
You shall be mistress , and command him wholly .
Grecian , thou dost not use me courteously ,
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee 
In praising her : I tell thee , lord of Greece ,
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises 
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant .
I charge thee use her well , even for my charge ;
For , by the dreadful Pluto , if thou dost not ,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard ,
I'll cut thy throat .
O ! be not mov'd , Prince Troilus :
Let me be privileg'd by my place and message 
To be a speaker free ; when I am hence ,
I'll answer to my lust ; and know you , lord ,
I'll nothing do on charge : to her own worth 
She shall be priz'd ; but that you say 'be't so ,' 
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour , 'no .' 
Come , to the port . I'll tell thee , Diomed ,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head .
Lady , give me your hand , and , as you walk ,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk .
Hark ! Hector's trumpet .
How have we spent this morning !
The prince must think me tardy and remiss ,
That swore to ride before him to the field .
'Tis Troilus' fault . Come , come , to field with him .
Let us make ready straight .
Yea , with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity ,
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels :
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie 
On his fair worth and single chivalry .
Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair ,
Anticipating time with starting courage .
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy ,
Thou dreadful Ajax ; that the appalled air 
May pierce the head of the great combatant 
And hale him hither .
Thou , trumpet , there's my purse .
Now crack thy lungs , and split thy brazen pipe :
Blow , villain , till thy sphered bias cheek 
Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon .
Come , stretch thy chest , and let thy eyes spout blood ;
Thou blow'st for Hector .
No trumpet answers .
'Tis but early days .
Is not yond Diomed with Calchas' daughter ?
'Tis he , I ken the manner of his gait ;
He rises on the toe : that spirit of his 
In aspiration lifts him from the earth .
Is this the Lady Cressid ?
Even she .
Most dearly welcome to the Greeks , sweet lady .
Our general doth salute you with a kiss .
Yet is the kindness but particular ;
'Twere better she were kiss'd in general .
And very courtly counsel : I'll begin .
So much for Nestor .
I'll take that winter from your lips , fair lady :
Achilles bids you welcome .
I had good argument for kissing once .
But that's no argument for kissing now ;
For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment ,
And parted thus you and your argument .
O , deadly gall , and theme of all our scorns !
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns .
The first was Menelaus' kiss ; this , mine :
Patroclus kisses you .
O ! this is trim .
Paris and I , kiss evermore for him .
I'll have my kiss , sir . Lady , by your leave .
In kissing , do you render or receive ?
Both take and give .
I'll make my match to live ,
The kiss you take is better than you give ;
Therefore no kiss .
I'll give you boot ; I'll give you three for one .
You're an odd man ; give even , or give none .
An odd man , lady ! every man is odd .
No , Paris is not ; for , you know 'tis true ,
That you are odd , and he is even with you .
You fillip me o' the head .
No , I'll be sworn .
It were no match , your nail against his horn .
May I , sweet lady , beg a kiss of you ?
You may .
I do desire it .
Why , beg , then .
Why , then , for Venus' sake , give me a kiss ,
When Helen is a maid again , and his .
I am your debtor ; claim it when 'tis due .
Never's my day , and then a kiss of you .
Lady , a word : I'll bring you to your father .
A woman of quick sense .
Fie , fie upon her !
There's language in her eye , her cheek , her lip ,
Nay , her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out 
At every joint and motive of her body .
O ! these encounterers , so glib of tongue ,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes ,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
To every tickling reader , set them down 
For sluttish spoils of opportunity 
And daughters of the game .
The Trojans' trumpet .
Yonder comes the troop .
Hail , all you state of Greece ! what shall be done 
To him that victory commands ? or do you purpose 
A victor shall be known ? will you the knights 
Shall to the edge of all extremity 
Pursue each other , or shall be divided 
By any voice or order of the field ?
Hector bade ask .
Which way would Hector have it ?
He cares not ; he'll obey conditions .
'Tis done like Hector ; but securely done ,
A little proudly , and great deal misprising 
The knight oppos'd .
If not Achilles , sir .
What is your name ?
If not Achilles , nothing .
Therefore Achilles ; but , whate'er , know this :
In the extremity of great and little ,
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector ;
The one almost as infinite as all ,
The other blank as nothing . Weigh him well ,
And that which looks like pride is courtesy .
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood :
In love whereof half Hector stays at home ;
Half heart , half hand , half Hector comes to seek 
This blended knight , half Trojan , and half Greek .
A maiden battle , then ? O ! I perceive you .
Here is Sir Diomed . Go , gentle knight ,
Stand by our Ajax : as you and Lord  neas 
Consent upon the order of their fight ,
So be it ; either to the uttermost ,
Or else a breath : the combatants being kin 
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin .
They are oppos'd already .
What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy ?
The youngest son of Priam , a true knight :
Not yet mature , yet matchless ; firm of word ,
Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue ;
Not soon provok'd , nor being provok'd soon calm'd :
His heart and hand both open and both free ;
For what he has he gives , what thinks he shows ;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty ,
Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath .
Manly as Hector , but more dangerous ;
For Hector , in his blaze of wrath , subscribes 
To tender objects ; but he in heat of action 
Is more vindicative than jealous love .
They call him Troilus , and on him erect 
A second hope , as fairly built as Hector .
Thus says  neas ; one that knows the youth 
Even to his inches , and with private soul 
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me .
They are in action .
Now , Ajax , hold thine own !
Hector , thou sleep'st ; awake thee !
His blows are well dispos'd : there , Ajax !
You must no more .
Princes , enough , so please you .
I am not warm yet ; let us fight again .
As Hector pleases .
Why , then will I no more :
Thou art , great lord , my father's sister's son ,
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ;
The obligation of our blood forbids 
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain .
Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so 
That thou couldst say , 'This hand is Grecian all ,
And this is Trojan ; the sinews of this leg 
All Greek , and this all Troy ; my mother's blood 
Runs on the dexter cheek , and this sinister 
Bounds in my father's ,' by Jove multipotent ,
Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member 
Wherein my sword had not impressure made 
Of our rank feud . But the just gods gainsay 
That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother ,
My sacred aunt , should by my mortal sword 
Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee , Ajax ;
By him that thunders , thou hast lusty arms ;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus :
Cousin , all honour to thee !
I thank thee , Hector :
Thou art too gentle and too free a man :
I came to kill thee , cousin , and bear hence 
A great addition earned in thy death .
Not Neoptolemus so mirable ,
On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st byes 
Cries , 'This is he !' could promise to himself 
A thought of added honour torn from Hector .
There is expectance here from both the sides ,
What further you will do .
We'll answer it ;
The issue is embracement : Ajax , farewell .
If I might in entreaties find success ,
As seld I have the chance ,I would desire 
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents .
'Tis Agamemnon's wish , and great Achilles 
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector .
neas , call my brother Troilus to me ,
And signify this loving interview 
To the expecters of our Trojan part ;
Desire them home . Give me thy hand , my cousin ;
I will go eat with thee and see your knights .
Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here .
The worthiest of them tell me name by name ;
But for Achilles , mine own searching eyes 
Shall find him by his large and portly size .
Worthy of arms ! as welcome as to one 
That would be rid of such an enemy ;
But that's no welcome ; understand more clear ,
What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks 
And formless ruin of oblivion ;
But in this extant moment , faith and troth ,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing ,
Bids thee , with most divine integrity ,
From heart of very heart , great Hector , welcome .
I thank thee , most imperious Agamemnon .
My well-fam'd Lord of Troy , no less to you .
Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting :
You brace of war-like brothers , welcome hither .
Whom must we answer ?
The noble Menelaus .
O ! you , my lord ? by Mars his gauntlet , thanks !
Mock not that I affect the untraded oath ;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove :
She's well , but bade me not commend her to you .
Name her not now , sir ; she's a deadly theme .
O ! pardon ; I offend .
I have , thou gallant Trojan , seen thee oft ,
Labouring for destiny , make cruel way 
Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have seen thee ,
As hot as Perseus , spur thy Phrygian steed ,
Despising many forfeits and subduements ,
When thou hast hung thy advanc'd sword i' th' air ,
Not letting it decline on the declin'd ;
That I have said to some my standers-by ,
'Lo ! Jupiter is yonder , dealing life !' 
And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath ,
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in ,
Like an Olympian wrestling : this have I seen ;
But this thy countenance , still lock'd in steel ,
I never saw till now . I knew thy grandsire ,
And once fought with him : he was a soldier good ;
But , by great Mars , the captain of us all ,
Never like thee . Let an old man embrace thee ;
And , worthy warrior , welcome to our tents .
'Tis the old Nestor .
Let me embrace thee , good old chronicle ,
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time :
Most reverend Nestor , I am glad to clasp thee .
I would my arms could match thee in contention ,
As they contend with thee in courtesy .
I would they could .
By this white beard , I'd fight with thee to-morrow .
Well , welcome , welcome ! I have seen the time .
I wonder now how yonder city stands ,
When we have here her base and pillar by us .
I know your favour , Lord Ulysses , well .
Ah ! sir , there's many a Greek and Trojan dead ,
Since first I saw yourself and Diomed 
In Ilion , on your Greekish embassy .
Sir , I foretold you then what would ensue :
My prophecy is but half his journey yet ;
For yonder walls , that pertly front your town ,
Yond towers , whose wanton tops do buss the clouds ,
Must kiss their own feet .
I must not believe you :
There they stand yet , and modestly I think ,
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost 
A drop of Grecian blood : the end crowns all ,
And that old common arbitrator , Time ,
Will one day end it .
So to him we leave it .
Most gentle and most valiant Hector , welcome .
After the general , I beseech you next 
To feast with me and see me at my tent .
I shall forestall thee , Lord Ulysses , thou !
Now , Hector , I have fed mine eyes on thee ;
I have with exact view perus'd thee , Hector ,
And quoted joint by joint .
Is this Achilles ?
I am Achilles .
Stand fair , I pray thee : let me look on thee .
Behold thy fill .
Nay , I have done already .
Thou art too brief : I will the second time ,
As I would buy thee , view thee limb by limb .
O ! like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er ;
But there's more in me than thou understand'st .
Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye ?
Tell me , you heavens , in which part of his body 
Shall I destroy him ? whether there , or there , or there ?
That I may give the local wound a name ,
And make distinct the very breach whereout 
Hector's great spirit flew . Answer me , heavens !
It would discredit the bless'd gods , proud man ,
To answer such a question . Stand again :
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly 
As to prenominate in nice conjecture 
Where thou wilt hit me dead ?
I tell thee , yea .
Wert thou an oracle to tell me so ,
I'd not believe thee . Henceforth guard thee well ,
For I'll not kill thee there , nor there , nor there ;
But , by the forge that stithied Mars his helm ,
I'll kill thee every where , yea , o'er and o'er .
You wisest Grecians , pardon me this brag ;
His insolence draws folly from my lips ;
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words ,
Or may I never 
Do not chafe thee , cousin :
And you , Achilles , let these threats alone ,
Till accident or purpose bring you to't :
You may have every day enough of Hector ,
If you have stomach . The general state , I fear ,
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him .
I pray you , let us see you in the field ;
We have had pelting wars since you refus'd 
The Grecians' cause .
Dost thou entreat me , Hector ?
To-morrow do I meet thee , fell as death ;
To-night all friends .
Thy hand upon that match .
First , all you peers of Greece , go to my tent ;
There in the full convive we afterwards ,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall 
Concur together , severally entreat him .
Beat loud the tabourines , let the trumpets blow ,
That this great soldier may his welcome know .
My Lord Ulysses , tell me , I beseech you ,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep ?
At Menelaus' tent , most princely Troilus :
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night ;
Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth ,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view 
On the fair Cressid .
Shall I , sweet lord , be bound to thee so much ,
After we part from Agamemnon's tent ,
To bring me thither ?
You shall command me , sir .
As gentle tell me , of what honour was 
This Cressida in Troy ? Had she no lover there 
That wails her absence ?
O , sir ! to such as boasting show their scars 
A mock is due . Will you walk on , my lord ?
She was belov'd , she lov'd ; she is , and doth :
But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth .
I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night ,
Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow .
Patroclus , let us feast him to the height .
Here comes Thersites .
How now , thou core of envy !
Thou crusty batch of nature , what's the news ?
Why , thou picture of what thou seemest , and idol of idiot-worshippers , here's a letter for thee .
From whence , fragment ?
Why , thou full dish of fool , from Troy .
Who keeps the tent now ?
The surgeon's box , or the patient's wound .
Well said , adversity ! and what need these tricks ?
Prithee , be silent , boy : I profit not by thy talk : thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet .
Male varlet , you rogue ! what's that ?
Why , his masculine whore . Now , the rotten diseases of the south , the guts-griping , ruptures , catarrhs , loads o' gravel i' the back , lethargies , cold palsies , raw eyes , dirt-rotten livers , wheezing lungs , bladders full of imposthume , sciaticas , lime-kilns i' the palm , incurable bone-ache , and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter , take and take again such preposterous discoveries !
Why , thou damnable box of envy , thou , what meanest thou to curse thus ?
Do I curse thee ?
Why , no , you ruinous butt , you whoreson indistinguishable cur , no .
No ! why art thou then exasperate , thou idle immaterial skein of sleave silk , thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye , thou tassel of a prodigal's purse , thou ? Ah ! how the poor world is pestered with such water-flies , diminutives of nature .
Out , gall !
Finch egg !
My sweet Patroclus , I am thwarted quite 
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle .
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba ,
A token from her daughter , my fair love ,
Both taxing me and gaging me to keep 
An oath that I have sworn . I will not break it :
Fall Greeks ; fail fame ; honour or go or stay ;
My major vow lies here , this I'll obey .
Come , come , Thersites , help to trim my tent ;
This night in banqueting must all be spent .
Away , Patroclus !
With too much blood and too little brain , these two may run mad ; but if with too much brain , and too little blood they do , I'll be a curer of madmen . Here's Agamemnon , an honest fellow enough , and one that loves quails , but he has not so much brain as ear-wax : and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there , his brother , the bull , the primitive statue , and oblique memorial of cuckolds ; a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain , hanging at his brother's leg , to what form but that he is should wit larded with malice and malice forced with wit turn him to ? To an ass , were nothing : he is both ass and ox ; to an ox , were nothing : he is both ox and ass . To be a dog , a mule , a cat , a fitchew , a toad , a lizard , an owl , a puttock , or a herring without a roe , I would not care ; but to be Menelaus ! I would conspire against destiny . Ask me not what I would be , if I were not Thersites , for I care not to be the louse of a lazar , so I were not Menelaus . Hey-day ! spirits and fires !
We go wrong , we go wrong .
No , yonder 'tis ;
There , where we see the lights .
I trouble you .
No , not a whit .
Here comes himself to guide you .
Welcome , brave Hector ; welcome , princes all .
So now , fair prince of Troy , I bid good-night .
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you .
Thanks and good-night to the Greeks' general .
Good-night , my lord .
Good-night , sweet Lord Menelaus .
Sweet draught : 'sweet ,' quoth a' ! sweet sink , sweet sewer .
Good-night and welcome both at once , to those 
That go or tarry .
Good-night .
Old Nestor tarries ; and you too , Diomed ,
Keep Hector company an hour or two .
I cannot , lord ; I have important business ,
The tide whereof is now . Good-night , great Hector .
Give me your hand .
Follow his torch ; he goes to Calchas' tent .
I'll keep you company .
Sweet sir , you honour me .
And so , good-night .
Come , come , enter my tent .
That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue , a most unjust knave ; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses . He will spend his mouth , and promise , like Brabbler the hound ; but when he performs , astronomers foretell it : it is prodigious , there will come some change : the sun borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word . I will rather leave to see Hector , than not to dog him : they say he keeps a Trojan drab , and uses the traitor Calchas' tent . I'll after . Nothing but lechery ! all incontinent varlets .
What , are you up here , ho ! speak .
Who calls ?
Diomed . Calchas , I think . Where's your daughter ?
She comes to you .
Stand where the torch may not discover us .
Cressid comes forth to him .
How now , my charge !
Now , my sweet guardian ! Hark ! a word with you .
Yea , so familiar !
She will sing any man at first sight .
And any man may sing her , if he can take her cliff ; she's noted .
Will you remember ?
Remember ! yes .
Nay , but do , then ;
And let your mind be coupled with your words .
What should she remember ?
Sweet honey Greek , tempt me no more to folly .
Roguery !
Nay , then ,
I'll tell you what ,
Foh , foh ! come , tell a pin : you are forsworn .
In faith , I cannot . What would you have me do ?
A juggling trick ,to be secretly open .
What did you swear you would bestow on me ?
I prithee , do not hold me to mine oath ;
Bid me do anything but that , sweet Greek .
Good-night .
Hold , patience !
How now , Trojan ?
Diomed ,
No , no , good-night ; I'll be your fool no more .
Thy better must .
Hark ! one word in your ear .
O plague and madness !
You are mov'd , prince ; let us depart , I pray you ,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself 
To wrathful terms . This place is dangerous ;
The time right deadly . I beseech you , go .
Behold , I pray you !
Nay , good my lord , go off :
You flow to great distraction ; come , my lord .
I pray thee , stay .
You have not patience ; come .
I pray you , stay . By hell , and all hell's torments ,
I will not speak a word !
And so , good-night .
Nay , but you part in anger .
Doth that grieve thee ?
O wither'd truth !
Why , how now , lord !
By Jove ,
I will be patient .
Guardian !why , Greek !
Foh , foh ! adieu ; you palter .
In faith , I do not : come hither once again .
You shake , my lord , at something : will you go ?
You will break out .
She strokes his cheek !
Come , come .
Nay , stay ; by Jove , I will not speak a word :
There is between my will and all offences 
A guard of patience : stay a little while .
How the devil Luxury , with his fat rump and potato finger , tickles these together ! Fry , lechery , fry !
But will you , then ?
In faith , I will , la ; never trust me else .
Give me some token for the surety of it .
I'll fetch you one .
You have sworn patience .
Fear me not , sweet lord ;
I will not be myself , nor have cognition 
Of what I feel : I am all patience .
Now the pledge ! now , now , now !
Here , Diomed , keep this sleeve .
O beauty ! where is thy faith ?
My lord ,
I will be patient ; outwardly I will .
You look upon that sleeve ; behold it well .
He lov'd me O false wench !Give't to me again .
Whose was't ?
It is no matter , now I have't again .
I will not meet with you to-morrow night .
I prithee , Diomed , visit me no more .
Now she sharpens : well said , whetstone !
I shall have it .
What , this ?
Ay , that .
O ! all you gods . O pretty , pretty pledge !
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed 
Of thee and me ; and sighs , and takes my glove ,
And gives me norial dainty kisses to it ,
As I kiss thee . Nay , do not snatch it from me ;
He that takes that doth take my heart withal .
I had your heart before ; this follows it .
I did swear patience .
You shall not have it , Diomed ; faith you shall not ;
I'll give you something else .
I will have this . Whose was it ?
'Tis no matter .
Come , tell me whose it was .
'Twas one's that loved me better than you will .
But , now you have it , take it .
Whose was it ?
By all Diana's waiting-women yond ,
And by herself , I will not tell you whose .
To-morrow will I wear it on my helm ,
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it .
Wert thou the devil , and wor'st it on thy horn ,
It should be challeng'd .
Well , well , 'tis done , 'tis past : and yet it is not :
I will not keep my word .
Why then , farewell ;
Thou never shalt mock Diomed again .
You shall not go : one cannot speak a word ,
But it straight starts you .
I do not like this fooling .
Nor I , by Pluto : but that that likes not me 
Pleases me best .
What , shall I come ? the hour ?
Ay , come :O Jove !
Do come :I shall be plagu'd .
Farewell till then .
Good-night : I prithee , come .
Troilus , farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ,
But with my heart the other eye doth see .
Ah ! poor our sex ; this fault in us I find ,
The error of our eye directs our mind .
What error leads must err . O ! then conclude 
Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude .
A proof of strength she could not publish more ,
Unless she said , 'My mind is now turn'd whore .' 
All's done , my lord .
It is .
Why stay we , then ?
To make a recordation to my soul 
Of every syllable that here was spoke .
But if I tell how these two did co-act ,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth ?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart ,
An esperance so obstinately strong ,
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ,
As if those organs had deceptions functions ,
Created only to calumniate .
Was Cressid here ?
I cannot conjure , Trojan .
She was not , sure .
Most sure she was .
Why , my negation hath no taste of madness .
Nor mine , my lord : Cressid was here but now .
Let it not be believ'd for womanhood !
Think we had mothers ; do not give advantage 
To stubborn critics , apt , without a theme ,
For depravation , to square the general sex 
By Cressid's rule : rather think this not Cressid .
What hath she done , prince , that can soil our mothers ?
Nothing at all , unless that this were she .
Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes ?
This she ? no , this is Diomed's Cressida .
If beauty have a soul , this is not she ;
If souls guide vows , if vows be sanctimony ,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight ,
If there be rule in unity itself ,
This is not she . O madness of discourse ,
That cause sets up with and against itself ;
Bi-fold authority ! where reason can revolt 
Without perdition , and loss assume all reason 
Without revolt : this is , and is not , Cressid .
Within my soul there doth conduce a fight 
Of this strange nature that a thing inseparate 
Divides more wider than the sky and earth ;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division 
Admits no orifice for a point as subtle 
As Ariachne's broken woof to enter .
Instance , O instance ! strong as Pluto's gates ;
Cressid is mine , tied with the bonds of heaven :
Instance , O instance ! strong as heaven itself ;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd , dissolv'd , and loos'd ;
And with another knot , five-finger-tied ,
The fractions of her faith , orts of her love ,
The fragments , scraps , the bits , and greasy reliques 
Of her o'er-eaten faith , are bound to Diomed .
May worthy Troilus be half attach'd 
With that which here his passion doth express ?
Ay , Greek ; and that shall be divulged well 
In characters as red as Mars his heart 
Inflam'd with Venus : never did young man fancy 
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul .
Hark , Greek : as much as I do Cressid love ,
So much by weight hate I her Diomed ;
That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm ;
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill ,
My sword should bite it . Not the dreadful spout 
Which shipmen do the hurricano call ,
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun ,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear 
In his descent than shall my prompted sword 
Falling on Diomed .
He'll tickle it for his concupy .
O Cressid ! O false Cressid ! false , false , false !
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name ,
And they'll seem glorious .
O ! contain yourself ;
Your passion draws ears hither .
I have been seeking you this hour , my lord .
Hector , by this , is arming him in Troy :
Ajax , your guard , stays to conduct you home .
Have with you , prince . My courteous lord , adieu .
Farewell , revolted fair ! and Diomed ,
Stand fast , and wear a castle on thy head !
I'll bring you to the gates .
Accept distracted thanks .
Would I could meet that rogue Diomed ! I would croak like a raven ; I would bode , I would bode . Patroclus would give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore : the parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab . Lechery , lechery ; still , wars and lechery : nothing else holds fashion . A burning devil take them !
When was my lord so much ungently temper'd ,
To stop his ears against admonishment ?
Unarm , unarm , and do not fight to-day .
You train me to offend you ; get you in :
By all the everlasting gods , I'll go .
My dreams will , sure , prove ominous to the day .
No more , I say .
Where is my brother Hector ?
Here , sister ; arm'd , and bloody in intent .
Consort with me in loud and dear petition ;
Pursue we him on knees ; for I have dream'd 
Of bloody turbulence , and this whole night 
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter .
O ! 'tis true .
Ho ! bid my trumpet sound .
No notes of sally , for the heavens , sweet brother .
Be gone , I say : the gods have heard me swear .
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows :
They are polluted offerings , more abhorr'd 
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice .
O ! be persuaded : do not count it holy 
To hurt by being just : it is as lawful ,
For we would give much , to use violent thefts ,
And rob in the behalf of charity .
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow ;
But vows to every purpose must not hold .
Unarm , sweet Hector .
Hold you still , I say ;
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate :
Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man 
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life .
How now , young man ! mean'st thou to fight to-day ?
Cassandra , call my father to persuade .
No , faith , young Troilus ; doff thy harness , youth ;
I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry :
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong ,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war .
Unarm thee , go , and doubt thou not , brave boy ,
I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy .
Brother , you have a vice of mercy in you ,
Which better fits a lion than a man .
What vice is that , good Troilus ? chide me for it .
When many times the captive Grecian falls ,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword ,
You bid them rise , and live .
O ! 'tis fair play .
Fool's play , by heaven , Hector .
How now ! how now !
For the love of all the gods ,
Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers ,
And when we have our armours buckled on ,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords ,
Spur them to ruthful work , rein them from ruth .
Fie , savage , fie !
Hector , then 'tis wars .
Troilus , I would not have you fight to-day .
Who should withhold me ?
Not fate , obedience , nor the hand of Mars 
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees ,
Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears ;
Nor you , my brother , with your true sword drawn ,
Oppos'd to hinder me , should stop my way ,
But by my ruin .
Lay hold upon him , Priam , hold him fast :
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay ,
Thou on him leaning , and all Troy on thee ,
Fall all together .
Come , Hector , come ; go back :
Thy wife hath dream'd ; thy mother hath had visions ;
Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself 
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt ,
To tell thee that this day is ominous :
Therefore , come back .
neas is a-field ;
And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks ,
Even in the faith of valour , to appear 
This morning to them .
Ay , but thou shalt not go .
I must not break my faith .
You know me dutiful ; therefore , dear sir ,
Let me not shame respect , but give me leave 
To take that course by your consent and voice ,
Which you do here forbid me , royal Priam .
O Priam ! yield not to him .
Do not , dear father .
Andromache , I am offended with you :
Upon the love you bear me , get you in .
This foolish , dreaming , superstitious girl 
Makes all these bodements .
O farewell ! dear Hector .
Look ! how thou diest ; look ! how thy eye turns pale ;
Look ! how thy wounds do bleed at many vents :
Hark ! how Troy roars : how Hecuba cries out !
How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth !
Behold , distraction , frenzy , and amazement ,
Like witless anticks , one another meet ,
And all cry Hector ! Hector's dead ! O Hector !
Away ! Away !
Farewell . Yet , soft ! Hector , I take my leave :
Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive .
You are amaz'd , my liege , at her exclaim .
Go in and cheer the town : we'll forth and fight ;
Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night .
Farewell : the gods with safety stand about thee !
They are at it , hark ! Proud Diomed , believe ,
I come to lose my arm , or win my sleeve .
Do you hear , my lord ? do you hear ?
What now ?
Here's a letter come from yond poor girl .
Let me read .
A whoreson tisick , a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles me , and the foolish fortune of this girl ; and what one thing , what another , that I shall leave you one o' these days : and I have a rheum in mine eyes too , and such an ache in my bones that , unless a man were cursed , I cannot tell what to think on't . What says she there ?
Words , words , mere words , no matter from the heart ;
The effect doth operate another way .
Go , wind to wind , there turn and change together .
My love with words and errors still she feeds ,
But edifies another with her deeds .
Now they are clapper-clawing one another ; I'll go look on . That dissembling abominable varlet , Diomed , has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of Troy there in his helm : I would fain see them meet ; that that same young Trojan ass , that loves the whore there , might send that Greekish whoremasterly villain , with the sleeve , back to the dissembling luxurious drab , on a sleeveless errand . O' the other side , the policy of those crafty swearing rascals ,that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese , Nestor , and that same dog-fox , Ulysses , is not proved worth a blackberry : they set me up , in policy , that mongrel cur , Ajax , against that dog of as bad a kind , Achilles ; and now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles , and will not arm to-day ; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism , and policy grows into an ill opinion . Soft ! here comes sleeve , and t' other .
Fly not ; for shouldst thou take the river Styx ,
I would swim after .
Thou dost miscall retire :
I do not fly ; but advantageous care 
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude .
Have at thee !
Hold thy whore , Grecian ! now for thy whore , Trojan ! now the sleeve , now the sleeve !
What art thou , Greek ? art thou for Hector's match ?
Art thou of blood and honour ?
No , no , I am a rascal ; a scurvy railing knave ; a very filthy rogue .
I do believe thee : live .
God-a-mercy , that thou wilt believe me ; but a plague break thy neck for frighting me ! What's become of the wenching rogues ? I think they have swallowed one another : I would laugh at that miracle ; yet , in a sort , lechery eats itself . I'll seek them .
Go , go , my servant , take thou Troilus' horse ;
Present the fair steed to my Lady Cressid :
Fellow , commend my service to her beauty :
Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan ,
And am her knight by proof .
I go , my lord .
Renew , renew ! The fierce Polydamas 
Hath beat down Menon ; bastard Margarelon 
Hath Doreus prisoner ,
And stands colossus-wise , waving his beam ,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings 
Epistrophus and Cedius ; Polixenes is slain ;
Amphimachus , and Thoas , deadly hurt ;
Patroclus ta'en , or slain ; and Palamedes 
Sore hurt and bruis'd ; the dreadful Sagittary 
Appals our numbers : haste we , Diomed ,
To reinforcement , or we perish all .
Go , bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ;
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame .
There is a thousand Hectors in the field :
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse ,
And there lacks work ; anon he's there afoot ,
And there they fly or die , like scaled sculls 
Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder ,
And there the strawy Greeks , ripe for his edge ,
Fall down before him , like the mower's swath :
Here , there , and everywhere , he leaves and takes ,
Dexterity so obeying appetite 
That what he will he does ; and does so much 
That proof is called impossibility .
O ! courage , courage , princes ; great Achilles 
Is arming , weeping , cursing , vowing vengeance :
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood ,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons ,
That noseless , handless , hack'd and chipp'd , come to him ,
Crying on Hector . Ajax hath lost a friend ,
And foams at mouth , and he is arm'd and at it ,
Roaring for Troilus , who hath done to-day 
Mad and fantastic execution ,
Engaging and redeeming of himself 
With such a careless force and forceless care 
As if that luck , in very spite of cunning ,
Bade him win all .
Troilus ! thou coward Troilus !
Ay , there , there .
So , so , we draw together .
Where is this Hector ?
Come , come , thou boy-queller , show thy face ;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry :
Hector ! where's Hector ? I will none but Hector .
Troilus , thou coward Troilus , show thy head !
Troilus , I say ! where's Troilus ?
What wouldst thou ?
I would correct him .
Were I the general , thou shouldst have my office 
Ere that correction . Troilus , I say ! what , Troilus !
O traitor Diomed ! Turn thy false face , thou traitor !
And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse !
Ha ! art thou there ?
I'll fight with him alone : stand , Diomed .
He is my prize ; I will not look upon .
Come , both you cogging Greeks ; have at you both !
Yea , Troilus ? O , well fought , my youngest brother !
Now I do see thee . Ha ! have at thee , Hector !
Pause , if thou wilt .
I do disdain thy courtesy , proud Trojan .
Be happy that my arms are out of use :
My rest and negligence befriend thee now ,
But thou anon shalt hear of me again ;
Till when , go seek thy fortune .
Fare thee well :
I would have been much more a fresher man ,
Had I expected thee . How now , my brother !
Ajax hath ta'en  neas : shall it be ?
No , by the flame of yonder glorious heaven ,
He shall not carry him : I'll be ta'en too ,
Or bring him off . Fate , hear me what I say !
I reck not though I end my life to-day .
Stand , stand , thou Greek ; thou art a goodly mark .
No ? wilt thou not ? I like thy armour well ;
I'll frush it , and unlock the rivets all ,
But I'll be master of it . Wilt thou not , beast , abide ?
Why then , fly on , I'll hunt thee for thy hide .
Come here about me , you my Myrmidons ;
Mark what I say . Attend me where I wheel :
Strike not a stroke , but keep yourselves in breath :
And when I have the bloody Hector found ,
Empale him with your weapons round about ;
In fellest manner execute your aims .
Follow me , sirs , and my proceedings eye :
It is decreed , Hector the great must die .
The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it . Now , bull ! now , dog ! 'Loo , Paris , 'loo ! now , my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo , Paris , 'loo ! The bull has the game : 'ware horns , ho !
Turn , slave , and fight .
What art thou ?
A bastard son of Priam's .
I am a bastard too ; I love bastards : I am a bastard begot , bastard instructed , bastard in mind , bastard in valour , in every thing illegitimate . One bear will not bite another , and wherefore should one bastard ? Take heed , the quarrel's most ominous to us : if the son of a whore fight for a whore , he tempts judgment . Farewell , bastard .
The devil take thee , coward !
Most putrefied core , so fair without ,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life .
Now is my day's work done ; I'll take good breath :
Rest , sword ; thou hast thy fill of blood and death .
Look , Hector , how the sun begins to set ;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels :
Even with the vail and darking of the sun ,
To close the day up , Hector's life is done .
I am unarm'd ; forego this vantage , Greek .
Strike , fellows , strike ! this is the man I seek .
So , Ilion , fall thou next ! now , Troy , sink down !
Here lies thy heart , thy sinews , and thy bone .
On ! Myrmidons , and cry you all amain ,
'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain .' 
Hark ! a retreat upon our Grecian part .
The Trojan trumpets sound the like , my lord .
The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth ,
And , stickler-like , the armies separates .
My half-supp'd sword , that frankly would have fed ,
Pleas'd with this dainty bait , thus goes to bed .
Come , tie his body to my horse's tail ;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail .
Hark ! hark ! what shout is that ?
Peace , drums !
Achilles !
Achilles ! Hector's slain ! Achilles !
The bruit is , Hector's slain , and by Achilles .
If it be so , yet bragless let it be ;
Great Hector was a man as good as he .
March patiently along . Let one be sent 
To pray Achilles see us at our tent .
If in his death the gods have us befriended ,
Great Troy is ours , and our sharp wars are ended .
Stand , ho ! yet are we masters of the field .
Never go home ; here starve we out the night .
Hector is slain .
Hector ! the gods forbid !
He's dead ; and at the murderer's horse's tail ,
In beastly sort , dragg'd through the shameful field .
Frown on , you heavens , effect your rage with speed !
Sit , gods , upon your thrones , and smile at Troy !
I say , at once let your brief plagues be mercy ,
And linger not our sure destructions on !
My lord , you do discomfort all the host .
You understand me not that tell me so .
I do not speak of flight , of fear , of death ;
But dare all imminence that gods and men 
Address their dangers in . Hector is gone :
Who shall tell Priam so , or Hecuba ?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd 
Go in to Troy , and say there Hector's dead :
There is a word will Priam turn to stone ,
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives ,
Cold statues of the youth ; and , in a word ,
Scare Troy out of itself . But march away :
Hector is dead ; there is no more to say .
Stay yet . You vile abominable tents ,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains ,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare ,
I'll through and through you ! And , thou great-siz'd coward ,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates :
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still ,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts .
Strike a free march to Troy ! with comfort go :
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe .
But hear you , hear you !
Hence , broker lackey ! ignomy and shame 
Pursue thy life , and live aye with thy name !
A goodly medicine for my aching bones ! O world ! world ! world ! thus is the poor agent despised . O traitors and bawds , how earnestly are you set a-work , and how ill requited ! why should our endeavour be so loved , and the performance so loathed ? what verse for it ? what instance for it ?Let me see !
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing ,
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting ;
And being once subdu'd in armed tail ,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail .
Good traders in the flesh , set this in your painted cloths .
As many as be here of pander's hall ,
Your eyes , half out , weep out at Pandar's fall ;
Or if you cannot weep , yet give some groans ,
Though not for me , yet for your aching bones .
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade ,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made .
It should be now , but that my fear is this ,
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss .
Till then I'll sweat , and seek about for eases ;
And at that time bequeath you my diseases
TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR WHAT YOU WILL
If music be the food of love , play on ;
Give me excess of it , that , surfeiting ,
The appetite may sicken , and so die .
That strain again ! it had a dying fall :
O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound 
That breathes upon a bank of violets ,
Stealing and giving odour . Enough ! no more :
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before .
O spirit of love ! how quick and fresh art thou ,
That , notwithstanding thy capacity 
Receiveth as the sea , nought enters there ,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er ,
But falls into abatement and low price ,
Even in a minute : so full of shapes is fancy ,
That it alone is high fantastical .
Will you go hunt , my lord ?
What , Curio ?
The hart .
Why , so I do , the noblest that I have .
O ! when mine eyes did see Olivia first ,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence .
That instant was I turn'd into a hart ,
And my desires , like fell and cruel hounds ,
E'er since pursue me .
How now ! what news from her ?
So please my lord , I might not be admitted ;
But from her handmaid do return this answer :
The element itself , till seven years' heat ,
Shall not behold her face at ample view ;
But , like a cloistress , she will veiled walk ,
And water once a day her chamber round 
With eve-offending brine : all this , to season 
A brother's dead love , which she would keep fresh 
And lasting in her sad remembrance .
O ! she that hath a heart of that fine frame 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother ,
How will she love , when the rich golden shaft 
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else 
That live in her ; when liver , brain , and heart ,
These sovereign thrones , are all supplied , and fill'd 
Her sweet perfections with one self king .
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ;
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers .
What country , friends , is this ?
This is Illyria , lady .
And what should I do in Illyria ?
My brother he is in Elysium .
Perchance he is not drown'd : what think you sailors ?
It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd .
O my poor brother ! and so perchance may he be .
True , madam : and , to comfort you with chance ,
Assure yourself , after our ship did split ,
When you and those poor number sav'd with you 
Hung on our driving boat , I saw your brother ,
Most provident in peril , bind himself ,
Courage and hope both teaching him the practice ,
To a strong mast that liv'd upon the sea ;
Where , like Arion on the dolphin's back ,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves 
So long as I could see .
For saying so there's gold .
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope ,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority ,
The like of him . Know'st thou this country ?
Ay , madam , well ; for I was bred and born 
Not three hours' travel from this very place .
Who governs here ?
A noble duke , in nature as in name .
What is his name ?
Orsino .
Orsino ! I have heard my father name him :
He was a bachelor then .
And so is now , or was so very late ;
For but a month ago I went from hence ,
And then 'twas fresh in murmur ,as , you know ,
What great ones do the less will prattle of ,
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia .
What's she ?
A virtuous maid , the daughter of a count 
That died some twelvemonth since ; then leaving her 
In the protection of his son , her brother ,
Who shortly also died : for whose dear love ,
They say she hath abjur'd the company 
And sight of men .
O ! that I serv'd that lady ,
And might not be deliver'd to the world ,
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow ,
What my estate is .
That were hard to compass ,
Because she will admit no kind of suit ,
No , not the duke's .
There is a fair behaviour in thee , captain ;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall 
Doth oft close in pollution , yet of thee 
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 
With this thy fair and outward character .
I prithee ,and I'll pay thee bounteously ,
Conceal me what I am , and be my aid 
For such disguise as haply shall become 
The form of my intent . I'll serve this duke :
Thou shalt present me as a eunuch to him :
It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing 
And speak to him in many sorts of music 
That will allow me very worth his service .
What else may hap to time I will commit ;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit .
Be you his eunuch , and your mute I'll be :
When my tongue blabs , then let mine eyes not see .
I thank thee : lead me on .
What a plague means my niece , to take the death of her brother thus ? I am sure care's an enemy to life .
By my troth , Sir Toby , you must come in earlier o' nights : your cousin , my lady , takes great exceptions to your ill hours .
Why , let her except before excepted .
Ay , but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order .
Confine ! I'll confine myself no finer than I am . These clothes are good enough to drink in , and so be these boots too : an they be not , let them hang themselves in their own straps .
That quaffing and drinking will undo you : I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer .
Who ? Sir Andrew Aguecheek ?
Ay , he .
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria .
What's that to the purpose ?
Why , he has three thousand ducats a year .
Ay , but he'll have but a year in all these ducats : he's a very fool and a prodigal .
Fie , that you'll say so ! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys , and speaks three or four languages word for word without book , and hath all the good gifts of nature .
He hath indeed , almost natural ; for , besides that he's a fool , he's a great quarreller ; and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling , 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave .
By this hand , they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him . Who are they ?
They that add , moreover , he's drunk nightly in your company .
With drinking healths to my niece . I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria . He's a coward and a coystril , that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top . What , wench ! Castiliano vulgo ! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface .
Sir Toby Belch ! how now , Sir Toby Belch !
Sweet Sir Andrew !
Bless you , fair shrew .
And you too , sir .
Accost , Sir Andrew , accost .
What's that ?
My niece's chambermaid .
Good Mistress Accost , I desire better acquaintance .
My name is Mary , sir .
Good Mistress Mary Accost ,
You mistake , knight : 'accost' is , front her , board her , woo her , assail her .
By my troth , I would not undertake her in this company . Is that the meaning of 'accost ?' 
Fare you well , gentlemen .
An thou let her part so , Sir Andrew , would thou mightst never draw sword again !
An you part so , mistress , I would I might never draw sword again . Fair lady , do you think you have fools in hand ?
Sir , I have not you by the hand .
Marry , but you shall have ; and here's my hand .
Now , sir , 'thought is free :' I pray you , bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink .
Wherefore , sweetheart ? what's your metaphor ?
It's dry , sir .
Why , I think so : I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry . But what's your jest ?
A dry jest , sir .
Are you full of them ?
Ay , sir , I have them at my fingers' ends : marry , now I let go your hand , I am barren .
O knight ! thou lackest a cup of canary : when did I see thee so put down ?
Never in your life , I think ; unless you see canary put me down . Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has ; but I am a great eater of beef , and I believe that does harm to my wit .
No question .
An I thought that , I'd forswear it .
I'll ride home to-morrow , Sir Toby .
Pourquoi , my dear knight ?
What is 'pourquoi ?' do or not do ? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing , dancing , and bear-baiting . O ! had I but followed the arts !
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair .
Why , would that have mended my hair ?
Past question ; for thou seest it will not curl by nature .
But it becomes me well enough , does't not ?
Excellent ; it hangs like flax on a distaff , and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs , and spin it off .
Faith , I'll home to-morrow , Sir Toby : your niece will not be seen ; or if she be , it's four to one she'll none of me . The count himself here hard by woos her .
She'll none o' the count ; she'll not match above her degree , neither in estate , years , nor wit ; I have heard her swear it . Tut , there's life in't , man .
I'll stay a month longer . I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world ; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether .
Art thou good at these kickchawses , knight ?
As any man in Illyria , whatsoever he be , under the degree of my betters : and yet I will not compare with an old man .
What is thy excellence in a galliard , knight ?
Faith , I can cut a caper .
And I can cut the mutton to't .
And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria .
Wherefore are these things hid ? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em ? are they like to take dust , like Mistress Mall's picture ? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard , and come home in a coranto ? My very walk should be a jig : I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace . What dost thou mean ? is it a world to hide virtues in ? I did think , by the excellent constitution of thy leg , it was formed under the star of a galliard .
Ay , 'tis strong , and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock . Shall we set about some revels ?
What shall we do else ? were we not born under Taurus ?
Taurus ! that's sides and heart .
No , sir , it is legs and thighs . Let me see thee caper . Ha ! higher : ha , ha ! excellent !
If the duke continue these favours towards you , Cesario , you are like to be much advanced : he hath known you but three days , and already you are no stranger .
You either fear his humour or my negligence , that you call in question the continuance of his love . Is he inconstant , sir , in his favours ?
No , believe me .
I thank you . Here comes the count .
Who saw Cesario ? ho !
On your attendance , my lord ; here .
Stand you awhile aloof . Cesario ,
Thou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd 
To thee the book even of my secret soul :
Therefore , good youth , address thy gait unto her ,
Be not denied access , stand at her doors ,
And tell them , there thy fixed foot shall grow 
Till thou have audience .
Sure , my noble lord ,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow 
As it is spoke , she never will admit me .
Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds 
Rather than make unprofited return .
Say I do speak with her , my lord , what then ?
O ! then unfold the passion of my love ;
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith :
It shall become thee well to act my woes ;
She will attend it better in thy youth 
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect .
I think not so , my lord .
Dear lad , believe it ;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
That say thou art a man : Diana's lip 
Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe 
Is as the maiden's organ , shrill and sound ;
And all is semblative a woman's part .
I know thy constellation is right apt 
For this affair . Some four or five attend him ;
All , if you will ; for I myself am best 
When least in company . Prosper well in this ,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord ,
To call his fortunes thine .
I'll do my best 
To woo your lady :
yet , a barful strife !
Whoe'er I woo , myself would be his wife .
Nay , either tell me where thou hast been , or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse . My lady will hang thee for thy absence .
Let her hang me : he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours .
Make that good .
He shall see none to fear .
A good lenten answer : I can tell thee where that saying was born , of , 'I fear no colours .' 
Where , good Mistress Mary ?
In the wars ; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery .
Well , God give them wisdom that have it ; and those that are fools , let them use their talents .
Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent ; or , to be turned away , is not that as good as a hanging to you ?
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage ; and , for turning away , let summer bear it out .
You are resolute then ?
Not so , neither ; but I am resolved on two points .
That if one break , the other will hold ; or , if both break , your gaskins fall .
Apt , in good faith ; very apt . Well , go thy way : if Sir Toby would leave drinking , thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria .
Peace , you rogue , no more o' that . Here comes my lady : make your excuse wisely , you were best .
Wit , an't be thy will , put me into good fooling ! Those wits that think they have thee , do very oft prove fools ; and I , that am sure I lack thee , may pass for a wise man : for what says Quinapalus ? 'Better a witty fool than a foolish wit .' 
God bless thee , lady !
Take the fool away .
Do you not hear , fellows ? Take away the lady .
Go to , you're a dry fool ; I'll no more of you : besides , you grow dishonest .
Two faults , madonna , that drink and good counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink , then is the fool not dry ; bid the dishonest man mend himself : if he mend , he is no longer dishonest ; if he cannot , let the botcher mend him . Any thing that's mended is but patched : virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin ; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue . If that this simple syllogism will serve , so ; if it will not , what remedy ? As there is no true cuckold but calamity , so beauty's a flower . The lady bade take away the fool ; therefore , I say again , take her away .
Sir , I bade them take away you .
Misprision in the highest degree ! Lady , cucullus non facit monachum ; that's as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain . Good madonna , give me leave to prove you a fool .
Can you do it ?
Dexteriously , good madonna .
Make your proof .
I must catechise you for it , madonna : good my mouse of virtue , answer me .
Well , sir , for want of other idleness , I'll bide your proof .
Good madonna , why mournest thou ?
Good fool , for my brother's death .
I think his soul is in hell , madonna .
I know his soul is in heaven , fool .
The more fool , madonna , to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven . Take away the fool , gentlemen .
What think you of this fool , Malvolio ? doth he not mend ?
Yes ; and shall do , till the pangs of death shake him : infirmity , that decays the wise , doth ever make the better fool .
God send you , sir , a speedy infirmity , for the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox , but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool .
How say you to that , Malvolio ?
I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal : I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone . Look you now , he's out of his guard already ; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him , he is gagged . I protest , I take these wise men , that crow so at these set kind of fools , no better than the fools' zanies .
O ! you are sick of self-love , Malvolio , and taste with a distempered appetite . To be generous , guiltless , and of free disposition , is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets . There is no slander in an allowed fool , though he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known discreet man , though he do nothing but reprove .
Now , Mercury endue thee with leasing , for thou speakest well of fools !
Madam , there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you .
From the Count Orsino , is it ?
I know not , madam : 'tis a fair young man , and well attended .
Who of my people hold him in delay ?
Sir Toby , madam , your kinsman .
Fetch him off , I pray you : he speaks nothing but madman . Fie on him !
Now you see , sir , how your fooling grows old , and people dislike it .
Thou hast spoken for us , madonna , as if thy eldest son should be a fool ; whose skull Jove cram with brains ! for here comes one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater .
By mine honour , half drunk . What is he at the gate , cousin ?
A gentleman .
A gentleman ! what gentleman ?
'Tis a gentleman here ,a plague o' these pickle herring ! How now , sot !
Good Sir Toby .
Cousin , cousin , how have you come so early by this lethargy ?
Lechery ! I defy lechery ! There's one at the gate .
Ay , marry , what is he ?
Let him be the devil , an he will , I care not : give me faith , say I . Well , it's all one .
What's a drunken man like , fool ?
Like a drowned man , a fool , and a madman : one draught above heat makes him a fool , the second mads him , and a third drowns him .
Go thou and seek the crowner , and let him sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink , he's drowned : go , look after him .
He is but mad yet , madonna ; and the fool shall look to the madman .
Madam , yond young fellow swears he will speak with you . I told him you were sick : he takes on him to understand so much , and therefore comes to speak with you . I told him you were asleep : he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too , and therefore comes to speak with you . What is to be said to him , lady ? he's fortified against any denial .
Tell him he shall not speak with me .
Ha's been told so ; and he says , he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post , and be the supporter to a bench , but he'll speak with you .
What kind o' man is he ?
Why , of mankind .
What manner of man ?
Of very ill manner : he'll speak with you , will you or no .
Of what personage and years is he ?
Not yet old enough for a man , nor young enough for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod , or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with him in standing water , between boy and man . He is very well-favoured , and he speaks very shrewishly : one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him .
Let him approach . Call in my gentlewoman .
Gentlewoman , my lady calls .
Give me my veil : come , throw it o'er my face .
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy .
The honourable lady of the house , which is she ?
Speak to me ; I shall answer for her .
Your will ?
Most radiant , exquisite , and unmatchable beauty ,I pray you tell me if this be the lady of the house , for I never saw her : I would be loath to cast away my speech ; for , besides that it is excellently well penned , I have taken great pains to con it . Good beauties , let me sustain no scorn ; I am very comptible , even to the least sinister usage .
Whence came you , sir ?
I can say little more than I have studied , and that question's out of my part . Good gentle one , give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house , that I may proceed in my speech .
Are you a comedian ?
No , my profound heart ; and yet , by the very fangs of malice I swear I am not that I play . Are you the lady of the house ?
If I do not usurp myself , I am .
Most certain , if you are she , you do usurp yourself ; for , what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve . But this is from my commission : I will on with my speech in your praise , and then show you the heart of my message .
Come to what is important in't : I forgive you the praise .
Alas ! I took great pains to study it , and 'tis poetical .
It is the more like to be feigned : I pray you keep it in . I heard you were saucy at my gates , and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you . If you be not mad , be gone ; if you have reason , be brief : 'tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue .
Will you hoist sail , sir ? here lies your way .
No , good swabber ; I am to hull here a little longer . Some mollification for your giant , sweet lady .
Tell me your mind .
I am a messenger .
Sure , you have some hideous matter to deliver , when the courtesy of it is so fearful . Speak your office .
It alone concerns your ear . I bring no overture of war , no taxation of homage : I hold the olive in my hand ; my words are as full of peace as matter .
Yet you began rudely . What are you ? what would you ?
The rudeness that hath appear'd in me have I learn'd from my entertainment . What I am , and what I would , are as secret as maiden-head ; to your ears , divinity ; to any other's , profanation .
Give us the place alone : we will hear this divinity .
Now , sir ; what is your text ?
Most sweet lady ,
A comfortable doctrine , and much may be said of it . Where lies your text ?
In Orsino's bosom .
In his bosom ! In what chapter of his bosom ?
To answer by the method , in the first of his heart .
O ! I have read it : it is heresy . Have you no more to say ?
Good madam , let me see your face .
Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face ? you are now out of your text : but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture .
Look you , sir , such a one I was as this present : is't not well done ?
Excellently done , if God did all .
'Tis in grain , sir ; 'twill endure wind and weather .
'Tis beauty truly blent , whose red and white 
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on :
Lady , you are tho cruell'st she alive ,
If you will lead these graces to the grave 
And leave the world no copy .
O ! sir , I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty : it shall be inventoried , and every particle and utensil labelled to my will : as Item , Two lips , indifferent red ; Item , Two grey eyes , with lids to them ; Item , One neck , one chin , and so forth . Were you sent hither to praise me ?
I see you what you are : you are too proud ;
But , if you were the devil , you are fair .
My lord and master loves you : O ! such love 
Could be but recompens'd , though you were crown'd 
The nonpareil of beauty .
How does he love me ?
With adorations , with fertile tears ,
With groans that thunder love , with sighs of fire .
Your lord does know my mind ; I cannot love him ;
Yet I suppose him virtuous , know him noble ,
Of great estate , of fresh and stainless youth ;
In voices well divulg'd , free , learn'd , and valiant ;
And , in dimension and the shape of nature 
A gracious person ; but yet I cannot love him :
He might have took his answer long ago .
If I did love you in my master's flame ,
With such a suffering , such a deadly life ,
In your denial I would find no sense ;
I would not understand it .
Why , what would you ?
Make me a willow cabin at your gate ,
And call upon my soul within the house ;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love ,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night ;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills ,
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out , 'Olivia !' O ! you should not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth ,
But you should pity me !
You might do much . What is your parentage ?
Above my fortune , yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman .
Get you to your lord :
I cannot love him . Let him send no more ,
Unless , perchance , you come to me again ,
To tell me how he takes it . Fare you well :
I thank you for your pains : spend this for me .
I am no fee'd post , lady ; keep your purse :
My master , not myself , lacks recompense .
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love ,
And let your fervour , like my master's , be 
Plac'd in contempt ! Farewell , fair cruelty .
'What is your parentage ?' 
'Above my fortunes , yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman .' I'll be sworn thou art :
Thy tongue , thy face , thy limbs , actions , and spirit ,
Do give thee five-fold blazon . Not too fast : soft ! soft !
Unless the master were the man . How now !
Even so quickly may one catch the plague ?
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections 
With an invisible and subtle stealth 
To creep in at mine eyes . Well , let it be .
What , ho ! Malvolio !
Here , madam , at your service .
Run after that same peevish messenger ,
The county's man : he left this ring behind him ,
Would I , or not : tell him I'll none of it .
Desire him not to flatter with his lord ,
Nor hold him up with hopes : I'm not for him .
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow ,
I'll give him reasons for't . Hie thee , Malvolio .
Madam , I will .
I do I know not what , and fear to find 
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind .
Fate , show thy force : ourselves we do not owe ;
What is decreed must be , and be this so !
Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not that I go with you ?
By your patience , no . My stars shine darkly over me ; the malignancy of my fate might , perhaps , distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone . It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you .
Let me yet know of you whither you are bound .
No , sooth , sir : my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy . But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore , it charges me in manners the rather to express myself . You must know of me then , Antonio , my name is Sebastian , which I called Roderigo . My father was that Sebastian of Messaline , whom I know you have heard of . He left behind him myself and a sister , both born in an hour : if the heavens had been pleased , would we had so ended ! but you , sir , altered that ; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned .
Alas the day !
A lady , sir , though it was said she much resembled me , was yet of many accounted beautiful : but , though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that , yet thus far I will boldly publish her : she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair . She is drowned already , sir , with salt water , though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more .
Pardon me , sir , your bad entertainment .
O good Antonio ! forgive me your trouble !
If you will not murder me for my love , let me be your servant .
If you will not undo what you have done , that is , kill him whom you have recovered , desire it not . Fare ye well at once : my bosom is full of kindness ; and I am yet so near the manners of my mother , that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me . I am bound to the Count Orsino's court : farewell .
The gentleness of all the gods go with thee !
I have many enemies in Orsino's court ,
Else would I very shortly see thee there ;
But , come what may , I do adore thee so ,
That danger shall seem sport , and I will go .
Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia ?
Even now , sir : on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither .
She returns this ring to you , sir : you might have saved me my pains , to have taken it away yourself . She adds , moreover , that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him . And one thing more ; that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs , unless it be to report your lord's taking of this . Receive it so .
She took the ring of me ; I'll none of it .
Come , sir , you peevishly threw it to her ; and her will is it should be so returned : if it be worth stooping for , there it lies in your eye ; if not , be it his that finds it .
I left no ring with her : what means this lady ?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her !
She made good view of me ; indeed , so much ,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue ,
For she did speak in starts distractedly .
She loves me , sure ; the cunning of her passion 
Invites me in this churlish messenger .
None of my lord's ring ! why , he sent her none .
I am the man : if it be so , as 'tis ,
Poor lady , she were better love a dream .
Disguise , I see , thou art a wickedness ,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much .
How easy is it for the proper-false 
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !
Alas ! our frailty is the cause , not we !
For such as we are made of , such we be .
How will this fadge ? My master loves her dearly ;
And I , poor monster , fond as much on him ;
And she , mistaken , seems to dote on me .
What will become of this ? As I am man ,
My state is desperate for my master's love ;
As I am woman ,now alas the day !
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe !
O time ! thou must untangle this , not I ;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie .
Approach , Sir Andrew : not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes ; and diluculo surgere , thou knowest ,
Nay , by my troth , I know not ; but I know , to be up late is to be up late .
A false conclusion : I hate it as an unfilled can . To be up after midnight and to go to bed then , is early ; so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes . Does not our life consist of the four elements ?
Faith , so they say ; but , I think , it rather consists of eating and drinking .
Thou art a scholar ; let us therefore eat and drink . Marian , I say ! a stoup of wine !
Here comes the fool , i' faith .
How now , my hearts ! Did you never see the picture of 'we three ?' 
Welcome , ass . Now let's have a catch .
By my troth , the fool has an excellent breast . I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg , and so sweet a breath to sing , as the fool has . In sooth , thou wast in very gracious fooling last night , when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus , of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus : 'twas very good , i' faith . I sent thee sixpence for thy leman : hadst it ?
I did impeticos thy gratillity ; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock : my lady has a white hand , and the Myrmidons are no bottleale houses .
Excellent ! Why , this is the best fooling , when all is done . Now , a song .
Come on ; there is sixpence for you : let's have a song .
There's a testril of me too : if one knight give a 
Would you have a love-song , or a song of good life ?
A love-song , a love-song .
Ay , ay ; I care not for good life .
O mistress mine ! where are you roaming ?
O ! stay and hear ; your true love's coming ,
That can sing both high and low .
Trip no further , pretty sweeting ;
Journeys end in lovers meeting ,
Every wise man's son doth know .
Excellent good , i' faith .
Good , good .
What is love ? 'tis not hereafter ;
Present mirth hath present laughter ;
What's to come is still unsure :
In delay there lies no plenty ;
Then come kiss me , sweet and twenty ,
Youth's a stuff will not endure .
A mellifluous voice , as I am true knight .
A contagious breath .
Very sweet and contagious , i' faith .
To hear by the nose , it is dulcet in contagion . But shall we make the welkin dance indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? shall we do that ?
An you love me , let's do't : I am dog at a catch .
By'r lady , sir , and some dogs will catch well .
Most certain . Let our catch be , 'Thou knave .' 
Hold thy peace , thou knave ,' knight ? I shall be constrain'd in't to call thee knave , knight .
'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave . Begin , fool : it begins , 'Hold thy peace .' 
I shall never begin if I hold my peace .
Good , i' faith . Come , begin .
What a caterwauling do you keep here ! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors , never trust me .
My lady's a Cataian ; we are politicians ; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey , and 'Three merry men be we .' Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her blood ? Tillyvally , lady !
There dwelt a man in Babylon , lady , lady !
Beshrew me , the knight's in admirable fooling .
Ay , he does well enough if he be disposed , and so do I too : he does it with a better grace , but I do it more natural .
O ! the twelfth day of December ,
For the love o' God , peace !
My masters , are you mad ? or what are you ? Have you no wit , manners , nor honesty , but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night ? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house , that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice ? Is there no respect of place , persons , nor time , in you ?
We did keep time , sir , in our catches . Sneck up !
Sir Toby , I must be round with you . My lady bade me tell you , that , though she harbours you as her kinsman , she's nothing allied to your disorders . If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours , you are welcome to the house ; if not , an it would please you to take leave of her , she is very willing to bid you farewell .
Farewell , dear heart , since I must needs be gone .
Nay , good Sir Toby .
His eyes do show his days are almost done .
Is't even so ?
But I will never die .
Sir Toby , there you lie .
This is much credit to you .
Shall I bid him go ?
What an if you do ?
Shall I bid him go , and spare not ?
O ! no , no , no , no , you dare not .
'Out o' time !' Sir , ye lie . Art any more than a steward ? Dost thou think , because thou art virtuous , there shall be no more cakes and ale ?
Yes , by Saint Anne ; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too .
Thou'rt i' the right . Go , sir , rub your chain with crumbs . A stoup of wine , Maria !
Mistress Mary , if you prized my lady's favour at anything more than contempt , you would not give means for this uncivil rule : she shall know of it , by this hand .
Go shake your ears .
'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry , to challenge him the field , and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him .
Do't , knight : I'll write thee a challenge ; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth .
Sweet Sir Toby , be patient for to-night : since the youth of the count's was to-day with my lady , she is much out of quiet . For Monsieur Malvolio , let me alone with him : if I do not gull him into a nayword , and make him a common recreation , do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed . I know I can do it .
Possess us , possess us ; tell us something of him .
Marry , sir , sometimes he is a kind of puritan .
O ! if I thought that , I'd beat him like a dog .
What , for being a puritan ? thy exquisite reason , dear knight ?
I have no exquisite reason for't , but I have reason good enough .
The devil a puritan that he is , or anything constantly but a time-pleaser ; an affectioned ass , that cons state without book , and utters it by great swarths : the best persuaded of himself ; so crammed , as he thinks , with excellences , that it is his ground of faith that all that look on him love him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work .
What wilt thou do ?
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love ; wherein , by the colour of his beard , the shape of his leg , the manner of his gait , the expressure of his eye , forehead , and complexion , he shall find himself most feelingly personated . I can write very like my lady your niece ; on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands .
Excellent ! I smell a device .
I have't in my nose too .
He shall think , by the letters that thou wilt drop , that they come from my niece , and that she is in love with him .
My purpose is , indeed , a horse of that colour .
And your horse now would make him an ass .
Ass , I doubt not .
O ! 'twill be admirable .
Sport royal , I warrant you : I know my physic will work with him . I will plant you two , and let the fool make a third , where he shall find the letter : observe his construction of it . For this night , to bed , and dream on the event . Farewell .
Good night , Penthesilea .
Before me , she's a good wench .
She's a beagle , true-bred , and one that adores me : what o' that ?
I was adored once too .
Let's to bed , knight . Thou hadst need send for more money .
If I cannot recover your niece , I am a foul way out .
Send for money , knight : if thou hast her not i' the end , call me cut .
If I do not , never trust me , take it how you will .
Come , come : I'll go burn some sack ; 'tis too late to go to bed now . Come , knight ; come , knight .
Give me some music . Now , good morrow , friends :
Now , good Cesario , but that piece of song ,
That old and antique song we heard last night ;
Methought it did relieve my passion much ,
More than light airs and recollected terms 
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :
Come ; but one verse .
He is not here , so please your lordship , that should sing it .
Who was it ?
Feste , the jester , my lord ; a fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in . He is about the house .
Seek him out , and play the tune the while .
Come hither , boy : if ever thou shalt love ,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me ;
For such as I am all true lovers are :
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else 
Save in the constant image of the creature 
That is belov'd . How dost thou like this tune ?
It gives a very echo to the seat 
Where love is thron'd .
Thou dost speak masterly .
My life upon't , young though thou art , thine eye 
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves ;
Hath it not , boy ?
A little , by your favour .
What kind of woman is't ?
Of your complexion .
She is not worth thee , then . What years , i' faith ?
About your years , my lord .
Too old , by heaven . Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself , so wears she to him ,
So sways she level in her husband's heart :
For , boy , however we do praise ourselves ,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm ,
More longing , wavering , sooner lost and worn ,
Than women's are .
I think it well , my lord .
Then , let thy love be younger than thyself ,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent ;
For women are as roses , whose fair flower 
Being once display'd , doth fall that very hour .
And so they are : alas , that they are so ;
To die , even when they to perfection grow !
O , fellow ! come , the song we had last night .
Mark it , Cesario ; it is old and plain ;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun ,
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones ,
Do use to chant it : it is silly sooth ,
And dallies with the innocence of love ,
Like the old age .
Are you ready , sir ?
Ay ; prithee , sing .
Come away , come away , death ,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
Fly away , fly away , breath ;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid .
My shroud of white , stuck all with yew ,
O ! prepare it 
My part of death , no one so true 
Did share it .
Not a flower , not a flower sweet ,
On my black coffin let there be strown ,
Not a friend , not a friend greet 
My poor corse , where my bones shall be thrown .
A thousand thousand sighs to save ,
Lay me , O ! where 
Sad true lover never find my grave ,
To weep there .
There's for thy pains .
No pains , sir ; I take pleasure in singing , sir .
I'll pay thy pleasure then .
Truly , sir , and pleasure will be paid , one time or another .
Give me now leave to leave thee .
Now , the melancholy god protect thee , and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta , for thy mind is a very opal ! I would have men of such constancy put to sea , that their business might be everything and their intent everywhere ; for that's it that always makes a good voyage of nothing . Farewell .
Let all the rest give place .
Once more , Cesario ,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her , my love , more noble than the world ,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her ,
Tell her , I hold as giddily as fortune ;
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems 
That nature pranks her in attracts my soul .
But if she cannot love you , sir ?
I cannot be so answer'd .
Sooth , but you must .
Say that some lady , as perhaps , there is ,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ;
You tell her so ; must she not then be answer'd ?
There is no woman's sides 
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
As love doth give my heart ; no woman's heart 
So big , to hold so much ; they lack retention .
Alas ! their love may be call'd appetite ,
No motion of the liver , but the palate ,
That suffer surfeit , cloyment , and revolt ;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea ,
And can digest as much . Make no compare 
Between that love a woman can bear me 
And that I owe Olivia .
Ay , but I know ,
What dost thou know ?
Too well what love women to men may owe :
In faith , they are as true of heart as we .
My father had a daughter lov'd a man ,
As it might be , perhaps , were I a woman ,
I should your lordship .
And what's her history ?
A blank , my lord . She never told her love ,
But let concealment , like a worm i' the bud ,
Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ,
And with a green and yellow melancholy ,
She sat like Patience on a monument ,
Smiling at grief . Was not this love indeed ?
We men may say more , swear more ; but indeed 
Our shows are more than will , for still we prove 
Much in our vows , but little in our love .
But died thy sister of her love , my boy ?
I am all the daughters of my father's house ,
And all the brothers too ; and yet I know not .
Sir , shall I to this lady ?
Ay , that's the theme .
To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say 
My love can give no place , bide no denay .
Come thy ways , Signior Fabian .
Nay , I'll come : if I lose a scruple of this sport , let me be boiled to death with melancholy .
Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame ?
I would exult , man : you know he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here .
To anger him we'll have the bear again ; and we will fool him black and blue ; shall we not , Sir Andrew ?
An we do not , it is pity of our lives .
Here comes the little villain .
How now , my metal of India !
Get ye all three into the box-tree . Malvolio's coming down this walk : he has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to his own shadow this half-hour . Observe him , for the love of mockery ; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him . Close , in the name of jesting ! Lie thou there :
for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling .
'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune . Maria once told me she did affect me ; and I have heard herself come thus near , that should she fancy , it should be one of my complexion . Besides , she uses me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her . What should I think on't ?
Here's an over-weening rogue !
O , peace ! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him : how he jets under his advanced plumes !
'Slight , I could so beat the rogue !
Peace ! I say .
To be Count Malvolio !
Ah , rogue !
Pistol him , pistol him .
Peace ! peace !
There is example for't : the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe .
Fie on him , Jezebel !
O , peace ! now he's deeply in ; look how imagination blows him .
Having been three months married to her , sitting in my state ,
O ! for a stone-bow , to hit him in the eye !
Calling my officers about me , in my branched velvet gown ; having come from a daybed , where I have left Olivia sleeping ,
Fire and brimstone !
O , peace ! peace !
And then to have the humour of state : and after a demure travel of regard , telling them I know my place , as I would they should do theirs , to ask for my kinsman Toby ,
Bolts and shackles !
O , peace , peace , peace ! now , now .
Seven of my people , with an obedient start , make out for him . I frown the while ; and perchance wind up my watch , or play with my some rich jewel . Toby approaches ; curtsies there to me ,
Shall this fellow live ?
Though our silence be drawn from us with cars , yet peace !
I extend my hand to him thus , quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control ,
And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then ?
Saying , 'Cousin Toby , my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech ,' 
What , what ?
'You must amend your drunkenness .' 
Out , scab !
Nay , patience , or we break the sinews of our plot .
'Besides , you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight ,' 
That's me , I warrant you .
'One Sir Andrew ,' 
I knew 'twas I ; for many do call me fool .
What employment have we here ?
Now is the woodcock near the gin .
O , peace ! and the spirit of humours intimate reading aloud to him !
By my life , this is my lady's hand ! these be her very C's , her U's , and her T's ; and thus makes she her great P's . It is , in contempt of question , her hand .
Her C's , her U's , and her T's : why that 
To the unknown beloved , this and my good wishes : her very phrases ! By your leave , wax . Soft ! and the impressure her Lucrece , with which she uses to seal : 'tis my lady . To whom should this be ?
This wins him , liver and all .
Jove knows I love ;
But who ?
Lips , do not move 
No man must know .
'No man must know .' What follows ? the numbers altered ! 'No man must know :' if this should be thee , Malvolio !
Marry , hang thee , brock !
I may command where I adore ;
But silence , like a Lucrece knife ,
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore :
M , O , A , I , doth sway my life .
A fustian riddle !
Excellent wench , say I .
'M , O , A , I , doth sway my life .' Nay , but first , let me see , let me see , let me see .
What dish o' poison has she dressed him !
And with what wing the staniel checks at it !
'I may command where I adore .' Why , she may command me : I serve her ; she is my lady . Why , this is evident to any formal capacity ; there is no obstruction in this . And the end , what should that alphabetical position portend ? if I could make that resemble something in me ,Softly !M , O , A , I ,
O ! ay , make up that : he is now at a cold scent .
Sowter will cry upon 't , for all this , though it be as rank as a fox .
M , Malvolio ; M , why , that begins my name .
Did not I say he would work it out ? the cur is excellent at faults .
M ,But then there is no consonancy in the sequel ; that suffers under probation : A should follow , but O does .
And O shall end , I hope .
Ay , or I'll cudgel him , and make him cry , O !
And then I comes behind .
Ay , an you had any eye behind you , you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you .
M , O , A , I ; this simulation is not as the former ; and yet , to crush this a little , it would bow to me , for every one of these letters are in my name . Soft ! here follows prose .
If this fall into thy hand , revolve . In my stars I am above thee ; but be not afraid of greatness : some are born great , some achieve greatness , and some have greatness thrust upon them . Thy Fates open their hands ; let thy blood and spirit embrace them ; and to inure thyself to what thou art like to be , cast thy humble slough , and appear fresh . Be opposite with a kinsman , surly with servants ; let thy tongue tang arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of singularity She thus advises thee that sighs for thee . Remember who commended thy yellow stockings , and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered : I say , remember . Go to , thou art made , if thou desirest to be so ; if not , let me see thee a steward still , the fellow of servants , and not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers . Farewell . She that would alter services with thee . THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY .
Daylight and champian discovers not more : this is open . I will be proud , I will read politic authors , I will baffle Sir Toby , I will wash off gross acquaintance , I will be point-devise the very man . I do not now fool myself , to let imagination jade me , for every reason excites to this , that my lady loves me . She did commend my yellow stockings of late , she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; and in this she manifests herself to my love , and , with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking . I thank my stars I am happy . I will be strange , stout , in yellow stockings , and cross-gartered , even with the swiftness of putting on . Jove and my stars be praised ! Here is yet a postscript .
Thou canst not choose but know who I am . If thou entertainest my love , let it appear in thy smiling ; thy smiles become thee well ; therefore in my presence still smile , dear my sweet , I prithee .
Jove , I thank thee . I will smile : I will do everything that thou wilt have me .
I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy .
I could marry this wench for this device .
So could I too .
And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest .
Nor I neither .
Here comes my noble gull-catcher .
Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck ?
Or o' mine either ?
Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip , and become thy bond-slave ?
I' faith , or I either ?
Why , thou hast put him in such a dream , that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad .
Nay , but say true ; does it work upon him ?
Like aqua-vit  with a midwife .
If you will , then see the fruits of the sport , mark his first approach before my lady ; he will come to her in yellow stockings , and 'tis a colour she abhors ; and cross-gartered , a fashion she detests ; and he will smile upon her , which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition , being addicted to a melancholy as she is , that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt . If you will see it , follow me .
To the gates of Tartar , thou most excellent devil of wit !
I'll make one too .
Save thee , friend , and thy music . Dost thou live by thy tabor ?
No , sir , I live by the church .
Art thou a churchman ?
No such matter , sir : I do live by the church ; for I do live at my house , and my house doth stand by the church .
So thou mayst say , the king lies by a beggar , if a beggar dwell near him ; or , the church stands by thy tabor , if thy tabor stand by the church .
You have said , sir . To see this age !
A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit : how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward !
Nay , that's certain : they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton .
I would therefore my sister had had no name , sir .
Why , man ?
Why , sir , her name's a word ; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton . But indeed , words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them .
Thy reason , man ?
Troth , sir , I can yield you none without words ; and words are grown so false , I am loath to prove reason with them .
I warrant thou art a merry fellow , and carest for nothing .
Not so , sir , I do care for something ; but in my conscience , sir , I do not care for you : if that be to care for nothing , sir , I would it would make you invisible .
Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool ?
No , indeed , sir ; the Lady Olivia has no folly : she will keep no fool , sir , till she be married ; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings the husband's the bigger . I am indeed not her fool , but her corrupter of words .
I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's .
Foolery , sir , does walk about the orb like the sun ; it shines every where . I would be sorry , sir , but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress . I think I saw your wisdom there .
Nay , an thou pass upon me , I'll no more with thee . Hold , there's sixpence for thee .
Now Jove , in his next commodity of hair , send thee a beard !
By my troth , I'll tell thee , I am almost sick for one , though I would not have it grow on my chin . Is thy lady within ?
Would not a pair of these have bred , sir ?
Yes , being kept together and put to use .
I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia , sir , to bring a Cressida to this Troilus .
I understand you , sir ; 'tis well begg'd .
The matter , I hope , is not great , sir , begging but a beggar : Cressida was a beggar . My lady is within , sir . I will conster to them whence you come ; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin ; I might say 'element ,' but the word is overworn .
This fellow's wise enough to play the fool ,
And to do that well craves a kind of wit :
He must observe their mood on whom he jests ,
The quality of persons , and the time ,
And , like the haggard , check at every feather 
That comes before his eye . This is a practice 
As full of labour as a wise man's art ;
For folly that he wisely shows is fit ;
But wise men folly-fall'n , quite taint their wit .
Save you , gentleman .
And you , sir .
Dieu vous garde , monsieur .
Et vous aussi ; votre serviteur .
I hope , sir , you are ; and I am yours .
Will you encounter the house ? my niece is desirous you should enter , if your trade be to her .
I am bound to your niece , sir : I mean , she is the list of my voyage .
Taste your legs , sir : put them to motion .
My legs do better understand me , sir , than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs .
I mean , to go , sir , to enter .
I will answer you with gait and entrance . But we are prevented .
Most excellent accomplished lady , the heavens rain odours on you !
That youth's a rare courtier . 'Rain odours !' well .
My matter hath no voice , lady , but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear .
'Odours ,' 'pregnant ,' and 'vouchsafed .' I'll get 'em all three all ready .
Let the garden door be shut , and leave me to my hearing .
Give me your hand , sir .
My duty , madam , and most humble service .
What is your name ?
Cesario is your servant's name , fair princess .
My servant , sir ! 'Twas never merry world 
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment .
You're servant to the Count Orsino , youth .
And he is yours , and his must needs be yours :
Your servant's servant is your servant , madam .
For him , I think not on him : for his thoughts ,
Would they were blanks rather than fill'd with me !
Madam , I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
On his behalf .
O ! by your leave , I pray you ,
I bade you never speak again of him :
But , would you undertake another suit ,
I had rather hear you to solicit that 
Than music from the spheres .
Dear lady ,
Give me leave , beseech you . I did send ,
After the last enchantment you did here ,
A ring in chase of you : so did I abuse 
Myself , my servant , and , I fear me , you :
Under your hard construction must I sit ,
To force that on you , in a shameful cunning ,
Which you knew none of yours : what might you think ?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake ,
And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts 
That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your receiving 
Enough is shown ; a cypress , not a bosom ,
Hideth my heart . So , let me hear you speak .
I pity you .
That's a degree to love .
No , not a grize ; for 'tis a vulgar proof 
That very oft we pity enemies .
Why , then methinks 'tis time to smile again .
O world ! how apt the poor are to be proud .
If one should be a prey , how much the better 
To fall before the lion than the wolf !
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time .
Be not afraid , good youth , I will not have you :
And yet , when wit and youth is come to harvest ,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man :
There lies your way , due west .
Then westward-ho !
Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship !
You'll nothing , madam , to my lord by me ?
I prithee , tell me what thou think'st of me .
That you do think you are not what you are .
If I think so , I think the same of you .
Then think you right : I am not what I am .
I would you were as I would have you be !
Would it be better , madam , than I am ?
I wish it might , for now I am your fool .
O ! what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
In the contempt and anger of his lip .
A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon 
Than love that would seem hid ; love's night is noon .
Cesario , by the roses of the spring ,
By maidhood , honour , truth , and every thing ,
I love thee so , that , maugre all thy pride ,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide .
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause ,
For that I woo , thou therefore hast no cause ;
But rather reason thus with reason fetter ,
Love sought is good , but giv'n unsought is better .
By innocence I swear , and by my youth ,
I have one heart , one bosom , and one truth ,
And that no woman has ; nor never none 
Shall mistress be of it , save I alone .
And so adieu , good madam : never more 
Will I my master's tears to you deplore .
Yet come again , for thou perhaps mayst move 
That heart , which now abhors , to like his love .
No , faith , I'll not stay a jot longer .
Thy reason , dear venom ; give thy reason .
You must needs yield your reason , Sir Andrew .
Marry , I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me ; I saw't i' the orchard .
Did she see thee the while , old boy ? tell me that .
As plain as I see you now .
This was a great argument of love in her toward you .
'Slight ! will you make an ass o' me ?
I will prove it legitimate , sir , upon the oaths of judgment and reason .
And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor .
She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you , to awake your dormouse valour , to put fire in your heart , and brimstone in your liver . You should then have accosted her , and with some excellent jests , firenew from the mint , you should have banged the youth into dumbness . This was looked for at your hand , and this was balked : the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off , and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion ; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard , unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt , either of valour or policy .
An't be any way , it must be with valour , for policy I hate : I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician .
Why , then , build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour : challenge me the count's youth to fight with him ; hurt him in eleven places : my niece shall take note of it ; and assure thyself , there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour .
There is no way but this , Sir Andrew .
Will either of you bear me a challenge to him ?
Go , write it in a martial hand ; be curst and brief ; it is no matter how witty , so it be eloquent , and full of invention : taunt him with the licence of ink : if thou thou'st him some thrice , it shall not be amiss ; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper , although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England , set 'em down : go , about it . Let there be gall enough in thy ink , though thou write with a goose-pen , no matter : about it .
Where shall I find you ?
We'll call thee at the cubiculo : go .
This is a dear manakin to you , Sir Toby .
I have been dear to him , lad , some two thousand strong , or so .
We shall have a rare letter from him ; but you'll not deliver it .
Never trust me , then ; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer . I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together . For Andrew , if he were opened , and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea , I'll eat the rest of the anatomy .
And his opposite , the youth , bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty .
Look , where the youngest wren of nine comes .
If you desire the spleen , and will laugh yourselves into stitches , follow me . Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen , a very renegado ; for there is no Christian , that means to be saved by believing rightly , can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness . He's in yellow stockings .
And cross-gartered ?
Most villanously ; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church . I have dogged him like his murderer . He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him : he does smile his face into more lines than are in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies . You have not seen such a thing as 'tis ; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him . I know my lady will strike him : if she do , he'll smile and take't for a great favour .
Come , bring us , bring us where he is .
I would not by my will have troubled you ;
But since you make your pleasure of your pains ,
I will no further chide you .
I could not stay behind you : my desire ,
More sharp than filed steel , did spur me forth ;
And not all love to see you ,though so much 
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage ,
But jealousy what might befall your travel ,
Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger ,
Unguided and unfriended , often prove 
Rough and unhospitable : my willing love ,
The rather by these arguments of fear ,
Set forth in your pursuit .
My kind Antonio ,
I can no other answer make but thanks ,
And thanks , and ever thanks ; for oft good turns 
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay :
But , were my worth , as is my conscience , firm ,
You should find better dealing . What's to do ?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town ?
To-morrow , sir : best first go see your lodging .
I am not weary , and 'tis long to night :
I pray you , let us satisfy our eyes 
With the memorials and the things of fame 
That do renown this city .
Would you'd pardon me ;
I do not without danger walk these streets :
Once , in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his galleys ,
I did some service ; of such note indeed ,
That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd .
Belike you slew great number of his people ?
The offence is not of such a bloody nature ,
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel 
Might well have given us bloody argument .
It might have since been answer'd in repaying 
What we took from them ; which , for traffic's sake ,
Most of our city did : only myself stood out ;
For which , if I be lapsed in this place ,
I shall pay dear .
Do not then walk too open .
It doth not fit me . Hold , sir ; here's my purse .
In the south suburbs , at the Elephant ,
Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet ,
Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge 
With viewing of the town : there shall you have me .
Why I your purse ?
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy 
You have desire to purchase ; and your store ,
I think , is not for idle markets , sir .
I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you for an hour .
To the Elephant .
I do remember .
I have sent after him : he says he'll come ;
How shall I feast him ? what bestow of him ?
For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd .
I speak too loud .
Where is Malvolio ? he is sad , and civil ,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes :
Where is Malvolio ?
He's coming , madam ; but in very strange manner . He is sure possess'd , madam .
Why , what's the matter ? does he rave ?
No , madam ; he does nothing but smile : your ladyship were best to have some guard about you if he come , for sure the man is tainted in's wits .
Go call him hither .
I am as mad as he ,
If sad and merry madness equal be .
How now , Malvolio !
Sweet lady , ho , ho .
Smil'st thou ?
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion .
Sad , lady ! I could be sad : this does make some obstruction in the blood , this crossgartering ; but what of that ? if it please the eye of one , it is with me as the very true sonnet is , 'Please one and please all .' 
Why , how dost thou , man ? what is the matter with thee ?
Not black in my mind , though yellow in my legs . It did come to his hands , and commands shall be executed : I think we do know the sweet Roman hand .
Wilt thou go to bed , Malvolio ?
To bed ! ay , sweetheart ; and I'll come to thee .
God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so and kiss thy hand so oft ?
How do you , Malvolio ?
At your request ! Yes ; nightingales answer daws .
Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady ?
'Be not afraid of greatness :' 'Twas well writ .
What meanest thou by that , Malvolio ?
'Some are born great ,' 
'Some achieve greatness ,' 
What sayst thou ?
'And some have greatness thrust upon them .' 
Heaven restore thee !
'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings ,' 
Thy yellow stockings !
'And wished to see thee cross-gartered .' 
Cross-gartered !
'Go to , thou art made , if thou desirest to be so ,' 
Am I made ?
'If not , let me see thee a servant still .' 
Why , this is very midsummer madness .
Madam , the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is returned . I could hardly entreat him back : he attends your ladyship's pleasure .
I'll come to him .
Good Maria , let this fellow be looked to . Where's my cousin Toby ? Let some of my people have a special care of him : I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry .
Oh , ho ! do you come near me now ? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me ! This concurs directly with the letter : she sends him on purpose , that I may appear stubborn to him ; for she incites me to that in the letter . 'Cast thy humble slough ,' says she ; 'be opposite with a kinsman , surly with servants ; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of singularity ;' and consequently sets down the manner how ; as , a sad face , a reverend carriage , a slow tongue , in the habit of some sir of note , and so forth . I have limed her ; but it is Jove's doing , and Jove make me thankful ! And when she went away now , 'Let this fellow be looked to ;' fellow ! not Malvolio , nor after my degree , but fellow . Why , everything adheres together , that no dram of a scruple , no scruple of a scruple , no obstacle , no incredulous or unsafe circumstance What can be said ? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes . Well , Jove , not I , is the doer of this , and he is to be thanked .
Which way is he , in the name of sanctity ? If all the devils in hell be drawn in little , and Legion himself possess'd him , yet I'll speak to him .
Here he is , here he is . How is't with you , sir ? how is't with you , man ?
Go off ; I discard you : let me enjoy my private ; go off .
Lo , how hollow the fiend speaks within him ! did not I tell you ? Sir Toby , my lady prays you to have a care of him .
Ah , ha ! does she so ?
Go to , go to : peace ! peace ! we must deal gently with him ; let me alone . How do you , Malvolio ? how is't with you ? What , man ! defy the devil : consider , he's an enemy to mankind .
Do you know what you say ?
La you ! an you speak ill of the devil , how he takes it at heart . Pray God , he be not bewitched !
Carry his water to the wise-woman .
Marry , and it shall be done to-morrow morning , if I live . My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say .
How now , mistress !
O Lord !
Prithee , hold thy peace ; this is not the way : do you not see you move him ? let me alone with him .
No way but gentleness ; gently , gently : the fiend is rough , and will not be roughly used .
Why , how now , my bawcock ! how dost thou , chuck ?
Ay , Biddy , come with me . What , man ! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan : hang him , foul collier !
Get him to say his prayers , good Sir Toby , get him to pray .
My prayers , minx !
No , I warrant you , he will not hear of godliness .
Go , hang yourselves all ! you are idle shallow things : I am not of your element . You shall know more hereafter .
Is't possible ?
If this were played upon a stage now , I could condemn it as an improbable fiction .
His very genius hath taken the infection of the device , man .
Nay , pursue him now , lest the device take air , and taint .
Why , we shall make him mad indeed .
The house will be the quieter .
Come , we'll have him in a dark room , and bound . My niece is already in the belief that he's mad : we may carry it thus , for our pleasure and his penance , till our very pastime , tired out of breath , prompt us to have mercy on him ; at which time we will bring the device to the bar , and crown thee for a finder of madmen . But see , but see .
More matter for a May morning .
Here's the challenge ; read it : I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't .
Is't so saucy ?
Ay , is't , I warrant him : do but read .
Give me . Youth , whatsoever thou art , thou art but a scurvy fellow .
Good , and valiant .
Wonder not , nor admire not in thy mind , why I do call thee so , for I will show thee no reason for't ,
A good note , that keeps you from the blow of the law .
Thou comest to the Lady Olivia , and in my sight she uses thee kindly : but thou liest in thy throat ; that is not the matter I challenge thee for .
Very brief , and to exceeding good sense less .
I will waylay thee going home ; where , if it be thy chance to kill me ,
Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain .
Still you keep o' the windy side of the law : good .
Fare thee well ; and God have mercy upon one of our souls ! He may have mercy upon mine , but my hope is better ; and so look to thyself . Thy friend , as thou usest him , and thy sworn enemy ,
If this letter move him not , his legs cannot .
I'll give't him .
You may have very fit occasion for for't : he is now in some commerce with my lady , and will by and by depart .
Go , Sir Andrew ; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily : so soon as ever thou seest him , draw ; and , as thou drawest , swear horrible ; for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath , with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off , gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him . Away !
Nay , let me alone for swearing .
Now will not I deliver his letter : for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding ; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less : therefore this letter , being so excellently ignorant , will breed no terror in the youth : he will find it comes from a clodpole . But , sir , I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth ; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour ; and drive the gentleman ,as I know his youth will aptly receive it ,into a most hideous opinion of his rage , skill , fury , and impetuosity . This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look , like cockatrices .
Here he comes with your niece : give them way till he take leave , and presently after him .
I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge .
I have said too much unto a heart of stone ,
And laid mine honour too unchary out :
There's something in me that reproves my fault ,
But such a headstrong potent fault it is 
That it but mocks reproof .
With the same haviour that your passion bears 
Goes on my master's griefs .
Here ; wear this jewel for me , 'tis my picture ;
Refuse it not ; it hath no tongue to vex you ;
And I beseech you come again to-morrow .
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny ,
That honour sav'd may upon asking give ?
Nothing but this ; your true love for my master .
How with mine honour may I give him that 
Which I have given to you ?
I will acquit you .
Well , come again to-morrow : fare thee well :
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell .
Gentleman , God save thee .
And you , sir .
That defence thou hast , betake thee to't : of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him , I know not ; but thy intercepter , full of despite , bloody as the hunter , attends thee at the orchard-end . Dismount thy tuck , be yare in thy preparation , for thy assailant is quick , skilful , and deadly .
You mistake , sir : I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me : my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man .
You'll find it otherwise , I assure you : therefore , if you hold your life at any price , betake you to your guard ; for your opposite hath in him what youth , strength , skill , and wrath , can furnish man withal .
I pray you , sir , what is he ?
He is knight dubbed with unhatched rapier , and on carpet consideration ; but he is a devil in private brawl : souls and bodies hath he divorced three , and his incensement at this moment is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre . Hob , nob , is his word : give't or take't .
I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady : I am no fighter . I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valour ; belike this is a man of that quirk .
Sir , no ; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury : therefore get you on and give him his desire . Back you shall not to the house , unless you undertake that with me which with as much safety you might answer him : therefore , on , or strip your sword stark naked ; for meddle you must , that's certain , or forswear to wear iron about you .
This is as uncivil as strange . I beseech you , do me this courteous office , as to know of the knight what my offence to him is : it is something of my negligence , nothing of my purpose .
I will do so . Signior Fabian , stay you by this gentleman till my return .
Pray you , sir , do you know of this matter ?
I know the knight is incensed against you , even to a mortal arbitrement , but nothing of the circumstance more .
I beseech you , what manner of man is he ?
Nothing of that wonderful promise , to read him by his form , as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour . He is , indeed , sir , the most skilful , bloody , and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria . Will you walk towards him ? I will make your peace with him if I can .
I shall be much bound to you for't : I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight ; I care not who knows so much of my mettle .
Why , man , he's a very devil ; I have not seen such a firago . I had a pass with him , rapier , scabbard and all , and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion that it is inevitable ; and on the answer , he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on . They say he has been fencer to the Sophy .
Pox on't , I'll not meddle with him .
Ay , but he will not now be pacified : Fabian can scarce hold him yonder .
Plague on't ; an I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence I'd have seen him damned ere I'd have challenged him . Let him let the matter slip , and I'll give him my horse , grey Capilet .
I'll make the motion . Stand here ; make a good show on't : this shall end without the perdition of souls .
Marry , I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you .
I have his horse to take up the quarrel . I have persuaded him the youth's a devil .
He is as horribly conceited of him ; and pants and looks pale , as if a bear were at his heels .
There's no remedy , sir : he will fight with you for his oath's sake . Marry , he hath better bethought him of his quarrel , and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of : therefore draw for the supportance of his vow : he protests he will not hurt you .
Pray God defend me ! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man .
Give ground , if you see him furious .
Come , Sir Andrew , there's no remedy : the gentleman will , for his honour's sake , have one bout with you ; he cannot by the duello avoid it : but he has promised me , as he is a gentleman and a soldier , he will not hurt you . Come on ; to't .
Pray God , he keep his oath !
I do assure you , 'tis against my will .
Put up your sword . If this young gentleman 
Have done offence , I take the fault on me :
If you offend him , I for him defy you .
You , sir ! why , what are you ?
One , sir , that for his love dares yet do more 
Than you have heard him brag to you he will .
Nay , if you be an undertaker , I am for you .
O , good sir Toby , hold ! here come the officers .
I'll be with you anon .
Pray , sir , put your sword up , if you please .
Marry , will I , sir ; and , for that I promised you , I'll be as good as my word . He will bear you easily and reins well .
This is the man ; do thy office .
Antonio , I arrest thee at the suit 
Of Count Orsino .
You do mistake me , sir .
No , sir , no jot : I know your favour well ,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head .
Take him away : he knows I know him well .
I must obey .
This comes with seeking you :
But there's no remedy : I shall answer it .
What will you do , now my necessity 
Makes me to ask you for my purse ? It grieves me 
Much more for what I cannot do for you 
Than what befalls myself . You stand amaz'd :
But be of comfort .
Come , sir , away .
I must entreat of you some of that money .
What money , sir ?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here ,
And part , being prompted by your present trouble ,
Out of my lean and low ability 
I'll lend you something : my having is not much :
I'll make division of my present with you .
Hold , there is half my coffer .
Will you deny me now ?
Is't possible that my deserts to you 
Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery ,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man 
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
That I have done for you .
I know of none ;
Nor know I you by voice or any feature .
I hate ingratitude more in a man 
Than lying , vainness , babbling drunkenness ,
Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption 
Inhabits our frail blood .
O heavens themselves !
Come , sir : I pray you , go .
Let me speak a little . This youth that you see here 
I snatch'd one-half out of the jaws of death ,
Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love ,
And to his image , which methought did promise 
Most venerable worth , did I devotion .
What's that to us ? The time goes by : away !
But O ! how vile an idol proves this god .
Thou hast , Sebastian , done good feature shame .
In nature there's no blemish but the mind ;
None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind :
Virtue is beauty , but the beauteous evil 
Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil .
The man grows mad : away with him ! Come , come , sir .
Lead me on .
Methinks his words do from such passion fly ,
That he believes himself ; so do not I .
Prove true , imagination , O , prove true ,
That I , dear brother , be now ta'en for you !
Come hither , knight ; come hither ,
Fabian : we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws .
He nam'd Sebastian : I my brother know 
Yet living in my glass ; even such and so 
In favour was my brother ; and he went 
Still in this fashion , colour , ornament ,
For him I imitate . O ! if it prove ,
Tempests are kind , and salt waves fresh in love !
A very dishonest paltry boy , and more a coward than a hare . His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity , and denying him ; and for his cowardship , ask Fabian .
A coward , a most devout coward , religious in it .
'Slid , I'll after him again and beat him .
Do ; cuff him soundly , but never draw thy sword .
An I do not ,
Come , let's see the event .
I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet .
Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you ?
Go to , go to ; thou art a foolish fellow :
Let me be clear of thee .
Well held out , i' faith ! No , I do not know you ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady to bid you come speak with her ; nor your name is not Master Cesario ; nor this is not my nose neither . Nothing that is so is so .
I prithee , vent thy folly somewhere else :
Thou know'st not me .
Vent my folly ! He has heard that word of some great man , and now applies it to a fool . Vent my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber , the world , will prove a cockney . I prithee now , ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my lady . Shall I vent to her that thou art coming ?
I prithee , foolish Greek , depart from me :
There's money for thee : if you tarry longer 
I shall give worse payment .
By my troth , thou hast an open hand .
These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase .
Now , sir , have I met you again ? there's for you .
Why , there's for thee , and there , and there , and there !
Are all the people mad ?
Hold , sir , or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house .
This will I tell my lady straight . I would not be in some of your coats for twopence .
Come on , sir : hold .
Nay , let him alone ; I'll go another way to work with him : I'll have an action of battery against him if there be any law in Illyria . Though I struck him first , yet it's no matter for that .
Let go thy hand .
Come , sir , I will not let you go . Come , my young soldier , put up your iron : you are well fleshed ; come on .
I will be free from thee .
What wouldst thou now ?
If thou dar'st tempt me further , draw thy sword .
What , what ! Nay then , I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you .
Hold , Toby ! on thy life I charge thee , hold !
Madam !
Will it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch !
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves ,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd . Out of my sight !
Be not offended , dear Cesario .
Rudesby , be gone !
I prithee , gentle friend ,
Let thy fair wisdom , not thy passion , sway 
In this uncivil and unjust extent 
Against thy peace . Go with me to my house ,
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
This ruffian hath botch'd up , that thou thereby 
Mayst smile at this . Thou shalt not choose but go :
Do not deny . Beshrew his soul for me ,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee .
What relish is in this ? how runs the stream ?
Or I am mad , or else this is a dream :
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ;
If it be thus to dream , still let me sleep !
Nay ; come , I prithee . Would thou'dst be rul'd by me !
Madam , I will .
O ! say so , and so be !
Nay , I prithee , put on this gown and this beard ; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate : do it quickly ; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst .
Well , I'll put it on and I will dissemble myself in't : and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown . I am not tall enough to become the function well , nor lean enough to be thought a good student ; but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar . The competitors enter .
God bless thee , Master parson .
Bonos dies , Sir Toby : for , as the old hermit of Prague , that never saw pen and ink , very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc , 'That , that is , is ;' so I , being Master parson , am Master parson ; for , what is 'that ,' but 'that ,' and 'is ,' but 'is ?' 
To him , Sir Topas .
What ho ! I say . Peace in this prison !
The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave .
Who calls there ?
Sir Topas , the curate , who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic .
Sir Topas , Sir Topas , good Sir Topas , go to my lady .
Out , hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou this man ! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies ?
Well said , Master Parson .
Sir Topas , never was man thus wronged . Good Sir Topas , do not think I am mad : they have laid me here in hideous darkness .
Fie , thou dishonest Satan ! I call thee by the most modest terms ; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy . Sayst thou that house is dark ?
As hell , Sir Topas .
Why , it hath bay-windows transparent as barricadoes , and the clerestories toward the south-north are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet complainest thou of obstruction ?
I am not mad , Sir Topas . I say to you , this house is dark .
Madman , thou errest : I say , there is no darkness but ignorance , in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog .
I say this house is as dark as ignorance , though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say , there was never man thus abused . I am no more mad than you are : make the trial of it in any constant question .
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl ?
That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird .
What thinkest thou of his opinion ?
I think nobly of the soul , and no way approve his opinion .
Fare thee well : remain thou still in darkness : thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits , and fear to kill a woodcock , lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam . Fare thee well .
Sir Topas ! Sir Topas !
My most exquisite Sir Topas !
Nay , I am for all waters .
Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown : he sees thee not .
To him in thine own voice , and bring me word how thou findest him : I would we were well rid of this knavery . If he may be conveniently delivered , I would he were ; for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot . Come by and by to my chamber .
Hey Robin , jolly Robin ,
Tell me how thy lady does .
My lady is unkind , perdy !
Alas , why is she so ?
Fool , I say !
She loves another .
Who calls , ha ?
Good fool , as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand , help me to a candle , and pen , ink , and paper . As I am a gentleman , I will live to be thankful to thee for't .
Master Malvoliol 
Ay , good fool .
Alas , sir , how fell you beside your five wits ?
Fool , there was never man so notoriously abused : I am as well in my wits , fool , as thou art .
But as well ? then you are mad indeed , if you be no better in your wits than a fool .
They have here propertied me ; keep me in darkness , send ministers to me , asses ! and do all they can to face me out of my wits .
Advise you what you say : the minister is here . Malvolio , Malvolio , thy wits the heavens restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep , and leave thy vain bibble-babble .
Sir Topas !
Maintain no words with him , good fellow .Who , I , sir ? not I , sir . God be wi' you , good Sir Topas . Marry , amen . I will , sir , I will .
Fool , fool , fool , I say !
Alas , sir , be patient . What say you , sir ? I am shent for speaking to you .
Good fool , help me to some light and some paper : I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria .
Well-a-day , that you were , sir !
By this hand , I am . Good fool , some ink , paper , and light ; and convey what I will set down to my lady : it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did .
I will help you to't . But tell me true , are you not mad indeed ? or do you but counterfeit ?
Believe me , I am not : I tell thee true .
Nay , I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains . I will fetch you light and paper and ink .
Fool , I'll requite it in the highest degree : I prithee , be gone .
I am gone , sir ,
And anon , sir ,
I'll be with you again 
In a trice ,
Like to the old Vice ,
Your need to sustain ;
Who with dagger of lath ,
In his rage and his wrath ,
Cries , Ah , ah ! to the devil :
Like a mad lad ,
Pare thy nails , dad ;
Adieu , goodman drivel .
This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; This pearl she gave me , I do feel't and see't ;
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus ,
Yet 'tis not madness . Where's Antonio then ?
I could not find him at the Elephant ;
Yet there he was , and there I found this credit ,
That he did range the town to seek me out .
His counsel now might do me golden service ;
For though my soul disputes well with my sense 
That this may be some error , but no madness ,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune 
So far exceed all instance , all discourse ,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes ,
And wrangle with my reason that persuades me 
To any other trust but that I am mad 
Or else the lady's mad : yet , if 'twere so ,
She could not sway her house , command her followers ,
Take and give back affairs and their dispatch 
With such a smooth , discreet , and stable bearing 
As I perceive she does . There's something in't 
That is deceivable . But here the lady comes .
Blame not this haste of mine . If you mean well ,
Now go with me and with this holy man 
Into the chantry by ; there , before him ,
And underneath that consecrated roof ,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith ;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
May live at peace . He shall conceal it 
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note ,
What time we will our celebration keep 
According to my birth . What do you say ?
I'll follow this good man , and go with you ;
And , having sworn truth , ever will be true .
Then lead the way , good father ; and heavens so shine 
That they may fairly note this act of mine !
Now , as thou lovest me , let me see his letter .
Good Master Fabian , grant me another request .
Anything .
Do not desire to see this letter .
This is , to give a dog , and , in recompense desire my dog again .
Belong you to the Lady Olivia , friends ?
Ay , sir ; we are some of her trappings .
I know thee well : how dost thou , my good fellow ?
Truly , sir , the better for my foes and the worse for my friends .
Just the contrary ; the better for thy friends .
No , sir , the worse .
How can that be ?
Marry , sir , they praise me and make an ass of me ; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass : so that by my foes , sir , I profit in the knowledge of myself , and by my friends I am abused : so that , conclusions to be as kisses , if your four negatives make your two affirmatives , why then , the worse for my friends and the better for my foes .
Why , this is excellent .
By my troth , sir , no ; though it please you to be one of my friends .
Thou shalt not be the worse for me : there's gold .
But that it would be double-dealing , sir , I would you could make it another .
O , you give me ill counsel .
Put your grace in your pocket , sir , for this once , and let your flesh and blood obey it .
Well , I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer : there's another .
Primo , secundo , tertio , is a good play ; and the old saying is , 'the third pays for all :' the triplex , sir , is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of Saint Bennet , sir , may put you in mind ; one , two , three .
You can fool no more money out of me at this throw : if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her , and bring her along with you , it may awake my bounty further .
Marry , sir , lullaby to your bounty till I come again . I go , sir ; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness ; but as you say , sir , let your bounty take a nap , I will awake it anon .
Here comes the man , sir , that did rescue me .
That face of his I do remember well ;
Yet when I saw it last , it was besmear'd 
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war .
A bawbling vessel was he captain of ,
For shallow draught and hulk unprizable ;
With which such scathful grapple did he make 
With the most noble bottom of our fleet ,
That very envy and the tongue of loss 
Cried fame and honour on him . What's the matter ?
Orsino , this is that Antonio 
That took the Ph nix and her fraught from Candy ;
And this is he that did the Tiger board ,
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg .
Here in the streets , desperate of shame and state ,
In private brabble did we apprehend him .
He did me kindness , sir , drew on my side ;
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me :
I know not what 'twas but distraction .
Notable pirate ! thou salt-water thief !
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies 
Whom thou , in terms so bloody and so dear ,
Hast made thine enemies ?
Orsino , noble sir ,
Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me :
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate ,
Though I confess , on base and ground enough ,
Orsino's enemy . A witchcraft drew me hither :
That most ingrateful boy there by your side ,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth 
Did I redeem ; a wrack past hope he was :
His life I gave him , and did thereto add 
My love , without retention or restraint ,
All his in dedication ; for his sake 
Did I expose myself , pure for his love ,
Into the danger of this adverse town ;
Drew to defend him when he was beset :
Where being apprehended , his false cunning ,
Not meaning to partake with me in danger ,
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance ,
And grew a twenty years removed thing 
While one would wink , denied me mine own purse ,
Which I had recommended to his use 
Not half an hour before .
How can this be ?
When came he to this town ?
To-day , my lord ; and for three months before ,
No interim , not a minute's vacancy ,
Both day and night did we keep company .
Here comes the countess : now heaven walks on earth !
But for thee , fellow ; fellow , thy words are madness :
Three months this youth hath tended upon me ;
But more of that anon . Take him aside .
What would my lord , but that he may not have ,
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?
Cesario , you do not keep promise with me .
Madam !
Gracious Olivia .
What do you say , Cesario ? Good my lord ,
My lord would speak ; my duty hushes me .
If it be aught to the old tune , my lord ,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear 
As howling after music .
Still so cruel ?
Still so constant , lord .
What , to perverseness ? you uncivil lady ,
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars 
My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath'd out 
That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall I do ?
Even what it please my lord , that shall become him .
Why should I not , had I the heart to do it ,
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death ,
Kill what I love ? a savage jealousy 
That sometimes savours nobly . But hear me this :
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith ,
And that I partly know the instrument 
That screws me from my true place in your favour ,
Live you , the marble-breasted tyrant still ;
But this your minion , whom I know you love ,
And whom , by heaven I swear , I tender dearly ,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye ,
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite .
Come , boy , with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mischief ;
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love ,
To spite a raven's heart within a dove .
And I , most jocund , apt , and willingly ,
To do you rest , a thousand deaths would die .
Where goes Cesario ?
After him I love 
More than I love these eyes , more than my life ,
More , by all mores , than e'er I shall love wife .
If I do feign , you witnesses above 
Punish my life for tainting of my love !
Ah me , detested ! how am I beguil'd !
Who does beguile you ? who does do you wrong ?
Hast thou forgot thyself ? Is it so long ?
Call forth the holy father .
Come away .
Whither , my lord ? Cesario , husband , stay .
Husband ?
Ay , husband : can he that deny ?
Her husband , sirrah ?
No , my lord , not I .
Alas ! it is the baseness of thy fear 
That makes thee strangle thy propriety .
Fear not , Cesario ; take thy fortunes up ;
Be that thou know'st thou art , and then thou art 
As great as that thou fear'st .
O , welcome , father !
Father , I charge thee , by thy reverence ,
Here to unfold ,though lately we intended 
To keep in darkness what occasion now 
Reveals before 'tis ripe ,what thou dost know 
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me .
A contract of eternal bond of love ,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands ,
Attested by the holy close of lips ,
Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings ;
And all the ceremony of this compact 
Seal'd in my function , by my testimony :
Since when , my watch hath told me , toward my grave 
I have travell'd but two hours .
O , thou dissembling cub ! what wilt thou be 
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case ?
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow 
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ?
Farewell , and take her ; but direct thy feet 
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet .
My lord , I do protest ,
O ! do not swear :
Hold little faith , though thou hast too much fear .
For the love of God , a surgeon ! send one presently to Sir Toby .
What's the matter ?
He has broke my head across , and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too . For the love of God , your help ! I had rather than forty pound I were at home .
Who has done this , Sir Andrew ?
The count's gentleman , one Cesario : we took him for a coward , but he's the very devil incardinate .
My gentleman , Cesario ?
Od's lifelings ! here he is . You broke my head for nothing ! and that that I did , I was set on to do't by Sir Toby .
Why do you speak to me ? I never hurt you :
You drew your sword upon me without cause ;
But I bespake you fair , and hurt you not .
If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt , you have hurt me : I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb . Here comes Sir Toby halting ;
you shall hear more : but if he had not been in drink he would have tickled you othergates than he did .
How now , gentleman ! how is't with you ?
That's all one : he has hurt me , and there's the end on't . Sot , didst see Dick surgeon , sot ?
O ! he's drunk , Sir Toby , an hour agone : his eyes were set at eight i' the morning .
Then he's a rogue , and a passy-measures pavin . I hate a drunken rogue .
Away with him ! Who hath made this havoc with them ?
I'll help you , Sir Toby , because we'll be dressed together .
Will you help ? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave , a thin-faced knave , a gull !
Get him to bed , and let his hurt be look'd to .
I am sorry , madam , I have hurt your kinsman ;
But , had it been the brother of my blood ,
I must have done no less with wit and safety .
You throw a strange regard upon me , and by that 
I do perceive it hath offended you :
Pardon me , sweet one , even for the vows 
We made each other but so late ago .
One face , one voice , one habit , and two persons ;
A natural perspective , that is , and is not !
Antonio ! O my dear Antonio !
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me 
Since I have lost thee !
Sebastian are you ?
Fear'st thou that , Antonio ?
How have you made division of yourself ?
An apple cleft in two is not more twin 
Than these two creatures . Which is Sebastian ?
Most wonderful !
Do I stand there ? I never had a brother ;
Nor can there be that deity in my nature ,
Of here and every where . I had a sister ,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd .
Of charity , what kin are you to me ?
What countryman ? what name ? what parentage ?
Of Messaline : Sebastian was my father ;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too ,
So went he suited to his watery tomb .
If spirits can assume both form and suit 
You come to fright us .
A spirit I am indeed ;
But am in that dimension grossly clad 
Which from the womb I did participate .
Were you a woman , as the rest goes even ,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek ,
And say , 'Thrice welcome , drowned Viola !' 
My father had a mole upon his brow .
And so had mine .
And died that day when Viola from her birth 
Had number'd thirteen years .
O ! that record is lively in my soul .
He finished indeed his mortal act 
That day that made my sister thirteen years .
If nothing lets to make us happy both 
But this my masculine usurp'd attire ,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance 
Of place , time , fortune , do cohere and jump 
That I am Viola : which to confirm ,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town ,
Where lie my maiden weeds : by whose gentle help 
I was preserv'd to serve this noble count .
All the occurrence of my fortune since 
Hath been between this lady and this lord .
So comes it , lady , you have been mistook :
But nature to her bias drew in that .
You would have been contracted to a maid ;
Nor are you therein , by my life , deceiv'd ,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man .
Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his blood .
If this be so , as yet the glass seems true ,
I shall have share in this most happy wrack .
Boy , thou hast said to me a thousand times 
Thou never shouldst love woman like to me .
And all those sayings will I over-swear ,
And all those swearings keep as true in soul 
As doth that orbed continent the fire 
That severs day from night .
Give me thy hand ;
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds .
The captain that did bring me first on shore 
Hath my maid's garments : he upon some action 
Is now in durance at Malvolio's suit ,
A gentleman and follower of my lady's .
He shall enlarge him . Fetch Malvolio hither .
And yet , alas , now I remember me ,
They say , poor gentleman , he's much distract .
A most extracting frenzy of mine own 
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his .
How does he , sirrah ?
Truly , madam , he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well as a man in his case may do . He has here writ a letter to you : I should have given it to you to-day morning ; but as a madman's epistles are no gospels , so it skills not much when they are delivered .
Open it , and read it .
Look then to be well edified , when the fool delivers the madman .
By the Lord , madam ,
How now ! art thou mad ?
No , madam , I do but read madness : an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be , you must allow vox .
Prithee , read i' thy right wits .
So I do , madonna ; but to read his right wits is to read thus : therefore perpend , my princess , and give ear .
Read it you , sirrah .
By the Lord , madam , you wrong me , and the world shall know it : though you have put me into darkness , and given your drunken cousin rule over me , yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship . I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on ; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right , or you much shame . Think of me as you please . I leave my duty a little unthought of , and speak out of my injury . THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO .
Did he write this ?
Ay , madam .
This savours not much of distraction .
See him deliver'd , Fabian ; bring him hither .
My lord , so please you , these things further thought on ,
To think me as well a sister as a wife ,
One day shall crown the alliance on't , so please you ,
Here at my house and at my proper cost .
Madam , I am most apt to embrace your offer .
Your master quits you ; and , for your service done him ,
So much against the mettle of your sex ,
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding ;
And since you call'd me master for so long ,
Here is my hand : you shall from this time be 
Your master's mistress .
A sister ! you are she .
Is this the madman ?
Ay , my lord , this same .
How now , Malvolio !
Madam , you have done me wrong ,
Notorious wrong .
Have I , Malvolio ? no .
Lady , you have . Pray you peruse that letter .
You must not now deny it is your hand :
Write from it , if you can , in hand or phrase ,
Or say 'tis not your seal nor your invention :
You can say none of this . Well , grant it then ,
And tell me , in the modesty of honour ,
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour ,
Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you ,
To put on yellow stockings , and to frown 
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people ;
And , acting this in an obedient hope ,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd ,
Kept in a dark house , visited by the priest ,
And made the most notorious geck and gull 
That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why .
Alas ! Malvolio , this is not my writing ,
Though , I confess , much like the character ;
But , out of question , 'tis Maria's hand :
And now I do bethink me , it was she 
First told me thou wast mad ; then cam'st in smiling ,
And in such forms which here were presuppos'd 
Upon thee in the letter . Prithee , be content :
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ;
But when we know the grounds and authors of it ,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
Of thine own cause .
Good madam , hear me speak ,
And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come 
Taint the condition of this present hour ,
Which I have wonder'd at . In hope it shall not ,
Most freely I confess , myself and Toby 
Set this device against Malvolio here ,
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
We had conceiv'd against him . Maria writ 
The letter at Sir Toby's great importance ;
In recompense whereof he hath married her .
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd ,
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ,
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd 
That have on both sides past .
Alas , poor fool , how have they baffled thee !
Why , 'some are born great , some achieve greatness , and some have greatness thrown upon them .' I was one , sir , in this interlude ; one Sir Topas , sir ; but that's all one . 'By the Lord , fool , I am not mad :' But do you remember ? 'Madam , why laugh you at such a barren rascal ? an you smile not , he's gagged :' and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges .
I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you .
He hath been most notoriously abus'd .
Pursue him , and entreat him to a peace ;
He hath not told us of the captain yet :
When that is known and golden time convents ,
A solemn combination shall be made 
Of our dear souls . Meantime , sweet sister ,
We will not part from hence . Cesario , come ;
For so you shall be , while you are a man ;
But when in other habits you are seen ,
Orsino's mistress , and his fancy's queen .
When that I was and a little tiny boy ,
With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
A foolish thing was but a toy ,
For the rain it raineth every day .
But when I came to man's estate ,
With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gates ,
For the rain it raineth every day .
But when I came , alas ! to wive ,
With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
By swaggering could I never thrive ,
For the rain it raineth every day .
But when I came unto my beds ,
With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
With toss-pots still had drunken heads ,
For the rain it raineth every day .
A great while ago the world begun ,
With hey , ho , the wind and the rain ;
But that's all one , our play is done ,
And we'll strive to please you every day .
 THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF KING HENRY VIII
I come no more to make you laugh : things now ,
That bear a weighty and a serious brow ,
Sad , high , and working , full of state and woe ,
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow ,
We now present . Those that can pity , here 
May , if they think it well , let fall a tear ;
The subject will deserve it . Such as give 
Their money out of hope they may believe ,
May here find truth too . Those that come to see 
Only a show or two , and so agree 
The play may pass , if they be still and willing ,
I'll undertake may see away their shilling 
Richly in two short hours . Only they 
That come to hear a merry , bawdy play ,
A noise of targets , or to see a fellow 
In a long molley coat guarded with yellow ,
Will be deceiv'd ; for , gentle hearers , know ,
To rank our chosen truth with such a show 
As fool and fight is , besides forfeiting 
Our own brains , and the opinion that we bring ,
To make that only true we now intend ,
Will leave us never an understanding friend .
Therefore , for goodness' sake , and as you are known 
The first and happiest hearers of the town ,
Be sad , as we would make ye : think ye see 
The very persons of our noble story 
As they were living ; think you see them great ,
And follow'd with the general throng and sweat 
Of thousand friends ; then , in a moment see 
How soon this mightiness meets misery :
And if you can be merry then , I'll say 
A man may weep upon his wedding day .
Good morrow , and well met . How have you done ,
Since last we saw in France ?
I thank your Grace ,
Healthful ; and ever since a fresh admirer 
Of what I saw there .
An untimely ague 
Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber , when 
Those suns of glory , those two lights of men ,
Met in the vale of Andren .
'Twixt Guynes and Arde :
I was then present , saw them salute on horseback ;
Beheld them , when they lighted , how they clung 
In their embracement , as they grew together ;
Which had they , what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd 
Such a compounded one ?
All the whole time 
I was my chamber's prisoner .
Then you lost 
The view of earthly glory : men might say ,
Till this time , pomp was single , but now married 
To one above itself . Each following day 
Became the next day's master , till the last 
Made former wonders its . To-day the French 
All clinquant , all in gold , like heathen gods ,
Shone down the English ; and to-morrow they 
Made Britain India : every man that stood 
Show'd like a mine . Their dwarfish pages were 
As cherubins , all gilt : the madams , too ,
Not us'd to toil , did almost sweat to bear 
The pride upon them , that their very labour 
Was to them as a painting . Now this masque 
Was cried incomparable ; and the ensuing night 
Made it a fool , and beggar . The two kings ,
Equal in lustre , were now best , now worst ,
As presence did present them ; him in eye ,
Still him in praise ; and , being present both ,
'Twas said they saw but one ; and no discerner 
Durst wag his tongue in censure . When these suns 
For so they phrase 'em by their heralds challeng'd 
The noble spirits to arms , they did perform 
Beyond thought's compass ; that former fabulous story ,
Being now seen possible enough , got credit ,
That Bevis was believ'd .
O ! you go far .
As I belong to worship , and affect 
In honour honesty , the tract of every thing 
Would by a good discourser lose some life ,
Which action's self was tongue to . All was royal ;
To the disposing of it nought rebell'd ,
Order gave each thing view ; the office did 
Distinctly his full function .
Who did guide ,
I mean , who set the body and the limbs 
Of this great sport together , as you guess ?
One certes , that promises no element 
In such a business .
I pray you , who , my lord ?
All this was order'd by the good discretion 
Of the right reverend Cardinal of York .
The devil speed him ! no man's pie is freed 
From his ambitious finger . What had he 
To do in these fierce vanities ? I wonder 
That such a keech can with his very bulk 
Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun ,
And keep it from the earth .
Surely , sir ,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends ;
For , being not propp'd by ancestry , whose grace 
Chalks successors their way , nor call'd upon 
For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied 
To eminent assistants ; but , spider-like ,
Out of his self-drawing web , he gives us note ,
The force of his own merit makes his way ;
A gift that heaven gives for him , which buys 
A place next to the king .
I cannot tell 
What heaven hath given him : let some graver eye 
Pierce into that ; but I can see his pride 
Peep through each part of him : whence has he that ?
If not from hell , the devil is a niggard ,
Or has given all before , and he begins 
A new hell in himself .
Why the devil ,
Upon this French going-out , took he upon him ,
Without the privity o' the king , to appoint 
Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file 
Of all the gentry ; for the most part such 
To whom as great a charge as little honour 
He meant to lay upon : and his own letter ,
The honourable board of council out ,
Must fetch him in he papers .
I do know 
Kinsmen of mine , three at the least , that have 
By this so sicken'd their estates , that never 
They shall abound as formerly .
O ! many 
Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em 
For this great journey . What did this vanity 
But minister communication of 
A most poor issue ?
Grievingly I think ,
The peace between the French and us not values 
The cost that did conclude it .
Every man ,
After the hideous storm that follow'd , was 
A thing inspir'd ; and , not consulting , broke 
Into a general prophecy : That this tempest ,
Dashing the garment of this peace , aboded 
The sudden breach on't .
Which is budded out ;
For France hath flaw'd the league , and hath attach'd 
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux .
Is it therefore 
The ambassador is silenc'd ?
Marry , is't .
A proper title of a peace ; and purchas'd 
At a superfluous rate !
Why , all this business 
Our reverend cardinal carried .
Like it your Grace ,
The state takes notice of the private difference 
Betwixt you and the cardinal . I advise you ,
And take it from a heart that wishes towards you 
Honour and plenteous safety ,that you read 
The cardinal's malice and his potency 
Together ; to consider further that 
What his high hatred would effect wants not 
A minister in his power . You know his nature ,
That he's revengeful ; and I know his sword 
Hath a sharp edge : it's long , and 't may be said ,
It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend ,
Thither he darts it . Bosom up my counsel ,
You'll find it wholesome . Lo where comes that rock 
That I advise your shunning .
The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor , ha ?
Where's his examination ?
Here , so please you .
Is he in person ready ?
Ay , please your Grace .
Well , we shall then know more ; and Buckingham 
Shall lessen this big look .
This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd , and I 
Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore best 
Not wake him in his slumber . A beggar's book 
Outworths a noble's blood .
What ! are you chaf'd ?
Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance only 
Which your disease requires .
I read in's looks 
Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd 
Me , as his abject object : at this instant 
He bores me with some trick : he's gone to the king ;
I'll follow , and out-stare him .
Stay , my lord ,
And let your reason with your choler question 
What 'tis you go about . To climb steep hills 
Requires slow pace at first : anger is like 
A full-hot horse , who being allow'd his way ,
Self-mettle tires him . Not a man in England 
Can advise me like you : be to yourself 
As you would to your friend .
I'll to the king ;
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down 
This Ipswich fellow's insolence , or proclaim 
There's difference in no persons .
Be advis'd ;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 
That it do singe yourself . We may outrun 
By violent swiftness that which we run at ,
And lose by overrunning . Know you not ,
The fire that mounts the liquor till it run o'er ,
In seeming to augment it wastes it ? Be advis'd :
I say again , there is no English soul 
More stronger to direct you than yourself ,
If with the sap of reason you would quench ,
Or but allay , the fire of passion .
I am thankful to you , and I'll go along 
By your prescription : but this top-proud fellow 
Whom from the flow of gall I name not , but 
From sincere motions ,by intelligence ,
And proofs as clear as founts in July , when 
We see each grain of gravel ,I do know 
To be corrupt and treasonous .
Say not , 'treasonous .' 
To the king I'll say't ; and make my vouch as strong 
As shore of rock . Attend . This holy fox ,
Or wolf , or both ,for he is equal ravenous 
As he is subtle , and as prone to mischief 
As able to perform 't , his mind and place 
Infecting one another , yea , reciprocally ,
Only to show his pomp as well in France 
As here at home , suggests the king our master 
To this last costly treaty , the interview ,
That swallow'd so much treasure , and like a glass 
Did break i' the rinsing .
Faith , and so it did .
Praygive me favour , sir . This cunning cardinal 
The articles o' the combination drew 
As himself pleas'd ; and they were ratified 
As he cried , 'Thus let be ,' to as much end 
As give a crutch to the dead . But our count-cardinal 
Has done this , and 'tis well ; for worthy Wolsey ,
Who cannot err , he did it . Now this follows ,
Which , as I take it , is a kind of puppy 
To the old dam , treason , Charles the emperor ,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt ,
For 'twas indeed his colour , but he came 
To whisper Wolsey ,here makes visitation :
His fears were , that the interview betwixt 
England and France might , through their amity ,
Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league 
Peep'd harms that menac'd him . He privily 
Deals with our cardinal , and , as I trow ,
Which I do well ; for , I am sure the emperor 
Paid ere he promis'd ; whereby his suit was granted 
Ere it was ask'd ; but when the way was made ,
And pav'd with gold , the emperor thus desir'd :
That he would please to alter the king's course ,
And break the foresaid peace . Let the king know 
As soon he shall by me that thus the cardinal 
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases ,
And for his own advantage .
I am sorry 
To hear this of him ; and could wish he were 
Something mistaken in 't .
No , not a syllable :
I do pronounce him in that very shape 
He shall appear in proof .
Your office , sergeant ; execute it .
My Lord the Duke of Buckingham , and Earl 
Of Hereford , Stafford , and Northampton , I 
Arrest thee of high treason , in the name 
Of our most sovereign king .
Lo you , my lord ,
The net has fall'n upon me ! I shall perish 
Under device and practice .
I am sorry 
To see you ta'en from liberty , to look on 
The business present . 'Tis his highness' pleasure 
You shall to the Tower .
It will help me nothing 
To plead mine innocence , for that dye is on me 
Which makes my whit'st part black . The will of heaven 
Be done in this and all things ! I obey .
O ! my Lord Abergavenny , fare you well !
Nay , he must bear you company .
The king 
Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower , till you know 
How he determines further .
As the duke said ,
The will of heaven be done , and the king's pleasure 
By me obey'd !
Here is a warrant from 
The king to attach Lord Montacute ; and the bodies 
Of the duke's confessor , John de la Car ,
One Gilbert Peck , his chancellor ,
So , so ;
These are the limbs o' the plot : no more , I hope .
A monk o' the Chartreux .
O ! Nicholas Hopkins ?
My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great cardinal 
Hath show'd him gold . My life is spann'd already :
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham ,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on ,
By dark'ning my clear sun . My lord , farewell .
My life itself , and the best heart of it ,
Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the level 
Of a full-charg'd confederacy , and give thanks 
To you that chok'd it . Let be call'd before us 
That gentleman of Buckingham's ; in person 
I'll hear him his confessions justify ;
And point by point the treasons of his master 
He shall again relate .
Nay , we must longer kneel : I am a suitor .
Arise , and take place by us : half your suit 
Never name to us ; you have half our power :
The other moiety , ere you ask , is given ;
Repeat your will , and take it .
Thank your majesty .
That you would love yourself , and in that love 
Not unconsider'd leave your honour , nor 
The dignity of your office , is the point 
Of my petition .
Lady mine , proceed .
I am solicited , not by a few ,
And those of true condition , that your subjects 
Are in great grievance : there have been commissions 
Sent down among 'em , which hath flaw'd the heart 
Of all their loyalties : wherein , although ,
My good Lord Cardinal , they vent reproaches 
Most bitterly on you , as putter-on 
Of these exactions , yet the king our master ,
Whose honour heaven shield from soil !even he escapes not 
Language unmannerly ; yea , such which breaks 
The sides of loyalty , and almost appears 
In loud rebellion .
Not almost appears ,
It doth appear ; for , upon these taxations ,
The clothiers all , not able to maintain 
The many to them 'longing , have put off 
The spinsters , carders , fullers , weavers , who ,
Unfit for other life , compell'd by hunger 
And lack of other means , in desperate manner 
Daring the event to the teeth , are all in uproar ,
And danger serves among them .
Taxation !
Wherein ? and what taxation ? My Lord Cardinal ,
You that are blam'd for it alike with us ,
Know you of this taxation ?
Please you , sir ,
I know but of a single part in aught 
Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file 
Where others tell steps with me .
No , my lord ,
You know no more than others ; but you frame 
Things that are known alike ; which are not wholesome 
To those which would not know them , and yet must 
Perforce be their acquaintance . These exactions ,
Whereof my sov'reign would have note , they are 
Most pestilent to the hearing ; and to bear 'em ,
The back is sacrifice to the load . They say 
They are devis'd by you , or else you suffer 
Too hard an exclamation .
Still exaction !
The nature of it ? In what kind , let's know ,
Is this exaction ?
I am much too venturous 
In tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd 
Under your promis'd pardon . The subjects' grief 
Comes through commissions , which compel from each 
The sixth part of his substance , to be levied 
Without delay ; and the pretence for this 
Is nam'd , your wars in France . This makes bold mouths :
Tongues spit their duties out , and cold hearts freeze 
Allegiance in them ; their curses now 
Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to pass ,
This tractable obedience is a slave 
To each incensed will . I would your highness 
Would give it quick consideration , for 
There is no primer business .
By my life ,
This is against our pleasure .
And for me ,
I have no further gone in this than by 
A single voice , and that not pass'd me but 
By learned approbation of the judges . If I am 
Traduc'd by ignorant tongues , which neither know 
My faculties nor person , yet will be 
The chronicles of my doing , let me say 
'Tis but the fate of place , and the rough brake 
That virtue must go through . We must not stint 
Our necessary actions , in the fear 
To cope malicious censurers ; which ever ,
As rav'nous fishes , do a vessel follow 
That is new-trimm'd , but benefit no further 
Than vainly longing . What we oft do best ,
By sick interpreters , once weak ones , is 
Not ours , or not allow'd ; what worst , as oft ,
Hitting a grosser quality , is cried up 
For our best act . If we shall stand still ,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at ,
We should take root here where we sit , or sit 
State-statues only .
Things done well ,
And with a care , exempt themselves from fear ;
Things done without example , in their issue 
Are to be fear'd . Have you a precedent 
Of this commission ? I believe , not any .
We must not rend our subjects from our laws ,
And stick them in our will . Sixth part of each ?
A trembling contribution ! Why , we take 
From every tree , lop , bark , and part o' the timber ;
And , though we leave it with a root , thus hack'd ,
The air will drink the sap . To every county 
Where this is question'd , send our letters , with 
Free pardon to each man that has denied 
The force of this commission . Pray , look to 't ;
I put it to your care .
A word with you .
Let there be letters writ to every shire ,
Of the king's grace and pardon . The griev'd commons 
Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd 
That through our intercession this revokement 
And pardon comes : I shall anon advise you 
Further in the proceeding .
I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham 
Is run in your displeasure .
It grieves many :
The gentleman is learn'd , and a most rare speaker ,
To nature none more bound ; his training such 
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers ,
And never seek for aid out of himself . Yet see ,
When these so noble benefits shall prove 
Not well dispos'd , the mind growing once corrupt ,
They turn to vicious forms , ten times more ugly 
Than ever they were fair . This man so complete ,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders , and when we ,
Almost with ravish'd listening , could not find 
His hour of speech a minute ; he , my lady ,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces 
That once were his , and is become as black 
As if besmear'd in hell . Sit by us ; you shall hear 
This was his gentleman in trust of him 
Things to strike honour sad . Bid him recount 
The fore-recited practices ; whereof 
We cannot feel too little , hear too much .
Stand forth ; and with bold spirit relate what you ,
Most like a careful subject , have collected 
Out of the Duke of Buckingham .
Speak freely .
First , it was usual with him , every day 
It would infect his speech , that if the king 
Should without issue die , he'd carry it so 
To make the sceptre his . These very words 
I've heard him utter to his son-in-law ,
Lord Abergavenny , to whom by oath he menac'd 
Revenge upon the cardinal .
Please your highness , note 
This dangerous conception in this point .
Not friended by his wish , to your high person 
His will is most malignant ; and it stretches 
Beyond you , to your friends .
My learn'd Lord Cardinal ,
Deliver all with charity .
Speak on :
How grounded he his title to the crown 
Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard him 
At any time speak aught ?
He was brought to this 
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins .
What was that Hopkins ?
Sir , a Chartreux friar ,
His confessor , who fed him every minute 
With words of sovereignty .
How know'st thou this ?
Not long before your highness sped to France ,
The duke being at the Rose , within the parish 
Saint Lawrence Poultney , did of me demand 
What was the speech among the Londoners 
Concerning the French journey : I replied ,
Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious ,
To the king's danger . Presently the duke 
Said , 'twas the fear , indeed ; and that he doubted 
'Twould prove the verity of certain words 
Spoke by a holy monk ; 'that oft ,' says he ,
'Hath sent to me , wishing me to permit 
John de la Car , my chaplain , a choice hour 
To hear from him a matter of some moment :
Whom after under the confession's seal 
He solemnly had sworn , that what he spoke ,
My chaplain to no creature living but 
To me should utter , with demure confidence 
This pausingly ensu'd : neither the king nor 's heirs 
Tell you the duke shall prosper : bid him strive 
To gain the love o' the commonalty : the duke 
Shall govern England .' 
If I know you well ,
You were the duke's surveyor , and lost your office 
On the complaint o' the tenants : take good heed 
You charge not in your spleen a noble person ,
And spoil your nobler soul . I say , take heed ;
Yes , heartily beseech you .
Let him on .
Go forward .
On my soul , I'll speak but truth .
I told my lord the duke , by the devil's illusions 
The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas dangerous for him 
To ruminate on this so far , until 
It forg'd him some design , which , being believ'd ,
It was much like to do . He answer'd , 'Tush !
It can do me no damage ;' adding further ,
That had the king in his last sickness fail'd ,
The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads 
Should have gone off .
Ha ! what , so rank ? Ah , ha !
There's mischief in this man . Canst thou say further ?
I can , my liege .
Proceed .
Being at Greenwich ,
After your highness had reprov'd the duke 
About Sir William Blomer ,
I remember 
Of such a time : being my sworn servant ,
The duke retain'd him his . But on ; what hence ?
'If ,' quoth he , 'I for this had been committed ,
As , to the Tower , I thought , I would have play'd 
The part my father meant to act upon 
The usurper Richard ; who , being at Salisbury ,
Made suit to come in 's presence ; which if granted ,
As he made semblance of his duty , would 
Have put his knife into him .' 
A giant traitor !
Now , madam , may his highness live in freedom ,
And this man out of prison ?
God mend all !
There's something more would out of thee ? what sayst ?
After 'the duke his father ,' with 'the knife ,' 
He stretch'd him , and , with one hand on his dagger ,
Another spread on's breast , mounting his eyes ,
He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour 
Was , were he evil us'd , he would outgo 
His father by as much as a performance 
Does an irresolute purpose .
There's his period ;
To sheathe his knife in us . He is attach'd ;
Call him to present trial : if he may 
Find mercy in the law , 'tis his ; if none ,
Let him not seek't of us : by day and night !
He's traitor to the height .
Is't possible the spells of France should juggle 
Men into such strange mysteries ?
New customs ,
Though they be never so ridiculous ,
Nay , let 'em be unmanly , yet are follow'd .
As far as I see , all the good our English 
Have got by the late voyage is but merely 
A fit or two o' the face ; but they are shrewd ones ;
For when they hold 'em , you would swear directly 
Their very noses had been counsellors 
To Pepin or Clotharius , they keep state so .
They have all new legs , and lame ones : one would take it ,
That never saw 'em pace before , the spavin 
Or springhalt reign'd among 'em .
Death ! my lord ,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too ,
That , sure , they've worn out Christendom .
How now !
What news , Sir Thomas Lovell ?
Faith , my lord ,
I hear of none , but the new proclamation 
That's clapp'd upon the court-gate .
What is't for ?
The reformation of our travell'd gallants ,
That fill the court with quarrels , talk , and tailors .
I am glad 'tis there : now I would pray our monsieurs 
To think an English courtier may be wise ,
And never see the Louvre .
They must either 
For so run the conditions leave those remnants 
Of fool and feather that they got in France ,
With all their honourable points of ignorance 
Pertaining thereunto ,as fights and fireworks ;
Abusing better men than they can be ,
Out of a foreign wisdom ;renouncing clean 
The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings ,
Short blister'd breeches , and those types of travel ,
And understand again like honest men ;
Or pack to their old playfellows : there , I take it ,
They may , cum privilegio , wear away 
The lag end of their lewdness , and be laugh'd at .
'Tis time to give 'em physic , their diseases 
Are grown so catching .
What a loss our ladies 
Will have of these trim vanities !
Ay , marry ,
There will be woe indeed , lords : the sly whoresons 
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ;
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow .
The devil fiddle 'em ! I am glad they're going :
For , sure , there's no converting of 'em : now 
An honest country lord , as I am , beaten 
A long time out of play , may bring his plainsong 
And have an hour of hearing ; and , by'r lady ,
Held current music too .
Well said , Lord Sands ;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet .
No , my lord ;
Nor shall not , while I have a stump .
Sir Thomas ,
Whither were you a-going ?
To the cardinal's :
Your lordship is a guest too .
O ! 'tis true :
This night he makes a supper , and a great one ,
To many lords and ladies ; there will be 
The beauty of this kingdom , I'll assure you .
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed ,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ;
His dews fall everywhere .
No doubt he's noble ;
He had a black mouth that said other of him .
He may , my lord ; he has wherewithal : in him 
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine :
Men of his way should be most liberal ;
They are set here for examples .
True , they are so ;
But few now give so great ones . My barge stays ;
Your lordship shall along . Come , good Sir Thomas ,
We shall be late else ; which I would not be ,
For I was spoke to , with Sir Henry Guildford ,
This night to be comptrollers .
I am your lordship's .
Ladies , a general welcome from his Grace 
Salutes ye all ; this night he dedicates 
To fair content and you . None here , he hopes ,
In all this noble bevy , has brought with her 
One care abroad ; he would have all as merry 
As , first , good company , good wine , good welcome 
Can make good people .
O , my lord ! you're tardy :
The very thought of this fair company 
Clapp'd wings to me .
You are young , Sir Harry Guildford .
Sir Thomas Lovell , had the cardinal 
But half my lay-thoughts in him , some of these 
Should find a running banquet ere they rested ,
I think would better please 'em : by my life ,
They are a sweet society of fair ones .
O ! that your lordship were but now confessor 
To one or two of these !
I would I were ;
They should find easy penance .
Faith , how easy ?
As easy as a down-bed would afford it .
Sweet ladies , will it please you sit ? Sir Harry ,
Place you that side , I'll take the charge of this ;
His Grace is ent'ring . Nay you must not freeze ;
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather :
My Lord Sands , you are one will keep 'em waking ;
Pray , sit between these ladies .
By my faith ,
And thank your lordship . By your leave , sweet ladies :
If I chance to talk a little wild , forgive me ;
I had it from my father .
Was he mad , sir ?
O ! very mad , exceeding mad ; in love too :
But he would bite none ; just as I do now ,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath .
Well said , my lord .
So , now you're fairly seated . Gentlemen ,
The penance lies on you , if these fair ladies 
Pass away frowning .
For my little cure ,
Let me alone .
You're welcome , my fair guests : that noble lady ,
Or gentleman , that is not freely merry ,
Is not my friend : this , to confirm my welcome ;
And to you all , good health .
Your Grace is noble :
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks ,
And save me so much talking .
My Lord Sands ,
I am beholding to you : cheer your neighbours .
Ladies , you are not merry : gentlemen ,
Whose fault is this ?
The red wine first must rise 
In their fair cheeks , my lord ; then , we shall have 'em 
Talk us to silence .
You are a merry gamester ,
My Lord Sands .
Yes , if I make my play .
Here's to your ladyship ; and pledge it , madam ,
For 'tis to such a thing ,
You cannot show me .
I told your Grace they would talk anon .
What's that ?
Look out there , some of ye .
What war-like voice ,
And to what end , is this ? Nay , ladies , fear not ;
By all the laws of war you're privileg'd .
How now , what is't ?
A noble troop of strangers ;
For so they seem : they've left their barge and landed ;
And hither make , as great ambassadors 
From foreign princes .
Good Lord Chamberlain ,
Go , give 'em welcome ; you can speak the French tongue ;
And , pray , receive 'em nobly , and conduct 'em 
Into our presence , where this heaven of beauty 
Shall shine at full upon them . Some attend him .
You have now a broken banquet ; but we'll mend it .
A good digestion to you all ; and once more 
I shower a welcome on ye ; welcome all .
A noble company ! what are their pleasures ?
Because they speak no English , thus they pray'd 
To tell your Grace : that , having heard by fame 
Of this so noble and so fair assembly 
This night to meet here , they could do no less ,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty ,
But leave their flocks ; and , under your fair conduct ,
Crave leave to view these ladies , and entreat 
An hour of revels with 'em .
Say , Lord Chamberlain ,
They have done my poor house grace ; for which I pay 'em 
A thousand thanks , and pray 'em take their pleasures .
The fairest hand I ever touch'd ! O beauty ,
Till now I never knew thee !
My lord .
Your Grace ?
Pray tell them thus much from me :
There should be one amongst 'em , by his person ,
More worthy this place than myself ; to whom ,
If I but knew him , with my love and duty 
I would surrender it .
I will , my lord .
What say they ?
Such a one , they all confess ,
There is , indeed ; which they would have your Grace 
Find out , and he will take it .
Let me see then .
By all your good leaves , gentlemen , here I'll make 
My royal choice .
You have found him , cardinal .
You hold a fair assembly ; you do well , lord :
You are a churchman , or , I'll tell you , cardinal ,
I should judge now unhappily .
I am glad 
Your Grace is grown so pleasant .
My Lord Chamberlain ,
Prithee , come hither . What fair lady's that ?
An't please your Grace , Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter ,
The Viscount Rochford , one of her highness' women .
By heaven , she is a dainty one . Sweetheart ,
I were unmannerly to take you out ,
And not to kiss you . A health , gentlemen !
Let it go round .
Sir Thomas Lovell , is the banquest ready 
I' the privy chamber ?
Yes , my lord .
Your Grace ,
I fear , with dancing is a little heated .
I fear , too much .
There's fresher air , my lord ,
In the next chamber .
Lead in your ladies , every one . Sweet partner ,
I must not yet forsake you . Let's be merry :
Good my Lord Cardinal , I have half a dozen healths 
To drink to these fair ladies , and a measure 
To lead 'em once again ; and then let's dream 
Who's best in favour . Let the music knock it .
Whither away so fast ?
O ! God save ye .
E'en to the hall , to hear what shall become 
Of the great Duke of Buckingham .
I'll save you 
That labour , sir . All's now done but the ceremony 
Of bringing back the prisoner .
Were you there ?
Yes , indeed , was I .
Pray speak what has happen'd .
You may guess quickly what .
Is he found guilty ?
Yes , truly is he , and condemn'd upon't .
I am sorry for 't .
So are a number more .
But , pray , how pass'd it ?
I'll tell you in a little . The great duke 
Came to the bar ; where , to his accusations 
He pleaded still not guilty , and alleg'd 
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law .
The king's attorney on the contrary 
Urg'd on the examinations , proofs , confessions 
Of divers witnesses , which the duke desir'd 
To have brought , viv  voce , to his face :
At which appear'd against him his surveyor ;
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor ; and John Car ,
Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk ,
Hopkins , that made this mischief .
That was he 
That fed him with his prophecies ?
The same .
All these accus'd him strongly ; which he fain 
Would have flung from him , but , indeed , he could not :
And so his peers , upon this evidence ,
Have found him guilty of high treason . Much 
He spoke , and learnedly , for life ; but all 
Was either pitied in him or forgotten .
After all this how did he bear himself ?
When he was brought again to the bar , to hear 
His knell rung out , his judgment , he was stirr'd 
With such an agony , he sweat extremely ,
And something spoke in choler , ill , and hasty :
But he fell to himself again , and sweetly 
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience .
I do not think he fears death .
Sure , he does not ;
He never was so womanish ; the cause 
He may a little grieve at .
Certainly 
The cardinal is the end of this .
'Tis likely 
By all conjectures : first , Kildare's attainder ,
Then deputy of Ireland ; who , remov'd ,
Earl Surrey was sent thither , and in haste too ,
Lest he should help his father .
That trick of state 
Was a deep envious one .
At his return ,
No doubt he will requite it . This is noted ,
And generally , whoever the king favours ,
The cardinal instantly will find employment ,
And far enough from court too .
All the commons 
Hate him perniciously , and o' my conscience ,
Wish him ten fathom deep : this duke as much 
They love and dote on ; call him bounteous Buckingham ,
The mirror of all courtesy ;
Stay there , sir ,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of .
Let's stand close , and behold him .
All good people ,
You that thus far have come to pity me ,
Hear what I say , and then go home and lose me .
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment ,
And by that name must die : yet , heaven bear witness ,
And if I have a conscience , let it sink me ,
Even as the axe falls , if I be not faithful !
The law I bear no malice for my death ,
'T has done upon the premises but justice ;
But those that sought it I could wish more Christians :
Be what they will , I heartily forgive 'em .
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief ,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ;
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em .
For further life in this world I ne'er hope ,
Nor will I sue , although the king have mercies 
More than I dare make faults . You few that lov'd me ,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham ,
His noble friends and fellows , whom to leave 
Is only bitter to him , only dying ,
Go with me , like good angels , to my end ;
And , as the long divorce of steel falls on me ,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice ,
And lift my soul to heaven . Lead on , o' God's name .
I do beseech your Grace , for charity ,
If ever any malice in your heart 
Were hid against me , now to forgive me frankly .
Sir Thomas Lovell , I as free forgive you 
As I would be forgiven : I forgive all .
There cannot be those numberless offences 
'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with : no black envy 
Shall mark my grave . Commend me to his Grace ;
And , if he speak of Buckingham , pray , tell him 
You met him half in heaven . My vows and prayers 
Yet are the king's ; and , till my soul forsake ,
Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years !
Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be !
And when old time shall lead him to his end ,
Goodness and he fill up one monument !
To the water side I must conduct your Grace ;
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux ,
Who undertakes you to your end .
Prepare there !
The duke is coming : see the barge be ready ;
And fit it with such furniture as suits 
The greatness of his person .
Nay , Sir Nicholas ,
Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me .
When I came hither , I was Lord High Constable ,
And Duke of Buckingham ; now , poor Edward Bohun :
Yet I am richer than my base accusers ,
That never knew what truth meant : I now seal it ;
And with that blood will make them one day groan for't .
My noble father , Henry of Buckingham ,
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard ,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister ,
Being distress'd , was by that wretch betray'd ,
And without trial fell : God's peace be with him !
Henry the Seventh succeeding , truly pitying 
My father's loss , like a most royal prince ,
Restor'd me to my honours , and , out of ruins ,
Made my name once more noble . Now his son ,
Henry the Eighth , life , honour , name , and all 
That made me happy , at one stroke has taken 
For ever from the world . I had my trial ,
And , must needs say , a noble one ; which makes me 
A little happier than my wretched father :
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes ; both 
Fell by our servants , by those men welov'd most :
A most unnatural and faithless service !
Heaven has an end in all ; yet , you that hear me ,
This from a dying man receive as certain :
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels 
Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make friends 
And give your hearts to , when they once perceive 
The least rub in your fortunes , fall away 
Like water from ye , never found again 
But where they mean to sink ye . All good people ,
Pray for me ! I must now forsake ye : the last hour 
Of my long weary life is come upon me .
Farewell :
And when you would say something that is sad ,
Speak how I fell . I have done ; and God forgive me !
O ! this is full of pity ! Sir , it calls ,
I fear , too many curses on their heads 
That were the authors .
If the duke be guiltless ,
'Tis full of woe ; yet I can give you inkling 
Of an ensuing evil , if it fall ,
Greater than this .
Good angels keep it from us !
What may it be ? You do not doubt my faith , sir ?
This secret is so weighty , 'twill require 
A strong faith to conceal it .
Let me have it ;
I do not talk much .
I am confident :
You shall , sir . Did you not of late days hear 
A buzzing of a separation 
Between the king and Katharine ?
Yes , but it held not ;
For when the king once heard it , out of anger 
He sent command to the lord mayor straight 
To stop the rumour , and allay those tongues 
That durst disperse it .
But that slander , sir ,
Is found a truth now ; for it grows again 
Fresher than e'er it was ; and held for certain 
The king will venture at it . Either the cardinal ,
Or some about him near , have , out of malice 
To the good queen , possess'd him with a scruple 
That will undo her : to confirm this too ,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd , and lately ;
As all think , for this business .
'Tis the cardinal ;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor 
For not bestowing on him , at his asking ,
The archbishopric of Toledo , this is purpos'd .
I think you have hit the mark : but is't not cruel 
That she should feel the smart of this ? The cardinal 
Will have his will , and she must fall .
'Tis woeful .
We are too open here to argue this ;
Let's think in private more .
My lord , The horses your lordship sent for , with all the care I had , I saw well chosen , ridden , and furnished . They were young and handsome , and of the best breed in the north . When they were ready to set out for London , a man of my Lord Cardinal's , by commission and main power , took them from me ; with this reason : His master would be served before a subject , if not before the king ; which stopped our mouths , sir .
I fear he will indeed . Well , let him have them :
He will have all , I think .
Well met , my Lord Chamberlain .
Good day to both your Graces .
How is the king employ'd ?
I left him private ,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles .
What's the cause ?
It seems the marriage with his brother's wife 
Has crept too near his conscience .
No ; his conscience 
Has crept too near another lady .
'Tis so :
This is the cardinal's doing , the king-cardinal :
That blind priest , like the eldest son of Fortune ,
Turns what he list . The king will know him one day .
Pray God he do ! he'll never know himself else .
How holily he works in all his business ,
And with what zeal ! for , now he has crack'd the league 
Between us and the emperor , the queen's great nephew ,
He dives into the king's soul , and there scatters 
Dangers , doubts , wringing of the conscience ,
Fears , and despairs ; and all these for his marriage :
And out of all these , to restore the king ,
He counsels a divorce ; a loss of her ,
That like a jewel has hung twenty years 
About his neck , yet never lost her lustre ;
Of her , that loves him with that excellence 
That angels love good men with ; even of her ,
That , when the greatest stroke of fortune falls ,
Will bless the king : and is not this course pious ?
Heaven keep me from such counsel ! 'Tis most true 
These news are every where ; every tongue speaks 'em ,
And every true heart weeps for't . All that dare 
Look into these affairs , see this main end ,
The French king's sister . Heaven will one day open 
The king's eyes , that so long have slept upon 
This bold bad man .
And free us from his slavery .
We had need pray ,
And heartily , for our deliverance ;
Or this imperious man will work us all 
From princes into pages . All men's honours 
Lie like one lump before him , to be fashion'd 
Into what pitch he please .
For me , my lords ,
I love him not , nor fear him ; there's my creed .
As I am made without him , so I'll stand ,
If the king please ; his curses and his blessings 
Touch me alike , they're breath I not believe in .
I knew him , and I know him ; so I leave him 
To him that made him proud , the pope .
Let's in ;
And with some other business put the king 
From these sad thoughts , that work too much upon him .
My lord , you'll bear us company ?
Excuse me ;
The king hath sent me otherwhere : besides ,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him :
Health to your lordships .
Thanks , my good Lord Chamberlain .
How sad he looks ! sure , he is much afflicted .
Who is there , ha ?
Pray God he be not angry .
Who's there , I say ? How dare you thrust yourselves 
Into my private meditations ?
Who am I , ha ?
A gracious king that pardons all offences 
Malice ne'er meant : our breach of duty this way 
Is business of estate ; in which we come 
To know your royal pleasure .
Ye are too bold .
Go to ; I'll make ye know your times of business :
Is this an hour for temporal affairs , ha ?
Who's there ? my good Lord Cardinal ? O ! my Wolsey ,
The quiet of my wounded conscience ;
Thou art a cure fit for a king .
You're welcome ,
Most learned reverend sir , into our kingdom :
Use us , and it .
My good lord , have great care 
I be not found a talker .
Sir , you cannot .
I would your Grace would give us but an hour 
Of private conference .
We are busy : go .
This priest has no pride in him !
Not to speak of ;
I would not be so sick though for his place :
But this cannot continue .
If it do ,
I'll venture one have-at-him .
I another .
Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom 
Above all princes , in committing freely 
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom .
Who can be angry now ? what envy reach you ?
The Spaniard , tied by blood and favour to her ,
Must now confess , if they have any goodness ,
The trial just and noble . All the clerks ,
I mean the learned ones , in Christian kingdoms 
Have their free voices : Rome , the nurse of judgment ,
Invited by your noble self , hath sent 
One general tongue unto us , this good man ,
This just and learned priest , Cardinal Campeius ;
Whom once more I present unto your highness .
And once more in my arms I bid him welcome ,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves :
They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for .
Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves ,
You are so noble . To your highness' hand 
I tender my commission , by whose virtue ,
The court of Rome commanding ,you , my Lord 
Cardinal of York , are join'd with me , their servant ,
In the impartial judging of this business .
Two equal men . The queen shall be acquainted 
Forthwith for what you come . Where's Gardiner ?
I know your majesty has always lov'd her 
So dear in heart , not to deny her that 
A woman of less place might ask by law ,
Scholars , allow'd freely to argue for her .
Ay , and the best , she shall have ; and my favour 
To him that does best : God forbid else . Cardinal ,
Prithee , call Gardiner to me , my new secretary :
I find him a fit fellow .
Give me your hand ; much joy and favour to you ;
You are the king's now .
But to be commanded 
For ever by your Grace , whose hand has rais'd me .
Come hither , Gardiner .
My Lord of York , was not one Doctor Pace 
In this man's place before him ?
Yes , he was .
Was he not held a learned man ?
Yes , surely .
Believe me , there's an ill opinion spread then 
Even of yourself , Lord Cardinal .
How ! of me ?
They will not stick to say , you envied him ,
And fearing he would rise , he was so virtuous ,
Kept him a foreign man still ; which so griev'd him 
That he ran mad and died .
Heaven's peace be with him !
That's Christian care enough : for living murmurers 
There's places of rebuke . He was a fool ,
For he would needs be virtuous : that good fellow ,
If I command him , follows my appointment :
I will have none so near else . Learn this , brother ,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons .
Deliver this with modesty to the queen .
The most convenient place that I can think of 
For such receipt of learning , is Black-Friars ;
There ye shall meet about this weighty business .
My Wolsey , see it furnish'd . O my lord !
Would it not grieve an able man to leave 
So sweet a bedfellow ? But , conscience , conscience !
O ! 'tis a tender place , and I must leave her .
Not for that neither : here's the pang that pinches :
His highness having liv'd so long with her , and she 
So good a lady that no tongue could ever 
Pronounce dishonour of her ; by my life ,
She never knew harm-doing ; O ! now , after 
So many courses of the sun enthron'd ,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp , the which 
To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than 
'Tis sweet at first to acquire , after this process 
To give her the avaunt ! it is a pity 
Would move a monster .
Hearts of most hard temper 
Melt and lament for her .
O ! God's will ; much better 
She ne'er had known pomp : though 't be temporal ,
Yet , if that quarrel , Fortune , do divorce 
It from the bearer , 'tis a sufferance panging 
As soul and body's severing .
Alas ! poor lady ,
She's a stranger now again .
So much the more 
Must pity drop upon her . Verily ,
I swear , 'tis better to be lowly born ,
And range with humble livers in content ,
Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief 
And wear a golden sorrow .
Our content 
Is our best having .
By my troth and maidenhead 
I would not be a queen .
Beshrew me , I would ,
And venture maidenhead for't ; and so would you ,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy .
You , that have so fair parts of woman on you ,
Have too a woman's heart ; which ever yet 
Affected eminence , wealth , sovereignty :
Which , to say sooth , are blessings , and which gifts 
Saving your mincing the capacity 
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive ,
If you might please to stretch it .
Nay , good troth .
Yes , troth , and troth ; you would not be a queen ?
No , not for all the riches under heaven .
'Tis strange : a three-pence bow'd would hire me ,
Old as I am , to queen it . But , I pray you ,
What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs 
To bear that load of title ?
No , in truth .
Then you are weakly made . Pluck off a little :
I would not be a young count in your way ,
For more than blushing comes to : if your back 
Cannot vouchsafe this burden , 'tis too weak 
Ever to get a boy .
How you do talk !
I swear again , I would not be a queen 
For all the world .
In faith , for little England 
You'd venture an emballing : I myself 
Would for Carnarvonshire , although there 'long'd 
No more to the crown but that . Lo ! who comes here ?
Good morrow , ladies . What were't worth to know 
The secret of your conference ?
My good lord ,
Not your demand ; it values not your asking :
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying .
It was a gentle business , and becoming 
The action of good women : there is hope 
All will be well .
Now , I pray God , amen !
You bear a gentle mind , and heavenly blessings 
Follow such creatures . That you may , fair lady ,
Perceive I speak sincerely , and high note's 
Ta'en of your many virtues , the king's majesty 
Commends his good opinion of you , and 
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing 
Than Marchioness of Pembroke ; to which title 
A thousand pound a year , annual support ,
Out of his grace he adds .
I do not know 
What kind of my obedience I should tender ;
More than my all is nothing , nor my prayers 
Are not words duly hallow'd , nor my wishes 
More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers and wishes 
Are all I can return . Beseech your lordship ,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience ,
As from a blushing handmaid , to his highness ,
Whose health and royalty I pray for .
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit 
The king hath of you .
I have perus'd her well ;
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled 
That they have caught the king ; and who knows yet 
But from this lady may proceed a gem 
To lighten all this isle ?
I'll to the king ,
And say , I spoke with you .
My honour'd lord .
Why , this it is ; see , see !
I have been begging sixteen years in court ,
Am yet a courtier beggarly , nor could 
Come pat betwixt too early and too late ;
For any suit of pounds ; and you , O fate !
A very fresh-fish here ,fie , fie , upon 
This compell'd fortune !have your mouth fill'd up 
Before you open it .
This is strange to me .
How tastes it ? is it bitter ? forty pence , no .
There was a lady once ,'tis an old story ,
That would not be a queen , that would she not ,
For all the mud in Egypt : have you heard it ?
Come , you are pleasant .
With your theme I could 
O'ermount the lark . The Marchioness of Pembroke !
A thousand pounds a year , for pure respect !
No other obligation ! By my life 
That promises more thousands : honour's train 
Is longer than his foreskirt . By this time 
I know your back will bear a duchess : say ,
Are you not stronger than you were ?
Good lady ,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy ,
And leave me out on't . Would I had no being ,
If this salute my blood a jot : it faints me ,
To think what follows .
The queen is comfortless , and we forgetful 
In our long absence . Pray , do not deliver 
What here you've heard to her .
What do you think me ?
Whilst our commission from Rome is read ,
Let silence be commanded .
What's the need ?
It hath already publicly been read ,
And on all sides the authority allow'd ;
You may then spare that time .
Be't so . Proceed .
Say , Henry King of England , come into the court .
Henry King of England , come into the court .
Say , Katharine Queen of England , come into the court .
Katharine Queen of England , come into the court .
Sir , I desire you do me right and justice ;
And to bestow your pity on me ; for 
I am a most poor woman , and a stranger ,
Born out of your dominions ; having here 
No judge indifferent , nor no more assurance 
Of equal friendship and proceeding . Alas ! sir ,
In what have I offended you ? what cause 
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure ,
That thus you should proceed to put me off 
And take your good grace from me ? Heaven witness ,
I have been to you a true and humble wife ,
At all times to your will conformable ;
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike ,
Yea , subject to your countenance , glad or sorry 
As I saw it inclin'd . When was the hour 
I ever contradicted your desire ,
Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your friends 
Have I not strove to love , although I knew 
He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine 
That had to him deriv'd your anger , did I 
Continue in my liking ? nay , gave notice 
He was from thence discharg'd . Sir , call to mind 
That I have been your wife , in this obedience 
Upward of twenty years , and have been blest 
With many children by you : if , in the course 
And process of this time , you can report ,
And prove it too , against mine honour aught ,
My bond to wedlock , or my love and duty ,
Against your sacred person , in God's name 
Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me , and so give me up 
To the sharp'st kind of justice . Please you , sir ,
The king , your father , was reputed for 
A prince most prudent , of an excellent 
And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand ,
My father , King of Spain , was reckon'd one 
The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many 
A year before : it is not to be question'd 
That they had gather'd a wise council to them 
Of every realm , that did debate this business ,
Who deem'd our marriage lawful . Wherefore I humbly 
Beseech you , sir , to spare me , till I may 
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd , whose counsel 
I will implore : if not , i' the name of God ,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd !
You have here , lady ,
And of your choice ,these reverend fathers ; men 
Of singular integrity and learning ,
Yea , the elect o' the land , who are assembled 
To plead your cause . It shall be therefore bootless 
That longer you desire the court , as well 
For your own quiet , as to rectify 
What is unsettled in the king .
His Grace 
Hath spoken well and justly : therefore , madam ,
It's fit this royal session do proceed ,
And that , without delay , their arguments 
Be now produc'd and heard .
Lord Cardinal ,
To you I speak .
Your pleasure , madam ?
I am about to weep ; but , thinking that 
We are a queen ,or long have dream'd so ,certain 
The daughter of a king , my drops of tears 
I'll turn to sparks of fire .
Be patient yet .
I will , when you are humble ; nay , before ,
Or God will punish me . I do believe ,
Induc'd by potent circumstances , that 
You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge 
You shall not be my judge ; for it is you 
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me ,
Which God's dew quench ! Therefore I say again ,
I utterly abhor , yea , from my soul 
Refuse you for my judge , whom , yet once more ,
I hold my most malicious foe , and think not 
At all a friend to truth .
I do profess 
You speak not like yourself ; who ever yet 
Have stood to charity , and display'd the effects 
Of disposition gentle , and of wisdom 
O'ertopping woman's power . Madam , you do me wrong :
I have no spleen against you ; nor injustice 
For you or any : how far I have proceeded ,
Or how far further shall , is warranted 
By a commission from the consistory ,
Yea , the whole consistory of Rome . You charge me 
That I have blown this coal : I do deny it .
The king is present : if it be known to him 
That I gainsay my deed , how may he wound ,
And worthily , my falsehood ; yea , as much 
As you have done my truth . If he know 
That I am free of your report , he knows 
I am not of your wrong . Therefore in him 
It lies to cure me ; and the cure is , to 
Remove these thoughts from you : the which before 
His highness shall speak in , I do beseech 
You , gracious madam , to unthink your speaking ,
And to say so no more .
My lord , my lord ,
I am a simple woman , much too weak 
To oppose your cunning . You're meek and humble-mouth'd ;
You sign your place and calling , in full seeming ,
With meekness and humility ; but your heart 
Is cramm'd with arrogancy , spleen , and pride .
You have , by fortune and his highness' favours ,
Gone slightly o'er low steps , and now are mounted 
Where powers are your retainers , and your words ,
Domestics to you , serve your will as't please 
Yourself pronounce their office . I must tell you ,
You tender more your person's honour than 
Your high profession spiritual ; that again 
I do refuse you for my judge ; and here ,
Before you all , appeal unto the pope ,
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness ,
And to be judg'd by him .
The queen is obstinate ,
Stubborn to justice , apt to accuse it , and 
Disdainful to be tried by't : 'tis not well .
She's going away .
Call her again .
Katharine Queen of England , come into the court .
Madam , you are call'd back .
What need you note it ? pray you , keep your way :
When you are call'd , return . Now , the Lord help !
They vex me past my patience . Pray you , pass on :
I will not tarry ; no , nor ever more 
Upon this business my appearance make 
In any of their courts .
Go thy ways , Kate :
That man i' the world who shall report he has 
A better wife , let him in nought be trusted ,
For speaking false in that : thou art , alone ,
If thy rare qualities , sweet gentleness ,
Thy meekness saint-like , wife-like government ,
Obeying in commanding , and thy parts 
Sovereign and pious else , could speak thee out ,
The queen of earthly queens . She's noble born ;
And , like her true nobility , she has 
Carried herself towards me .
Most gracious sir ,
In humblest manner I require your highness ,
That it shall please you to declare , in hearing 
Of all these ears ,for where I am robb'd and bound 
There must I be unloos'd , although not there 
At once , and fully satisfied ,whether ever I 
Did broach this business to your highness , or 
Laid any scruple in your way , which might 
Induce you to the question on't ? or ever 
Have to you , but with thanks to God for such 
A royal lady , spake one the least word that might 
Be to the prejudice of her present state ,
Or touch of her good person ?
My Lord Cardinal ,
I do excuse you ; yea , upon mine honour ,
I free you from't . You are not to be taught 
That you have many enemies , that know not 
Why they are so , but , like to village curs ,
Bark when their fellows do : by some of these 
The queen is put in anger . You're excus'd :
But will you be more justified ? you ever 
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never 
Desir'd it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hinder'd , oft ,
The passages made toward it . On my honour ,
I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point ,
And thus far clear him . Now , what mov'd me to't ,
I will be bold with time and your attention :
Then mark the inducement . Thus it came ; give heed to't :
My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness ,
Scruple , and prick , on certain speeches utter'd 
By the Bishop of Bayonne , then French ambassador ,
Who had been hither sent on the debating 
A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and 
Our daughter Mary . I' the progress of this business ,
Ere a determinate resolution , he 
I mean , the bishop did require a respite ;
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise 
Whether our daughter were legitimate ,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager ,
Sometimes our brother's wife . This respite shook 
The bosom of my conscience , enter'd me ,
Yea , with a splitting power , and made to tremble 
The region of my breast ; which forc'd such way ,
That many maz'd considerings did throng ,
And press'd in with this caution . First , methought 
I stood not in the smile of heaven , who had 
Commanded nature , that my lady's womb ,
If it conceiv'd a male child by me , should 
Do no more offices of life to't than 
The grave does to the dead ; for her male issue 
Or died where they were made , or shortly after 
This world had air'd them . Hence I took a thought 
This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom ,
Well worthy the best heir o' the world , should not 
Be gladded in't by me . Then follows that 
I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in 
By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me 
Many a groaning throe . Thus hulling in 
The wild sea of my conscience , I did steer 
Toward this remedy , whereupon we are 
Now present here together ; that's to say ,
I meant to rectify my conscience , which 
I then did feel full sick , and yet not well ,
By all the rev'rend fathers of the land 
And doctors learn'd . First , I began in private 
With you , my Lord of Lincoln ; you remember 
How under my oppression I did reek ,
When I first mov'd you .
Very well , my liege .
I have spoke long : be pleas'd yourself to say 
How far you satisfied me .
So please your highness ,
The question did at first so stagger me ,
Bearing a state of mighty moment in't ,
And consequence of dread , that I committed 
The daring'st counsel that I had to doubt ;
And did entreat your highness to this course 
Which you are running here .
Then I mov'd you ,
My Lord of Canterbury , and got your leave 
To make this present summons . Unsolicited 
I left no reverend person in this court ;
But by particular consent proceeded 
Under your hands and seals : therefore , go on ;
For no dislike i' the world against the person 
Of the good queen , but the sharp thorny points 
Of my alleged reasons drive this forward .
Prove but our marriage lawful , by my life 
And kingly dignity , we are contented 
To wear our mortal state to come with her ,
Katharine our queen , before the primest creature 
That's paragon'd o' the world .
So please your highness ,
The queen being absent , 'tis a needful fitness 
That we adjourn this court till further day :
Mean while must be an earnest motion 
Made to the queen , to call back her appeal 
She intends unto his holiness .
I may perceive 
These cardinals trifle with me : I abhor 
This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome .
My learn'd and well-beloved servant Cranmer ,
Prithee , return : with thy approach , I know ,
My comfort comes along . Break up the court :
I say , set on .
Take thy lute , wench : my soul grows sad with troubles ;
Sing and disperse 'em , if thou canst . Leave working .
Orpheus with his lute made trees ,
And the mountain tops that freeze ,
Bow themselves , when he did sing :
To his music plants and flowers 
Ever sprung ; as sun and showers 
There had made a lasting spring .
Every thing that heard him play ,
Even the billows of the sea ,
Hung their heads , and then lay by .
In sweet music is such art ,
Killing care and grief of heart 
Fall asleep , or hearing , die .
How now !
An't please your Grace , the two great cardinals 
Wait in the presence .
Would they speak with me ?
They will'd me say so , madam .
Pray their Graces 
To come near .
What can be their business 
With me , a poor weak woman , fall'n from favour ?
I do not like their coming , now I think on't .
They should be good men , their affairs as righteous ;
But all hoods make not monks .
Peace to your highness !
Your Graces find me here part of a housewife ,
I would be all , against the worst may happen .
What are your pleasures with me , reverend lords ?
May it please you , noble madam , to withdraw 
Into your private chamber , we shall give you 
The full cause of our coming .
Speak it here ;
There's nothing I have done yet , o' my conscience ,
Deserves a corner : would all other women 
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do !
My lords , I care not so much I am happy 
Above a number if my actions 
Were tried by every tongue , every eye saw 'em ,
Envy and base opinion set against 'em ,
I know my life so even . If your business 
Seek me out , and that way I am wife in ,
Out with it boldly : truth loves open dealing .
Tanta est erga te mentis integritas , regina serenissima ,
O , good my lord , no Latin ;
I am not such a truant since my coming 
As not to know the language I have liv'd in :
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange , suspicious ;
Pray , speak in English : here are some will thank you ,
If you speak truth , for their poor mistress' sake :
Believe me , she has had much wrong . Lord Cardinal ,
The willing'st sin I ever yet committed 
May be absolv'd in English .
Noble lady ,
I am sorry my integrity should breed ,
And service to his majesty and you ,
So deep suspicion , where all faith was meant .
We come not by the way of accusation ,
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses ,
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow ,
You have too much , good lady ; but to know 
How you stand minded in the weighty difference 
Between the king and you ; and to deliver ,
Like free and honest men , our just opinions 
And comforts to your cause .
Most honour'd madam ,
My Lord of York , out of his noble nature ,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your Grace ,
Forgetting , like a good man , your late censure 
Both of his truth and him ,which was too far ,
Offers , as I do , in sign of peace ,
His service and his counsel .
To betray me .
My lords , I thank you both for your good wills ;
Ye speak like honest men ,pray God , ye prove so !
But how to make ye suddenly an answer ,
In such a point of weight , so near mine honour ,
More near my life , I fear ,with my weak wit ,
And to such men of gravity and learning ,
In truth , I know not . I was set at work 
Among my maids ; full little , God knows , looking 
Either for such men or such business .
For her sake that I have been ,for I feel 
The last fit of my greatness ,good your Graces 
Let me have time and counsel for my cause :
Alas ! I am a woman , friendless , hopeless .
Madam , you wrong the king's love with these fears :
Your hopes and friends are infinite .
In England 
But little for my profit . Can you think , lords ,
That any Englishman dare give me counsel ?
Or be a known friend , 'gainst his highness' pleasure ,
Though he be grown so desperate to be honest ,
And live a subject ? Nay , forsooth , my friends ,
They that must weigh out my afflictions ,
They that my trust must grow to , live not here :
They are , as all my other comforts , far hence 
In mine own country , lords .
I would your Grace 
Would leave your griefs , and take my counsel .
How , sir ?
Put your main cause into the king's protection ;
He's loving and most gracious : 'twill be much 
Both for your honour better and your cause ;
For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye ,
You'll part away disgrac'd .
He tells you rightly .
Ye tell me what ye wish for both ; my ruin .
Is this your Christian counsel ? out upon ye !
Heaven is above all yet ; there sits a judge 
That no king can corrupt .
Your rage mistakes us .
The more shame for ye ! holy men I thought ye ,
Upon my soul , two reverend cardinal virtues ;
But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye .
Mend 'em , for shame , my lords . Is this your comfort ?
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady ,
A woman lost among ye , laugh'd at , scorn'd ?
I will not wish ye half my miseries ,
I have more charity ; but say , I warn'd ye :
Take heed , for heaven's sake , take heed , lest at once 
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye .
Madam , this is a mere distraction ;
You turn the good we offer into envy .
Ye turn me into nothing : woe upon ye ,
And all such false professors ! Would ye have me ,
If ye have any justice , any pity ;
If ye be anything but churchmen's habits ,
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me ?
Alas ! he has banish'd me his bed already ,
His love , too long ago ! I am old , my lords ,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him 
Is only my obedience . What can happen 
To me above this wretchedness ? all your studies 
Make me a curse like this .
Your fears are worse .
Have I liv'd thus long let me speak myself ,
Since virtue finds no friends a wife , a true one ?
A woman , I dare say without vain-glory ,
Never yet branded with suspicion ?
Have I with all my full affections 
Still met the king ? lov'd him next heaven ? obey'd him ?
Been , out of fondness , superstitious to him ?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him ?
And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well , lords .
Bring me a constant woman to her husband ,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ,
And to that woman , when she has done most ,
Yet will I add an honour , a great patience .
Madam , you wander from the good we aim at .
My lord , I dare not make myself so guilty ,
To give up willingly that noble title 
Your master wed me to : nothing but death 
Shall e'er divorce my dignities .
Pray hear me .
Would I had never trod this English earth ,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it !
Ye have angels' faces , but heaven knows your hearts .
What will become of me now , wretched lady ?
I am the most unhappy woman living .
Alas ! poor wenches , where are now your fortunes ?
Shipwrack'd upon a kingdom , where no pity ,
No friends , no hope ; no kindred weep for me ;
Almost no grave allow'd me . Like the lily ,
That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd ,
I'll hang my head and perish .
If your Grace 
Could but be brought to know our ends are honest ,
You'd feel more comfort . Why should we , good lady ,
Upon what cause , wrong you ? alas ! our places ,
The way of our profession is against it :
We are to cure such sorrows , not to sow them .
For goodness' sake , consider what you do ;
How you may hurt yourself , ay , utterly 
Grow from the king's acquaintance , by this carriage .
The hearts of princes kiss obedience ,
So much they love it ; but to stubborn spirits 
They swell , and grow as terrible as storms .
I know you have a gentle , noble temper ,
A soul as even as a calm : pray think us 
Those we profess , peace-makers , friends , and servants .
Madam , you'll find it so . You wrong your virtues 
With these weak women's fears : a noble spirit ,
As yours was put into you , ever casts 
Such doubts , as false coin , from it . The king loves you ;
Beware you lose it not : for us , if you please 
To trust us in your business , we are ready 
To use our utmost studies in your service .
Do what ye will , my lords : and , pray , forgive me 
If I have us'd myself unmannerly .
You know I am a woman , lacking wit 
To make a seemly answer to such persons .
Pray do my service to his majesty :
He has my heart yet ; and shall have my prayers 
While I shall have my life . Come , reverend fathers ,
Bestow your counsels on me : she now begs 
That little thought , when she set footing here ,
She should have bought her dignities so dear .
If you will now unite in your complaints ,
And force them with a constancy , the cardinal 
Cannot stand under them : if you omit 
The offer of this time , I cannot promise 
But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces 
With these you bear already .
I am joyful 
To meet the least occasion that may give me 
Remembrance of my father-in-law , the duke ,
To be reveng'd on him .
Which of the peers 
Have uncontemn'd gone by him , or at least 
Strangely neglected ? when did he regard 
The stamp of nobleness in any person ,
Out of himself ?
My lords , you speak your pleasures :
What he deserves of you and me , I know ;
What we can do to him ,though now the time 
Gives way to us ,I much fear . If you cannot 
Bar his access to the king , never attempt 
Any thing on him , for he hath a witchcraft 
Over the king in's tongue .
O ! fear him not ;
His spell in that is out : the king hath found 
Matter against him that for ever mars 
The honey of his language . No , he's settled ,
Not to come off , in his displeasure .
I should be glad to hear such news as this 
Once every hour .
Believe it , this is true :
In the divorce his contrary proceedings 
Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears 
As I would wish mine enemy .
How came 
His practices to light ?
Most strangely .
O ! how ? how ?
The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried ,
And came to the eye o' the king ; wherein was read ,
That the cardinal did entreat his holiness 
To stay the judgment o' the divorce ; for if 
It did take place , 'I do ,' quoth he , 'perceive 
My king is tangled in affection to 
A creature of the queen's , Lady Anne Bullen .' 
Has the king this ?
Believe it .
Will this work ?
The king in this perceives him , how he coasts 
And hedges his own way . But in this point 
All his tricks founder , and he brings his physic 
After his patient's death : the king already 
Hath married the fair lady .
Would he had !
May you be happy in your wish , my lord !
For I profess , you have it .
Now all my joy 
Trace the conjunction !
My amen to't !
All men's .
There's order given for her coronation :
Marry , this is yet but young , and may be left 
To some ears unrecounted . But , my lords ,
She is a gallant creature , and complete 
In mind and feature : I persuade me , from her 
Will fall some blessing to this land , which shall 
In it be memoriz'd .
But will the king 
Digest this letter of the cardinal's ?
The Lord forbid !
Marry , amen !
No , no ;
There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose 
Will make this sting the sooner . Cardinal Campeius 
Is stol'n away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ;
Has left the cause o' the king unhandled ; and 
Is posted , as the agent of our cardinal ,
To second all his plot . I do assure you 
The king cried Ha ! at this .
Now , God incense him ,
And let him cry Ha ! louder .
But , my lord ,
When returns Cranmer ?
He is return'd in his opinions , which 
Have satisfied the king for his divorce ,
Together with all famous colleges 
Almost in Christendom . Shortly , I believe ,
His second marriage shall be publish'd , and 
Her coronation . Katharine no more 
Shall be call'd queen , but princess dowager ,
And widow to Prince Arthur .
This same Cranmer's 
A worthy fellow , and hath ta'en much pain 
In the king's business .
He has ; and we shall see him 
For it an archbishop .
So I hear .
'Tis so .
The cardinal !
Observe , observe ; he's moody .
The packet , Cromwell ,
Gave't you the king ?
To his own hand , in his bedchamber .
Look'd he o' the inside of the paper ?
Presently 
He did unseal them ; and the first he view'd ,
He did it with a serious mind ; a heed 
Was in his countenance . You he bade 
Attend him here this morning .
Is he ready 
To come abroad ?
I think , by this he is .
Leave me awhile .
It shall be to the Duchess of Alen on ,
The French King's sister ; he shall marry her .
Anne Bullen ! No ; I'll no Anne Bullens for him :
There's more in't than fair visage . Bullen !
No , we'll no Bullens . Speedily I wish 
To hear from Rome . The Marchioness of Pembroke !
He's discontented .
May be he hears the king 
Does whet his anger to him .
Sharp enough ,
Lord , for thy justice !
The late queen's gentlewoman , a knight's daughter ,
To be her mistress' mistress ! the queen's queen !
This candle burns not clear : 'tis I must snuff it ;
Then , out it goes . What though I know her virtuous 
And well deserving ? yet I know her for 
A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to 
Our cause , that she should lie i' the bosom of 
Our hard-rul'd king . Again , there is sprung up 
A heretic , an arch one , Cranmer ; one 
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king ,
And is his oracle .
He is vex'd at something .
I would 'twere something that would fret the string ,
The master-cord on's heart !
The king , the king !
What piles of wealth hath he accumulated 
To his own portion ! and what expense by the hour 
Seems to flow from him ! How , i' the name of thrift ,
Does he rake this together ? Now , my lords ,
Saw you the cardinal ?
My lord , we have 
Stood here observing him ; some strange commotion 
Is in his brain : he bites his lip , and starts ;
Stops on a sudden , looks upon the ground ,
Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight 
Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again ,
Strikes his breast hard ; and anon he casts 
His eye against the moon : in most strange postures 
We have seen him set himself .
It may well be :
There is a mutiny in 's mind . This morning 
Papers of state he sent me to peruse ,
As I requir'd ; and wot you what I found 
There , on my conscience , put unwittingly ?
Forsooth , an inventory , thus importing ;
The several parcels of his plate , his treasure ,
Rich stuffs and ornaments of household , which 
I find at such a proud rate that it out-speaks 
Possession of a subject .
It's heaven's will :
Some spirit put this paper in the packet 
To bless your eye withal .
If we did think 
His contemplation were above the earth ,
And fix'd on spiritual object , he should still 
Dwell in his musings : but I am afraid 
His thinkings are below the moon , not worth 
His serious considering .
Heaven forgive me !
Ever God bless your highness !
Good my lord ,
You are full of heavenly stuff , and bear the inventory 
Of your best graces in your mind , the which 
You were now running o'er : you have scarce time 
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span 
To keep your earthly audit : sure , in that 
I deem you an ill husband , and am glad 
To have you therein my companion .
For holy offices I have a time ; a time 
To think upon the part of business which 
I bear i' the state ; and nature does require 
Her times of preservation , which perforce 
I , her frail son , amongst my brethren mortal ,
Must give my tendance to .
You have said well .
And ever may your highness yoke together ,
As I will lend you cause , my doing well 
With my well saying !
'Tis well said again ;
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well :
And yet words are no deeds . My father lov'd you :
He said he did ; and with his deed did crown 
His word upon you . Since I had my office ,
I have kept you next my heart ; have not alone 
Employ'd you where high profits might come home ,
But par'd my present havings , to bestow 
My bounties upon you .
What should this mean ?
The Lord increase this business !
Have I not made you 
The prime man of the state ? I pray you , tell me 
If what I now pronounce you have found true ;
And if you may confess it , say withal ,
If you are bound to us or no . What say you ?
My sovereign , I confess your royal graces ,
Shower'd on me daily , have been more than could 
My studied purposes requite ; which went 
Beyond all man's endeavours : my endeavours 
Have ever come too short of my desires ,
Yet fil'd with my abilities . Mine own ends 
Have been mine so , that evermore they pointed 
To the good of your most sacred person and 
The profit of the state . For your great graces 
Heap'd upon me , poor undeserver , I 
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ,
My prayers to heaven for you , my loyalty ,
Which ever has and ever shall be growing ,
Till death , that winter , kill it .
Fairly answer'd ;
A loyal and obedient subject is 
Therein illustrated ; the honour of it 
Does pay the act of it , as , i' the contrary ,
The foulness is the punishment . I presume 
That as my hand has open'd bounty to you ,
My heart dropp'd love , my power rain'd honour , more 
On you than any ; so your hand and heart ,
Your brain , and every function of your power ,
Should , notwithstanding that your bond of duty ,
As 'twere in love's particular , be more 
To me , your friend , than any .
I do profess ,
That for your highness' good I ever labour'd 
More than mine own ; that am , have , and will be .
Though all the world should crack their duty to you ,
And throw it from their soul ; though perils did 
Abound as thick as thought could make 'em , and 
Appear in forms more horrid , yet my duty ,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood ,
Should the approach of this wild river break ,
And stand unshaken yours .
'Tis nobly spoken .
Take notice , lords , he has a loyal breast ,
For you have seen him open't . Read o'er this ;
And after , this : and then to breakfast with 
What appetite you have .
What should this mean ?
What sudden anger's this ? how have I reap'd it ?
He parted frowning from me , as if ruin 
Leap'd from his eyes : so looks the chafed lion 
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him ;
Then makes him nothing . I must read this paper ;
I fear , the story of his anger . 'Tis so ;
This paper has undone me ! 'Tis the account 
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together 
For mine own ends ; indeed , to gain the popedom ,
And fee my friends in Rome . O negligence !
Fit for a fool to fall by : what cross devil 
Made me put this main secret in the packet 
I sent the king ? Is there no way to cure this ?
No new device to beat this from his brains ?
I know 'twill stir him strongly ; yet I know 
A way , if it take right , in spite of fortune 
Will bring me off again . What's this ?'To the Pope !' 
The letter , as I live , with all the business 
I writ to's holiness . Nay then , farewell !
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness ;
And from that full meridian of my glory ,
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the evening ,
And no man see me more .
Hear the king's pleasure , cardinal : who commands you 
To render up the great seal presently 
Into our hands ; and to confine yourself 
To Asher-house , my Lord of Winchester's ,
Till you hear further from his highness .
Where's your commission , lord ? words cannot carry 
Authority so weighty .
Who dare cross 'em ,
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly ?
Till I find more than will or words to do it ,
I mean your malice , know , officious lords ,
I dare and must deny it . Now I feel 
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded , envy :
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces ,
As if it fed ye ! and how sleek and wanton 
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin 
Follow your envious courses , men of malice ;
You have Christian warrant for 'em , and , no doubt ,
In time will find their fit rewards . That seal 
You ask with such a violence , the king 
Mine and your master with his own hand gave me ;
Bade me enjoy it with the place and honours 
During my life ; and to confirm his goodness ,
Tied it by letters-patents : now who'll take it ?
The king , that gave it .
It must be himself then .
Thou art a proud traitor , priest .
Proud lord , thou liest :
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better 
Have burnt that tongue than said so .
Thy ambition ,
Thou scarlet sin , robb'd this bewailing land 
Of noble Buckingham , my father-in-law :
The heads of all thy brother cardinals 
With thee and all thy best parts bound together 
Weigh'd not a hair of his . Plague of your policy !
You sent me deputy for Ireland ,
Far from his succour , from the king , from all 
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him ;
Whilst your great goodness , out of holy pity ,
Absolv'd him with an axe .
This and all else 
This talking lord can lay upon my credit ,
I answer is most false . The duke by law 
Found his deserts : how innocent I was 
From any private malice in his end ,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness .
If I lov'd many words , lord , I should tell you ,
You have as little honesty as honour ,
That in the way of loyalty and truth 
Toward the king , my ever royal master ,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be ,
And all that love his follies .
By my soul ,
Your long coat , priest , protects you ; thou shouldst feel 
My sword i' the life-blood of thee else . My lords ,
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ?
And from this fellow ? If we live thus tamely ,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet ,
Farewell nobility ; let his Grace go forward ,
And dare us with his cap like larks .
All goodness 
Is poison to thy stomach .
Yes , that goodness 
Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one ,
Into your own hands , cardinal , by extortion ;
The goodness of your intercepted packets ,
You writ to the pope against the king ; your goodness ,
Since you provoke me , shall be most notorious .
My Lord of Norfolk , as you are truly noble ,
As you respect the common good , the state 
Of our despis'd nobility , our issues ,
Who , if he live , will scarce be gentlemen ,
Produce the grand sum of his sins , the articles 
Collected from his life ; I'll startle you 
Worse than the sacring bell , when the brown wench 
Lay kissing in your arms , Lord Cardinal .
How much , methinks , I could despise this man ,
But that I am bound in charity against it !
Those articles , my lord , are in the king's hand ;
But , thus much , they are foul ones .
So much fairer 
And spotless shall mine innocence arise 
When the king knows my truth .
This cannot save you :
I thank my memory , I yet remember 
Some of these articles ; and out they shall .
Now , if you can blush , and cry 'guilty ,' cardinal ,
You'll show a little honesty .
Speak on , sir ;
I dare your worst objections ; if I blush ,
It is to see a nobleman want manners .
I had rather want those than my head . Have at you !
First , that , without the king's assent or know ledge ,
You wrought to be a legate ; by which power 
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops .
Then , that in all you writ to Rome , or else 
To foreign princes , Ego et Rex meus 
Was still inscrib'd ; in which you brought the king 
To be your servant .
Then , that without the knowledge 
Either of king or council , when you went 
Ambassador to the emperor , you made bold 
To carry into Flanders the great seal .
Item , you sent a large commission 
To Gregory de Cassado , to conclude ,
Without the king's will or the state's allowance ,
A league between his highness and Ferrara .
That , out of mere ambition , you have caus'd 
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin .
Then , that you have sent innumerable substance ,
By what means got I leave to your own conscience ,
To furnish Rome , and to prepare the ways 
You have for dignities ; to the mere undoing 
Of all the kingdom . Many more there are ;
Which , since they are of you , and odious ,
I will not taint my mouth with .
O my lord !
Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue :
His faults lie open to the laws ; let them ,
Not you , correct him . My heart weeps to see him 
So little of his great self .
I forgive him .
Lord Cardinal , the king's further pleasure is ,
Because all those things you have done of late ,
By your power legatine , within this kingdom ,
Fall into the compass of a pr munire ,
That therefore such a writ be su'd against you ;
To forfeit all your goods , lands , tenements ,
Chattels , and whatsoever , and to be 
Out of the king's protection . This is my charge .
And so we'll leave you to your meditations 
How to live better . For your stubborn answer 
About the giving back the great seal to us ,
The king shall know it , and , no doubt , shall thank you .
So fare you well , my little good Lord Cardinal .
So farewell to the little good you bear me .
Farewell ! a long farewell , to all my greatness !
This is the state of man : to-day be puts forth 
The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms ,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ;
The third day comes a frost , a killing frost ;
And , when he thinks , good easy man , full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening , nips his root ,
And then he falls , as I do . I have ventur'd ,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders ,
This many summers in a sea of glory ,
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me , and now has left me ,
Weary and old with service , to the mercy 
Of a rude stream , that must for ever hide me .
Vain pomp and glory of this world , I hate yo :
I feel my heart new open'd . O ! how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours !
There is , betwixt that smile we would aspire to ,
That sweet aspect of princes , and their ruin ,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
And when he falls , he falls like Lucifer ,
Never to hope again .
Why , how now , Cromwell !
I have no power to speak , sir .
What ! amaz'd 
At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder 
A great man should decline ? Nay , an you weep ,
I am fall'n indeed .
How does your Grace ?
Why , well ;
Never so truly happy , my good Cromwell .
I know myself now ; and I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities ,
A still and quiet conscience . The king has cur'd me ,
I humbly thank his Grace ; and from these shoulders ,
These ruin'd pillars , out of pity taken 
A load would sink a navy , too much honour :
O ! 'tis a burden , Cromwell , 'tis a burden 
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven .
I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it .
I hope I have : I am able now , methinks ,
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel ,
To endure more miseries and greater far 
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer .
What news abroad ?
The heaviest and the worst ,
Is your displeasure with the king .
God bless him !
The next is , that Sir Thomas More is chosen 
Lord Chancellor in your place .
That's somewhat sudden :
But he's a learned man . May he continue 
Long in his highness' favour , and do justice 
For truth's sake and his conscience ; that his bones ,
When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings ,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em !
What more ?
That Cranmer is return'd with welcome ,
Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury .
That's news indeed .
Last , that the Lady Anne ,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married ,
This day was view'd in open , as his queen ,
Going to chapel ; and the voice is now 
Only about her coronation .
There was the weight that pull'd me down . O Cromwell !
The king has gone beyond me : all my glories 
In that one woman I have lost for ever .
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours ,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
Upon my smiles . Go , get thee from me , Cromwell ;
I am a poor fall'n man , unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master : seek the king ;
That sun , I pray , may never set !I have told him 
What , and how true thou art : he will advance thee ;
Some little memory of me will stir him 
I know his noble nature not to let 
Thy hopeful service perish too . Good Cromwell ,
Neglect him not ; make use now , and provide 
For thine own future safety .
O my lord !
Must I then , leave you ? must I needs forego 
So good , so noble , and so true a master ?
Bear witness all that have not hearts of iron ,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord .
The king shall have my service ; but my prayers 
For ever and for ever , shall be yours .
Cromwell , I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me ,
Out of thy honest truth , to play the woman .
Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me , Cromwell ;
And , when I am forgotten , as I shall be ,
And sleep in dull cold marble , where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of , say , I taught thee ,
Say , Wolsey , that once trod the ways of glory ,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour ,
Found thee a way , out of his wrack , to rise in ;
A sure and safe one , though thy master miss'd it .
Mark but my fall , and that that ruin'd me .
Cromwell , I charge thee , fling away ambition :
By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then ,
The image of his Maker , hope to win by't ?
Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ;
Corruption wins not more than honesty .
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace ,
To silence envious tongues : be just , and fear not .
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's ,
Thy God's , and truth's ; then if thou fall'st , O Cromwell !
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr . Serve the king ;
And ,prithee , lead me in :
There take an inventory of all I have ,
To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe ,
And my integrity to heaven is all 
I dare now call mine own . O Cromwell , Cromwell !
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 
I serv'd my king , he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies .
Good sir , have patience .
So I have . Farewell 
The hopes of court ! my hopes in heaven do dwell .
You're well met once again .
So are you .
You come to take your stand here , and behold 
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation ?
'Tis all my business . At our last encounter 
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial .
'Tis very true : but that time offer'd sorrow ;
This , general joy .
'Tis well : the citizens ,
I am sure , have shown at full their royal minds ,
As , let 'em have their rights , they are ever forward ,
In celebration of this day with shows ,
Pageants , and sights of honour .
Never greater ;
Nor , I'll assure you , better taken , sir .
May I be bold to ask what that contains ,
That paper in your hand ?
Yes ; 'tis the list 
Of those that claim their offices this day 
By custom of the coronation .
The Duke of Suffolk is the first , and claims 
To be high-steward ; next , the Duke of Norfolk ,
He to be earl marshal : you may read the rest .
I thank you , sir : had I not known those customs ,
I should have been beholding to your paper .
But , I beseech you , what's become of Katharine ,
The princess dowager ? how goes her business ?
That I can tell you too . The Archbishop 
Of Canterbury , accompanied with other 
Learned and reverend fathers of his order ,
Held a late court at Dunstable , six miles off 
From Ampthill , where the princess lay ; to which 
She was often cited by them , but appear'd not :
And , to be short , for not appearance and 
The king's late scruple , by the main assent 
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd ,
And the late marriage made of none effect :
Since which she was remov'd to Kimbolton ,
Where she remains now sick .
Alas ! good lady !
The trumpets sound : stand close , the queen is coming .
A lively flourish of trumpets .
1.  Two Judges .
2  Lord Chancellor , with the purse and mace before him .
3.  Choristers , singing .
4.  Mayor of London , bearing the mace . Then Garter , in his coat of arms , and on his head a gilt copper crown .
7.  A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ; under it , the 
8.  The old 
9.  Certain Ladies or Countesses , with plain circlets of gold without flowers .
They pass over the stage in order and state .
A royal train , believe me . These I know ;
Who's that that bears the sceptre ?
Marquess Dorset :
And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod .
A bold brave gentleman . That should be 
The Duke of Suffolk ?
'Tis the same ; high-steward .
And that my Lord of Norfolk ?
Heaven bless thee !
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on .
Sir , as I have a soul , she is an angel ;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms ,
And more and richer , when he strains that lady :
I cannot blame his conscience .
They that bear 
The cloth of honour over her , are four barons 
Of the Cinque-ports .
Those men are happy ; and so are all are near her .
I take it , she that carries up the train 
Is that old noble lady , Duchess of Norfolk .
It is ; and all the rest are countesses .
Their coronets say so . These are stars indeed ;
And sometimes falling ones .
No more of that .
God save you , sir ! Where have you been broiling ?
Among the crowd i' the Abbey ; where a finger 
Could not be wedg'd in more : I am stifled 
With the mere rankness of their joy .
You saw 
The ceremony ?
That I did .
How was it ?
Well worth the seeing .
Good sir , speak it to us .
As well as I am able . The rich stream 
Of lords and ladies , having brought the queen 
To a prepar'd place in the choir , fell off 
A distance from her ; while her Grace sat down 
To rest awhile , some half an hour or so ,
In a rich chair of state , opposing freely 
The beauty of her person to the people .
Believe me , sir , she is the goodliest woman 
That ever lay by man : which when the people 
Had the full view of , such a noise arose 
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest ,
As loud , and to as many tunes : hats , cloaks ,
Doublets , I think ,flew up ; and had their faces 
Been loose , this day they had been lost . Such joy 
I never saw before . Great-bellied women ,
That had not half a week to go , like rams 
In the old time of war , would shake the press ,
And make 'em reel before them . No man living 
Could say , 'This is my wife ,' there ; all were woven 
So strangely in one piece .
But , what follow'd ?
At length her Grace rose , and with modest paces 
Came to the altar ; where she kneel'd , and , saint-like ,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly .
Then rose again and bow'd her to the people :
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury 
She had all the royal makings of a queen ;
As holy oil , Edward Confessor's crown ,
The rod , and bird of peace , and all such emblems 
Laid nobly on her : which perform'd , the choir ,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom ,
Together sung Te Deum . So she parted ,
And with the same full state pac'd back again 
To York-place , where the feast is held .
You must no more call it York-place , that's past ;
For , since the cardinal fell , that title's lost :
'Tis now the king's , and call'd Whitehall .
I know it ;
But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name 
Is fresh about me .
What two reverend bishops 
Were those that went on each side of the queen ?
Stokesly and Gardiner ; the one of Winchester ,
Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary ,
The other , London .
He of Winchester 
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's ,
The virtuous Cranmer .
All the land knows that :
However , yet there's no great breach ; when it comes ,
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him .
Who may that be , I pray you ?
Thomas Cromwell :
A man in much esteem with the king , and truly 
A worthy friend . The king 
Has made him master o' the jewel house ,
And one , already , of the privy-council .
He will deserve more .
Yes , without all doubt .
Come , gentlemen , ye shall go my way , which 
Is to the court , and there ye shall be my guests :
Something I can command . As I walk thither ,
I'll tell ye more .
You may command us , sir .
How does your Grace ?
O Griffith ! sick to death !
My legs , like loaden branches , bow to the earth ,
Willing to leave their burden . Reach a chair :
So ; now , methinks , I feel a little ease .
Didst thou not tell me , Griffith , as thou ledd'st me ,
That the great child of honour , Cardinal Wolsey ,
Was dead ?
Yes , madam ; but I think your Grace ,
Out of the pain you suffer'd , gave no ear to't .
Prithee , good Griffith , tell me how he died :
If well , he stepp'd before me , happily ,
For my example .
Well , the voice goes , madam :
For after the stout Earl Northumberland 
Arrested him at York , and brought him forward ,
As a man sorely tainted , to his answer ,
He fell sick suddenly , and grew so ill 
He could not sit his mule .
Alas ! poor man .
At last , with easy roads , he came to Leicester ;
Lodg'd in the abbey , where the reverend abbot ,
With all his covent , honourably receiv'd him :
To whom he gave these words : 'O ! father abbot ,
An old man , broken with the storms of state ,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ;
Give him a little earth for charity .' 
So went to bed , where eagerly his sickness 
Pursu'd him still ; and three nights after this ,
About the hour of eight ,which he himself 
Foretold should be his last ,full of repentance ,
Continual meditations , tears , and sorrows ,
He gave his honours to the world again ,
His blessed part to heaven , and slept in peace .
So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him !
Yet thus far , Griffith , give me leave to speak him ,
And yet with charity . He was a man 
Of an unbounded stomach , ever ranking 
Himself with princes ; one , that by suggestion 
Tied all the kingdom ; simony was fair-play ;
His own opinion was his law ; i' the presence 
He would say untruths , and be ever double 
Both in his words and meaning . He was never ,
But where he meant to ruin , pitiful ;
His promises were , as he then was , mighty ;
But his performance , as he is now , nothing :
Of his own body he was ill , and gave 
The clergy ill example .
Noble madam ,
Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 
We write in water . May it please your highness 
To hear me speak his good now ?
Yes , good Griffith ,
I were malicious else .
This cardinal ,
Though from a humble stock , undoubtedly 
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle .
He was a scholar , and a ripe and good one ;
Exceeding wise , fair-spoken , and persuading ;
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not ;
But , to those men that sought him sweet as summer .
And though he were unsatisfied in getting ,
Which was a sin ,yet in bestowing , madam ,
He was most princely . Ever witness for him 
Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you ,
Ipswich , and Oxford ! one of which fell with him ,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ;
The other , though unfinish'd , yet so famous ,
So excellent in art , and still so rising ,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue .
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ;
For then , and not till then , he felt himself ,
And found the blessedness of being little :
And , to add greater honours to his age 
Than man could give him , he died fearing God .
After my death I wish no other herald ,
No other speaker of my living actions ,
To keep mine honour from corruption ,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith .
Whom I most hated living , thou hast made me ,
With thy religious truth and modesty ,
Now in his ashes honour . Peace be with him !
Patience , be near me still ; and set me lower :
I have not long to trouble thee . Good Griffith ,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
I nam'd my knell , whilst I sit meditating 
On that celestial harmony I go to .
She is asleep : good wench , let's sit down quiet ,
For fear we wake her : softly , gentle Patience .
Spirits of peace , where are ye ? Are ye all gone ,
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye ?
Madam , we are here .
It is not you I call for :
Saw ye none enter since I slept ?
None , madam .
No ? Saw you not , even now , a blessed troop 
Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces 
Cast thousand beams upon me , like the sun ?
They promis'd me eternal happiness ,
And brought me garlands , Griffith , which I feel 
I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall assuredly .
I am most joyful , madam , such good dreams 
Possess your fancy .
Bid the music leave ,
They are harsh and heavy to me .
Do you note 
How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden ?
How long her face is drawn ? How pale she looks ,
And of an earthy cold ? Mark her eyes !
She is going , wench . Pray , pray .
Heaven comfort her !
An't like your Grace ,
You are a saucy fellow :
Deserve we no more reverence ?
You are to blame ,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness ,
To use so rude behaviour ; go to , kneel .
I humbly do entreat your highness pardon ;
My haste made me unmannerly . There is staying 
A gentleman , sent from the king , to see you .
Admit him entrance , Griffith : but this fellow 
Let me ne'er see again .
If my sight fail not ,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor ,
My royal nephew , and your name Capucius .
Madam , the same ; your servant .
O my lord !
The times and titles now are alter'd strangely 
With me since first you knew me . But , I pray you ,
What is your pleasure with me ?
Noble lady ,
First , mine own service to your Grace ; the next ,
The king's request that I would visit you ;
Who grieves much for your weakness , and by me 
Sends you his princely commendations ,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort .
O ! my good lord , that comfort comes too late ;
'Tis like a pardon after execution :
That gentle physic , given in time , had cur'd me ;
But now I am past all comforts here but prayers .
How does his highness ?
Madam , in good health .
So may he ever do ! and ever flourish ,
When I shall dwell with worms , and my poor name 
Banish'd the kingdom . Patience , is that letter 
I caus'd you write , yet sent away ?
No , madam .
Sir , I most humbly pray you to deliver 
This to my lord the king .
Most willing , madam .
In which I have commended to his goodness 
The model of our chaste loves , his young daughter :
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her !
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding ,
She is young , and of a noble modest nature ,
I hope she will deserve well ,and a little 
To love her for her mother's sake , that lov'd him ,
Heaven knows how dearly . My next poor petition 
Is , that his noble Grace would have some pity 
Upon my wretched women , that so long 
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully :
Of which there is not one , I dare avow ,
And now I should not lie ,but will deserve ,
For virtue , and true beauty of the soul ,
For honesty and decent carriage ,
A right good husband , let him be a noble ;
And , sure , those men are happy that shall have 'em .
The last is , for my men : they are the poorest ,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me ;
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em ,
And something over to remember me by :
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life 
And able means , we had not parted thus .
These are the whole contents : and , good my lord ,
By that you love the dearest in this world ,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed ,
Stand these poor people's friend , and urge the king 
To do me this last right .
By heaven , I will ,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man !
I thank you , honest lord . Remember me 
In all humility unto his highness :
Say his long trouble now is passing 
Out of this world ; tell him , in death I bless'd him ;
For so I will . Mine eyes grow dim . Farewell ,
My lord . Griffith , farewell . Nay , Patience ,
You must not leave me yet : I must to bed ;
Call in more women . When I am dead , good wench ,
Let me be us'd with honour : strew me over 
With maiden flowers , that all the world may know 
I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me ,
Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd , yet like 
A queen , and daughter to a king , inter me .
I can no more .
It's one o'clock , boy , is't not ?
It hath struck .
These should be hours for necessities ,
Not for delights ; times to repair our nature 
With comforting repose , and not for us 
To waste these times . Good hour of night , Sir Thomas !
Whither so late ?
Came you from the king , my lord ?
I did , Sir Thomas ; and left him at primero 
With the Duke of Suffolk .
I must to him too ,
Before he go to bed . I'll take my leave .
Not yet , Sir Thomas Lovell . What 's the matter ?
It seems you are in haste : an if there be 
No great offence belongs to't , give your friend 
Some touch of your late business : affairs , that walk 
As they say spirits do at midnight , have 
In them a wilder nature than the business 
That seeks dispatch by day .
My lord , I love you ,
And durst commend a secret to your ear 
Much weightier than this work . The queen's in labour ,
They say , in great extremity ; and fear'd 
She'll with the labour end .
The fruit she goes with 
I pray for heartily , that it may find 
Good time , and live : but for the stock , Sir Thomas ,
I wish it grubb'd up now .
Methinks I could 
Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says 
She's a good creature , and , sweet lady , does 
Deserve our better wishes .
But , sir , sir ,
Hear me , Sir Thomas : you're a gentleman 
Of mine own way ; I know you wise , religious ;
And , let me tell you , it will ne'er be well ,
'Twill not , Sir Thomas Lovell , take 't of me ,
Till Cranmer , Cromwell , her two hands , and she ,
Sleep in their graves .
Now , sir , you speak of two 
The most remark'd i' the kingdom . As for Cromwell ,
Beside that of the jewel-house , is made master 
O' the rolls , and the king's secretary ; further , sir ,
Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments ,
With which the time will load him . The archbishop 
Is the king's hand and tongue ; and who dare speak 
One syllable against him ?
Yes , yes , Sir Thomas ,
There are that dare ; and I myself have ventur'd 
To speak my mind of him : and indeed this day ,
Sir ,I may tell it you ,I think I have 
Incens'd the lords o' the council that he is 
For so I know he is , they know he is 
A most arch heretic , a pestilence 
That does infect the land : with which they mov'd 
Have broken with the king ; who hath so far 
Given ear to our complaint ,of his great grace 
And princely care , foreseeing those fell mischiefs 
Our reasons laid before him ,hath commanded 
To-morrow morning to the council-board 
He be convented . He's a rank weed , Sir Thomas ,
And we must root him out . From your affairs 
I hinder you too long : good-night , Sir Thomas !
Many good-nights , my lord . I rest your servant .
Charles , I will play no more to-night ;
My mind's not on't ; you are too hard for me .
Sir , I did never win of you before .
But little , Charles ;
Nor shall not when my fancy's on my play .
Now , Lovell , from the queen what is the news ?
I could not personally deliver to her 
What you commanded me , but by her woman 
I sent your message ; who return'd her thanks 
In the great'st humbleness , and desir'd your highness 
Most heartily to pray for her .
What sayst thou , ha ?
To pray for her ? what ! is she crying out ?
So said her woman ; and that her sufferance made 
Almost each pang a death .
Alas ! good lady .
God safely quit her of her burden , and 
With gentle travail , to the gladding of 
Your highness with an heir !
'Tis midnight , Charles ;
Prithee , to bed ; and in thy prayers remember 
The estate of my poor queen . Leave me alone ;
For I must think of that which company 
Would not be friendly to .
I wish your highness 
A quiet night ; and my good mistress will 
Remember in my prayers .
Charles , good-night .
Well , Sir , what follows ?
Sir , I have brought my lord the archbishop ,
As you commanded me .
Ha ! Canterbury ?
Ay , my good lord .
'Tis true : where is he , Denny ?
He attends your highness' pleasure .
Bring him to us .
This is about that which the bishop spake :
I am happily come hither .
Avoid the gallery .
Ha ! I have said . Begone .
I am fearful . Wherefore frowns he thus ?
'Tis his aspect of terror : all's not well .
How now , my lord ! You do desire to know 
Wherefore I sent for you .
It is my duty 
To attend your highness' pleasure .
Pray you , arise ,
My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury .
Come , you and I must walk a turn together ;
I have news to tell you : come , come , give me your hand .
Ah ! my good lord , I grieve at what I speak ,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows .
I have , and most unwillingly , of late 
Heard many grievous , I do say , my lord ,
Grievous complaints of you ; which , being consider'd ,
Have mov'd us and our council , that you shall 
This morning come before us ; where , I know ,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself ,
But that , till further trial in those charges 
Which will require your answer , you must take 
Your patience to you , and be well contented 
To make your house our Tower : you a brother of us ,
It fits we thus proceed , or else no witness 
Would come against you .
I humbly thank your highness ;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
Most throughly to be winnow'd , where my chaff 
And corn shall fly asunder ; for I know 
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues 
Than I myself , poor man .
Stand up , good Canterbury :
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted 
In us , thy friend : give me thy hand , stand up :
Prithee , let's walk . Now , by my holidame ,
What manner of man are you ? My lord , I look'd 
You would have given me your petition , that 
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together 
Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard you ,
Without indurance , further .
Most dread liege ,
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty :
If they shall fail , I , with mine enemies ,
Will triumph o'er my person ; which I weigh not ,
Being of those virtues vacant . I fear nothing 
What can be said against me .
Know you not 
How your state stands i' the world , with the whole world ?
Your enemies are many , and not small ; their practices 
Must bear the same proportion ; and not ever 
The justice and the truth o' the question carries 
The due o' the verdict with it . At what ease 
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
To swear against you ? such things have been done .
You are potently oppos'd , and with a malice 
Of as great size . Ween you of better luck ,
I mean in perjur'd witness , than your master ,
Whose minister you are , whiles here he liv'd 
Upon this naughty earth ? Go to , go to ;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger ,
And woo your own destruction .
God and your majesty 
Protect mine innocence ! or I fall into 
The trap is laid for me !
Be of good cheer ;
They shall no more prevail than we give way to .
Keep comfort to you ; and this morning see 
You do appear before them . If they shall chance ,
In charging you with matters , to commit you ,
The best persuasions to the contrary 
Fail not to use , and with what vehemency 
The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties 
Will render you no remedy , this ring 
Deliver them , and your appeal to us 
There make before them . Look ! the good man weeps ;
He's honest , on mine honour . God's blest mother !
I swear he is true-hearted ; and a soul 
None better in my kingdom . Get you gone ,
And do as I have bid you .
He has strangled 
His language in his tears .
Come back : what mean you ?
I'll not come back ; the tidings that I bring 
Will make my boldness manners . Now , good angels 
Fly o'er thy royal head , and shade thy person 
Under their blessed wings !
Now , by thy looks 
I guess thy message . Is the queen deliver'd ?
Say , ay ; and of a boy .
Ay , ay , my liege ;
And of a lovely boy : the God of heaven 
Both now and ever bless her ! 'tis a girl ,
Promises boys hereafter . Sir , your queen 
Desires your visitation , and to be 
Acquainted with this stranger : 'tis as like you 
As cherry is to cherry .
Lovell !
Give her a hundred marks . I'll to the queen .
A hundred marks ! By this light , I'll ha' more .
An ordinary groom is for such payment :
I will have more , or scold it out of him .
Said I for this the girl was like to him ?
I will have more , or else unsay't ; and now ,
While it is hot , I'll put it to the issue .
I hope I am not too late ; and yet the gentleman ,
That was sent to me from the council , pray'd me 
To make great haste . All fast ? what means this ? Ho !
Who waits there ?
Sure , you know me ?
Yes , my lord ;
But yet I cannot help you .
Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for .
This is a piece of malice . I am glad 
I came this way so happily : the king 
Shall understand it presently .
'Tis Butts ,
The king's physician . As he past along ,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me .
Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace ! For certain ,
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me ,
God turn their hearts ! I never sought their malice ,
To quench mine honour : they would shame to make me 
Wait else at door , a fellow-counsellor ,
'Mong boys , grooms , and lackeys . But their pleasures 
Must be fulfill'd , and I attend with patience .
I'll show your Grace the strangest sight ,
What's that , Butts ?
I think your highness saw this many a day .
Body o' me , where is it ?
There , my lord ,
The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury ;
Who holds his state at door , 'mongst pursuivants ,
Pages , and footboys .
Ha ! 'Tis he , indeed :
Is this the honour they do one another ?
'Tis well there's one above 'em yet . I had thought 
They had parted so much honesty among 'em ,
At least , good manners ,as not thus to suffer 
A man of his place , and so near our favour ,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures ,
And at the door too , like a post with packets .
By holy Mary , Butts , there's knavery :
Let 'em alone , and draw the curtain close ;
We shall hear more anon .
Speak to the business , Master secretary :
Why are we met in council ?
Please your honours ,
The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury .
Has he had knowledge of it ?
Who waits there ?
Without , my noble lords ?
My lord archbishop :
And has done half-an-hour , to know your pleasures .
Let him come in .
Your Grace may enter now .
My good lord archbishop , I'm very sorry 
To sit here at this present and behold 
That chair stand empty : but we all are men ,
In our own natures frail , and capable 
Of our flesh ; few are angels : out of which frailty 
And want of wisdom , you , that best should teach us ,
Have misdemean'd yourself , and not a little ,
Toward the king first , then his laws , in filling 
The whole realm , by your teaching and your chaplains ,
For so we are inform'd ,with new opinions ,
Divers and dangerous ; which are heresies ,
And , not reform'd , may prove pernicious .
Which reformation must be sudden too ,
My noble lords ; for those that tame wild horses 
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle ,
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits , and spur 'em ,
Till they obey the manage . If we suffer 
Out of our easiness and childish pity 
To one man's honour this contagious sickness ,
Farewell all physic : and what follows then ?
Commotions , uproars , with a general taint 
Of the whole state : as , of late days , our neighbours ,
The upper Germany , can dearly witness ,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories .
My good lords , hitherto in all the progress 
Both of my life and office , I have labour'd ,
And with no little study , that my teaching 
And the strong course of my authority 
Might go one way , and safely ; and the end 
Was ever , to do well : nor is there living ,
I speak it with a single heart , my lords ,
A man that more detests , more stirs against ,
Both in his private conscience and his place ,
Defacers of a public peace , than I do .
Pray heaven the king may never find a heart 
With less allegiance in it ! Men , that make 
Envy and crooked malice nourishment 
Dare bite the best . I do beseech your lordships 
That , in this case of justice , my accusers ,
Be what they will , may stand forth face to face ,
And freely urge against me .
Nay , my lord ,
That cannot be : you are a counsellor ,
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you .
My lord , because we have business of more moment ,
We will be short with you . 'Tis his highness' pleasure ,
And our consent , for better trial of you ,
From hence you be committed to the Tower ;
Where , being but a private man again ,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly ,
More than , I fear , you are provided for .
Ah ! my good Lord of Winchester , I thank you ;
You are always my good friend : if your will pass ,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror ,
You are so merciful . I see your end ;
'Tis my undoing : love and meekness , lord ,
Become a churchman better than ambition :
Win straying souls with modesty again ,
Cast none away . That I shall clear myself ,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience ,
I make as little doubt , as you do conscience ,
In doing daily wrongs . I could say more ,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest .
My lord , my lord , you are a sectary ;
That's the plain truth : your painted gloss discovers ,
To men that understand you , words and weakness .
My Lord of Winchester , you are a little ,
By your good favour , too sharp ; men so noble ,
However faulty , yet should find respect 
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty 
To load a falling man .
Good Master secretary ,
I cry your honour mercy , you may , worst 
Of all this table , say so .
Why , my lord ?
Do not I know you for a favourer 
Of this new sect ? ye are not sound .
Not sound ?
Not sound , I say .
Would you were half so honest !
Men's prayers then would seek you , not their fears .
I shall remember this bold language .
Remember your bold life too .
This is too much ;
Forbear , for shame , my lords .
I have done .
And I .
Then thus for you , my lord : it stands agreed ,
I take it , by all voices , that forthwith 
You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner ;
There to remain till the king's further pleasure 
Be known unto us . Are you all agreed , lords ?
We are .
Is there no other way of mercy ,
But I must needs to the Tower , my lords ?
What other 
Would you expect ? You are strangely troublesome .
Let some o' the guard be ready there .
For me ?
Must I go like a traitor thither ?
Receive him ,
And see him safe i' the Tower .
Stay , good my lords ;
I have a little yet to say . Look there , my lords ;
By virtue of that ring I take my cause 
Out of the gripes of cruel men , and give it 
To a most noble judge , the king my master .
This is the king's ring .
'Tis no counterfeit .
'Tis the right ring , by heaven ! I told ye all ,
When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling ,
'Twould fall upon ourselves .
Do you think , my lords ,
The king will suffer but the little finger 
Of this man to be vex'd ?
'Tis now too certain :
How much more is his life in value with him ?
Would I were fairly out on't .
My mind gave me ,
In seeking tales and informations 
Against this man whose honesty the devil 
And his disciples only envy at 
Ye blew the fire that burns ye : now have at ye !
Dread sovereign , how much are we bound to heaven 
In daily thanks , that gave us such a prince ;
Not only good and wise , but most religious :
One that in all obedience makes the Church 
The chief aim of his honour ; and , to strengthen 
That holy duty , out of dear respect ,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear 
The cause betwixt her and this great offender .
You were ever good at sudden commendations ,
Bishop of Winchester ; but know , I come not 
To hear such flattery now , and in my presence ;
They are too thin and bare to hide offences .
To me you cannot reach ; you play the spaniel ,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me ;
But , whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for , I'm sure 
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody .
Good man , sit down . Now let me see the proudest 
He , that dares most , but wag his finger at thee :
By all that's holy , he had better starve 
Than but once think this place becomes thee not .
May it please your Grace ,
No , sir , it does not please me .
I had thought I had had men of some understanding 
And wisdom of my council ; but I find none .
Was it discretion , lords , to let this man ,
This good man ,few of you deserve that title ,
This honest man , wait like a lousy footboy 
At chamber-door ? and one as great as you are ?
Why , what a shame was this ! Did my commission 
Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye 
Power as he was a counsellor to try him ,
Not as a groom . There's some of ye , I see ,
More out of malice than integrity ,
Would try him to the utmost , had ye mean ;
Which ye shall never have while I live .
Thus far ,
My most dread sov'reign , may it like your Grace 
To let my tongue excuse all . What was purpos'd 
Concerning his imprisonment , was rather 
If there be faith in men meant for his trial 
And fair purgation to the world , than malice ,
I'm sure , in me .
Well , well , my lords , respect him ;
Take him , and use him well ; he's worthy of it .
I will say thus much for him , if a prince 
May be beholding to a subject , I 
Am , for his love and service , so to him .
Make me no more ado , but all embrace him :
Be friends , for shame , my lords ! My Lord of Canterbury ,
I have a suit which you must not deny me ;
That is , a fair young maid that yet wants baptism ,
You must be godfather , and answer for her .
The greatest monarch now alive may glory 
In such an honour : how may I deserve it ,
That am a poor and humble subject to you ?
Come , come , my lord , you'd spare your spoons : you shall have two noble partners with you ; the old Duchess of Norfolk , and Lady Marquess Dorset : will these please you ?
Once more , my Lord of Winchester , I charge you ,
Embrace and love this man .
With a true heart 
And brother-love I do it .
And let heaven 
Witness , how dear I hold this confirmation .
Good man ! those joyful tears show thy true heart :
The common voice , I see , is verified 
Of thee , which says thus , 'Do my Lord of Canterbury 
A shrewd turn , and he is your friend for ever .' 
Come , lords , we trifle time away ; I long 
To have this young one made a Christian .
As I have made ye one , lords , one remain ;
So I grow stronger , you more honour gain .
You'll leave your noise anon , ye rascals .
Do you take the court for Paris-garden ? ye rude slaves , leave your gaping .
Good Master porter , I belong to the larder .
Belong to the gallows , and be hanged , you rogue ! Is this a place to roar in ? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves , and strong ones : these are but switches to 'em . I'll scratch your heads : you must be seeing christenings ! Do you look for ale and cakes here , you rude rascals ?
Pray , sir , be patient : 'tis as much impossible 
Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons 
To scatter 'em , as 'tis to make 'em sleep 
On May-day morning ; which will never be .
We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em .
How got they in , and be hang'd ?
Alas , I know not ; how gets the tide in ?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot 
You see the poor remainder could distribute ,
I made no spare , sir .
You did nothing , sir .
I am not Samson , nor Sir Guy , nor Colbrand ,
To mow 'em down before me ; but if I spar'd any 
That had a head to hit , either young or old ,
He or she , cuckold or cuckold-maker ,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again ;
And that I would not for a cow , God save her !
Do you hear , Master porter ?
I shall be with you presently , good 
Master puppy . Keep the door close , sirrah .
What would you have me do ?
What should you do , but knock 'em down by the dozens ? Is this Moorfields to muster in ? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court , the women so besiege us ? Bless me , what a fry of fornication is at door ! On my Christian conscience , this one christening will beget a thousand : here will be father , godfather , and all together .
The spoons will be the bigger , sir . There is a fellow somewhat near the door , he should be a brazier by his face , for , o' my conscience , twenty of the dog days now reign in's nose : all that stand about him are under the line , they need no other penance . That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head , and three times was his nose discharged against me : he stands there , like a mortar-piece , to blow us . There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him , that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head , for kindling such a combustion in the state . I missed the meteor once , and hit that woman , who cried out , 'Clubs !' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour , which were the hope o' the Strand , where she was quartered . They fell on ; I made good my place ; at length they came to the broomstaff to me ; I defied 'em still ; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em , loose shot , delivered such a shower of pebbles , that I was fain to draw mine honour in , and let 'em win the work . The devil was amongst 'em , I think , surely .
These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse , and fight for bitten apples ; that no audience , but the Tribulation of Tower-hill , or the Limbs of Limehouse , their dear brothers , are able to endure . I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum , and there they are like to dance these three days ; besides the running banquet of two beadles , that is to come .
Mercy o' me , what a multitude are here !
They grow still too , from all parts they are coming ,
As if we kept a fair here ! Where are these porters ,
These lazy knaves ? Ye have made a fine hand , fellows :
There's a trim rabble let in . Are all these 
Your faithful friends o' the suburbs ? We shall have 
Great store of room , no doubt , left for the ladies ,
When they pass back from the christening .
An't please your honour ,
We are but men ; and what so many may do ,
Not being torn a-pieces , we have done :
An army cannot rule 'em .
As I live ,
If the king blame me for't , I'll lay ye all 
By the heels , and suddenly ; and on your heads 
Clap round fines for neglect : ye're lazy knaves ;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards , when 
Ye should do service . Hark ! the trumpets sound ;
They're come already from the christening .
Go , break among the press , and find a way out 
To let the troop pass fairly , or I'll find 
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months .
Make way there for the princess .
You great fellow ,
Stand close up , or I'll make your head ache .
You i' the camlet , get up o' the rail :
I'll pick you o'er the pales else .
Heaven , from thy endless goodness , send prosperous life , long , and ever happy , to the high and mighty Princess of England , Elizabeth !
And to your royal Grace , and the good queen ,
My noble partners , and myself , thus pray :
All comfort , joy , in this most gracious lady ,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy ,
May hourly fall upon ye !
Thank you , good lord archbishop :
What is her name ?
Elizabeth .
Stand up , lord .
With this kiss take my blessing ; God protect thee !
Into whose hand I give thy life .
My noble gossips , ye have been too prodigal :
I thank ye heartily : so shall this lady 
When she has so much English .
Let me speak , sir ,
For heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter 
Let none think flattery , for they'll find 'em truth .
This royal infant ,heaven still move about her !
Though in her cradle , yet now promises 
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings ,
Which time shall bring to ripeness : she shall be 
But few now living can behold that goodness 
A pattern to all princes living with her ,
And all that shall succeed : Saba was never 
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue 
Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces ,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is ,
With all the virtues that attend the good ,
Shall still be doubled on her ; truth shall nurse her ;
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her ;
She shall be lov'd and fear'd ; her own shall bless her ;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn ,
And hang their heads with sorrow ; good grows with her .
In her days every man shall eat in safety 
Under his own vine what he plants ; and sing 
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours .
God shall be truly known ; and those about her 
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour ,
And by those claim their greatness , not by blood .
Nor shall this peace sleep with her ; but as when 
The bird of wonder dies , the maiden ph nix ,
Her ashes new-create another heir 
As great in admiration as herself ,
So shall she leave her blessedness to one ,
When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness ,
Who , from the sacred ashes of her honour ,
Shall star-like rise , as great in fame as she was ,
And so stand fix'd . Peace , plenty , love , truth , terror ,
That were the servants to this chosen infant ,
Shall then be his , and like a vine grow to him :
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine ,
His honour and the greatness of his name 
Shall be , and make new nations ; he shall flourish ,
And , like a mountain cedar , reach his branches 
To all the plains about him ; our children's children 
Shall see this , and bless heaven .
Thou speakest wonders .
She shall be , to the happiness of England ,
An aged princess ; many days shall see her ,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it .
Would I had known no more ! but she must die ,
She must , the saints must have her , yet a virgin ;
A most unspotted lily shall she pass 
To the ground , and all the world shall mourn her .
O lord archbishop !
Thou hast made me now a man : never , before 
This happy child , did I get any thing .
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me ,
That when I am in heaven , I shall desire 
To see what this child does , and praise my Maker .
I thank ye all . To you , my good Lord Mayor ,
And your good brethren , I am much beholding ;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence ,
And ye shall find me thankful . Lead the way , lords :
Ye must all see the queen , and she must thank ye ;
She will be sick else . This day , no man think 
He has business at his house ; for all shall stay :
This little one shall make it holiday .
'Tis ten to one , this play can never please 
All that are here : some come to take their ease 
And sleep an act or two ; but those , we fear ,
We've frighted with our trumpets ; so , 'tis clear 
They'll say 'tis naught : others , to hear the city 
Abus'd extremely , and to cry , 'That's witty !' 
Which we have not done neither : that , I fear ,
All the expected good we're like to hear 
For this play at this time , is only in 
The merciful construction of good women ;
For such a one we show'd 'em : if they smile ,
And say 'twill do , I know , within a while 
All the best men are ours ; for 'tis ill hap 
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap .
THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV
So shaken as we are , so wan with care ,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant ,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils 
To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote .
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil 
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood ;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields ,
Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs 
Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes ,
Which , like the meteors of a troubled heaven ,
All of one nature , of one substance bred ,
Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
And furious close of civil butchery ,
Shall now , in mutual well-beseeming ranks ,
March all one way , and be no more oppos'd 
Against acquaintance , kindred , and allies :
The edge of war , like an ill-sheathed knife ,
No more shall cut his master . Therefore , friends ,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ ,
Whose soldier now , under whose blessed cross 
We are impressed and engag'd to fight ,
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ,
Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb 
To chase these pagans in those holy fields 
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet 
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
For our advantage on the bitter cross .
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old ,
And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go :
Therefore we meet not now . Then let me hear 
Of you , my gentle cousin Westmoreland ,
What yesternight our council did decree 
In forwarding this dear expedience .
My liege , this haste was hot in question ,
And many limits of the charge set down 
But yesternight ; when all athwart there came 
A post from Wales loaden with heavy news ;
Whose worst was , that the noble Mortimer ,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
Against the irregular and wild Glendower ,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken ,
And a thousand of his people butchered ;
Upon whose dead corpse' there was such misuse ,
Such beastly shameless transformation 
By those Welshwomen done , as may not be 
Without much shame re-told or spoken of .
It seems then that the tidings of this broil 
Brake off our business for the Holy Land .
This match'd with other like , my gracious lord ;
For more uneven and unwelcome news 
Came from the north and thus it did import :
On Holy-rood day , the gallant Hotspur there ,
Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald ,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot ,
At Holmedon met ,
Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour ;
As by discharge of their artillery ,
And shape of likelihood , the news was told ;
For he that brought them , in the very heat 
And pride of their contention did take horse ,
Uncertain of the issue any way .
Here is a dear and true industrious friend ,
Sir Walter Blunt , new lighted from his horse ,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil 
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours ;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news .
The Earl of Douglas is discomfited ;
Ten thousand bold Scots , two and twenty knights ,
Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see 
On Holmedon's plains : of prisoners Hotspur took 
Mordake the Earl of Fife , and eldest son 
To beaten Douglas , and the Earls of Athol ,
Of Murray , Angus , and Menteith .
And is not this an honourable spoil ?
A gallant prize ? ha , cousin , is it not ?
In faith ,
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of .
Yea , there thou mak'st me sad and mak'st me sin 
In envy that my Lord Northumberland 
Should be the father to so blest a son ,
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue ;
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant ;
Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride :
Whilst I , by looking on the praise of him ,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
Of my young Harry . O ! that it could be prov'd 
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd 
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay ,
And call'd mine Percy , his Plantagenet .
Then would I have his Harry , and he mine .
But let him from my thoughts . What think you , coz ,
Of this young Percy's pride ? the prisoners ,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd ,
To his own use he keeps , and sends me word ,
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife .
This is his uncle's teaching , this is Worcester ,
Malevolent to you in all aspects ;
Which makes him prune himself , and bristle up 
The crest of youth against your dignity .
But I have sent for him to answer this ;
And for this cause a while we must neglect 
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem .
Cousin , on Wednesday next our council we 
Will hold at Windsor ; so inform the lords :
But come yourself with speed to us again ;
For more is to be said and to be done 
Than out of anger can be uttered .
I will , my hege .
Now , Hal , what time of day is it , lad ?
Thou art so fat-witted , with drinking of old sack , and unbuttoning thee after supper , and sleeping upon benches after noon , that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know . What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day ? unless hours were cups of sack , and minutes capons , and clocks the tongues of bawds , and dials the signs of leaping-houses , and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffeta , I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day .
Indeed , you come near me now , Hal ; for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars , and not by Ph bus , he , 'that wandering knight so fair .' And , I prithee , sweet wag , when thou art king ,as , God save thy Grace ,majesty , I should say , for grace thou wilt have none ,
What ! none ?
No , by my troth ; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter .
Well , how then ? come , roundly , roundly .
Marry , then , sweet wag , when thou art king , let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty : let us be Diana's foresters , gentlemen of the shade , minions of the moon ; and let men say , we be men of good government , being governed as the sea is , by our noble and chaste mistress the moon , under whose countenance we steal .
Thou sayest well , and it holds well too ; for the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea , being governed as the sea is , by the moon . As for proof now : a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning ; got with swearing 'Lay by ;' and spent with crying 'Bring in :' now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder , and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows .
By the Lord , thou sayest true , lad . And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ?
As the honey of Hybla , my old lad of the castle . And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?
How now , how now , mad wag ! what , in thy quips and thy quiddities ? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin ?
Why , what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern ?
Well , thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft .
Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ?
No ; I'll give thee thy due , thou hast paid all there .
Yea , and elsewhere , so far as my coin would stretch ; and where it would not , I have used my credit .
Yea , and so used it that , were it not here apparent that thou art their apparent .But , I prithee , sweet wag , shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king , and resolution thus fobbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father antick the law ? Do not thou , when thou art king , hang a thief .
No ; thou shalt .
Shall I ? O rare ! By the Lord , I'll be a brave judge .
Thou judgest false already ; I mean , thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman .
Well , Hal , well ; and in some sort it jumps with my humour as well as waiting in the court , I can tell you .
For obtaining of suits ?
Yea , for obtaining of suits , whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe . 'Sblood , I am as melancholy as a gib cat , or a lugged bear .
Or an old lion , or a lover's lute .
Yea , or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe .
What sayest thou to a hare , or the melancholy of Moor-ditch ?
Thou hast the most unsavory similes , and art , indeed , the most comparative , rascalliest , sweet young prince ; but , Hal , I prithee , trouble me no more with vanity . I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought . An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you , sir , but I marked him not ; and yet he talked very wisely , but I regarded him not ; and yet he talked wisely , and in the street too .
Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries out in the streets , and no man regards it .
O ! thou hast damnable iteration , and art indeed able to corrupt a saint . Thou hast done much harm upon me , Hal ; God forgive thee for it ! Before I knew thee , Hal , I knew nothing ; and now am I , if a man should speak truly , little better than one of the wicked . I must give over this life , and I will give it over ; by the Lord , an I do not , I am a villain : I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom .
Where shall we take a purse to-morrow , Jack ?
Zounds ! where thou wilt , lad , I'll make one ; an I do not , call me a villain and baffle me .
I see a good amendment of life in thee ; from praying to purse-taking .
Why , Hal , 'tis my vocation , Hal ; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation . Poins ! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match . O ! if men were to be saved by merit , what hole in hell were hot enough for him ? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand !' to a true man .
Good morrow , Ned .
Good morrow , sweet Hal . What says Monsieur Remorse ? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar ? Jack ! how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul , that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg ?
Sir John stands to his word , the devil shall have his bargain ; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs : he will give the devil his due .
Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil .
Else he had been damned for cozening the devil .
But my lads , my lads , to-morrow morning , by four o'clock , early at Gadshill ! There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings , and traders riding to London with fat purses : I have vizards for you all ; you have horses for yourselves . Gadshill lies to night in Rochester ; I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap : we may do it as secure as sleep . If you will go I will stuff your purses full of crowns ; if you will not , tarry at home and be hanged .
Hear ye , Yedward : if I tarry at home and go not , I'll hang you for going .
You will , chops ?
Hal , wilt thou make one ?
Who , I rob ? I a thief ? not I , by my faith .
There's neither honesty , manhood , nor good fellowship in thee , nor thou camest not of the blood royal , if thou darest not stand for ten shillings .
Well , then , once in my days I'll be a madcap .
Why , that's well said .
Well , come what will , I'll tarry at home .
By the Lord , I'll be a traitor then , when thou art king .
I care not .
Sir John , I prithee , leave the prince and me alone : I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go .
Well , God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the ears of profiting , that what thou speakest may move , and what he hears may be believed , that the true prince may , for recreation sake , prove a false thief ; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance . Farewell : you shall find me in Eastcheap .
Farewell , thou latter spring ! Farewell , All-hallown summer !
Now , my good sweet honey lord , ride with us to-morrow : I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone . Falstaff , Bardolph , Peto , and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid ; yourself and I will not be there ; and when they have the booty , if you and I do not rob them , cut this head from my shoulders .
But how shall we part with them in setting forth ?
Why , we will set forth before or after them , and appoint them a place of meeting , wherein it is at our pleasure to fail ; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves , which they shall have no sooner achieved but we'll set upon them .
Yea , but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses , by our habits , and by every other appointment , to be ourselves .
Tut ! our horses they shall not see , I'll tie them in the wood ; our vizards we will change after we leave them ; and , sirrah , I have cases of buckram for the nonce , to inmask our noted outward garments .
Yea , but I doubt they will be too hard for us .
Well , for two of them , I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back ; and for the third , if he fight longer than he sees reason , I'll forswear arms . The virtue of this jest will be , the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper : how thirty , at least , he fought with ; what wards , what blows , what extremities he endured ; and in the reproof of this lies the jest .
Well , I'll go with thee : provide us all things necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap ; there I'll sup . Farewell .
Farewell , my lord .
I know you all , and will awhile uphold 
The unyok'd humour of your idleness :
Yet herein will I imitate the sun ,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world ,
That when he please again to be himself ,
Being wanted , he may be more wonder'd at ,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him .
If all the year were playing holidays ,
To sport would be as tedious as to work ;
But when they seldom come , they wish'd for come ,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents .
So , when this loose behaviour I throw off ,
And pay the debt I never promised ,
By how much better than my word I am 
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;
And like bright metal on a sullen ground ,
My reformation , glittering o'er my fault ,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off .
I'll so offend to make offence a skill ;
Redeeming time when men think least I will .
My blood hath been too cold and temperate ,
Unapt to stir at these indignities ,
And you have found me ; for accordingly 
You tread upon my patience : but , be sure ,
I will from henceforth rather be myself ,
Mighty , and to be fear'd , than my condition ,
Which hath been smooth as oil , soft as young down ,
And therefore lost that title of respect 
Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud .
Our house , my sovereign liege , little deserves 
The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it ;
And that same greatness too which our own hands 
Have holp to make so portly .
My lord ,
Worcester , get thee gone ; for I do see 
Danger and disobedience in thine eye .
O , sir , your presence is too bold and peremptory ,
And majesty might never yet endure 
The moody frontier of a servant brow .
You have good leave to leave us ; when we need 
Your use and counsel we shall send for you .
You were about to speak .
Yea , my good lord .
Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded ,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took ,
Were , as he says , not with such strength denied 
As is deliver'd to your majesty :
Either envy , therefore , or misprision 
Is guilty of this fault and not my son .
My liege , I did deny no prisoners :
But I remember , when the fight was done ,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil ,
Breathless and faint , leaning upon my sword ,
Came there a certain lord , neat , and trimly dress'd ,
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin , new reap'd ,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home :
He was perfumed like a milliner ,
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
A pouncet-box , which ever and anon 
He gave his nose and took't away again ;
Who therewith angry , when it next came there ,
Took it in snuff : and still he smil'd and talk'd ;
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by ,
He call'd them untaught knaves , unmannerly ,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corpse 
Betwixt the wind and his nobility .
With many holiday and lady terms 
He question'd me ; among the rest , demanded 
My prisoners in your majesty's behalf .
I then all smarting with my wounds being cold ,
To be so pester'd with a popinjay ,
Out of my grief and my impatience 
Answer'd neglectingly , I know not what ,
He should , or he should not ; for he made me mad 
To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet 
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman 
Of guns , and drums , and wounds ,God save the mark !
And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ;
And that it was great pity , so it was ,
This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth ,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns ,
He would himself have been a soldier .
This bald unjointed chat of his , my lord ,
I answer'd indirectly , as I said ;
And I beseech you , let not his report 
Come current for an accusation 
Betwixt my love and your high majesty .
The circumstance consider'd , good my lord ,
Whatever Harry Percy then had said 
To such a person and in such a place ,
At such a time , with all the rest re-told ,
May reasonably die and never rise 
To do him wrong , or any way impeach 
What then he said , so he unsay it now .
Why , yet he doth deny his prisoners ,
But with proviso and exception ,
That we at our own charge shall ransom straight 
His brother-in-law , the foolish Mortimer ;
Who , on my soul , hath wilfully betray'd 
The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
Against the great magician , damn'd Glendower ,
Whose daughter , as we hear , the Earl of March 
Hath lately married . Shall our coffers then 
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home ?
Shall we buy treason , and indent with fears ,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves ?
No , on the barren mountains let him starve ;
For I shall never hold that man my friend 
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
To ransom home revolted Mortimer .
Revolted Mortimer !
He never did fall off , my sovereign liege ,
But by the chance of war : to prove that true 
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds ,
Those mouthed wounds , which valiantly he took ,
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank ,
In single opposition , hand to hand ,
He did confound the best part of an hour 
In changing hardiment with great Glendower .
Three times they breath'd and three times did they drink ,
Upon agreement , of swift Severn's flood ,
Who then , affrighted with their bloody looks ,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds ,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank 
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants .
Never did base and rotten policy 
Colour her working with such deadly wounds ;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
Receive so many , and all willingly :
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt .
Thou dost belie him , Percy , thou dost belie him :
He never did encounter with Glendower :
I tell thee ,
He durst as well have met the devil alone 
As Owen Glendower for an enemy .
Art thou not asham'd ? But , sirrah , henceforth 
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means ,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
As will displease you . My Lord Northumberland ,
We license your departure with your son .
Send us your prisoners , or you'll hear of it .
An if the devil come and roar for them ,
I will not send them : I will after straight 
And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart ,
Albeit I make a hazard of my head .
What ! drunk with choler ? stay , and pause awhile :
Here comes your uncle .
Speak of Mortimer !
'Zounds ! I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
Want mercy if I do not join with him :
In his behalf I'll empty all these veins ,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust ,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
As high i' the air as this unthankful king ,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke .
Brother , the king hath made your nephew mad .
Who struck this heat up after I was gone ?
He will , forsooth , have all my prisoners ;
And when I urg'd the ransom once again 
Of my wife's brother , then his cheek look'd pale ,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death ,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer .
I cannot blame him : was he not proclaim'd 
By Richard that dead is the next of blood ?
He was ; I heard the proclamation :
And then it was when the unhappy king ,
Whose wrongs in us God pardon !did set forth 
Upon his Irish expedition ;
From whence he , intercepted , did return 
To be depos'd , and shortly murdered .
And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth 
Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of .
But , soft ! I pray you , did King Richard then 
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer 
Heir to the crown ?
He did ; myself did hear it .
Nay , then I cannot blame his cousin king ,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve .
But shall it be that you , that set the crown 
Upon the head of this forgetful man ,
And for his sake wear the detested blot 
Of murd'rous subornation , shall it be ,
That you a world of curses undergo ,
Being the agents , or base second means ,
The cords , the ladder , or the hangman rather ?
O ! pardon me that I descend so low ,
To show the line and the predicament 
Wherein you range under this subtle king .
Shall it for shame be spoken in these days ,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come ,
That men of your nobility and power ,
Did gage them both in'an unjust behalf ,
As both of you God pardon it !have done ,
To put down Richard , that sweet lovely rose ,
And plant this thorn , this canker , Bolingbroke ?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken ,
That you are fool'd , discarded , and shook off 
By him for whom these shames ye underwent ?
No ; yet time serves wherein you may redeem 
Your banish'd honours , and restore yourselves 
Into the good thoughts of the world again ;
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt 
Of this proud king , who studies day and night 
To answer all the debt he owes to you ,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths .
Therefore , I say ,
Peace , cousin ! say no more :
And now I will unclasp a secret book ,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ,
As full of peril and adventurous spirit 
As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud ,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear .
If he fall in , good night ! or sink or swim :
Send danger from the east unto the west ,
So honour cross it from the north to south ,
And let them grapple : O ! the blood more stirs 
To rouse a lion than to start a hare .
Imagination of some great exploit 
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience .
By heaven methinks it were an easy leap 
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep ,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground ,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ;
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear 
Without corrival all her dignities :
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship !
He apprehends a world of figures here ,
But not the form of what he should attend .
Good cousin , give me audience for a while .
I cry you mercy .
Those same noble Scots 
That are your prisoners ,
I'll keep them all ;
By God , he shall not have a Scot of them :
No , if a Scot would save his soul , he shall not :
I'll keep them , by this hand .
You start away ,
And lend no ear unto my purposes .
Those prisoners you shall keep .
Nay , I will ; that's flat :
He said he would not ransom Mortimer ;
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
But I will find him when he lies asleep ,
And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer !' 
I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
Nothing but 'Mortimer ,' and give it him ,
To keep his anger still in motion .
Hear you , cousin ; a word .
All studies here I solemnly defy ,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke :
And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales ,
But that I think his father loves him not ,
And would be glad he met with some mischance ,
I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale .
Farewell , kinsman : I will talk to you 
When you are better temper'd to attend .
Why , what a wasp-stung and impatient fool 
Art thou to break into this woman's mood ,
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own !
Why , look you , I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods ,
Nettled , and stung with pismires , when I hear 
Of this vile politician , Bolingbroke .
In Richard's time ,what do ye call the place ?
A plague upon't it is in Gloucestershire ;
'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept ,
His uncle York ; where I first bow'd my knee 
Unto this king of smiles , this Bolingbroke ,
'Sblood !
When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh .
At Berkeley Castle .
You say true .
Why , what a candy deal of courtesy 
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
Look , 'when his infant fortune came to age ,' 
And 'gentle Harry Percy ,' and 'kind cousin .' 
O ! the devil take such cozeners . God forgive me !
Good uncle , tell your tale , for I have done .
Nay , if you have not , to't again ;
We'll stay your leisure .
I have done , i' faith .
Then once more to your Scottish prisoners .
Deliver them up without their ransom straight ,
And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
For powers in Scotland ; which , for divers reasons 
Which I shall send you written , be assur'd ,
Will easily be granted .
You , my lord ,
Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd ,
Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
Of that same noble prelate well belov'd ,
The Archbishop .
Of York , is it not ?
True ; who bears hard 
His brother's death at Bristol , the Lord Scroop .
I speak not this in estimation ,
As what I think might be , but what I know 
Is ruminated , plotted and set down ;
And only stays but to behold the face 
Of that occasion that shall bring it on .
I smell it .
Upon my life it will do wondrous well .
Before the game's afoot thou still lett'st slip .
Why , it cannot choose but be a noble plot :
And then the power of Scotland and of York ,
To join with Mortimer , ha ?
And so they shall .
In faith , it is exceedingly well aim'd .
And 'tis no little reason bids us speed ,
To save our heads by raising of a head ;
For , bear ourselves as even as we can ,
The king will always think him in our debt ,
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied ,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home .
And see already how he doth begin 
To make us strangers to his looks of love .
He does , he does : we'll be reveng'd on him .
Cousin , farewell : no further go in this ,
Than I by letters shall direct your course .
When time is ripe ,which will be suddenly ,
I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer ;
Where you and Douglas and our powers at once ,
As I will fashion it ,shall happily meet ,
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms ,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty .
Farewell , good brother : we shall thrive , I trust .
Uncle , adieu : O ! let the hours be short ,
Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport !
Heigh-ho ! An't be not four by the day I'll be hanged : Charles' Wain is over the new chimney , and yet our horse not packed . What , ostler !
Anon , anon .
I prithee , Tom , beat Cut's saddle , put a few flocks in the point ; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess .
Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog , and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots ; this house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died .
Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price of oats rose ; it was the death of him .
I think this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench .
Like a tench ! by the mass , there is ne'er a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock .
Why , they will allow us ne'er a jordan , and then we leak in the chimney ; and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach .
What , ostler ! come away and be hanged , come away .
I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger , to be delivered as far as Charing-cross .
Godsbody ! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved . What , ostler ! A plague on thee ! hast thou never an eye in thy head ? canst not hear ? An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to break the pate on thee , I am a very villain . Come , and be hanged ! hast no faith in thee ?
Good morrow , carriers . What's o'clock ?
I think it be two o'clock .
I prithee , lend me thy lanthorn , to see my gelding in the stable .
Nay , by God , soft : I know a trick worth two of that , i' faith .
I prithee , lend me thine .
Ay , when ? canst tell ? Lend me thy lanthorn , quoth a' ? marry , I'll see thee hanged first .
Sirrah carrier , what time do you mean to come to London ?
Time enough to go to bed with a candle , I warrant thee . Come , neighbour Mugs , we'll call up the gentlemen : they will along with company , for they have great charge .
What , ho ! chamberlain !
'At hand , quoth pick-purse .' 
That's even as fair as , 'at hand , quoth the chamberlain' ; for thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction doth from labouring ; thou layest the plot how .
Good morrow , Master Gadshill . It holds current that I told you yesternight : there's a franklin in the wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold : I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper ; a kind of auditor ; one that hath abundance of charge too , God knows what . They are up already and call for eggs and butter : they will away presently .
Sirrah , if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks , I'll give thee this neck .
No , I'll none of it : I prithee , keep that for the hangman ; for I know thou worship'st Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may .
What talkest thou to me of the hangman ? If I hang I'll make a fat pair of gallows ; for if I hang , old Sir John hangs with me , and thou knowest he's no starveling . Tut ! there are other Troyans that thou dreamest not of , the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace ; that would , if matters should be looked into , for their own credit sake make all whole . I am joined with no foot-land-rakers , no long-staff sixpenny strikers , none of these mad mustachio-purple-hued malt worms ; but with nobility and tranquillity , burgomasters and great oneyers such as can hold in , such as will strike sooner than speak , and speak sooner than drink , and drink sooner than pray : and yet I lie ; for they pray continually to their saint , the commonwealth ; or , rather , not pray to her , but prey on her , for they ride up and down on her and make her their boots .
What ! the commonwealth their boots ? will she hold out water in foul way ?
She will , she will ; justice hath liquored her . We steal as in a castle , cock-sure ; we have the receipt of fern-seed , we walk invisible .
Nay , by my faith , I think you are more beholding to the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible .
Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a share in our purchase , as I am a true man .
Nay , rather let me have it , as you are a false thief .
Go to ; homo is a common name to all men . Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable . Farewell , you muddy knave .
Come , shelter , shelter : I have removed Falstaff's horse , and he frets like a gummed velvet .
Stand close .
Poins ! Poins , and be hanged ! Poins !
Peace , ye fat-kidneyed rascal ! What a brawling dost thou keep !
Where's Poins , Hal ?
He is walked up to the top of the hill : I'll go seek him .
I am accursed to rob in that thief's company ; the rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I know not where . If I travel but four foot by the squire further afoot I shall break my wind . Well , I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this , if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue . I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years , and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company . If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him , I'll be hanged : it could not be else : I have drunk medicines . Poins ! Hal ! a plague upon you both ! Bardolph ! Peto ! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further . An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and leave these rogues , I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth . Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me , and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough . A plague upon't when thieves cannot be true one to another !
Whew ! A plague upon you all ! Give me my horse , you rogues ; give me my horse and be hanged .
Peace , ye fatguts ! lie down : lay thine ear close to the ground , and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers .
Have you any levers to lift me up again , being down ? 'Sblood ! I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer . What a plague mean ye to colt me thus ?
Thou liest : thou art not colted ; thou art uncolted .
I prithee , good Prince Hal , help me to my horse , good king's son .
Out , you rogue ! shall I be your ostler ?
Go , hang thyself in thine own heir apparent garters ! If I be ta'en I'll peach for this . An I have not ballads made on you all , and sung to filthy tunes , let a cup of sack be my poison : when a jest is so forward , and afoot too ! I hate it .
Stand .
So I do , against my will .
O ! 'tis our setter : I know his voice .
What news ?
Case ye , case ye ; on with your vizards : there's money of the king's coming down the hill ; 'tis going to the king's exchequer .
You lie , you rogue ; 'tis going to the king's tavern .
There's enough to make us all .
To be hanged .
Sirs , you four shall front them in the narrow lane ; Ned Poins and I will walk lower : if they 'scape from your encounter then they light on us .
How many be there of them ?
Some eight or ten .
'Zounds ! will they not rob us ?
What ! a coward , Sir John Paunch ?
Indeed , I am not John of Gaunt , your grandfather ; but yet no coward , Hal .
Well , we leave that to the proof .
Sirrah Jack , thy horse stands behind the hedge : when thou needst him there thou shalt find him . Farewell , and stand fast .
Now cannot I strike him if I should be hanged .
Ned , where are our disguises ?
Here , hard by ; stand close .
Now my masters , happy man be his dole , say I : every man to his business .
Come , neighbour ; the boy shall lead our horses down the hill ; we'll walk afoot awhile , and ease our legs .
Stand !
Jesu bless us !
Strike ; down with them ; cut the villains' throats : ah ! whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they hate us youth : down with them ; fleece them .
O ! we are undone , both we and ours for ever .
Hang ye , gorbellied knaves , are ye undone ? No , ye fat chuffs ; I would your store were here ! On , bacons , on ! What ! ye knaves , young men must live . You are grand-jurors are ye ? We'll jure ye , i' faith .
The thieves have bound the true men . Now could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London , it would be argument for a week , laughter for a month , and a good jest for ever .
Stand close ; I hear them coming .
Come , my masters ; let us share , and then to horse before day . An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards , there's no equity stirring : there's no more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck .
Your money !
Villains !
Got with much ease . Now merrily to horse :
The thieves are scatter'd and possess'd with fear 
So strongly that they dare not meet each other ;
Each takes his fellow for an officer .
Away , good Ned . Falstaff sweats to death 
And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
Were't not for laughing I should pity him .
How the rogue roar'd !
But for mine own part , my lord , I could be well contented to be there , in respect of the love I bear your house .
He could be contented ; why is he not then ? In respect of the love he bears our house : he shows in this he loves his own barn better than he loves our house . Let me see some more .
The purpose you undertake is dangerous ;
Why , that's certain : 'tis dangerous to take a cold , to sleep , to drink ; but I tell you , my lord fool , out of this nettle , danger , we pluck this flower , safety .
The purpose you undertake is dangerous ; the friends you have named uncertain ; the time itself unsorted ; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition .
Say you so , say you so ? I say unto you again , you are a shallow cowardly hind , and you lie . What a lack-brain is this ! By the Lord , our plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our friends true and constant : a good plot , good friends , and full of expectation ; an excellent plot , very good friends . What a frosty-spirited rogue is this ! Why , my Lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the action . 'Zounds ! an I were now by this rascal , I could brain him with his lady's fan . Is there not my father , my uncle , and myself ? Lord Edmund Mortimer , my Lord of York , and Owen Glendower ? Is there not besides the Douglas ? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month , and are they not some of them set forward already ? What a pagan rascal is this ! an infidel ! Ha ! you shall see now in very sincerity of fear and cold heart , will he to the king and lay open all our proceedings . O ! I could divide myself and go to buffets , for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action . Hang him ! let him tell the king ; we are prepared . I will set forward to-night .
How now , Kate ! I must leave you within these two hours .
O , my good lord ! why are you thus alone ?
For what offence have I this fortnight been 
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ?
Tell me , sweet lord , what is't that takes from thee 
Thy stomach , pleasure , and thy golden sleep ?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ,
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone ?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ,
And given my treasures and my rights of thee 
To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy ?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd ,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars ,
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ,
Cry , 'Courage ! to the field !' And thou hast talk'd 
Of sallies and retires , of trenches , tents ,
Of palisadoes , frontiers , parapets ,
Of basilisks , of cannon , culverin ,
Of prisoners' ransom , and of soldiers slain ,
And all the currents of a heady fight .
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war ,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep ,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow ,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream ;
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd ,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
On some great sudden hest . O ! what portents are these ?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand ,
And I must know it , else he loves me not .
What , ho !
Is Gilliams with the packet gone ?
He is , my lord , an hour ago .
Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff ?
One horse , my lord , he brought even now .
What horse ? a roan , a crop-ear , is it not ?
It is , my lord .
That roan shall be my throne .
Well , I will back him straight : O , Esperance !
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park .
But hear you , my lord .
What sayst thou , my lady ?
What is it carries you away ?
Why , my horse , my love , my horse .
Out , you mad-headed ape !
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 
As you are toss'd with . In faith ,
I'll know your business , Harry , that I will .
I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir 
About his title , and hath sent for you 
To line his enterprise . But if you go 
So far afoot , I shall be weary , love .
Come , come , you paraquito , answer me 
Directly unto this question that I ask .
In faith , I'll break thy little finger , Harry ,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true .
Away , you trifler ! Love ! I love thee not ,
I care not for thee , Kate : this is no world 
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips :
We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns ,
And pass them current too . God's me , my horse !
What sayst thou , Kate ? what wouldst thou have with me ?
Do you not love me ? do you not , indeed ?
Well , do not , then ; for since you love me not ,
I will not love myself . Do you not love me ?
Nay , tell me if you speak in jest or no .
Come , wilt thou see me ride ?
And when I am o' horseback , I will swear 
I love thee infinitely . But hark you , Kate ;
I must not have you henceforth question me 
Whither I go , nor reason whereabout .
Whither I must , I must ; and , to conclude ,
This evening must I leave you , gentle Kate .
I know you wise ; but yet no further wise 
Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ,
But yet a woman : and for secrecy ,
No lady closer ; for I well believe 
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ;
And so far will I trust thee , gentle Kate .
How ! so far ?
Not an inch further . But , hark you , Kate ;
Whither I go , thither shall you go too ;
To-day will I set forth , to-morrow you .
Will this content you , Kate ?
It must , of force .
Ned , prithee , come out of that fat room , and lend me thy hand to laugh a little .
Where hast been , Hal ?
With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four score hogsheads . I have sounded the very base string of humility . Sirrah , I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers , and can call them all by their christen names , as Tom , Dick , and Francis . They take it already upon their salvation , that though I be but Prince of Wales , yet I am the king of courtesy ; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack , like Falstaff , but a Corinthian , a lad of mettle , a good boy ,by the Lord , so they call me ,and when I am king of England , I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap . They call drinking deep , dyeing scarlet ; and when you breathe in your watering , they cry 'hem !' and bid you play it off . To conclude , I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour , that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life . I tell thee , Ned , thou hast lost much honour that thou wert not with me in this action . But , sweet Ned ,to sweeten which name of Ned , I give thee this pennyworth of sugar , clapped even now into my hand by an underskinker , one that never spake other English in his life than 'Eight shillings and sixpence ,' and 'You are welcome ,' with this shrill addition ,'Anon , anon , sir ! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon ,' or so . But , Ned , to drive away the time till Falstaff come , I prithee do thou stand in some by-room , while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar ; and do thou never leave calling 'Francis !' that his tale to me may be nothing but 'Anon .' Step aside , and I'll show thee a precedent .
Francis !
Thou art perfect .
Francis !
Anon , anon , sir . Look down into the Pomgarnet , Ralph .
Come hither , Francis .
My lord .
How long hast thou to serve , Francis ?
Forsooth , five years , and as much as to 
Francis !
Anon , anon , sir .
Five years ! by'r lady a long lease for the clinking of pewter . But , Francis , darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and run from it ?
O Lord , sir ! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England , I could find in my heart 
Francis !
Anon , sir .
How old art thou , Francis ?
Let me see about Michaelmas next I shall be 
Francis !
Anon , sir . Pray you , stay a little , my lord .
Nay , but hark you , Francis . For the sugar thou gavest me , 'twas a pennyworth , was't not ?
O Lord , sir ! I would it had been two .
I will give thee for it a thousand pound : ask me when thou wilt and thou shalt have it .
Francis !
Anon , anon .
Anon , Francis ? No , Francis ; but to-morrow , Francis ; or , Francis , o' Thursday ; or , indeed , Francis , when thou wilt . But , Francis !
My lord ?
Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin , crystal-button , knot-pated , agate-ring , pukestocking , caddis-garter , smooth-tongue , Spanish-pouch ,
O Lord , sir , who do you mean ?
Why then , your brown bastard is your only drink ; for , look you , Francis , your white canvas doublet will sully . In Barbary , sir , it cannot come to so much .
What , sir ?
Francis !
Away , you rogue ! Dost thou not hear them call ?
What ! standest thou still , and hearest such a calling ? Look to the guests within .
My lord , old Sir John , with half a dozen more , are at the door : shall I let them in ?
Let them alone awhile , and then open the door .
Poins !
Anon , anon , sir .
Sirrah , Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door : shall we be merry ?
As merry as crickets , my lad . But hark ye ; what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer ? come , what's the issue ?
I am now of all humours that have show'd themselves humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight .
What's o'clock , Francis ?
Anon , anon , sir .
That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot , and yet the son of a woman ! His industry is up-stairs and down-stairs ; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning . I am not yet of Percy's mind , the Hotspur of the North ; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast , washes his hands , and says to his wife , 'Fie upon this quiet life ! I want work .' 'O my sweet Harry ,' says she , 'how many hast thou killed to-day ?' 'Give my roan horse a drench ,' says he , and answers , 'Some fourteen ,' an hour after , 'a trifle , a trifle .' I prithee call in Falstaff : I'll play Percy , and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife . 'Rivo !' says the drunkard . Call in ribs , call in tallow .
Welcome , Jack : where hast thou been ?
A plague of all cowards , I say , and a vengeance too ! marry , and amen ! Give me a cup of sack , boy . Ere I lead this life long , I'll sew nether-stocks and mend them and foot them too . A plague of all cowards ! Give me a cup of sack , rogue .Is there no virtue extant ?
Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter pitiful-hearted Titan , that melted at the sweet tale of the sun ? if thou didst then behold that compound .
You rogue , here's lime in this sack too : there is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man : yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it , a villanous coward ! Go thy ways , old Jack ; die when thou wilt . If manhood , good manhood , be not forgot upon the face of the earth , then am I a shotten herring . There live not three good men unhanged in England , and one of them is fat and grows old : God help the while ! a bad world , I say . I would I were a weaver ; I could sing psalms or anything . A plague of all cowards , I say still .
How now , wool-sack ! what mutter you ?
A king's son ! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath , and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese , I'll never wear hair on my face more . You Prince of Wales !
Why , you whoreson round man , what's the matter ?
Are you not a coward ? answer me to that ; and Poins there ?
'Zounds ! ye fat paunch , an ye call me coward , I'll stab thee .
I call thee coward ! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward ; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst . You are straight enough in the shoulders ; you care not who sees your back : call you that backing of your friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give me them that will face me . Give me a cup of sack : I am a rogue if I drunk to-day .
O villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkest last .
All's one for that .
A plague of all cowards , still say I .
What's the matter ?
What's the matter ? there be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning .
Where is it , Jack ? where is it ?
Where is it ! taken from us it is : a hundred upon poor four of us .
What , a hundred , man ?
I am a rogue , if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together . I have 'scap'd by miracle . I am eight times thrust through the doublet , four through the hose ; my buckler out through and through ; my sword hacked like a hand-saw : ecce signum ! I never dealt better since I was a man : all would not do . A plague of all cowards ! Let them speak : if they speak more or less than truth , they are villains and the sons of darkness .
Speak , sirs ; how was it ?
We four set upon some dozen ,
Sixteen , at least , my lord .
And bound them .
No , no , they were not bound .
You rogue , they were bound , every man of them ; or I am a Jew else , an Ebrew Jew .
As we were sharing , some six or seven fresh men set upon us ,
And unbound the rest , and then come in the other .
What , fought ye with them all ?
All ! I know not what ye call all ; but if I fought not with fifty of them , I am a bunch of radish : if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack , then am I no two-legged creature .
Pray God you have not murdered some of them .
Nay , that's past praying for : I have peppered two of them : two I am sure I have paid , two rogues in buckram suits . I tell thee what , Hal , if I tell thee a lie , spit in my face , call me horse . Thou knowest my old ward ; here I lay , and thus I bore my point . Four rogues in buckram let drive at me ,
What , four ? thou saidst but two even now .
Four , Hal ; I told thee four .
Ay , ay , he said four .
These four came all a-front , and mainly thrust at me . I made me no more ado but took all their seven points in my target , thus .
Seven ? why , there were but four even now .
In buckram .
Ay , four , in buckram suits .
Seven , by these hilts , or I am a villain else .
Prithee , let him alone ; we shall have more anon .
Dost thou hear me , Hal ?
Ay , and mark thee too , Jack .
Do so , for it is worth the listening to .
These nine in buckram that I told thee of ,
So , two more already .
Their points being broken ,
Down fell their hose .
Began to give me ground ; but I followed me close , came in foot and hand and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid .
O monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out of two .
But , as the devil would have it , three misbegotten knaves in Kendal-green came at my back and let drive at me ; for it was so dark , Hal , that thou couldst not see thy hand .
These lies are like the father that begets them ; gross as a mountain , open , palpable . Why , thou clay-brained guts , thou knotty-pated fool , thou whoreson , obscene , greasy tallowketch ,
What , art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth the truth ?
Why , how couldst thou know these men in Kendal-green , when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand ? come , tell us your reason : what sayest thou to this ?
Come , your reason , Jack , your reason .
What , upon compulsion ? 'Zounds ! an I were at the strappado , or all the racks in the world , I would not tell you on compulsion . Give you a reason on compulsion ! If reasons were as plenty as blackberries I would give no man a reason upon compulsion , I .
I'll be no longer guilty of this sin : this sanguine coward , this bed-presser , this horseback-breaker , this huge hill of flesh ;
'Sblood , you starveling , you elf-skin , you dried neat's-tongue , you bull's pizzle , you stock-fish ! O ! for breath to utter what is like thee ; you tailor's yard , you sheath , you bow-case , you vile standing-tuck ;
Well , breathe awhile , and then to it again ; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons , hear me speak but this .
Mark , Jack .
We two saw you four set on four and you bound them , and were masters of their wealth . Mark now , how a plain tale shall put you down . Then did we two set on you four , and , with a word , out-faced you from your prize , and have it ; yea , and can show it you here in the house . And , Falstaff , you carried your guts away as nimbly , with as quick dexterity , and roared for mercy , and still ran and roared , as ever I heard bull-calf . What a slave art thou , to hack thy sword as thou hast done , and then say it was in fight ! What trick , what device , what starting-hole canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ?
Come , let's hear , Jack ; what trick hast thou now ?
By the Lord , I knew ye as well as he that made ye . Why , hear you , my masters : was it for me to kill the heir-apparent ? Should I turn upon the true prince ? Why , thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules ; but beware instinct ; the lion will not touch the true prince . Instinct is a great matter , I was a coward on instinct . I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion , and thou for a true prince . But , by the Lord , lads , I am glad you have the money . Hostess , clap to the doors : watch to-night , pray to-morrow . Gallants , lads , boys , hearts of gold , all the titles of good fellowship come to you ! What ! shall we be merry ? shall we have a play extempore ?
Content ; and the argument shall be thy running away .
Ah ! no more of that , Hal , an thou lovest me !
O Jesu ! my lord the prince !
How now , my lady the hostess ! what sayest thou to me ?
Marry , my lord , there is a nobleman of the court at door would speak with you : he says he comes from your father .
Give him as much as will make him a royal man , and send him back again to my mother .
What manner of man is he ?
An old man .
What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight ? Shall I give him his answer ?
Prithee , do , Jack .
Faith , and I'll send him packing .
Now , sirs : by'r lady , you fought fair ; so did you , Peto ; so did you , Bardolph : you are lions too , you ran away upon instinct , you will not touch the true prince ; no , fie !
Faith , I ran when I saw others run .
Faith , tell me now in earnest , how came Falstaff's sword so hacked ?
Why he hacked it with his dagger , and said he would swear truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in fight , and persuaded us to do the like .
Yea , and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make them bleed , and then to beslubber our garments with it and swear it was the blood of true men . I did that I did not this seven year before ; I blushed to hear his monstrous devices .
O villain ! thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago , and wert taken with the manner , and ever since thou hast blushed extempore . Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side , and yet thou rannest away . What instinct hadst thou for it ?
My lord , do you see these meteors ? do you behold these exhalations ?
What think you they portend ?
Hot livers and cold purses .
Choler , my lord , if rightly taken .
No , if rightly taken , halter .
Here comes lean Jack , here comes bare-bone .How now , my sweet creature of bombast ! How long is't ago , Jack , since thou sawest thine own knee ?
My own knee ! when I was about thy years , Hal , I was not an eagle's talon in the waist ; I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring . A plague of sighing and grief ! it blows a man up like a bladder . There's villanous news abroad : here was Sir John Bracy from your father : you must to the court in the morning . That same mad fellow of the north , Percy , and he of Wales , that gave Amaimon the bastinado and made Lucifer cuckold , and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook what a plague call you him ?
Owen Glendower .
Owen , Owen , the same ; and his son-in-law Mortimer and old Northumberland ; and that sprightly Scot of Scots , Douglas , that runs o' horseback up a hill perpendicular .
He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying .
You have hit it .
So did he never the sparrow .
Well , that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he will not run .
Why , what a rascal art thou then to praise him so for running !
O' horseback , ye cuckoo ! but , afoot he will not budge a foot .
Yes , Jack , upon instinct .
I grant ye , upon instinct . Well , he is there too , and one Mordake , and a thousand blue-caps more . Worcester is stolen away to-night ; thy father's beard is turned white with the news : you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel .
Why then , it is like , if there come a hot June and this civil buffeting hold , we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hob-nails , by the hundreds .
By the mass , lad , thou sayest true ; it is like we shall have good trading that way . But tell me , Hal , art thou not horribly afeard ? thou being heir apparent , could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas , that spirit Percy , and that devil Glendower ? Art thou not horribly afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill at it ?
Not a whit , i' faith ; I lack some of thy instinct .
Well , thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to thy father : if thou love me , practise an answer .
Do thou stand for my father , and examine me upon the particulars of my life .
Shall I ? content : this chair shall be my state , this dagger my sceptre , and this cushion my crown .
Thy state is taken for a joint-stool , thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger , and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown !
Well , an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee , now shalt thou be moved . Give me a cup of sack to make mine eyes look red , that it may be thought I have wept ; for I must speak in passion , and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein .
Well , here is my leg .
And here is my speech . Stand aside , nobility .
O Jesu ! This is excellent sport , i' faith !
Weep not , sweet queen , for trickling tears are vain .
O , the father ! how he holds his countenance .
For God's sake , lords , convey my tristful queen ,
For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes .
O Jesu ! he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see !
Peace , good pint-pot ! peace , good tickle-brain ! Harry , I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time , but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile , the more it is trodden on the faster it grows , yet youth , the more it is wasted the sooner it wears . That thou art my son , I have partly thy mother's word , partly my own opinion ; but chiefly , a villanous trick of thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip , that doth warrant me . If then thou be son to me , here lies the point ; why , being son to me , art thou so pointed at ? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries ? a question not to be asked . Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses ? a question to be asked . There is a thing , Harry , which thou hast often heard of , and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch : this pitch , as ancient writers do report , doth defile ; so doth the company thou keepest ; for , Harry , now I do not speak to thee in drink , but in tears , not in pleasure but in passion , not in words only , but in woes also . And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company , but I know not his name .
What manner of man , an it like your majesty ?
A goodly portly man , i' faith , and a corpulent ; of a cheerful look , a pleasing eye , and a most noble carriage ; and , as I think , his age some fifty , or by'r lady , inclining to threescore ; and now I remember me , his name is Falstaff : if that man should be lewdly given , he deceiveth me ; for , Harry , I see virtue in his looks . If then the tree may be known by the fruit , as the fruit by the tree , then , peremptorily I speak it , there is virtue in that Falstaff : him keep with , the rest banish . And tell me now , thou naughty varlet , tell me , where hast thou been this month ?
Dost thou speak like a king ? Do thou stand for me , and I'll play my father .
Depose me ? if thou dost it half so gravely , so majestically , both in word and matter , hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare .
Well , here I am set .
And here I stand . Judge , my masters .
Now , Harry ! whence come you ?
My noble lord , from Eastcheap .
The complaints I hear of thee are grievous .
'Sblood , my lord , they are false : nay ,
I'll tickle ye for a young prince , i' faith .
Swearest thou , ungracious boy ? henceforth ne'er look on me . Thou art violently carried away from grace : there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of a fat old man ; a tun of man is thy companion . Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours , that bolting-hutch of beastliness , that swoln parcel of dropsies , that huge bombard of sack , that stuffed cloak-bag of guts , that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly , that reverend vice , that grey iniquity , that father ruffian , that vanity in years ? Wherein is he good but to taste sack and drink it ? wherein neat and cleanly but to carve a capon and eat it ? wherein cunning but in craft ? wherein crafty but in villany ? wherein villanous but in all things ? wherein worthy but in nothing ?
I would your Grace would take me with you : whom means your Grace ?
That villanous abominable misleader of youth , Falstaff , that old white-bearded Satan .
My lord , the man I know .
I know thou dost .
But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say more than I know . That he is old , the more the pity , his white hairs do witness it ; but that he is , saving your reverence , a whoremaster , that I utterly deny . If sack and sugar be a fault , God help the wicked ! If to be old and merry be a sin , then many an old host that I know is damned : if to be fat be to be hated , then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved . No , my good lord ; banish Peto , banish Bardolph , banish Poins ; but for sweet Jack Falstaff , kind Jack Falstaff , true Jack Falstaff , valiant Jack Falstaff , and therefore more valiant , being , as he is , old Jack Falstaff , banish not him thy Harry's company : banish not him thy Harry's company : banish plump Jack , and banish all the world .
I do , I will .
O ! my lord , my lord , the sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door .
Out , ye rogue ! Play out the play : I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff .
O Jesu ! my lord , my lord !
Heigh , heigh ! the devil rides upon a fiddle-stick : what's the matter ?
The sheriff and all the watch are at the door : they are come to search the house . Shall I let them in ?
Dost thou hear , Hal ? never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit : thou art essentially mad without seeming so .
And thou a natural coward without instinct .
I deny your major . If you will deny the sheriff , so ; if not , let him enter : if I become not a cart as well as another man , a plague on my bringing up ! I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another .
Go , hide thee behind the arras : the rest walk up above . Now , my masters , for a true face and good conscience .
Both which I have had ; but their date is out , and therefore I'll hide me .
Call in the sheriff .
Now , master sheriff , what's your will with me ?
First , pardon me , my lord . A hue and cry 
Hath follow'd certain men unto this house .
What men ?
One of them is well known , my gracious lord ,
A gross fat man .
As fat as butter .
The man , I do assure you , is not here ,
For I myself at this time have employ'd him .
And , sheriff , I will engage my word to thee ,
That I will , by to-morrow dinner-time ,
Send him to answer thee , or any man ,
For anything he shall be charg'd withal :
And so let me entreat you leave the house .
I will , my lord . There are two gentlemen 
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks .
It may be so : if he have robb'd these men ,
He shall be answerable ; and so farewell .
Good night , my noble lord .
I think it is good morrow , is it not ?
Indeed , my lord , I think it be two o'clock .
This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's .
Go , call him forth .
Falstaff ! fast asleep behind the arras , and snorting like a horse .
Hark , how hard he fetches breath .
Search his pockets .
What hast thou found ?
Nothing but papers , my lord .
Let's see what they be : read them .
O monstrous ! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack ! What there is else , keep close ; we'll read it at more advantage . There let him sleep till day . I'll to the court in the morning . We must all to the wars , and thy place shall be honourable . I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot ; and , I know , his death will be a march of twelve-score . The money shall be paid back again with advantage . Be with me betimes in the morning ; and so good morrow , Peto .
Good morrow , good my lord .
These promises are fair , the parties sure ,
And our induction full of prosperous hope .
Lord Mortimer , and cousin Glendower ,
Will you sit down ?
And uncle Worcester : a plague upon it !
I have forgot the map .
No , here it is .
Sit , cousin Percy ; sit , good cousin Hotspur ;
For by that name as oft as Lancaster 
Doth speak of you , his cheek looks pale and with 
A rising sigh he wishes you in heaven .
And you in hell , as often as he hears 
Owen Glendower spoke of .
I cannot blame him : at my nativity 
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ,
Of burning cressets ; and at my birth 
The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
Shak'd like a coward .
Why , so it would have done at the same season , if your mother's cat had but kittened , though yourself had never been born .
I say the earth did shake when I was born .
And I say the earth was not of my mind ,
If you suppose as fearing you it shook .
The heavens were all on fire , the earth did tremble .
O ! then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire ,
And not in fear of your nativity .
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
In strange eruptions ; oft the teeming earth 
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd 
By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
Within her womb ; which , for enlargement striving ,
Shakes the old beldam earth , and topples down 
Steeples and moss-grown towers . At your birth 
Our grandam earth , having this distemperature ,
In passion shook .
Cousin , of many men 
I do not bear these crossings . Give me leave 
To tell you once again that at my birth 
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ,
The goats ran from the mountains , and the herds 
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields .
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary ;
And all the courses of my life do show 
I am not in the roll of common men .
Where is he living , clipp'd in with the sea 
That chides the banks of England , Scotland , Wales ,
Which calls me pupil , or hath read to me ?
And bring him out that is but woman's son 
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art 
And hold me pace in deep experiments .
I think there's no man speaks better Welsh .
I'll to dinner .
Peace , cousin Percy ! you will make him mad .
I can call spirits from the vasty deep .
Why , so can I , or so can any man ;
But will they come when you do call for them ?
Why , I can teach thee , cousin , to command 
The devil .
And I can teach thee , coz , to shame the devil 
By telling truth : tell truth and shame the devil .
If thou have power to raise him , bring him hither ,
And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence .
O ! while you live , tell truth and shame the devil !
Come , come ;
No more of this unprofitable chat .
Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head 
Against my power ; thrice from the banks of Wye 
And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him 
Bootless home and weather-beaten back .
Home without boots , and in foul weather too !
How 'scapes he agues , in the devil's name ?
Come , here's the map : shall we divide our right 
According to our threefold order ta'en ?
The archdeacon hath divided it 
Into three limits very equally .
England , from Trent and Severn hitherto ,
By south and east , is to my part assign'd :
All westward , Wales beyond the Severn shore ,
And all the fertile land within that bound ,
To Owen Glendower : and , dear coz , to you 
The remnant northward , lying off from Trent .
And our indentures tripartite are drawn ,
Which being sealed interchangeably ,
A business that this night may execute ,
To-morrow , cousin Percy , you and I 
And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth 
To meet your father and the Scottish power ,
As is appointed us , at Shrewsbury .
My father Glendower is not ready yet ,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days .
Within that space you may have drawn together 
Your tenants , friends , and neighbouring gentlemen .
A shorter time shall send me to you , lords ;
And in my conduct shall your ladies come ,
From whom you now must steal and take no leave ;
For there will be a world of water shed 
Upon the parting of your wives and you .
Methinks my moiety , north from Burton here ,
In quantity equals not one of yours :
See how this river comes me cranking in ,
And cuts me from the best of all my land 
A huge half-moon , a monstrous cantle out .
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up ,
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run 
In a new channel , fair and evenly :
It shall not wind with such a deep indent ,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here .
Not wind ! it shall , it must ; you see it doth .
Yea , but 
Mark how he bears his course , and runs me up 
With like advantage on the other side ;
Gelding the opposed continent as much ,
As on the other side it takes from you .
Yea , but a little charge will trench him here ,
And on this north side win this cape of land ;
And then he runs straight and even .
I'll have it so ; a little charge will do it .
I will not have it alter'd .
Will not you ?
No , nor you shall not .
Who shall say me nay ?
Why , that will I .
Let me not understand you then :
Speak it in Welsh .
I can speak English , lord , as well as you ,
For I was train'd up in the English court ;
Where , being but young , I framed to the harp 
Many an English ditty lovely well ,
And gave the tongue an helpful ornament ;
A virtue that was never seen in you .
Marry , and I'm glad of it with all my heart .
I had rather be a kitten , and cry mew 
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ;
I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd ,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge ,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry :
'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag .
Come , you shall have Trent turn'd .
I do not care : I'll give thrice so much land 
To any well-deserving friend ;
But in the way of bargain , mark you me ,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair .
Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone ?
The moon shines fair , you may away by night :
I'll haste the writer and withal 
Break with your wives of your departure hence :
I am afraid my daughter will run mad ,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer .
Fie , cousin Percy ! how you cross my father !
I cannot choose : sometimes he angers me 
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant ,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies ,
And of a dragon , and a finless fish ,
A clip-wing'd griffin , and a moulten raven ,
A couching lion , and a ramping cat ,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
As puts me from my faith . I'll tell thee what ;
He held me last night at least nine hours 
In reckoning up the several devils' names 
That were his lackeys : I cried 'hum !' and 'well , go to .' 
But mark'd him not a word . O ! he's as tedious 
As a tired horse , a railing wife ;
Worse than a smoky house . I had rather live 
With cheese and garlick in a windmill , far ,
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me 
In any summer-house in Christendom .
In faith , he is a worthy gentleman ,
Exceedingly well read , and profited 
In strange concealments , valiant as a lion 
And wondrous affable , and as bountiful 
As mines of India . Shall I tell you , cousin ?
He holds your temper in a high respect ,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope 
When you do cross his humour ; faith , he does .
I warrant you , that man is not alive 
Might so have tempted him as you have done ,
Without the taste of danger and reproof :
But do not use it oft , let me entreat you .
In faith , my lord , you are too wilfulblame ;
And since your coming hither have done enough 
To put him quite beside his patience .
You must needs learn , lord , to amend this fault :
Though sometimes it show greatness , courage , blood ,
And that's the dearest grace it renders you ,
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage ,
Defect of manners , want of government ,
Pride , haughtiness , opinion , and disdain :
The least of which haunting a nobleman 
Loseth men's hearts and leaves behind a stain 
Upon the beauty of all parts besides ,
Beguiling them of commendation .
Well , I am school'd ; good manners be your speed !
Here come our wives , and let us take our leave .
This is the deadly spite that angers me ,
My wife can speak no English , I no Welsh .
My daughter weeps ; she will not part with you :
She'll be a soldier too : she'll to the wars .
Good father , tell her that she and my aunt Percy ,
Shall follow in your conduct speedily .
She's desperate here ; a peevish self-will'd harlotry , one that no persuasion can do good upon .
I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh 
Which thou pour'st down from these swelling heavens 
I am too perfect in ; and , but for shame ,
In such a parley would I answer thee .
I understand thy kisses and thou mine ,
And that's a feeling disputation :
But I will never be a truant , love ,
Till I have learn'd thy language ; for thy tongue 
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd ,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower ,
With ravishing division , to her lute .
Nay , if you melt , then will she run mad .
O ! I am ignorance itself in this .
She bids you 
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down 
And rest your gentle head upon her lap ,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you ,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep ,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep 
As is the difference between day and night 
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
Begins his golden progress in the east .
With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing :
By that time will our book , I think , be drawn .
Do so ;
And those musicians that shall play to you 
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence ,
And straight they shall be here : sit , and attend .
Come , Kate , thou art perfect in lying down : come , quick , quick , that I may lay my head in thy lap .
Go , ye giddy goose .
Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh ;
And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous .
By'r lady , he's a good musician .
Then should you be nothing but musical for you are altogether governed by humours . Lie still , ye thief , and hear the lady sing in Welsh .
I had rather hear Lady , my brach , how ! in Irish .
Wouldst thou have thy head broken ?
Then be still .
Neither ; 'tis a woman's fault .
Now , God help thee !
To the Welsh lady's bed .
What's that ?
Peace ! she sings .
Come , Kate , I'll have your song too .
Not mine , in good sooth .
Not yours , 'in good sooth !' Heart ! you swear like a comfit-maker's wife ! Not you , 'in good sooth ;' and , 'as true as I live ;' and , 'as God shall mend me ;' and , 'as sure as day :' 
And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths ,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury .
Swear me , Kate , like a lady as thou art ,
A good mouth-filling oath ; and leave 'in sooth ,' 
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread ,
To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens .
Come , sing .
I will not sing .
'Tis the next way to turn tailor or be red-breast teacher . An the indentures be drawn , I'll away within these two hours ; and so , come in when ye will .
Come , come , Lord Mortimer ; you are as slow 
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go .
By this our book is drawn ; we will but seal ,
And then to horse immediately .
With all my heart .
Lords , give us leave ; the Prince of Wales and I 
Must have some private conference : but be near at hand ,
For we shall presently have need of you .
I know not whether God will have it so ,
For some displeasing service I have done ,
That , in his secret doom , out of my blood 
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ;
But thou dost in thy passages of life 
Make me believe that thou art only mark'd 
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven 
To punish my mistreadings . Tell me else ,
Could such inordinate and low desires ,
Such poor , such bare , such lewd , such mean attempts ,
Such barren pleasures , rude society ,
As thou art match'd withal and grafted to ,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood 
And hold their level with thy princely heart ?
So please your majesty , I would I could 
Quit all offences with as clear excuse 
As well as I am doubtless I can purge 
Myself of many I am charg'd withal :
Yet such extenuation let me beg ,
As , in reproof of many tales devis'd ,
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear ,
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers ,
I may , for some things true , wherein my youth 
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular ,
Find pardon on my true submission .
God pardon thee ! yet let me wonder , Harry ,
At thy affections , which do hold a wing 
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors .
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost ,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied ,
And art almost an alien to the hearts 
Of all the court and princes of my blood .
The hope and expectation of thy time 
Is ruin'd , and the soul of every man 
Prophetically do forethink thy fall .
Had I so lavish of my presence been ,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men ,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company ,
Opinion , that did help me to the crown ,
Had still kept loyal to possession 
And left me in reputeless banishment ,
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood .
By being seldom seen , I could not stir ,
But like a comet I was wonder'd at ;
That men would tell their children , 'This is he ;' 
Others would say , 'Where ? which is Bolingbroke ?' 
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven ,
And dress'd myself in such humility 
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts ,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths ,
Even in the presence of the crowned king .
Thus did I keep my person fresh and new ;
My presence , like a robe pontifical ,
Ne'er seen but wonder'd at : and so my state ,
Seldom but sumptuous , showed like a feast ,
And won by rareness such solemnity .
The skipping king , he ambled up and down 
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits ,
Soon kindled and soon burnt ; carded his state ,
Mingled his royalty with capering fools ,
Had his great name profaned with their scorns ,
And gave his countenance , against his name ,
To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push 
Of every beardless vain comparative ;
Grew a companion to the common streets ,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity ;
That , being daily swallow'd by men's eyes ,
They surfeited with honey and began 
To loathe the taste of sweetness , whereof a little 
More than a little is by much too much .
So , when he had occasion to be seen ,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June ,
Heard , not regarded ; seen , but with such eyes 
As , sick and blunted with community ,
Afford no extraordinary gaze ,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes ;
But rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down ,
Slept in his face , and render'd such aspect 
As cloudy men use to their adversaries ,
Being with his presence glutted , gorg'd , and full .
And in that very line , Harry , stand'st thou ;
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege 
With vile participation : not an eye 
But is aweary of thy common sight ,
Save mine , which hath desir'd to see thee more ;
Which now doth that I would not have it do ,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness .
I shall hereafter , my thrice gracious lord ,
Be more myself .
For all the world ,
As thou art to this hour was Richard then 
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh ;
And even as I was then is Percy now .
Now , by my sceptre and my soul to boot ,
He hath more worthy interest to the state 
Than thou the shadow of succession ;
For of no right , nor colour like to right ,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm ,
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ,
And , being no more in debt to years than thou ,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 
To bloody battles and to bruising arms .
What never-dying honour hath he got 
Against renowned Douglas ! whose high deeds ,
Whose hot incursions and great name in arms ,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority ,
And military title capital ,
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ .
Thrice hath this Hotspur , Mars in swathling clothes ,
This infant warrior , in his enterprises 
Discomfited great Douglas ; ta'en him once ,
Enlarged him and made a friend of him ,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 
And shake the peace and safety of our throne .
And what say you to this ? Percy , Northumberland ,
The Archbishop's Grace of York , Douglas , Mortimer ,
Capitulate against us and are up .
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ?
Why , Harry , do I tell thee of my foes ,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy ?
Thou that art like enough , through vassal fear ,
Base inclination , and the start of spleen ,
To fight against me under Percy's pay ,
To dog his heels , and curtsy at his frowns ,
To show how much thou art degenerate .
Do not think so ; you shall not find it so :
And God forgive them , that so much have sway'd 
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me !
I will redeem all this on Percy's head ,
And in the closing of some glorious day 
Be bold to tell you that I am your son ;
When I will wear a garment all of blood 
And stain my favours in a bloody mask ,
Which , wash'd away , shall scour my shame with it :
And that shall be the day , whene'er it lights ,
That this same child of honour and renown ,
This gallant Hotspur , this all-praised knight ,
And your unthought of Harry chance to meet .
For every honour sitting on his helm ,
Would they were multitudes , and on my head 
My shames redoubled !for the time will come 
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
His glorious deeds for my indignities .
Percy is but my factor , good my lord ,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf ;
And I will call him to so strict account 
That he shall render every glory up ,
Yea , even the slightest worship of his time ,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart .
This , in the name of God , I promise here :
The which , if he be pleas'd I shall perform ,
I do beseech your majesty may salve 
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance :
If not , the end of life cancels all bands ,
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths 
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow .
A hundred thousand rebels die in this :
Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein .
How now , good Blunt ! thy looks are full of speed .
So hath the business that I come to speak of .
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word 
That Douglas and the English rebels met ,
The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury .
A mighty and a fearful head they are ,
If promises be kept on every hand ,
As ever offer'd foul play in a state .
The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day ,
With him my son , Lord John of Lancaster ;
For this advertisement is five days old .
On Wednesday next , Harry , you shall set forward ;
On Thursday we ourselves will march : our meeting 
Is Bridgenorth ; and Harry , you shall march 
Through Gloucestershire ; by which account ,
Our business valued , some twelve days hence 
Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet .
Our hands are full of business : let's away ;
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay .
Bardolph , am I not fallen away vilely since this last action ? do I not bate ? do I not dwindle ? Why , my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered like an old apple-john . Well , I'll repent , and that suddenly , while I am in some liking ; I shall be out of heart shortly , and then I shall have no strength to repent . An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of , I am a peppercorn , a brewer's horse : the inside of a church ! Company , villanous company , hath been the spoil of me .
Sir John , you are so fretful , you cannot live long .
Why , there is it : come , sing me a bawdy song ; make me merry . I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be ; virtuous enough : swore little ; diced not above seven times a week ; went to a bawdy-house not above once in a quarter of an hour ; paid money that I borrowed three or four times ; lived well and in good compass ; and now I live out of all order , out of all compass .
Why , you are so fat , Sir John , that you must needs be out of all compass , out of all reasonable compass , Sir John .
Do thou amend thy face , and I'll amend my life : thou art our admiral , thou bearest the lanthorn in the poop , but 'tis in the nose of thee : thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp .
Why , Sir John , my face does you no harm .
No , I'll be sworn ; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a Death's head , or a memento mori : I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and Dives that lived in purple ; for there he is in his robes , burning , burning . If thou wert any way given to virtue , I would swear by thy face ; my oath should be , 'By this fire , that's God's angel :' but thou art altogether given over , and wert indeed , but for the light in thy face , the son of utter darkness . When thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my horse , if I did not think thou hadst been an igius fatuus or a ball of wildfire , there's no purchase in money . O ! thou art a perpetual triumph , an everlasting bonfire-light . Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches , walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern : but the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe . I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty years ; God reward me for it !
'Sblood , I would my face were in your belly .
God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be heart-burned .
How now , Dame Partlet the hen ! have you inquired yet who picked my pocket ?
Why , Sir John , what do you think , Sir John ? Do you think I keep thieves in my house ? I have searched , I have inquired , so has my husband , man by man , boy by boy , servant by servant : the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before .
You lie , hostess : Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair ; and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked . Go to , you are a woman ; go .
Who , I ? No ; I defy thee : God's light !
I was never called so in my own house before .
Go to , I know you well enough .
No , Sir John ; you do not know me , Sir John : I know you , Sir John : you owe me money , Sir John , and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it : I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back .
Dowlas , filthy dowlas : I have given them away to bakers' wives , and they have made bolters of them .
Now , as I am true woman , holland of eight shillings an ell . You owe money here besides , Sir John , for your diet and by-drinkings , and money lent you , four-and-twenty pound .
He had his part of it ; let him pay .
He ! alas ! he is poor ; he hath nothing .
How ! poor ? look upon his face ; what call you rich ? let them coin his nose , let them coin his cheeks . I'll not pay a denier . What ! will you make a younker of me ? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked ? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark .
O Jesu ! I have heard the prince tell him , I know not how oft , that that ring was copper .
How ! the prince is a Jack , a sneak-cup ; 'sblood ! an he were here , I would cudgel him like a dog , if he would say so .
How now , lad ! is the wind in that door , i' faith ? must we all march ?
Yea , two and two , Newgate fashion .
My lord , I pray you , hear me .
What sayest thou , Mistress Quickly ?
How does thy husband ? I love him well , he is an honest man .
Good my lord , hear me .
Prithee , let her alone , and list to me .
What sayest thou , Jack ?
The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras and had my pocket picked : this house is turned bawdy-house ; they pick pockets .
What didst thou lose , Jack ?
Wilt thou believe me , Hal ? three or four bonds of forty pound a-piece , and a seal-ring of my grandfather's .
A trifle ; some eight-penny matter .
So I told him , my lord ; and I said I heard your Grace say so : and , my lord , he speaks most vilely of you , like a foul-mouthed man as he is , and said he would cudgel you .
What ! he did not ?
There's neither faith , truth , nor womanhood in me else .
There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune ; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox ; and for womanhood , Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee . Go , you thing , go .
Say , what thing ? what thing ?
What thing ! why , a thing to thank God on .
I am no thing to thank God on , I would thou shouldst know it ; I am an honest man's wife ; and , setting thy knighthood aside , thou art a knave to call me so .
Setting thy womanhood aside , thou art a beast to say otherwise .
Say , what beast , thou knave thou ?
What beast ! why , an otter .
An otter , Sir John ! why , an otter ?
Why ? she's neither fish nor flesh ; a man knows not where to have her .
Thou art an unjust man in saying so : thou or any man knows where to have me , thou knave thou !
Thou sayest true , hostess ; and he slanders thee most grossly .
So he doth you , my lord ; and said this other day you ought him a thousand pound .
Sirrah ! do I owe you a thousand pound ?
A thousand pound , Hal ! a million : thy love is worth a million ; thou owest me thy love .
Nay , my lord , he called you Jack , and said he would cudgel you .
Did I , Bardolph ?
Indeed , Sir John , you said so .
Yea ; if he said my ring was copper .
I say 'tis copper : darest thou be as good as thy word now ?
Why , Hal , thou knowest , as thou art but man , I dare ; but as thou art prince , I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion s whelp .
And why not as the lion ?
The king himself is to be feared as the lion : dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ? nay , an I do , I pray God my girdle break !
O ! if it should , how would thy guts fall about thy knees . But , sirrah , there's no room for faith , truth , or honesty in this bosom of thine ; it is all filled up with guts and midriff . Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket ! Why , thou whoreson , impudent , embossed rascal , if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern reckonings , memorandums of bawdy-houses , and one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded ; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these , I am a villain . And yet you will stand to it , you will not pocket up wrong . Art thou not ashamed ?
Dost thou hear , Hal ? thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell ; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany ? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man , and therefore more frailty . You confess then , you picked my pocket ?
It appears so by the story .
Hostess , I forgive thee . Go make ready breakfast ; love thy husband , look to thy servants , cherish thy guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason : thou seest I am pacified . Still ! Nay prithee , be gone .
Now , Hal , to the news at court : for the robbery , lad , how is that answered ?
O ! my sweet beef , I must still be good angel to thee : the money is paid back again .
O ! I do not like that paying back ; 'tis a double labour .
I am good friends with my father and may do anything .
Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou dost , and do it with unwashed hands too .
Do , my lord .
I have procured thee , Jack , a charge of foot .
I would it had been of horse . Where shall I find one that can steal well ? O ! for a fine thief , of the age of two-and-twenty , or thereabouts ; I am heinously unprovided . Well , God be thanked for these rebels ; they offend none but the virtuous : I laud them , I praise them .
Bardolph !
My lord ?
Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster ,
To my brother John ; this to my Lord of Westmoreland .
Go , Poins , to horse , to horse ! for thou and I 
Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time .
Jack , meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall 
At two o'clock in the afternoon :
There shalt thou know thy charge , and there receive 
Money and order for their furniture .
The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ;
And either we or they must lower lie .
Rare words ! brave world ! Hostess , my breakfast ; come !
O ! I could wish this tavern were my drum .
Well said , my noble Scot : if speaking truth 
In this fine age were not thought flattery ,
Such attribution should the Douglas have ,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
Should go so general current through the world .
By God , I cannot flatter ; do defy 
The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place 
In my heart's love hath no man than yourself .
Nay , task me to my word ; approve me , lord .
Thou art the king of honour :
No man so potent breathes upon the ground 
But I will beard him .
Do so , and 'tis well .
What letters hast thou there ?
I can but thank you .
These letters come from your father .
Letters from him ! why comes he not himself ?
He cannot come , my lord : he's grievous sick .
'Zounds ! how has he the leisure to be sick 
In such a justling time ? Who leads his power ?
Under whose government come they along ?
His letters bear his mind , not I , my lord .
I prithee , tell me , doth he keep his bed ?
He did , my lord , four days ere I set forth ;
And at the time of my departure thence 
He was much fear'd by his physicians .
I would the state of time had first been whole 
Ere he by sickness had been visited :
His health was never better worth than now .
Sick now ! droop now ! this sickness doth infect 
The very life-blood of our enterprise ;
'Tis catching hither , even to our camp ,
He writes me here , that inward sickness 
And that his friends by deputation could not 
So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet 
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
On any soul remov'd but on his own .
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement ,
That with our small conjunction we should on ,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us ;
For , as he writes , there is no quailing now ,
Because the king is certainly possess'd 
Of all our purposes . What say you to it ?
Your father's sickness is a maim to us .
A perilous gash , a very limb lopp'd off :
And yet , in faith , 'tis not ; his present want 
Seems more than we shall find it . Were it good 
To set the exact wealth of all our states 
All at one cast ? to set so rich a main 
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour ?
It were not good ; for therein should we read 
The very bottom and the soul of hope ,
The very list , the very utmost bound 
Of all our fortunes .
Faith , and so we should ;
Where now remains a sweet reversion :
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
Is to come in :
A comfort of retirement lives in this .
A rendezvous , a home to fly unto ,
If that the devil and mischance look big 
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs .
But yet , I would your father had been here .
The quality and hair of our attempt 
Brooks no division . It will be thought 
By some , that know not why he is away ,
That wisdom , loyalty , and mere dislike 
Of our proceedings , kept the earl from hence .
And think how such an apprehension 
May turn the tide of fearful faction 
And breed a kind of question in our cause ;
For well you know we of the offering side 
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement ,
And stop all sight-holes , every loop from whence 
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your father's draws a curtain ,
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
Before not dreamt of .
You strain too far .
I rather of his absence make this use :
It lends a lustre and more great opinion ,
A larger dare to our great enterprise ,
Than if the earl were here ; for men must think ,
If we without his help , can make a head 
To push against the kingdom , with his help 
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down .
Yet all goes well , yet all our joints are whole .
As heart can think : there is not such a word 
Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear .
My cousin Vernon ! welcome , by my soul .
Pray God my news be worth a welcome , lord .
The Earl of Westmoreland , seven thousand strong ,
Is marching hitherwards ; with him Prince John .
No harm : what more ?
And further , I have learn'd ,
The king himself in person is set forth ,
Or hitherwards intended speedily ,
With strong and mighty preparation .
He shall be welcome too . Where is his son ,
The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales ,
And his comrades , that daff'd the world aside ,
And bid it pass ?
All furnish'd , all in arms ,
All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind ,
Baited like eagles having lately bath'd ,
Glittering in golden coats , like images ,
As full of spirit as the month of May ,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer ,
Wanton as youthful goats , wild as young bulls .
I saw young Harry , with his beaver on ,
His cushes on his thighs , gallantly arm'd ,
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury ,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat ,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds ,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus 
And witch the world with noble horsemanship .
No more , no more : worse than the sun in March 
This praise doth nourish agues . Let them come ;
They come like sacrifices in their trim ,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war 
All hot and bleeding will we offer them :
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit 
Up to the ears in blood . I am on fire 
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh 
And yet not ours . Come , let me taste my horse ,
Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt 
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales :
Harry to Harry shall , hot horse to horse ,
Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse .
O ! that Glendower were come .
There is more news :
I learn'd in Worcester , as I rode along ,
He cannot draw his power these fourteen days .
That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet .
Ay , by my faith , that bears a frosty sound .
What may the king's whole battle reach unto ?
To thirty thousand .
Forty let it be :
My father and Glendower being both away ,
The powers of us may serve so great a day .
Come , let us take a muster speedily :
Doomsday is near ; die all , die merrily .
Talk not of dying : I am out of fear 
Of death or death's hand for this one half year .
Bardolph , get thee before to Coventry ; fill me a bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march through : we'll to Sutton-Co'fil' to-night .
Will you give me money , captain ?
Lay out , lay out .
This bottle makes an angel .
An if it do , take it for thy labour ; and if it make twenty , take them all , I'll answer the coinage . Bid my Lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end .
I will , captain : farewell .
If I be not ashamed of my soldiers , I am a soused gurnet . I have misused the king's press damnably . I have got , in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers , three hundred and odd pounds . I press me none but good householders , yeomen's sons ; inquire me out contracted bachelors , such as had been asked twice on the banns ; such a commodity of warm slaves , as had as lief hear the devil as a drum ; such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild-duck . I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter , with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads , and they have bought out their services ; and now my whole charge consists of ancients , corporals , lieutenants , gentlemen of companies , slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth , where the glutton's dogs licked his sores ; and such as indeed were never soldiers , but discarded unjust serving-men , younger sons to younger brothers , revolted tapsters and ostlers trade-fallen , the cankers of a calm world and a long peace ; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient : and such have I , to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services , that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals , lately come from swine-keeping , from eating draff and husks . A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies . No eye hath seen such scarecrows . I'll not march through Coventry with them , that's flat : nay , and the villains march wide betwixt the legs , as if they had gyves on ; for , indeed I had the most of them out of prison . There's but a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves ; and the shirt , to say the truth , stolen from my host at Saint Alban's , or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daventry . But that's all one ; they'll find linen enough on every hedge .
How now , blown Jack ! how now , quilt !
What , Hal ! How now , mad wag ! what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire ? My good Lord of Westmoreland , I cry you mercy : I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury .
Faith , Sir John , 'tis more than time that I were there , and you too ; but my powers are there already . The king , I can tell you , looks for us all : we must away all night .
Tut , never fear me : I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream .
I think to steal cream indeed , for thy theft hath already made thee butter . But tell me , Jack , whose fellows are these that come after ?
Mine , Hal , mine .
I did never see such pitiful rascals .
Tut , tut ; good enough to toss ; food for powder , food for powder ; they'll fill a pit as well as better : tush , man , mortal men , mortal men .
Ay , but , Sir John , methinks they are exceeding poor and bare ; too beggarly .
Faith , for their poverty , I know not where they had that ; and for their bareness , I am sure they never learned that of me .
No , I'll be sworn ; unless you call three fingers on the ribs bare . But sirrah , make haste : Percy is already in the field .
What , is the king encamped ?
He is , Sir John : I fear we shall stay too long .
To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast 
Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest .
We'll fight with him to-night .
It may not be .
You give him then advantage .
Not a whit .
Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ?
So do we .
His is certain , ours is doubtful .
Good cousin , be advis'd : stir not to-night .
Do not , my lord .
You do not counsel well :
You speak it out of fear and cold heart .
Do me no slander , Douglas : by my life ,
And I dare well maintain it with my life ,
If well-respected honour bid me on ,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear 
As you , my lord , or any Scot that this day lives :
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle 
Which of us fears .
Yea , or to-night .
Content .
To-night , say I .
Come , come , it may not be . I wonder much ,
Being men of such great leading as you are ,
That you foresee not what impediments 
Drag back our expedition : certain horse 
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up :
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day ;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep ,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull ,
That not a horse is half the half of himself .
So are the horses of the enemy 
In general , journey-bated and brought low :
The better part of ours are full of rest .
The number of the king exceedeth ours :
For God's sake , cousin , stay till all come in .
I come with gracious offers from the king ,
If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect .
Welcome , Sir Walter Blunt ; and would to God 
You were of our determination !
Some of us love you well ; and even those some 
Envy your great deservings and good name ,
Because you are not of our quality ,
But stand against us like an enemy .
And God defend but still I should stand so ,
So long as out of limit and true rule 
You stand against anointed majesty .
But , to my charge . The king hath sent to know 
The nature of your griefs , and whereupon 
You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
Such bold hostility , teaching his duteous land 
Audacious cruelty . If that the king 
Have any way your good deserts forgot ,
Which he confesseth to be manifold ,
He bids you name your griefs ; and with all speed 
You shall have your desires with interest ,
And pardon absolute for yourself and these 
Herein misled by your suggestion .
The king is kind ; and well we know the king 
Knows at what time to promise , when to pay .
My father and my uncle and myself 
Did give him that same royalty he wears ;
And when he was not six-and-twenty strong ,
Sick in the world's regard , wretched and low ,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home ,
My father gave him welcome to the shore ;
And when he heard him swear and vow to God 
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster ,
To sue his livery and beg his peace ,
With tears of innocency and terms of zeal ,
My father , in kind heart and pity mov'd ,
Swore him assistance and perform'd it too .
Now when the lords and barons of the realm 
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him ,
The more and less came in with cap and knee ;
Met him in boroughs , cities , villages ,
Attended him on bridges , stood in lanes ,
Laid gifts before him , proffer'd him their oaths ,
Gave him their heirs as pages , follow'd him 
Even at the heels in golden multitudes .
He presently , as greatness knows itself ,
Steps me a little higher than his vow 
Made to my father , while his blood was poor ,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh ;
And now , forsooth , takes on him to reform 
Some certain edicts and some strait decrees 
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth ,
Cries out upon abuses , seems to weep 
Over his country's wrongs ; and by this face ,
This seeming brow of justice , did he win 
The hearts of all that he did angle for ;
Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads 
Of all the favourites that the absent king 
In deputation left behind him here ,
When he was personal in the Irish war .
Tut , I came not to hear this .
Then to the point .
In short time after , he depos'd the king ;
Soon after that , depriv'd him of his life ;
And , in the neck of that , task'd the whole state ;
To make that worse , suffer'd his kinsman March 
Who is , if every owner were well plac'd ,
Indeed his king to be engag'd in Wales ,
There without ransom to lie forfeited ;
Disgrac'd me in my happy victories ;
Sought to entrap me by intelligence ;
Rated my uncle from the council-board ;
In rage dismiss'd my father from the court ;
Broke oath on oath , committed wrong on wrong ;
And in conclusion drove us to seek out 
This head of safety ; and withal to pry 
Into his title , the which we find 
Too indirect for long continuance .
Shall I return this answer to the king ?
Not so , Sir Walter : we'll withdraw awhile .
Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd 
Some surety for a safe return again ,
And in the morning early shall my uncle 
Bring him our purposes ; and so farewell .
I would you would accept of grace and love .
And may be so we shall .
Pray God , you do !
Hie , good Sir Michael ; bear this sealed brief 
With winged haste to the lord marshal ;
This to my cousin Scroop , and all the rest 
To whom they are directed . If you knew 
How much they do import , you would make haste .
My good lord ,
I guess their tenour .
Like enough you do .
To-morrow , good Sir Michael , is a day 
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men 
Must bide the touch ; for , sir , at Shrewsbury ,
As I am truly given to understand ,
The king with mighty and quick-raised power 
Meets with Lord Harry : and , I fear , Sir Michael ,
What with the sickness of Northumberland ,
Whose power was in the first proportion ,
And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence ,
Who with them was a rated sinew too ,
And comes not in , o'er-rul'd by prophecies ,
I fear the power of Percy is too weak 
To wage an instant trial with the king .
Why , my good lord , you need not fear :
There is the Douglas and Lord Mortimer .
No , Mortimer is not there .
But there is Mordake , Vernon , Lord Harry Percy ,
And there's my Lord of Worcester , and a head 
Of gallant warriors , noble gentlemen .
And so there is ; but yet the king hath drawn 
The special head of all the land together :
The Prince of Wales , Lord John of Lancaster ,
The noble Westmoreland , and war-like Blunt ;
And many moe corrivals and dear men 
Of estimation and command in arms .
Doubt not , my lord , they shall be well oppos'd .
I hope no less , yet needful 'tis to fear ;
And , to prevent the worse , Sir Michael , speed :
For if Lord Percy thrive not , ere the king 
Dismiss his power , he means to visit us ,
For he hath heard of our confederacy ,
And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him :
Therefore make haste . I must go write again 
To other friends ; and so farewell , Sir Michael .
How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
Above yon busky hill ! the day looks pale 
At his distemperature .
The southern wind 
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ,
And by his hollow whistling in the leaves 
Foretells a tempest and a blustering day .
Then with the losers let it sympathize ,
For nothing can seem foul to those that win .
How now , my Lord of Worcester ! 'tis not well 
That you and I should meet upon such terms 
As now we meet . You have deceiv'd our trust ,
And made us doff our easy robes of peace ,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel :
This is not well , my lord ; this is not well .
What say you to it ? will you again unknit 
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ,
And move in that obedient orb again 
Where you did give a fair and natural light ,
And be no more an exhal'd meteor ,
A prodigy of fear and a portent 
Of broached mischief to the unborn times ?
Hear me , my liege .
For mine own part , I could be well content 
To entertain the lag-end of my life 
With quiet hours ; for I do protest 
I have not sought the day of this dislike .
You have not sought it ! how comes it then ?
Rebellion lay in his way , and he found it .
Peace , chewet , peace !
It pleas'd your majesty to turn your looks 
Of favour from myself and all our house ;
And yet I must remember you , my lord ,
We were the first and dearest of your friends .
For you my staff of office did I break 
In Richard's time ; and posted day and night 
To meet you on the way , and kiss your hand ,
When yet you were in place and in account 
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I .
It was myself , my brother , and his son ,
That brought you home and boldly did outdare 
The dangers of the time . You swore to us ,
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster ,
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ,
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right ,
The seat of Gaunt , dukedom of Lancaster .
To this we swore our aid : but , in short space 
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head ,
And such a flood of greatness fell on you ,
What with our help , what with the absent king ,
What with the injuries of a wanton time ,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne ,
And the contrarious winds that held the king 
So long in his unlucky Irish wars ,
That all in England did repute him dead :
And from this swarm of fair advantages 
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
To gripe the general sway into your hand ;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;
And being fed by us you us'd us so 
As that ungentle gull , the cuckoo's bird ,
Useth the sparrow : did oppress our nest ,
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk 
That even our love durst not come near your sight 
For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing 
We were enforc'd , for safety's sake , to fly 
Out of your sight and raise this present head ;
Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself 
By unkind usage , dangerous countenance ,
And violation of all faith and troth 
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise .
These things indeed , you have articulate ,
Proclaim'd at market-crosses , read in churches ,
To face the garment of rebellion 
With some fine colour that may please the eye 
Of fickle changelings and poor discontents ,
Which gape and rub the elbow at the news 
Of hurlyburly innovation :
And never yet did insurrection want 
Such water-colours to impaint his cause ;
Nor moody beggars , starving for a time 
Of pell-mell havoc and confusion .
In both our armies there is many a soul 
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter ,
If once they join in trial . Tell your nephew ,
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
In praise of Henry Percy : by my hopes ,
This present enterprise set off his head ,
I do not think a braver gentleman ,
More active-valiant or more valiant-young ,
More daring or more bold , is now alive 
To grace this latter age with noble deeds .
For my part , I may speak it to my shame ,
I have a truant been to chivalry ;
And so I hear he doth account me too ;
Yet this before my father's majesty 
I am content that he shall take the odds 
Of his great name and estimation ,
And will , to save the blood on either side ,
Try fortune with him in a single fight .
And , Prince of Wales , so dare we venture thee ,
Albeit considerations infinite 
Do make against it . No , good Worcester , no ,
We love our people well ; even those we love 
That are misled upon your cousin's part ;
And , will they take the offer of our grace ,
Both he and they and you , yea , every man 
Shall be my friend again , and I'll be his .
So tell your cousin , and bring me word 
What he will do ; but if he will not yield ,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us ,
And they shall do their office . So , be gone :
We will not now be troubled with reply ;
We offer fair , take it advisedly .
It will not be accepted , on my life .
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
Are confident against the world in arms .
Hence , therefore , every leader to his charge ;
For , on their answer , will we set on them ;
And God befriend us , as our cause is just !
Hal , if thou see me down in the battle , and bestride me , so ; 'tis a point of friendship .
Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship . Say thy prayers , and farewell .
I would it were bed-time , Hal , and all well .
Why , thou owest God a death .
'Tis not due yet : I would be loath to pay him before his day . What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me ? Well , 'tis no matter ; honour pricks me on . Yea , but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? No . Or an arm ? No . Or take away the grief of a wound ? No . Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No . What is honour ? a word . What is that word , honour ? Air . A trim reckoning ! Who hath it ? he that died o' Wednesday . Doth he feel it ? No . Doth he hear it ? No . It is insensible then ? Yea , to the dead . But will it not live with the living ? No . Why ? Detraction will not suffer it . Therefore I'll none of it : honour is a mere scutcheon ; and so ends my catechism .
O , no ! my nephew must not know , Sir Richard ,
The liberal kind offer of the king .
'Twere best he did .
Then are we all undone .
It is not possible , it cannot be ,
The king should keep his word in loving us ;
He will suspect us still , and find a time 
To punish this offence in other faults :
Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes ;
For treason is but trusted like the fox ,
Who , ne'er so tame , so cherish'd , and lock'd up ,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors .
Look how we can , or sad or merrily ,
Interpretation will misquote our looks ,
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall ,
The better cherish'd , still the nearer death .
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot ,
It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood ;
And an adopted name of privilege ,
A hare-brain'd Hotspur , govern'd by a spleen .
All his offences live upon my head 
And on his father's : we did train him on ;
And , his corruption being ta'en from us ,
We , as the spring of all , shall pay for all .
Therefore , good cousin , let not Harry know 
In any case the offer of the king .
Deliver what you will , I'll say 'tis so .
Here comes your cousin .
My uncle is return'd : deliver up 
My Lord of Westmoreland . Uncle , what news ?
The king will bid you battle presently .
Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland .
Lord Douglas , go you and tell him so .
Marry , and shall , and very willingly .
There is no seeming mercy in the king .
Did you beg any ? God forbid !
I told him gently of our grievances ,
Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus ,
By now forswearing that he is forsworn :
He calls us rebels , traitors ; and will scourge 
With haughty arms this hateful name in us .
Arm , gentlemen ! to arms ! for I have thrown 
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth ,
And Westmoreland , that was engag'd , did bear it ;
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on .
The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king ,
And , nephew , challeng'd you to single fight .
O ! would the quarrel lay upon our heads ,
And that no man might draw short breath to-day 
But I and Harry Monmouth . Tell me , tell me ,
How show'd his tasking ? seem'd it in contempt ?
No , by my soul ; I never in my life 
Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly ,
Unless a brother should a brother dare 
To gentle exercise and proof of arms .
He gave you all the duties of a man ,
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue ,
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ,
Making you ever better than his praise ,
By still dispraising praise valu'd with you ;
And , which became him like a prince indeed ,
He made a blushing cital of himself ,
And chid his truant youth with such a grace 
As if he master'd there a double spirit 
Of teaching and of learning instantly .
There did he pause . But let me tell the world ,
If he outlive the envy of this day ,
England did never owe so sweet a hope ,
So much misconstru'd in his wantonness .
Cousin , I think thou art enamoured 
On his follies : never did I hear 
Of any prince so wild a libertine .
But be he as he will , yet once ere night 
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm ,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy .
Arm , arm , with speed ! And , fellows , soldiers , friends ,
Better consider what you have to do ,
Than I , that have not well the gift of tongue ,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion .
My lord , here are letters for you .
I cannot read them now .
O gentlemen ! the time of life is short ;
To spend that shortness basely were too long ,
If life did ride upon a dial's point ,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour .
An if we live , we live to tread on kings ;
If die , brave death , when princes die with us !
Now , for our consciences , the arms are fair ,
When the intent of bearing them is just .
My lord , prepare ; the king comes on apace .
I thank him that he cuts me from my tale ,
For I profess not talking . Only this ,
Let each man do his best : and here draw I 
A sword , whose temper I intend to stain 
With the best blood that I can meet withal 
In the adventure of this perilous day .
Now , Esperance ! Percy ! and set on .
Sound all the lofty instruments of war ,
And by that music let us all embrace ;
For , heaven to earth , some of us never shall 
A second time do such a courtesy .
What is thy name , that in the battle thus 
Thou crossest me ? what honour dost thou seek 
Upon my head ?
Know then , my name is Douglas ;
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus 
Because some tell me that thou art a king .
They tell thee true .
The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought 
Thy likeness ; for , instead of thee , King Harry ,
This sword hath ended him : so shall it thee ,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner .
I was not born a yielder , thou proud Scot ;
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge 
Lord Stafford's death .
O , Douglas ! hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus ,
I never had triumph'd upon a Scot .
All's done , all's won : here breathless lies the king .
Where ?
This , Douglas ! no ; I know this face full well ;
A gallant knight he was , his name was Blunt ;
Semblably furnish'd like the king himself .
A fool go with thy soul , whither it goes !
A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear :
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ?
The king hath many marching in his coats .
Now , by my sword , I will kill all his coats ;
I'll murder all his wardrobe , piece by piece ,
Until I meet the king .
Up , and away !
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day .
Though I could 'scape shot-free at London , I fear the shot here ; here's no scoring but upon the pate . Soft ! who art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt : there's honour for you ! here's no vanity ! I am as hot as molten lead , and as heavy too : God keep lead out of me ! I need no more weight than mine own bowels . I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered : there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive , and they are for the town's end , to beg during life . But who comes here ?
What ! stand'st thou idle here ? lend me thy sword :
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies ,
Whose deaths are unreveng'd : prithee , lend me thy sword .
O Hal ! I prithee , give me leave to breathe awhile . Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day . I have paid Percy , I have made him sure .
He is , indeed ; and living to kill thee .
I prithee , lend me thy sword .
Nay , before God , Hal , if Percy be alive , thou gett'st not my sword ; but take my pistol , if thou wilt .
Give it me . What ! is it in the case ?
Ay , Hal ; 'tis hot , 'tis hot : there's that will sack a city .
What ! is't a time to jest and dally now ?
Well , if Percy be alive , I'll pierce him . If he do come in my way , so : if he do not , if I come in his , willingly , let him make a carbonado of me . I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath : give me life ; which if I can save , so ; if not , honour comes unlooked for , and there's an end .
I prithee ,
Harry , withdraw thyself ; thou bleed'st too much .
Lord John of Lancaster , go you with him .
Not I , my lord , unless I did bleed too .
I beseech your majesty , make up ,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends .
I will do so .
My Lord of Westmoreland , lead him to his tent .
Come , my lord , I'll lead you to your tent .
Lead me , my lord ? I do not need your help :
And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive 
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this ,
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on ,
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !
We breathe too long : come , cousin Westmoreland ,
Our duty this way lies : for God's sake , come .
By God , thou hast deceiv'd me , Lancaster ;
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit :
Before , I lov'd thee as a brother , John ;
But now , I do respect thee as my soul .
I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point 
With lustier maintenance than I did look for 
Of such an ungrown warrior .
O ! this boy 
Lends mettle to us all .
Another king ! they grow like Hydra's heads :
I am the Douglas , fatal to all those 
That wear those colours on them : what art thou ,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king ?
The king himself ; who , Douglas , grieves at heart 
So many of his shadows thou hast met 
And not the very king . I have two boys 
Seek Percy and thyself about the field :
But , seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily ,
I will assay thee ; so defend thyself .
I fear thou art another counterfeit ;
And yet , in faith , thou bear'st thee like a king :
But mine I am sure thou art , whoe'er thou be ,
And thus I win thee .
Hold up thy head , vile Scot , or thou art like 
Never to hold it up again ! the spirits 
Of valiant Shirley , Stafford , Blunt , are in my arms :
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee ,
Who never promiseth but he means to pay .
Cheerly , my lord : how fares your Grace ?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent ,
And so hath Clifton : I'll to Clifton straight .
Stay , and breathe awhile .
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ,
And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life ,
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me .
O God ! they did me too much injury 
That ever said I hearken'd for your death .
If it were so , I might have let alone 
The insulting hand of Douglas over you ;
Which would have been as speedy in your end 
As all the poisonous potions in the world ,
And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son .
Make up to Clifton : I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey .
If I mistake not , thou art Harry Monmouth .
Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name .
My name is Harry Percy .
Why , then , I see 
A very valiant rebel of that name .
I am the Prince of Wales ; and think not , Percy ,
To share with me in glory any more :
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere ;
Nor can one England brook a double reign ,
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales .
Nor shall it , Harry ; for the hour is come 
To end the one of us ; and would to God 
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine !
I'll make it greater ere I part from thee ;
And all the budding honours on thy crest 
I'll crop , to make a garland for my head .
I can no longer brook thy vanities .
Well said , Hal ! to it , Hal ! Nay , you shall find no boy's play here , I can tell you .
O , Harry ! thou hast robb'd me of my youth .
I better brook the loss of brittle life 
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ;
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh :
But thought's the slave of life , and life time's fool ;
And time , that takes survey of all the world ,
Must have a stop . O ! I could prophesy ,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
Lies on my tongue . No , Percy , thou art dust ,
And food for 
For worms , brave Percy . Fare thee well , great heart !
Ill-weav'd ambition , how much art thou shrunk !
When that this body did contain a spirit ,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound ;
But now , two paces of the vilest earth 
Is room enough : this earth , that bears thee dead ,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman .
If thou wert sensible of courtesy ,
I should not make so dear a show of zeal :
But let my favours hide thy mangled face ,
And , even in thy behalf , I'll thank myself 
For doing these fair rites of tenderness .
Adieu , and take thy praise with thee to heaven !
Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave ,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph !
What ! old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh 
Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack , farewell !
I could have better spar'd a better man .
O ! I should have a heavy miss of thee 
If I were much in love with vanity .
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day ,
Though many dearer , in this bloody fray .
Embowell'd will I see thee by and by :
Till then in blood by noble Percy lie .
Embowelled ! if thou embowel me to-day , I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too , to-morrow . 'Sblood ! 'twas time to counterfeit , or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too . Counterfeit ? I lie , I am no counterfeit : to die , is to be a counterfeit ; for he is but the counterfeit of a man , who hath not the life of a man ; but to counterfeit dying , when a man thereby liveth , is to be no counterfeit , but the true and perfect image of life indeed . The better part of valour is discretion ; in the which better part , I have saved my life . 'Zounds ! I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy though he be dead : how , if he should counterfeit too and rise ? By my faith I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit . Therefore I'll make him sure ; yea , and I'll swear I killed him . Why may not he rise as well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes , and nobody sees me : therefore , sirrah [stabbing him] , with a new wound in your thigh come you along with me .
Come , brother John ; full bravely hast thou flesh'd 
Thy maiden sword .
But , soft ! whom have we here ?
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead ?
I did ; I saw him dead ,
Breathless and bleeding on the ground .
Art thou alive ? or is it fantasy 
That plays upon our eyesight ? I prithee , speak ;
We will not trust our eyes without our ears :
Thou art not what thou seem'st .
No , that's certain ; I am not a double man : but if I be not Jack Falstaff , then am I a Jack . There is Percy 
: if your father will do me any honour , so ; if not , let him kill the next Percy himself . I look to be either earl or duke , I can assure you .
Why , Percy I killed myself , and saw thee dead .
Didst thou ? Lord , Lord ! how this world is given to lying . I grant you I was down and out of breath , and so was he ; but we rose both at an instant , and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock . If I may be believed , so ; if not , let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon their own heads . I'll take it upon my death , I gave him this wound in the thigh : if the man were alive and would deny it , 'zounds , I would make him eat a piece of my sword .
This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard .
This is the strangest fellow , brother John .
Come , bring your luggage nobly on your back :
For my part , if a lie may do thee grace ,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have .
The trumpet sounds retreat ; the day is ours .
Come , brother , let us to the highest of the field ,
To see what friends are living , who are dead .
I'll follow , as they say , for reward . He that rewards me , God reward him ! If I do grow great , I'll grow less ; for I'll purge , and leave sack , and live cleanly , as a nobleman should do .
Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke .
Ill-spirited Worcester ! did we not send grace ,
Pardon , and terms of love to all of you ?
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary ?
Misuse the tenour of thy kinsman's trust ?
Three knights upon our party slain to-day ,
A noble earl and many a creature else 
Had been alive this hour ,
If like a Christian , thou hadst truly borne 
Betwixt our armies true intelligence .
What I have done my safety urg'd me to ;
And I embrace this fortune patiently ,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me .
Bear Worcester to the death and Vernon too :
Other offenders we will pause upon .
How goes the field ?
The noble Scot , Lord Douglas , when he saw 
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him ,
The noble Percy slain , and all his men 
Upon the foot of fear , fled with the rest ;
And falling from a hill he was so bruis'd 
That the pursuers took him . At my tent 
The Douglas is , and I beseech your Grace 
I may dispose of him .
With all my heart .
Then , brother John of Lancaster , to you 
This honourable bounty shall belong .
Go to the Douglas , and deliver him 
Up to his pleasure , ransomless , and free :
His valour shown upon our crests to-day 
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds ,
Even in the bosom of our adversaries .
I thank your Grace for this high courtesy ,
Which I shall give away immediately .
Then this remains , that we divide our power .
You , son John , and my cousin Westmoreland 
Towards York shall bend you , with your dearest speed ,
To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop ,
Who , as we hear , are busily in arms :
Myself and you , son Harry , will towards Wales ,
To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March .
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway ,
Meeting the check of such another day :
And since this business so fair is done ,
Let us not leave till all our own be won .
THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI
Fiends appearing to La Pucelle .
Hung be the heavens with black , yield day to night !
Comets , importing change of times and states ,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars ,
That have consented unto Henry's death !
King Henry the Fifth , too famous to live long !
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth .
England ne'er had a king until his time .
Virtue he had , deserving to command :
His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams ;
His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings ;
His sparkling eyes , replete with wrathful fire ,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies 
Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces .
What should I say ? his deeds exceed all speech :
He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered .
We mourn in black : why mourn we not in blood ?
Henry is dead and never shall revive .
Upon a wooden coffin we attend ,
And death's dishonourable victory 
We with our stately presence glorify ,
Like captives bound to a triumphant car .
What ! shall we curse the planets of mishap 
That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ?
Or shall we think the subtle-witted French 
Conjurers and sorcerers , that , afraid of him ,
By magic verses have contriv'd his end ?
He was a king bless'd of the King of kings .
Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day 
So dreadful will not be as was his sight .
The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought :
The church's prayers made him so prosperous .
The church ! where is it ? Had not churchmen pray'd 
His thread of life had not so soon decay'd :
None do you like but an effeminate prince ,
Whom like a school-boy you may over-awe .
Gloucester , whate'er we like thou art protector ,
And lookest to command the prince and realm .
Thy wife is proud ; she holdeth thee in awe ,
More than God or religious churchmen may .
Name not religion , for thou lov'st the flesh ,
And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st ,
Except it be to pray against thy foes .
Cease , cease these jars and rest your minds in peace !
Let's to the altar : heralds , wait on us :
Instead of gold we'll offer up our arms ,
Since arms avail not , now that Henry's dead .
Posterity , await for wretched years ,
When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck ,
Our isle be made a marish of salt tears ,
And none but women left to wail the dead .
Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate :
Prosper this realm , keep it from civil broils !
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens !
A far more glorious star thy soul will make ,
Than Julius C sar , or bright 
My honourable lords , health to you all !
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France ,
Of loss , of slaughter , and discomfiture :
Guienne , Champaigne , Rheims , Orleans ,
Paris , Guysors , Poictiers , are all quite lost .
What sayst thou , man , before dead Henry's corse ?
Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns 
Will make him burst his lead and rise from death .
Is Paris lost ? is Roan yielded up ?
If Henry were recall'd to life again 
These news would cause him once more yield the ghost .
How were they lost ? what treachery was us'd ?
No treachery ; but want of men and money .
Among the soldiers this is muttered ,
That here you maintain several factions ;
And , whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought ,
You are disputing of your generals .
One would have lingering wars with little cost ;
Another would fly swift , but wanteth wings ;
A third thinks , without expense at all ,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd .
Awake , awake , English nobility !
Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot :
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ;
Of England's coat one half is cut away .
Were our tears wanting to this funeral 
These tidings would call forth their flowing tides .
Me they concern ; Regent I am of France .
Give me my steeled coat : I'll fight for France .
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes !
Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes ,
To weep their intermissive miseries .
Lords , view these letters , full of bad mischance .
France is revolted from the English quite ,
Except some petty towns of no import :
The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims ;
The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd ;
Reignier , Duke of Anjou , doth take his part ;
The Duke of Alen on flieth to his side .
The Dauphin crowned king ! all fly to him !
O ! whither shall we fly from this reproach ?
We will not fly , but to our enemies' throats .
Bedford , if thou be slack , I'll fight it out .
Gloucester , why doubt'st thou of my forwardness ?
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts ,
Wherewith already France is overrun .
My gracious lords , to add to your laments ,
Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse ,
I must inform you of a dismal fight 
Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French .
What ! wherein Talbot overcame ? is't so ?
O , no ! wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown :
The circumstance I'll tell you more at large .
The tenth of August last this dreadful lord ,
Retiring from the siege of Orleans ,
Having full scarce six thousand in his troop ,
By three-and-twenty thousand of the French 
Was round encompassed and set upon .
No leisure had he to enrank his men ;
He wanted pikes to set before his archers ;
Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges 
They pitched in the ground confusedly ,
To keep the horsemen off from breaking in .
More than three hours the fight continued ;
Where valiant Talbot above human thought 
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance .
Hundreds he sent to hell , and none durst stand him ;
Here , there , and every where , enrag'd he flew :
The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms ;
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him .
His soldiers , spying his undaunted spirit ,
A Talbot ! A Talbot ! cried out amain ,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle .
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up ,
If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward .
He , being in the vaward ,plac'd behind ,
With purpose to relieve and follow them ,
Cowardly fled , not having struck one stroke .
Hence grew the general wrack and massacre ;
Enclosed were they with their enemies .
A base Walloon , to win the Dauphin's grace ,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back ;
Whom all France , with their chief assembled strength ,
Durst not presume to look once in the face .
Is Talbot slain ? then I will slay myself ,
For living idly here in pomp and ease 
Whilst such a worthy leader , wanting aid ,
Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd .
O no ! he lives ; but is took prisoner ,
And Lord Scales with him , and Lord Hungerford :
Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise .
His ransom there is none but I shall pay :
I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne ;
His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ;
Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours .
Farewell , my masters ; to my task will I ;
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make ,
To keep our great Saint George's feast withal :
Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take ,
Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake .
So you had need ; for Orleans is besieg'd ;
The English army is grown weak and faint ;
The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply ,
And hardly keeps his men from mutiny ,
Since they , so few , watch such a multitude .
Remember , lords , your oaths to Henry sworn ,
Either to quell the Dauphin utterly ,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke .
I do remember it ; and here take my leave ,
To go about my preparation .
I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can ,
To view the artillery and munition ;
And then I will proclaim young Henry king .
To Eltham will I , where the young king is ,
Being ordain'd his special governor ;
And for his safety there I'll best devise .
Each hath his place and function to attend :
I am left out ; for me nothing remains .
But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office .
The king from Eltham I intend to steal ,
And sit at chiefest stern of public weal .
Mars his true moving , even as in the heavens 
So in the earth , to this day is not known .
Late did he shine upon the English side ;
Now we are victors ; upon us he smiles .
What towns of any moment but we have ?
At pleasure here we lie near Orleans ;
Otherwhiles the famish'd English , like pale ghosts ,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month .
They want their porridge and their fat bull-beeves :
Either they must be dieted like mules 
And have their provender tied to their mouths ,
Or piteous they will look , like drowned mice .
Let's raise the siege : why live we idly here ?
Talbot is taken , whom we wont to fear :
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury ,
And he may well in fretting spend his gall ;
Nor men nor money hath he to make war .
Sound , sound alarum ! we will rush on them .
Now for the honour of the forlorn French !
Him I forgive my death that killeth me 
When he sees me go back one foot or fly .
Who ever saw the like ? what men have I !
Dogs ! cowards ! dastards ! I would ne'er have fled 
But that they left me 'midst my enemies .
Salisbury is a desperate homicide ;
He fighteth as one weary of his life :
The other lords , like lions wanting food ,
Do rush upon us as their hungry prey .
Froissart , a countryman of ours , records ,
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred 
During the time Edward the Third did reign .
More truly now may this be verified ;
For none but Samsons and Goliases ,
It sendeth forth to skirmish . One to ten !
Lean raw-bon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose 
They had such courage and audacity ?
Let's leave this town ; for they are hare-brain'd slaves ,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager :
Of old I know them ; rather with their teeth 
The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege .
I think , by some odd gimmals or device ,
Their arms are set like clocks , still to strike on ;
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do .
By my consent , we'll e'en let them alone .
Be it so .
Where's the prince Dauphin ? I have news for him .
Bastard of Orleans , thrice welcome to us .
Methinks your looks are sad , your cheer appall'd :
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ?
Be not dismay'd , for succour is at hand :
A holy maid hither with me I bring ,
Which by a vision sent to her from heaven 
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege ,
And drive the English forth the bounds of France .
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath ,
Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome ;
What's past and what's to come she can descry .
Speak , shall I call her in ? Believe my words ,
For they are certain and unfallible .
Go , call her in .
But first , to try her skill ,
Reignier , stand thou as Dauphin in my place :
Question her proudly ; let thy looks be stern :
By this means shall we sound what skill she hath .
Fair maid , is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats ?
Reignier , is't thou that thinkest to beguile me ?
Where is the Dauphin ? Come , come from behind ;
I know thee well , though never seen before .
Be not amaz'd , there's nothing hid from me :
In private will I talk with thee apart .
Stand back , you lords , and give us leave a while .
She takes upon her bravely at first dash .
Dauphin , I am by birth a shepherd's daughter ,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art .
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd 
To shine on my contemptible estate :
Lo ! whilst I waited on my tender lambs ,
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks ,
God's mother deigned to appear to me ,
And in a vision full of majesty 
Will'd me to leave my base vocation 
And free my country from calamity :
Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success ;
In complete glory she reveal'd herself ;
And , whereas I was black and swart before ,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me ,
That beauty am I bless'd with which you see .
Ask me what question thou canst possible 
And I will answer unpremeditated :
My courage try by combat , if thou dar'st ,
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex .
Resolve on this , thou shalt be fortunate 
If thou receive me for thy war-like mate .
Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms .
Only this proof I'll of thy valour make ,
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me ,
And if thou vanquishest , thy words are true ;
Otherwise I renounce all confidence .
I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd sword ,
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ;
The which at Touraine , in Saint Katharine's churchyard ,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth .
Then come , o' God's name ; I fear no woman .
And , while I live , I'll ne'er fly from a man .
Stay , stay thy hands ! thou art an Amazon ,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah .
Christ's mother helps me , else I were too weak .
Whoe'er helps thee , 'tis thou that must help me :
Impatiently I burn with thy desire ;
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd .
Excellent Pucelle , if thy name be so ,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be ;
'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus .
I must not yield to any rites of love ,
For my profession's sacred from above :
When I have chased all thy foes from hence ,
Then will I think upon a recompense .
Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall .
My lord , methinks , is very long in talk .
Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock ;
Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech .
Shall we disturb him , since he keeps no mean ?
He may mean more than we poor men do know :
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues .
My lord , where are you ? what devise you on ?
Shall we give over Orleans , or no ?
Why , no , I say , distrustful recreants !
Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard .
What she says , I'll confirm : we'll fight it out .
Assign'd am I to be the English scourge .
This night the siege assuredly I'll raise :
Expect Saint Martin's summer , halcyon days ,
Since I have entered into these wars .
Glory is like a circle in the water ,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself ,
Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought .
With Henry's death the English circle ends ;
Dispersed are the glories it included .
Now am I like that proud insulting ship 
Which C sar and his fortune bare at once .
Was Mahomet inspired with a dove ?
Thou with an eagle art inspired then .
Helen , the mother of great Constantine ,
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters were like thee .
Bright star of Venus , fall'n down on the earth ,
How may I reverently worship thee enough ?
Leave off delays and let us raise the siege .
Woman , do what thou canst to save our honours ;
Drive them from Orleans and be immortalis'd .
Presently we'll try . Come , let's away about it :
No prophet will I trust if she prove false .
I am come to survey the Tower this day ;
Since Henry's death , I fear , there is conveyance .
Where be these warders that they wait not here ?
Open the gates ! 'Tis Gloucester that calls .
Who's there that knocks so imperiously ?
It is the noble Duke of Gloucester .
Whoe'er he be , you may not be let in .
Villains , answer you so the Lord Protector ?
The Lord protect him ! so we answer him :
We do not otherwise than we are will'd .
Who willed you ? or whose will stands but mine ?
There's none protector of the realm but I .
Break up the gates , I'll be your warrantize :
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms ?
Lieutenant , is it you whose voice I hear ?
Open the gates ! here's Gloucester that would enter .
Have patience , noble Duke ; I may not open ;
The Cardinal of Winchester forbids :
From him I have express commandment 
That thou nor none of thine shall be let in .
Faint-hearted Woodvile , prizest him 'fore me ?
Arrogant Winchester , that haughty prelate ,
Whom Henry , our late sovereign , ne'er could brook ?
Thou art no friend to God or to the king :
Open the gates , or I'll shut thee out shortly .
Open the gates unto the Lord Protector ;
Or we'll burst them open , if that you come not quickly .
How now , ambitious Humphrey ! what means this ?
Peel'd priest , dost thou command me to be shut out ?
I do , thou most usurping proditor ,
And not protector , of the king or realm .
Stand back , thou manifest conspirator ,
Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord ;
Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin :
I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat ,
If thou proceed in this thy insolence .
Nay , stand thou back ; I will not budge a foot :
This be Damascus , be thou cursed Cam ,
To slay thy brother Abel , if thou wilt .
I will not slay thee , but I'll drive thee back :
Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth 
I'll use to carry thee out of this place .
Do what thou dar'st ; I'll beard thee to thy face .
What ! am I dar'd and bearded to my face ?
Draw , men , for all this privileged place ;
Blue coats to tawny-coats . Priest , beware your beard ;
I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly .
Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat ,
In spite of pope or dignities of church ,
Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down .
Gloucester , thou'lt answer this before the pope .
Winchester goose ! I cry a rope ! a rope !
Now beat them hence ; why do you let them stay ?
Thee I'll chase hence , thou wolf in sheep's array .
Out , tawny coats ! out , scarlet hypocrite !
Fie , lords ! that you , being supreme magistrates ,
Thus contumeliously should break the peace !
Peace , mayor ! thou know'st little of my wrongs :
Here's Beaufort , that regards nor God nor King ,
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use .
Here's Gloucester , a foe to citizens ;
One that still motions war and never peace ,
O'ercharging your free purses with large fines ,
That seeks to overthrow religion 
Because he is protector of the realm ,
And would have armour here out of the Tower ,
To crown himself king and suppress the prince .
I will not answer thee with words , but blows .
Nought rests for me , in this tumultuous strife 
But to make open proclamation .
Come , officer : as loud as e'er thou canst ;
All manner of men , assembled here in arms this day , against God's peace and the king's , we charge and command you , in his highness' name , to repair to your several dwelling-places ; and not to wear , handle , or use , any sword , weapon , or dagger , henceforward , upon pain of death .
Cardinal , I'll be no breaker of the law ;
But we shall meet and break our minds at large .
Gloucester , we will meet ; to thy cost , be sure :
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work .
I'll call for clubs if you will not away .
This cardinal's more haughty than the devil .
Mayor , farewell : thou dost but what thou mayst .
Abominable Gloucester ! guard thy head ;
For I intend to have it ere long .
See the coast clear'd , and then we will depart .
Good God ! these nobles should such stomachs bear ;
I myself fight not once in forty year .
Sirrah , thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd ,
And how the English have the suburbs won .
Father , I know ; and oft have shot at them ,
Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim .
But now thou shalt not . Be thou rul'd by me :
Chief master-gunner am I of this town ;
Something I must do to procure me grace .
The prince's espials have informed me 
How the English , in the suburbs close entrench'd ,
Wont through a secret gate of iron bars 
In yonder tower to overpeer the city ,
And thence discover how with most advantage 
They may vex us with shot or with assault .
To intercept this inconvenience ,
A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ;
And fully even these three days have I watch'd 
If I could see them . Now , boy , do thou watch ,
For I can stay no longer .
If thou spy'st any , run and bring me word ;
And thou shalt find me at the Governor's .
Father , I warrant you ; take you no care ;
I'll never trouble you if I may spy them .
Talbot , my life , my joy ! again return'd !
How wert thou handled being prisoner ?
Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd ,
Discourse , I prithee , on this turret's top .
The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner 
Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles ;
For him I was exchang'd and ransomed .
But with a baser man at arms by far 
Once in contempt they would have barter'd me :
Which I disdaining scorn'd , and craved death 
Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd .
In fine , redeem'd I was as I desir'd .
But , O ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart :
Whom with my bare fists I would execute 
If I now had him brought into my power .
Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd .
With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts .
In open market-place produc'd they me ,
To be a public spectacle to all :
Here , said they , is the terror of the French ,
The scarecrow that affrights our children so .
Then broke I from the officers that led me ,
And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground 
To hurl at the beholders of my shame .
My grisly countenance made others fly .
None durst come near for fear of sudden death .
In iron walls they deem'd me not secure ;
So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread 
That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel 
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant :
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had ,
That walk'd about me every minute-while ;
And if I did but stir out of my bed 
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart .
I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd ;
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently .
Now it is supper-time in Orleans :
Here , through this grate , I count each one ,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify :
Let us look in ; the sight will much delight thee .
Sir Thomas Gargrave , and Sir William Glansdale ,
Let me have your express opinions 
Where is best place to make our battery next .
I think at the North gate ; for there stand lords .
And I , here , at the bulwark of the bridge .
For aught I see , this city must be famish'd ,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled .
O Lord ! have mercy on us , wretched sinners .
O Lord ! have mercy on me , woeful man .
What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us ?
Speak , Salisbury ; at least , if thou canst speak :
How far'st thou , mirror of all martial men ?
One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off !
Accursed tower ! accursed fatal hand 
That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy !
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame ;
Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars ;
Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up ,
His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field .
Yet liv'st thou , Salisbury ? though thy speech doth fail ,
One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace :
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world .
Heaven , be thou gracious to none alive ,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands !
Bear hence his body ; I will help to bury it .
Sir Thomas Gargrave , hast thou any life ?
Speak unto Talbot ; nay , look up to him .
Salisbury , cheer thy spirit with this comfort ;
Thou shalt not die , whiles 
He beckons with his hand and smiles on me ,
As who should say , 'When I am dead and gone ,
Remember to avenge me on the French .' 
Plantagenet , I will ; and like thee , Nero ,
Play on the lute , beholding the towns burn :
Wretched shall France be only in my name .
What stir is this ? What tumult's in the heavens ?
Whence cometh this alarum and the noise ?
My lord , my lord ! the French have gather'd head :
The Dauphin , with one Joan la Pucelle join'd ,
A holy prophetess new risen up 
Is come with a great power to raise the siege .
Hear , hear how dying Salisbury doth groan !
It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd .
Frenchmen , I'll be a Salisbury to you :
Pucelle or puzzel , dolphin or dogfish ,
Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels 
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains .
Convey me Salisbury into his tent ,
And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare .
Where is my strength , my valour , and my force ?
Our English troops retire , I cannot stay them ;
A woman clad in armour chaseth them .
Here , here she comes . I'll have a bout with thee :
Devil , or devil's dam , I'll conjure thee :
Blood will I draw on thee , thou art a witch ,
And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st .
Come , come ; 'tis only I that must disgrace thee .
Heavens , can you suffer hell so to prevail ?
My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage ,
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder ,
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet .
Talbot , farewell ; thy hour is not yet come :
I must go victual Orleans forthwith .
O'ertake me if thou canst ; I scorn thy strength .
Go , go , cheer up thy hunger-starved men ;
Help Salisbury to make his testament :
This day is ours , as many more shall be .
My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel ;
I know not where I am , nor what I do :
A witch , by fear , not force , like Hannibal ,
Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists :
So bees with smoke , and doves with noisome stench ,
Are from their hives and houses driven away .
They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs ;
Now , like to whelps , we crying run away .
Hark , countrymen ! either renew the fight ,
Or tear the lions out of England's coat ;
Renounce your soil , give sheep in lions' stead :
Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf ,
Or horse or oxen from the leopard ,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves .
It will not be : retire into your trenches :
You all consented unto Salisbury's death ,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge .
Pucelle is entered into Orleans 
In spite of us or aught that we could do .
O ! would I were to die with Salisbury .
The shame hereof will make me hide my head .
Advance our waving colours on the walls ;
Rescu'd is Orleans from the English :
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word .
Divinest creature , Astr a's daughter ,
How shall I honour thee for this success ?
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens ,
That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next .
France , triumph in thy glorious prophetess !
Recover'd is the town of Orleans :
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state .
Why ring not out the bells throughout the town ?
Dauphin , command the citizens make bonfires 
And feast and banquet in the open streets ,
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us .
All France will be replete with mirth and joy ,
When they shall hear how we have play'd the men .
'Tis Joan , not we , by whom the day is won ;
For which I will divide my crown with her ;
And all the priests and friars in my realm 
Shall in procession sing her endless praise .
A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear 
Than Rhodope's or Memphis ever was :
In memory of her when she is dead ,
Her ashes , in an urn more precious 
Than the rich-jewell'd coffer of Darius ,
Transported shall be at high festivals 
Before the kings and queens of France .
No longer on Saint Denis will we cry ,
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint .
Come in , and let us banquet royally ,
After this golden day of victory .
Sirs , take your places and be vigilant .
If any noise or soldier you perceive 
Near to the walls , by some apparent sign 
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard .
Sergeant , you shall .
Thus are poor servitors 
When others sleep upon their quiet beds 
Constrain'd to watch in darkness , rain , and cold .
Lord regent , and redoubted Burgundy ,
By whose approach the regions of Artois ,
Walloon , and Picardy , are friends to us ,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure ,
Having all day carous'd and banqueted :
Embrace we then this opportunity ,
As fitting best to quittance their deceit 
Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery .
Coward of France ! how much he wrongs his fame ,
Despairing of his own arm's fortitude ,
To join with witches and the help of hell !
Traitors have never other company .
But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure ?
A maid , they say .
A maid , and be so martial !
Pray God she prove not masculine ere long ;
If underneath the standard of the French 
She carry armour , as she hath begun .
Well , let them practise and converse with spirits ;
God is our fortress , in whose conquering name 
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks .
Ascend , brave Talbot ; we will follow thee .
Not all together : better far , I guess ,
That we do make our entrance several ways ,
That if it chance the one of us do fail ,
The other yet may rise against their force .
Agreed . I'll to yond corner .
And I to this .
And here will Talbot mount , or make his grave .
Now , Salisbury , for thee , and for the right 
Of English Henry , shall this night appear 
How much in duty I am bound to both .
Arm , arm ! the enemy doth make assault !
How now , my lords ! what ! all unready so ?
Unready ! ay , and glad we 'scap'd so well .
'Twas time , I trow , to wake and leave our beds ,
Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors .
Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms ,
Ne'er heard I of a war-like enterprise 
More venturous or desperate than this .
I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell .
If not of hell , the heavens , sure , favour him .
Here cometh Charles : I marvel how he sped .
Tut ! holy Joan was his defensive guard .
Is this thy cunning , thou deceitful dame ?
Didst thou at first , to flatter us withal ,
Make us partakers of a little gain ,
That now our loss might be ten times so much ?
Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend ?
At all times will you have my power alike ?
Sleeping or waking must I still prevail ,
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ?
Improvident soldiers ! had your watch been good ,
This sudden mischief never could have fall'n .
Duke of Alen on , this was your default ,
That , being captain of the watch to-night ,
Did look no better to that weighty charge .
Had all your quarters been so safely kept 
As that whereof I had the government ,
We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd .
Mine was secure .
And so was mine , my lord .
And for myself , most part of all this night ,
Within her quarter and mine own precinct 
I was employ'd in passing to and fro ,
About relieving of the sentinels :
Then how or which way should they first break in ?
Question , my lords , no further of the case ,
How or which way : 'tis sure they found some place 
But weakly guarded , where the breach was made .
And now there rests no other shift but this ;
To gather our soldiers , scatter'd and dispers'd ,
And lay new platforms to endamage them .
I'll be so bold to take what they have left .
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword ;
For I have loaden me with many spoils ,
Using no other weapon but his name .
The day begins to break , and night is fled ,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth .
Here sound retreat , and cease our hot pursuit .
Bring forth the body of old Salisbury ,
And here advance it in the market-place ,
The middle centre of this cursed town .
Now have I paid my vow unto his soul ;
For every drop of blood was drawn from him 
There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night .
And that hereafter ages may behold 
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him ,
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect 
A tomb wherein his corse shall be interr'd :
Upon the which , that every one may read ,
Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans ,
The treacherous manner of his mournful death ,
And what a terror he had been to France .
But , lords , in all our bloody massacre ,
I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace ,
His new-come champion , virtuous Joan of Arc ,
Nor any of his false confederates .
'Tis thought , Lord Talbot , when the fight began ,
Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds ,
They did amongst the troops of armed men 
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field .
Myself as far as I could well discern 
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night 
Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull ,
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running ,
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves 
That could not live asunder day or night .
After that things are set in order here ,
We'll follow them with all the power we have .
All hail , my lords ! Which of this princely train 
Call ye the war-like Talbot , for his acts 
So much applauded through the realm of France ?
Here is the Talbot : who would speak with him ?
The virtuous lady , Countess of Auvergne ,
With modesty admiring thy renown ,
By me entreats , great lord , thou wouldst vouchsafe 
To visit her poor castle where she lies ,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man 
Whose glory fills the world with loud report .
Is it even so ? Nay , then , I see our wars 
Will turn into a peaceful comic sport ,
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with .
You may not , my lord , despise her gentle suit .
Ne'er trust me then ; for when a world of men 
Could not prevail with all their oratory ,
Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd :
And therefore tell her I return great thanks ,
And in submission will attend on her .
Will not your honours bear me company ?
No , truly ; it is more than manners will ;
And I have heard it said , unbidden guests 
Are often welcomest when they are gone .
Well then , alone ,since there's no remedy ,
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy .
Come hither , captain .
You perceive my mind .
I do , my lord , and mean accordingly .
Porter , remember what I gave in charge ;
And when you have done so , bring the keys to me .
Madam , I will .
The plot is laid : if all things fall out right ,
I shall as famous be by this exploit 
As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death .
Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight ,
And his achievements of no less account :
Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears ,
To give their censure of these rare reports .
Madam ,
According as your ladyship desir'd ,
By message crav'd , so is Lord Talbot come .
And he is welcome . What ! is this the man ?
Madam , it is .
Is this the scourge of France ?
Is this the Talbot , so much fear'd abroad ,
That with his name the mothers still their babes ?
I see report is fabulous and false :
I thought I should have seen some Hercules ,
A second Hector , for his grim aspect ,
And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs .
Alas ! this is a child , a silly dwarf :
It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp 
Should strike such terror to his enemies .
Madam , I have been bold to trouble you ;
But since your ladyship is not at leisure ,
I'll sort some other time to visit you .
What means he now ? Go ask him whither he goes .
Stay , my Lord Talbot ; for my lady craves 
To know the cause of your abrupt departure .
Marry , for that she's in a wrong belief ,
I go to certify her Talbot's here .
If thou be he , then art thou prisoner .
Prisoner ! to whom ?
To me , blood-thirsty lord ;
And for that cause I train'd thee to my house .
Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me ,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs :
But now the substance shall endure the like ,
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine ,
That hast by tyranny , these many years 
Wasted our country , slain our citizens ,
And sent our sons and husbands captivate .
Ha , ha , ha !
Laughest thou , wretch ? thy mirth shall turn to moan .
I laugh to see your ladyship so fond 
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow ,
Whereon to practise your severity .
Why , art not thou the man ?
I am , indeed .
Then have I substance too .
No , no , I am but shadow of myself :
You are deceiv'd , my substance is not here ;
For what you see is but the smallest part 
And least proportion of humanity .
I tell you , madam , were the whole frame here ,
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch ,
Your roof were not sufficient to contain it .
This is a riddling merchant for the nonce ;
He will be here , and yet he is not here :
How can these contrarieties agree ?
That will I show you presently .
How say you , madam ? are you now persuaded 
That Talbot is but shadow of himself ?
These are his substance , sinews , arms , and strength ,
With which he yoketh your rebellious necks ,
Razeth your cities , and subverts your towns ,
And in a moment makes them desolate .
Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse :
I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited ,
And more than may be gather'd by thy shape .
Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath ;
For I am sorry that with reverence 
I did not entertain thee as thou art .
Be not dismay'd , fair lady ; nor misconster 
The mind of Talbot as you did mistake 
The outward composition of his body .
What you have done hath not offended me ;
Nor other satisfaction do I crave ,
But only , with your patience , that we may 
Taste of your wine and see what cates you have ;
For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well .
With all my heart , and think me honoured 
To feast so great a warrior in my house .
Great lords , and gentlemen , what means this silence ?
Dare no man answer in a case of truth ?
Within the Temple hall we were too loud ;
The garden here is more convenient .
Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth ,
Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error ?
Faith , I have been a truant in the law ,
And never yet could frame my will to it ;
And therefore frame the law unto my will .
Judge you , my Lord of Warwick , then , between us .
Between two hawks , which flies the higher pitch ;
Between two dogs , which hath the deeper mouth ;
Between two blades , which bears the better temper ;
Between two horses , which doth bear him best ;
Between two girls , which hath the merriest eye ;
I have perhaps , some shallow spirit of judgment ;
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law ,
Good faith , I am no wiser than a daw .
Tut , tut ! here is a mannerly forbearance :
The truth appears so naked on my side ,
That any purblind eye may find it out .
And on my side it is so well apparell'd ,
So clear , so shining , and so evident ,
That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye .
Since you are tongue-tied , and so loath to speak ,
In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts :
Let him that is a true-born gentleman ,
And stands upon the honour of his birth ,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth ,
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me .
Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer ,
But dare maintain the party of the truth ,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me .
I love no colours , and , without all colour 
Of base insinuating flattery 
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet .
I pluck this red rose with young Somerset :
And say withal I think he held the right .
Stay , lords and gentlemen , and pluck no more ,
Till you conclude that he , upon whose side 
The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree ,
Shall yield the other in the right opinion .
Good Master Vernon , it is well objected :
If I have fewest I subscribe in silence .
And I .
Then for the truth and plainness of the case ,
I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here ,
Giving my verdict on the white rose side .
Prick not your finger as you pluck it off ,
Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red ,
And fall on my side so , against your will .
If I , my lord , for my opinion bleed ,
Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt ,
And keep me on the side where still I am .
Well , well , come on : who else ?
Unless my study and my books be false ,
The argument you held was wrong in you ,
In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too .
Now , Somerset , where is your argument ?
Here , in my scabbard ; meditating that 
Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red .
Meantime , your cheeks do counterfeit our roses ;
For pale they look with fear , as witnessing 
The truth on our side .
No , Plantagenet ,
'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks 
Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses ,
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error .
Hath not thy rose a canker , Somerset ?
Hath not thy rose a thorn , Plantagenet ?
Ay , sharp and piercing , to maintain his truth ;
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood .
Well , I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses ,
That shall maintain what I have said is true ,
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen .
Now , by this maiden blossom in my hand ,
I scorn thee and thy faction , peevish boy .
Turn not thy scorns this way , Plantagenet .
Proud Pole , I will , and scorn both him and thee .
I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat .
Away , away ! good William de la Pole :
We grace the yeoman by conversing with him .
Now , by God's will , thou wrong'st him , Somerset :
His grandfather was Lionel , Duke of Clarence ,
Third son to the third Edward , King of England .
Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root ?
He bears him on the place's privilege ,
Or durst not , for his craven heart , say thus .
By Him that made me , I'll maintain my words 
On any plot of ground in Christendom .
Was not thy father , Richard Earl of Cambridge ,
For treason executed in our late king's days ?
And , by his treason stand'st not thou attainted ,
Corrupted , and exempt from ancient gentry ?
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ;
And , till thou be restor'd , thou art a yeoman .
My father was attached , not attained ;
Condemn'd to die for treason , but no traitor ;
And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset ,
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will .
For your partaker Pole and you yourself ,
I'll note you in my book of memory ,
To scourge you for this apprehension :
Look to it well and say you are well warn'd .
Ah , thou shalt find us ready for thee still ,
And know us by these colours for thy foes ;
For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear .
And , by my soul , this pale and angry rose ,
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate ,
Will I for ever and my faction wear ,
Until it wither with me to my grave 
Or flourish to the height of my degree .
Go forward , and be chok'd with thy ambition :
And so farewell until I meet thee next .
Have with thee , Pole . Farewell , ambitious Richard .
How I am brav'd and must perforce endure it !
This blot that they object against your house 
Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament ,
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester ;
And if thou be not then created York ,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick .
Meantime in signal of my love to thee ,
Against proud Somerset and William Pole ,
Will I upon thy party wear this rose .
And here I prophesy : this brawl to-day ,
Grown to this faction in the Temple garden ,
Shall send between the red rose and the white 
A thousand souls to death and deadly night .
Good Master Vernon , I am bound to you ,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower .
In your behalf still would I wear the same .
And so will I .
Thanks , gentle sir .
Come , let us four to dinner : I dare say 
This quarrel will drink blood another day .
Kind keepers of my weak decaying age ,
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself .
Even like a man new haled from the rack ,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment ;
And these gray locks , the pursuivants of death ,
Nestor-like aged , in an age of care ,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer .
These eyes , like lamps whose wasting oil is spent ,
Wax dim , as drawing to their exigent ;
Weak shoulders , overborne with burdening grief ,
And pithless arms , like to a wither'd vine 
That droops his sapless branches to the ground :
Yet are these feet , whose strengthless stay is numb ,
Unable to support this lump of clay ,
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave ,
As witting I no other comfort have .
But tell me , keeper , will my nephew come ?
Richard Plantagenet , my lord , will come :
We sent unto the Temple , unto his chamber .
And answer was return'd that he will come .
Enough : my soul shall then be satisfied .
Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine .
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign ,
Before whose glory I was great in arms ,
This loathsome sequestration have I had ;
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd ,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance .
But now the arbitrator of despairs ,
Just death , kind umpire of men's miseries ,
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence :
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd ,
That so he might recover what was lost .
My lord , your loving nephew now is come .
Richard Plantagenet , my friend , is he come ?
Ay , noble uncle , thus ignobly us'd ,
Your nephew , late despised Richard , comes .
Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck ,
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp :
O ! tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks ,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss .
And now declare , sweet stem from York's great stock ,
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd ?
First , lean thine aged back against mine arm ;
And in that ease , I'll tell thee my disease .
This day , in argument upon a case ,
Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me ;
Among which terms he us'd a lavish tongue 
And did upbraid me with my father's death :
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue ,
Else with the like I had requited him .
Therefore , good uncle , for my father's sake ,
In honour of a true Plantagenet ,
And for alliance sake , declare the cause 
My father , Earl of Cambridge , lost his head .
That cause , fair nephew , that imprison'd me ,
And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth 
Within a loathsome dungeon , there to pine ,
Was cursed instrument of his decease .
Discover more at large what cause that was ,
For I am ignorant and cannot guess .
I will , if that my fading breath permit ,
And death approach not ere my tale be done .
Henry the Fourth , grandfather to this king ,
Depos'd his nephew Richard , Edward's son ,
The first-begotten , and the lawful heir 
Of Edward king , the third of that descent :
During whose reign the Percies of the North ,
Finding his usurpation most unjust ,
Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne .
The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this 
Was , for that young King Richard thus remov'd ,
Leaving no heir begotten of his body 
I was the next by birth and parentage ;
For by my mother I derived am 
From Lionel Duke of Clarence , the third son 
To King Edward the Third ; whereas he 
From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree ,
Being but fourth of that heroic line .
But mark : as , in this haughty great attempt 
They laboured to plant the rightful heir ,
I lost my liberty , and they their lives .
Long after this , when Henry the Fifth 
Succeeding his father Bolingbroke , did reign ,
Thy father , Earl of Cambridge , then deriv'd 
From famous Edmund Langley , Duke of York ,
Marrying my sister that thy mother was ,
Again in pity of my hard distress 
Levied an army , weening to redeem 
And have install'd me in the diadem ;
But , as the rest , so fell that noble earl ,
And was beheaded . Thus the Mortimers ,
In whom the title rested , were suppress'd .
Of which , my lord , your honour is the last .
True ; and thou seest that I no issue have ,
And that my fainting words do warrant death :
Thou art my heir ; the rest I wish thee gather :
But yet be wary in thy studious care .
Thy grave admonishments prevail with me .
But yet methinks my father's execution 
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny .
With silence , nephew , be thou politic :
Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster ,
And like a mountain , not to be remov'd .
But now thy uncle is removing hence ,
As princes do their courts , when they are cloy'd 
With long continuance in a settled place .
O uncle ! would some part of my young years 
Might but redeem the passage of your age .
Thou dost then wrong me ,as the slaughterer doth ,
Which giveth many wounds when one will kill .
Mourn not , except thou sorrow for my good ;
Only give order for my funeral :
And so farewell ; and fair be all thy hopes ,
And prosperous be thy life in peace and war !
And peace , no war , befall thy parting soul !
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage ,
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days .
Well , I will lock his counsel in my breast ;
And what I do imagine let that rest .
Keepers , convey him hence ; and I myself 
Will see his burial better than his life .
Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer ,
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort :
And , for those wrongs , those bitter injuries ,
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house ,
I doubt not but with honour to redress ;
And therefore haste I to the parliament ,
Either to be restored to my blood ,
Or make my ill the advantage of my good .
Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines ,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd ,
Humphrey of Gloucester ? If thou canst accuse ,
Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge ,
Do it without invention , suddenly ;
As I , with sudden and extemporal speech 
Purpose to answer what thou canst object .
Presumptuous priest ! this place commands my patience 
Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me .
Think not , although in writing I preferr'd 
The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes ,
That therefore I have forg'd , or am not able 
Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen :
No , prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness ,
Thy lewd , pestiferous , and dissentious pranks ,
As very infants prattle of thy pride .
Thou art a most pernicious usurer ,
Froward by nature , enemy to peace ;
Lascivious , wanton , more than well beseems 
A man of thy profession and degree ;
And for thy treachery , what's more manifest ?
In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life 
As well at London Bridge as at the Tower .
Beside , I fear me , if thy thoughts were sifted ,
The king , thy sov'reign , is not quite exempt 
From envious malice of thy swelling heart .
Gloucester , I do defy thee . Lords , vouchsafe 
To give me hearing what I shall reply .
If I were covetous , ambitious , or perverse ,
As he will have me , how am I so poor ?
Or how haps it I seek not to advance 
Or raise myself , but keep my wonted calling ?
And for dissension , who preferreth peace 
More than I do , except I be provok'd ?
No , my good lords , it is not that offends ;
It is not that that hath incens'd the duke :
It is , because no one should sway but he ;
No one but he should be about the king ;
And that engenders thunder in his breast ,
And makes him roar these accusations forth .
But he shall know I am as good 
As good !
Thou bastard of my grandfather !
Ay , lordly sir ; for what are you , I pray ,
But one imperious in another's throne ?
Am I not protector , saucy priest ?
And am not I a prelate of the church ?
Yes , as an outlaw in a castle keeps ,
And useth it to patronage his theft .
Unreverent Gloucester !
Thou art reverent ,
Touching thy spiritual function , not thy life .
Rome shall remedy this .
Roam thither then .
My lord , it were your duty to forbear .
Ay , see the bishop be not overborne .
Methinks my lord should be religious ,
And know the office that belongs to such .
Methinks his lordship should be humbler ;
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead .
Yes , when his holy state is touch'd so near .
State holy , or unhallow'd , what of that ?
Is not his Grace protector to the king ?
Plantagenet , I see , must hold his tongue ,
Lest it be said , 'Speak , sirrah , when you should ;
Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ?' 
Else would I have a fling at Winchester .
Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester ,
The special watchmen of our English weal ,
I would prevail , if prayers might prevail ,
To join your hearts in love and amity .
O ! what a scandal is it to our crown ,
That two such noble peers as ye should jar .
Believe me , lords , my tender years can tell 
Civil dissension is a viperous worm ,
That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth .
What tumult's this ?
An uproar , I dare warrant ,
Begun through malice of the bishop's men .
O , my good lords , and virtuous Henry ,
Pity the city of London , pity us !
The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men ,
Forbidden late to carry any weapon ,
Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones ,
And banding themselves in contrary parts 
Do pelt so fast at one another's pate ,
That many have their giddy brains knock'd out :
Our windows are broke down in every street ,
And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops .
We charge you , on allegiance to ourself ,
To hold your slaught'ring hands , and keep the peace .
Pray , uncle Gloucester , mitigate this strife .
Nay , if we be forbidden stones , we'll fall to it with our teeth .
Do what ye dare , we are as resolute .
You of my household , leave this peevish broil ,
And set this unaccustom'd fight aside .
My lord , we know your Grace to be a man 
Just and upright , and , for your royal birth ,
Inferior to none but to his majesty ;
And ere that we will suffer such a prince ,
So kind a father of the commonweal ,
To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate ,
We and our wives and children all will fight ,
And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes .
Ay , and the very parings of our nails 
Shall pitch a field when we are dead .
Stay , stay , I say !
And , if you love me , as you say you do ,
Let me persuade you to forbear a while .
O ! how this discord doth afflict my soul !
Can you , my Lord of Winchester , behold 
My sighs and tears and will not once relent ?
Who should be pitiful if you be not ?
Or who should study to prefer a peace 
If holy churchmen take delight in broils ?
Yield , my Lord Protector ; yield , Winchester ;
Except you mean with obstinate repulse 
To slay your sov'reign and destroy the realm .
You see what mischief and what murder too 
Hath been enacted through your enmity :
Then be at peace , except ye thirst for blood .
He shall submit or I will never yield .
Compassion on the king commands me stoop ;
Or I would see his heart out ere the priest 
Should ever get that privilege of me .
Behold , my Lord of Winchester , the duke 
Hath banish'd moody discontented fury ,
As by his smoothed brows it doth appear :
Why look you still so stern and tragical ?
Here , Winchester , I offer thee my hand .
Fie , uncle Beaufort ! I have heard you preach ,
That malice was a great and grievous sin ;
And will not you maintain the thing you teach ,
But prove a chief offender in the same ?
Sweet king ! the bishop hath a kindly gird .
For shame , my Lord of Winchester , relent !
What ! shall a child instruct you what to do ?
Well , Duke of Gloucester , I will yield to thee ;
Love for thy love and hand for hand I give .
Ay ; but I fear me , with a hollow heart .
See here , my friends and loving countrymen ,
This token serveth for a flag of truce ,
Betwixt ourselves and all our followers .
So help me God , as I dissemble not !
So help me God , as I intend it not !
O loving uncle , kind Duke of Gloucester ,
How joyful am I made by this contract !
Away , my masters ! trouble us no more ;
But join in friendship , as your lords have done .
Content : I'll to the surgeon's .
And so will I .
And I will see what physic the tavern affords .
Accept this scroll , most gracious sovereign ,
Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet 
We do exhibit to your majesty .
Well urg'd , my Lord of Warwick : for , sweet prince ,
An if your Grace mark every circumstance ,
You have great reason to do Richard right ;
Especially for those occasions 
At Eltham-place I told your majesty .
And those occasions , uncle , were of force :
Therefore , my loving lords , our pleasure is 
That Richard be restored to his blood .
Let Richard be restored to his blood ;
So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd .
As will the rest , so willeth Winchester .
If Richard will be true , not that alone ,
But all the whole inheritance I give 
That doth belong unto the house of York ,
From whence you spring by lineal descent .
Thy humble servant vows obedience ,
And humble service till the point of death .
Stoop then and set your knee against my foot ;
And , in reguerdon of that duty done ,
I girt thee with the valiant sword of York :
Rise , Richard , like a true Plantagenet ,
And rise created princely Duke of York .
And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall !
And as my duty springs , so perish they 
That grudge one thought against your majesty !
Welcome , high prince , the mighty Duke of York !
Perish , base prince , ignoble Duke of York !
Now , will it best avail your majesty 
To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France .
The presence of a king engenders love 
Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends ,
As it disanimates his enemies .
When Gloucester says the word , King Henry goes ;
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes .
Your ships already are in readiness .
Ay , we may march in England or in France ,
Not seeing what is likely to ensue .
This late dissension grown betwixt the peers 
Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love ,
And will at last break out into a flame :
As fester'd members rot but by degree ,
Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away ,
So will this base and envious discord breed .
And now I fear that fatal prophecy 
Which in the time of Henry , nam'd the Fifth ,
Was in the mouth of every sucking babe ;
That Henry born at Monmouth should win all ;
And Henry born at Windsor should lose all :
Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish 
His days may finish ere that hapless time .
These are the city gates , the gates of Roan ,
Through which our policy must make a breach :
Take heed , be wary how you place your words ;
Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men 
That come to gather money for their corn .
If we have entrance ,as I hope we shall ,
And that we find the slothful watch but weak ,
I'll by a sign give notice to our friends ,
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them .
Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city ,
And we be lords and rulers over Roan ;
Therefore we'll knock .
Qui est l ?
Paisans , pauvres gens de France :
Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn .
Enter , go in ; the market-bell is rung .
Now , Roan , I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground .
Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem !
And once again we'll sleep secure in Roan .
Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants ;
Now she is there how will she specify 
Where is the best and safest passage in ?
By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower ;
Which , once discern'd , shows that her meaning is ,
No way to that , for weakness , which she enter'd .
Behold ! this is the happy wedding torch 
That joineth Roan unto her countrymen ,
But burning fatal to the Talbotites !
See , noble Charles , the beacon of our friend ,
The burning torch in yonder turret stands .
Now shine it like a comet of revenge ,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes !
Defer no time , delays have dangerous ends ;
Enter , and cry 'The Dauphin !' presently ,
And then do execution on the watch .
France , thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears ,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery .
Pucelle , that witch , that damned sorceress ,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares ,
That hardly we escap'd the pride of France .
Good morrow , gallants ! Want ye corn for bread ?
I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast 
Before he'll buy again at such a rate .
'Twas full of darnel ; do you like the taste ?
Scoff on , vile fiend and shameless courtezan !
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own ,
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn .
Your Grace may starve perhaps , before that time .
O ! let no words , but deeds , revenge this treason !
What will you do , good grey-beard ? break a lance ,
And run a tilt at death within a chair ?
Foul fiend of France , and hag of all despite ,
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours !
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age 
And twit with cowardice a man half dead ?
Damsel , I'll have a bout with you again ,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame .
Are you so hot , sir ? Yet , Pucelle , hold thy peace ;
If Talbot do but thunder , rain will follow .
God speed the parliament ! who shall be the speaker ?
Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field ?
Belike your lordship takes us then for fools ,
To try if that our own be ours or no .
I speak not to that railing Hecate ,
But unto thee , Alen on , and the rest ;
Will ye , like soldiers , come and fight it out ?
Signior , no .
Signior , hang ! base muleters of France !
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls ,
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen .
Away , captains ! let's get us from the walls ;
For Talbot means no-goodness , by his looks .
God be wi' you , my lord ! we came but to tell you 
That we are here .
And there will we be too , ere it be long ,
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame !
Vow , Burgundy , by honour of thy house ,
Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France ,
Either to get the town again , or die ;
And I , as sure as English Henry lives ,
And as his father here was conqueror ,
As sure as in this late-betrayed town 
Great C ur-de-lion's heart was buried ,
So sure I swear to get the town or die .
My vows are equal partners with thy vows .
But , ere we go , regard this dying prince ,
The valiant Duke of Bedford . Come , my lord ,
We will bestow you in some better place ,
Fitter for sickness and for crazy age .
Lord Talbot , do not so dishonour me :
Here will I sit before the walls of Roan ,
And will be partner of your weal or woe .
Courageous Bedford , let us now persuade you .
Not to be gone from hence ; for once I read ,
That stout Pendragon in his litter , sick ,
Came to the field and vanquished his foes :
Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts ,
Because I ever found them as myself .
Undaunted spirit in a dying breast !
Then be it so : heavens keep old Bedford safe !
And now no more ado , brave Burgundy ,
But gather we our forces out of hand ,
And set upon our boasting enemy .
Whither away , Sir John Fastolfe , in such haste ?
Whither away ! to save myself by flight :
We are like to have the overthrow again .
What ! will you fly , and leave Lord Talbot ?
All the Talbots in the world , to save my life .
Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow thee !
Now , quiet soul , depart when Heaven please ,
For I have seen our enemies' overthrow .
What is the trust or strength of foolish man ?
They , that of late were daring with their scoffs 
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves .
Lost , and recover'd in a day again !
This is a double honour , Burgundy :
Yet heavens have glory for this victory !
Warlike and martial Talbot , Burgundy 
Enshrines thee in his heart , and there erects 
Thy noble deeds as valour's monument .
Thanks , gentle duke . But where is Pucelle now ?
I think her old familiar is asleep .
Now where's the Bastard's braves , and Charles his gleeks ?
What ! all amort ? Roan hangs her head for grief ,
That such a valiant company are fled .
Now will we take some order in the town ,
Placing therein some expert officers ,
And then depart to Paris to the king ;
For there young Henry with his nobles lie .
What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy .
But yet , before we go , let's not forget 
The noble Duke of Bedford late deceas'd ,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roan :
A braver soldier never couched lance ,
A gentler heart did never sway in court ;
But kings and mightiest potentates must die ,
For that's the end of human misery .
Dismay not , princes , at this accident ,
Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered :
Care is no cure , but rather corrosive ,
For things that are not to be remedied .
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while ,
And like a peacock sweep along his tail ;
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train ,
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd .
We have been guided by thee hitherto ,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence :
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust .
Search out thy wit for secret policies ,
And we will make thee famous through the world .
We'll set thy statue in some holy place 
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint :
Employ thee , then , sweet virgin , for our good .
Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan devise :
By fair persuasions , mix'd with sugar'd words ,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy 
To leave the Talbot and to follow us .
Ay , marry , sweeting , if we could do that ,
France were no place for Henry's warriors ;
Nor should that nation boast it so with us ,
But be extirped from our provinces .
For ever should they be expuls'd from France ,
And not have title of an earldom here .
Your honours shall perceive how I will work 
To bring this matter to the wished end .
Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive 
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward .
There goes the Talbot , with his colours spread ,
And all the troops of English after him .
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his :
Fortune in favour makes him lag behind .
Summon a parley ; we will talk with him .
A parley with the Duke of Burgundy !
Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ?
The princely Charles of France , thy countryman .
What sayst thou , Charles ? for I am marching hence .
Speak , Pucelle , and enchant him with thy words .
Brave Burgundy , undoubted hope of France !
Stay , let thy humble handmaid speak to thee .
Speak on ; but be not over-tedious .
Look on thy country , look on fertile France ,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd 
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe .
As looks the mother on her lowly babe 
When death doth close his tender dying eyes ,
See , see the pining malady of France ;
Behold the wounds , the most unnatural wounds ,
Which thou thyself hast giv'n her woeful breast .
O ! turn thy edged sword another way ;
Strike those that hurt , and hurt not those that help .
One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom ,
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore :
Return thee therefore , with a flood of tears ,
And wash away thy country's stained spots .
Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words ,
Or nature makes me suddenly relent .
Besides , all French and France exclaims on thee ,
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny .
Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation 
That will not trust thee but for profit's sake ?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France ,
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill ,
Who then but English Henry will be lord ,
And thou be thrust out like a fugitive ?
Call we to mind , and mark but this for proof ,
Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe ,
And was he not in England prisoner ?
But when they heard he was thine enemy ,
They set him free , without his ransom paid ,
In spite of Burgundy and all his friends .
See then , thou fight'st against thy countrymen !
And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen .
Come , come , return ; return thou wand'ring lord ;
Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms .
I am vanquished ; these haughty words of hers 
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot ,
And made me almost yield upon my knees .
Forgive me , country , and sweet countrymen !
And , lords , accept this hearty kind embrace :
My forces and my power of men are yours .
So , farewell , Talbot ; I'll no longer trust thee .
Done like a Frenchman : turn , and turn again !
Welcome , brave duke ! thy friendship makes us fresh .
And doth beget new courage in our breasts .
Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this ,
And doth deserve a coronet of gold .
Now let us on , my lords , and join our powers :
And seek how we may prejudice the foe .
My gracious prince , and honourable peers ,
Hearing of your arrival in this realm ,
I have a while giv'n truce unto my wars ,
To do my duty to my sovereign :
In sign whereof , this arm ,that hath reclaim'd 
To your obedience fifty fortresses ,
Twelve cities , and seven walled towns of strength ,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem ,
Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet ,
And with submissive loyalty of heart ,
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got ,
First to my God , and next unto your Grace .
Is this the Lord Talbot , uncle Gloucester ,
That hath so long been resident in France ?
Yes , if it please your majesty , my liege .
Welcome , brave captain and victorious lord !
When I was young ,as yet I am not old ,
I do remember how my father said ,
A stouter champion never handled sword .
Long since we were resolved of your truth ,
Your faithful service and your toil in war ;
Yet never have you tasted our reward ,
Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks ,
Because till now we never saw your face :
Therefore , stand up ; and for these good deserts ,
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury ;
And in our coronation take your place .
Now , sir , to you , that were so hot at sea ,
Disgracing of these colours that I wear 
In honour of my noble Lord of York ,
Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st ?
Yes , sir : as well as you dare patronage 
The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
Against my lord the Duke of Somerset .
Sirrah , thy lord I honour as he is .
Why , what is he ? as good a man as York .
Hark ye ; not so : in witness , take ye that .
Villain , thou know'st the law of arms is such 
That , whoso draws a sword , 'tis present death ,
Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood .
But I'll unto his majesty , and crave 
I may have liberty to venge this wrong ;
When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost .
Well , miscreant , I'll be there as soon as you ;
And , after , meet you sooner than you would .
Lord bishop , set the crown upon his head .
God save King Henry , of that name the sixth .
Now , Governor of Paris , take your oath ,
That you elect no other king but him ,
Esteem none friends but such as are his friends ,
And none your foes but such as shall pretend 
Malicious practices against his state :
This shall ye do , so help you righteous God !
My gracious sovereign ; as I rode from Calais ,
To haste unto your coronation ,
A letter was deliver'd to my hands ,
Writ to your Grace from the Duke of Burgundy .
Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee !
I vow'd , base knight , when I did meet thee next ,
To tear the garter from thy craven's leg ;
Which I have done , because unworthily 
Thou wast installed in that high degree .
Pardon me , princely Henry , and the rest :
This dastard , at the battle of Patay ,
When but in all I was six thousand strong ,
And that the French were almost ten to one ,
Before we met or that a stroke was given ,
Like to a trusty squire did run away :
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men ;
Myself , and divers gentlemen beside ,
Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners .
Then judge , great lords , if I have done amiss ;
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear 
This ornament of knighthood , yea , or no ?
To say the truth , this fact was infamous 
And ill beseeming any common man ,
Much more a knight , a captain and a leader .
When first this order was ordain'd , my lords ,
Knights of the garter were of noble birth ,
Valiant and virtuous , full of haughty courage ,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars ;
Not fearing death , nor shrinking for distress ,
But always resolute in most extremes .
He then that is not furnish'd in this sort 
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight ,
Profaning this most honourable order ;
And should if I were worthy to be judge 
Be quite degraded , like a hedge-born swain 
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood .
Stain to thy countrymen ! thou hear'st thy doom .
Be packing therefore , thou that wast a knight ;
Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death .
And now , my Lord Protector , view the letter 
Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy .
What means his Grace , that he hath chang'd his style ?
No more , but plain and bluntly , To the King !
Hath he forgot he is his sovereign ?
Or doth this churlish superscription 
Pretend some alteration in good will ?
What's here ? I have , upon especial cause ,
Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack ,
Together with the pitiful complaints 
Of such as your oppression feeds upon ,
Forsaken your pernicious faction ,
And join'd with Charles , the rightful King of France .
O , monstrous treachery ! Can this be so ,
That in alliance , amity , and oaths ,
There should be found such false dissembling guile ?
What ! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt ?
He doth , my lord , and is become your foe .
Is that the worst this letter doth contain ?
It is the worst , and all , my lord , he writes .
Why then , Lord Talbot there shall talk with him ,
And give him chastisement for this abuse .
How say you , my lord ? are you not content ?
Content , my liege ! Yes : but that I am prevented ,
I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd .
Then gather strength , and march unto him straight :
Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason ,
And what offence it is to flout his friends .
I go , my lord ; in heart desiring still 
You may behold confusion of your foes .
Grant me the combat , gracious sovereign !
And me , my lord ; grant me the combat too !
This is my servant : hear him , noble prince !
And this is mine : sweet Henry , favour him !
Be patient , lords ; and give them leave to speak .
Say , gentlemen , what makes you thus exclaim ?
And wherefore crave you combat ? or with whom ?
With him , my lord ; for he hath done me wrong .
And I with him ; for he hath done me wrong .
What is that wrong whereof you both complain ?
First let me know , and then I'll answer you .
Crossing the sea from England into France ,
This fellow here , with envious carping tongue ,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear ;
Saying , the sanguine colour of the leaves 
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks ,
When stubbornly he did repugn the truth 
About a certain question in the law 
Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him ;
With other vile and ignominious terms :
In confutation of which rude reproach ,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness ,
I crave the benefit of law of arms .
And that is my petition , noble lord :
For though he seem with forged quaint conceit ,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent ,
Yet know , my lord , I was provok'd by him ;
And he first took exceptions at this badge ,
Pronouncing , that the paleness of this flower 
Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart .
Will not this malice , Somerset , be left ?
Your private grudge , my Lord of York , will out ,
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it .
Good Lord ! what madness rules in brain-sick men ,
When , for so slight and frivolous a cause ,
Such factious emulations shall arise !
Good cousins both , of York and Somerset ,
Quiet yourselves , I pray , and be at peace .
Let this dissension first be tried by fight ,
And then your highness shall command a peace .
The quarrel toucheth none but us alone ;
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it , then .
There is my pledge ; accept it , Somerset .
Nay , let it rest where it began at first .
Confirm it so , mine honourable lord .
Confirm it so ! Confounded be your strife !
And perish ye , with your audacious prate !
Presumptuous vassals ! are you not asham'd ,
With this immodest clamorous outrage 
To trouble and disturb the king and us ?
And you , my lords , methinks you do not well 
To bear with their perverse objections ;
Much less to take occasion from their mouths 
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves :
Let me persuade you take a better course .
It grieves his highness : good my lords , be friends .
Come hither , you that would be combatants .
Henceforth I charge you , as you love our favour ,
Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause .
And you , my lords , remember where we are ;
In France , amongst a fickle wav'ring nation .
If they perceive dissension in our looks ,
And that within ourselves we disagree ,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd 
To wilful disobedience , and rebel !
Beside , what infamy will there arise ,
When foreign princes shall be certified 
That for a toy , a thing of no regard ,
King Henry's peers and chief nobility 
Destroy'd themselves , and lost the realm of France !
O ! think upon the conquest of my father ,
My tender years , and let us not forego 
That for a trifle that was bought with blood !
Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife .
I see no reason , if I wear this rose ,
That any one should therefore be suspicious 
I more incline to Somerset than York :
Both are my kinsmen , and I love them both .
As well they may upbraid me with my crown ,
Because , forsooth , the King of Scots is crown'd .
But your discretions better can persuade 
Than I am able to instruct or teach :
And therefore , as we hither came in peace ,
So let us still continue peace and love .
Cousin of York , we institute your Grace 
To be our regent in these parts of France :
And , good my Lord of Somerset , unite 
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot ;
And like true subjects , sons of your progenitors ,
Go cheerfully together and digest 
Your angry choler on your enemies .
Ourself , my Lord Protector , and the rest ,
After some respite will return to Calais ;
From thence to England ; where I hope ere long 
To be presented by your victories ,
With Charles , Alen on , and that traitorous rout .
My Lord of York , I promise you , the king Prettily , methought , did play the orator .
And so he did ; but yet I like it not ,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset .
Tush ! that was but his fancy , blame him not ;
I dare presume , sweet prince , he thought no harm .
An if I wist he did ,But let it rest ;
Other affairs must now be managed .
Well didst thou , Richard , to suppress thy voice ;
For had the passions of thy heart burst out ,
I fear we should have seen decipher'd there 
More rancorous spite , more furious raging broils ,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd .
But howsoe'er , no simple man that sees 
This jarring discord of nobility ,
This shouldering of each other in the court ,
This factious bandying of their favourites ,
But that it doth presage some ill event .
'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands ;
But more , when envy breeds unkind division :
There comes the ruin , there begins confusion .
Go to the gates of Bourdeaux , trumpeter ;
Summon their general unto the wall .
English John Talbot , captains , calls you forth ,
Servant in arms to Harry King of England ;
And thus he would : Open your city gates ,
Be humble to us , call my sov'reign yours ,
And do him homage as obedient subjects ,
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power ;
But , if you frown upon this proffer'd peace ,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants ,
Lean famine , quartering steel , and climbing fire ;
Who in a moment even with the earth 
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers ,
If you forsake the offer of their love .
Thou ominous and fearful owl of death ,
Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge !
The period of thy tyranny approacheth .
On us thou canst not enter but by death ;
For , I protest , we are well fortified ,
And strong enough to issue out and fight :
If thou retire , the Dauphin , well appointed ,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee :
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd ,
To wall thee from the liberty of flight ;
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress 
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil ,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face .
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament ,
To rive their dangerous artillery 
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot .
Lo ! there thou stand'st , a breathing valiant man ,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit :
This is the latest glory of thy praise ,
That I , thy enemy , 'due thee withal ;
For ere the glass , that now begins to run ,
Finish the process of his sandy hour ,
These eyes , that see thee now well coloured ,
Shall see thee wither'd , bloody , pale , and dead .
Hark ! hark ! the Dauphin's drum , a warning bell ,
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul ;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out .
He fables not ; I hear the enemy :
Out , some light horsemen , and peruse their wings .
O ! negligent and heedless discipline ;
How are we park'd and bounded in a pale ,
A little herd of England's timorous deer ,
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs !
If we be English deer , be then , in blood ;
Not rascal-like , to fall down with a pinch ,
But rather moody-mad and desperate stags ,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel ,
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay :
Sell every man his life as dear as mine ,
And they shall find dear deer of us , my friends .
God and Saint George , Talbot and England's right ,
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight !
Are not the speedy scouts return'd again ,
That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin ?
They are return'd , my lord ; and give it out ,
That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power ,
To fight with Talbot . As he march'd along ,
By your espials were discovered 
Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led ,
Which join'd with him and made their march for Bourdeaux .
A plague upon that villain Somerset ,
That thus delays my promised supply 
Of horsemen that were levied for this siege !
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid ,
And I am louted by a traitor villain ,
And cannot help the noble chevalier .
God comfort him in this necessity !
If he miscarry , farewell wars in France .
Thou princely leader of our English strength ,
Never so needful on the earth of France ,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot ,
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron 
And hemm'd about with grim destruction .
To Bourdeaux , war-like duke ! To Bourdeaux , York !
Else , farewell Talbot , France , and England's honour .
O God ! that Somerset , who in proud heart 
Doth stop my cornets , were in Talbot's place !
So should we save a valiant gentleman 
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward .
Mad ire and wrathful fury , make me weep 
That thus we die , while remiss traitors sleep .
O ! send some succour to the distress'd lord .
He dies , we lose ; I break my war-like word ;
We mourn , France smiles ; we lose , they daily get ;
All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset .
Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul ;
And on his son young John , whom two hours since 
I met in travel toward his war-like father .
This seven years did not Talbot see his son ;
And now they meet where both their lives are done .
Alas ! what joy shall noble Talbot have ,
To bid his young son welcome to his grave ?
Away ! vexation almost stops my breath 
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death .
Lucy , farewell : no more my fortune can ,
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man .
Maine , Blois , Poictiers , and Tours , are won away ,
'Long all of Somerset and his delay .
Thus , while the vulture of sedition 
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders ,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 
The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror ,
That ever living man of memory ,
Henry the Fifth : Whiles they each other cross ,
Lives , honours , lands , and all hurry to loss .
It is too late ; I cannot send them now :
This expedition was by York and Talbot 
Too rashly plotted : all our general force 
Might with a sally of the very town 
Be buckled with : the over-daring Talbot 
Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour 
By this unheedful , desperate , wild adventure :
York set him on to fight and die in shame ,
That , Talbot dead , great York might bear the name .
Here is Sir William Lucy , who with me 
Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid .
How now , Sir William ! whither were you sent ?
Whither , my lord ? from bought and sold Lord Talbot ;
Who , ring'd about with bold adversity ,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset ,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions :
And whiles the honourable captain there 
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs ,
And , in advantage lingering , looks for rescue ,
You , his false hopes , the trust of England's honour ,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation .
Let not your private discord keep away 
The levied succours that should lend him aid ,
While he , renowned noble gentleman ,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds :
Orleans the Bastard , Charles , Burgundy ,
Alen on , Reignier , compass him about ,
And Talbot perisheth by your default .
York set him on ; York should have sent him aid .
And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims ;
Swearing that you withhold his levied host 
Collected for this expedition .
York lies ; he might have sent and had the horse :
I owe him little duty , and less love ;
And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending .
The fraud of England , not the force of France ,
Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot .
Never to England shall he bear his life ,
But dies , betray'd to fortune by your strife .
Come , go ; I will dispatch the horsemen straight :
Within six hours they will be at his aid .
Too late comes rescue : he is ta'en or slain ,
For fly he could not if he would have fled ;
And fly would Talbot never , though he might .
If he be dead , brave Talbot , then adieu !
His fame lives in the world , his shame in you .
O young John Talbot ! I did send for thee 
To tutor thee in stratagems of war ,
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd 
When sapless age , and weak unable limbs 
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair .
But ,O malignant and ill-boding stars !
Now thou art come unto a feast of death ,
A terrible and unavoided danger :
Therefore , dear boy , mount on my swiftest horse ,
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape 
By sudden flight : come , dally not , be gone .
Is my name Talbot ? and am I your son ?
And shall I fly ? O ! if you love my mother ,
Dishonour not her honourable name ,
To make a bastard and a slave of me :
The world will say he is not Talbot's blood 
That basely fled when noble Talbot stood .
Fly , to revenge my death , if I be slain .
He that flies so will ne'er return again .
If we both stay , we both are sure to die .
Then let me stay ; and , father , do you fly :
Your loss is great , so your regard should be ;
My worth unknown , no loss is known in me .
Upon my death the French can little boast ;
In yours they will , in you all hopes are lost .
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ;
But mine it will that no exploit have done :
You fled for vantage everyone will swear ;
But if I bow , they'll say it was for fear .
There is no hope that ever I will stay 
If the first hour I shrink and run away .
Here , on my knee , I beg mortality ,
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy .
Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb ?
Ay , rather than I'll shame my mother's womb .
Upon my blessing I command thee go .
To fight I will , but not to fly the foe .
Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee .
No part of him but will be shame in me .
Thou never hadst renown , nor canst not lose it .
Yes , your renowned name : shall flight abuse it ?
Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain .
You cannot witness for me , being slain .
If death be so apparent , then both fly .
And leave my followers here to fight and die ?
My age was never tainted with such shame .
And shall my youth be guilty of such blame ?
No more can I be sever'd from your side 
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide .
Stay , go , do what you will , the like do I ;
For live I will not if my father die .
Then here I take my leave of thee , fair son ,
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon .
Come , side by side together live and die ,
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly .
Saint George and victory ! fight , soldiers , fight !
The regent hath with Talbot broke his word ,
And left us to the rage of France his sword .
Where is John Talbot ? Pause , and take thy breath :
I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death .
O ! twice my father , twice am I thy son :
The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done ,
Till with thy war-like sword , despite of fate ,
To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date .
When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire ,
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire 
Of bold-fac'd victory . Then leaden age ,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and war-like rage ,
Beat down Alen on , Orleans , Burgundy ,
And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee .
The ireful bastard Orleans ,that drew blood 
From thee , my boy , and had the maidenhood 
Of thy first fight ,I soon encountered 
And , interchanging blows , I quickly shed 
Some of his bastard blood ; and , in disgrace ,
Bespoke him thus , 'Contaminated , base ,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine ,
Mean and right poor , for that pure blood of mine 
Which thou didst force from Talbot , my brave boy :' 
Here , purposing the Bastard to destroy ,
Came in strong rescue . Speak , thy father's care ,
Art thou not weary , John ? How dost thou fare ?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle , boy , and fly ,
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry ?
Fly , to revenge my death when I am dead ;
The help of one stands me in little stead .
O ! too much folly is it , well I wot ,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat .
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage ,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age :
By me they nothing gain an if I stay ;
'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day .
In thee thy mother dies , our household's name ,
My death's revenge , thy youth , and England's fame .
All these and more we hazard by thy stay ;
All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away .
The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart ;
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart .
On that advantage , bought with such a shame ,
To save a paltry life and slay bright fame ,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly ,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die !
And like me to the peasant boys of France ,
To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance !
Surely , by all the glory you have won ,
An if I fly , I am not Talbot's son :
Then talk no more of flight , it is no boot ;
If son to Talbot , die at Talbot's foot .
Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete ,
Thou Icarus . Thy life to me is sweet :
If thou wilt fight , fight by thy father's side ,
And , commendable prov'd , let's die in pride .
Where is my other life ?mine own is gone ;
O ! where's young Talbot ? where is valiant John ?
Triumphant death , smear'd with captivity ,
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee .
When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee ,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me ,
And like a hungry lion did commence 
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience ;
But when my angry guardant stood alone ,
Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none ,
Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart 
Suddenly made him from my side to start 
Into the clust'ring battle of the French ;
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
His overmounting spirit ; and there died 
My Icarus , my blossom , in his pride .
O , my dear lord ! lo , where your son is borne !
Thou antick , death , which laugh'st us here to scorn ,
Anon , from thy insulting tyranny ,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity ,
Two Talbots , winged through the lither sky ,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality .
O ! thou , whose wounds become hard-favour'd death ,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath ;
Brave death by speaking whe'r he will or no ;
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe .
Poor boy ! he smiles , methinks , as who should say ,
Had death been French , then death had died to-day .
Come , come , and lay him in his father's arms :
My spirit can no longer bear these harms .
Soldiers , adieu ! I have what I would have ,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave .
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in 
We should have found a bloody day of this .
How the young whelp of Talbot's , raging-wood ,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !
Once I encounter'd him , and thus I said :
'Thou maiden youth , be vanquish'd by a maid :' 
But with a proud majestical high scorn ,
He answer'd thus : 'Young Talbot was not born 
To be the pillage of a giglot wench .' 
So , rushing in the bowels of the French ,
He left me proudly , as unworthy fight .
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight ;
See , where he lies inhearsed in the arms 
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms .
Hew them to pieces , hack their bones asunder ,
Whose life was England's glory , Gallia's wonder .
O , no ! forbear ; for that which we have fled 
During the life , let us not wrong it dead .
Herald , conduct me to the Dauphin's tent ,
To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day .
On what submissive message art thou sent ?
Submission , Dauphin ! 'tis a mere French word ;
We English warriors wot not what it means .
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en ,
And to survey the bodies of the dead .
For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our prison is .
But tell me whom thou seek'st .
Where is the great Alcides of the field ,
Valiant Lord Talbot , Earl of Shrewsbury ?
Created , for his rare success in arms ,
Great Earl of Washford , Waterford , and Valence ;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield ,
Lord Strange of Blackmere , Lord Vordun of Alton ,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield , Lord Furnival of Sheffield ,
The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge ;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George ,
Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece ;
Great mareschal to Henry the Sixth 
Of all his wars within the realm of France ?
Here is a silly stately style indeed !
The Turk , that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath ,
Writes not so tedious a style as this .
Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles ,
Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet .
Is Talbot slain , the Frenchmen's only scourge ,
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ?
O ! were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd ,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces !
O ! that I could but call these dead to life !
It were enough to fright the realm of France .
Were but his picture left among you here 
It would amaze the proudest of you all .
Give me their bodies , that I may bear them hence ,
And give them burial as beseems their worth .
I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost ,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit .
For God's sake , let him have 'em ; to keep them here 
They would but stink and putrefy the air .
Go , take their bodies hence .
I'll bear them hence :
But from their ashes shall be rear'd 
A ph nix that shall make all France afeard .
So we be rid of them , do with 'em what thou wilt .
And now to Paris , in this conquering vein :
All will be ours now bloody Talbot's slain .
Have you perus'd the letters from the pope ,
The emperor , and the Earl of Armagnac ?
I have , my lord ; and their intent is this :
They humbly sue unto your excellence 
To have a godly peace concluded of 
Between the realms of England and of France .
How doth your Grace affect their motion ?
Well , my good lord ; and as the only means 
To stop effusion of our Christian blood ,
And stablish quietness on every side .
Ay , marry , uncle ; for I always thought 
It was both impious and unnatural 
That such immanity and bloody strife 
Should reign among professors of one faith .
Beside , my lord , the sooner to effect 
And surer bind this knot of amity ,
The Earl of Armagnac , near knit to Charles ,
A man of great authority in France ,
Proffers his only daughter to your Grace 
In marriage , with a large and sumptuous dowry .
Marriage , uncle ! alas ! my years are young ,
And fitter is my study and my books 
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour .
Yet call the ambassadors ; and , as you please ,
So let them have their answers every one :
I shall be well content with any choice 
Tends to God's glory and my country's weal .
What ! is my Lord of Winchester install'd ,
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree ?
Then , I perceive that will be verified 
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy ,
'If once he come to be a cardinal ,
He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown .' 
My lords ambassadors , your several suits 
Have been consider'd , and debated on .
Your purpose is both good and reasonable ;
And therefore are we certainly resolv'd 
To draw conditions of a friendly peace ;
Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean 
Shall be transported presently to France .
And for the proffer of my lord your master ,
I have inform'd his highness so at large ,
As ,liking of the lady's virtuous gifts ,
Her beauty , and the value of her dower ,
He doth intend she shall be England's queen .
In argument and proof of which contract ,
Bear her this jewel , pledge of my affection .
And so , my lord protector , see them guarded ,
And safely brought to Dover ; where inshipp'd 
Commit them to the fortune of the sea .
Stay , my lord legate : you shall first receive 
The sum of money which I promised 
Should be deliver'd to his holiness 
For clothing me in these grave ornaments .
I will attend upon your lordship's leisure .
Now Winchester will not submit , I trow ,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer .
Humphrey of Gloucester , thou shalt well perceive 
That neither in birth or for authority 
The bishop will be overborne by thee :
I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee ,
Or sack this country with a mutiny .
These news , my lord , may cheer our drooping spirits ;
'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt ,
And turn again unto the war-like French .
Then , march to Paris , royal Charles of France ,
And keep not back your powers in dalliance .
Peace be amongst them if they turn to us ;
Else , ruin combat with their palaces !
Success unto our valiant general ,
And happiness to his accomplices !
What tidings send our scouts ? I prithee speak .
The English army , that divided was 
Into two parties , is now conjoin'd in one ,
And means to give you battle presently .
Somewhat too sudden , sirs , the warning is :
But we will presently provide for them .
I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there :
Now he is gone , my lord , you need not fear .
Of all base passions , fear is most accurs'd .
Command the conquest , Charles , it shall be thine ;
Let Henry fret and all the world repine .
Then on , my lords ; and France be fortunate !
The regent conquers and the Frenchmen fly .
Now help , ye charming spells and periapts ;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me 
And give me signs of future accidents :
You speedy helpers , that are substitutes 
Under the lordly monarch of the north ,
Appear , and aid me in this enterprise !
This speedy and quick appearance argues proof 
Of your accustom'd diligence to me .
Now , ye familiar spirits , that are cull'd 
Out of the powerful regions under earth ,
Help me this once , that France may get the field .
O ! hold me not with silence over-long .
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood ,
I'll lop a member off and give it you ,
In earnest of a further benefit ,
So you do condescend to help me now .
No hope to have redress ? My body shall 
Pay recompense , if you will grant my suit .
Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice 
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance ?
Then take my soul ; my body , soul , and all ,
Before that England give the French the foil .
See ! they forsake me . Now the time is come ,
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest ,
And let her head fall into England's lap .
My ancient incantations are too weak ,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with :
Now , France , thy glory droopeth to the dust .
Damsel of France , I think I have you fast :
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms ,
And try if they can gain your liberty .
A goodly prize , fit for the devil's grace !
See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows ,
As if with Circe she would change my shape .
Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be .
O ! Charles the Dauphin is a proper man ;
No shape but his can please your dainty eye .
A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee !
And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd 
By bloody hands , in sleeping on your beds !
Fell banning hag , enchantress , hold thy tongue !
I prithee , give me leave to curse a while .
Curse , miscreant , when thou comest to the stake .
Be what thou wilt , thou art my prisoner .
O fairest beauty ! do not fear nor fly ,
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands .
I kiss these fingers for eternal peace ,
And lay them gently on thy tender side .
What art thou ? say , that I may honour thee .
Margaret my name , and daughter to a king ,
The King of Naples , whosoe'er thou art .
An earl I am , and Suffolk am I call'd .
Be not offended , nature's miracle ,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me :
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save ,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings .
Yet if this servile usage once offend ,
Go and be free again , as Suffolk's friend .
O stay ! I have no power to let her pass ;
My hand would free her , but my heart says no .
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams ,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam ,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes .
Fain would I woo her , yet I dare not speak :
I'll call for pen and ink and write my mind .
Fie , De la Pole ! disable not thyself ;
Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy prisoner ?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight ?
Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such 
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough .
Say , Earl of Suffolk ,if thy name be so ,
What ransom must I pay before I pass ?
For I perceive , I am thy prisoner .
How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit ,
Before thou make a trial of her love ?
Why speak'st thou not ? what ransom must I pay ?
She's beautiful and therefore to be woo'd ,
She is a woman , therefore to be won .
Wilt thou accept of ransom , yea or no ?
Fond man ! remember that thou hast a wife ;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour ?
I were best to leave him , for he will not hear .
There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling card .
He talks at random ; sure , the man is mad .
And yet a dispensation may be had .
And yet I would that you would answer me .
I'll win this Lady Margaret . For whom ?
Why , for my king : tush ! that's a wooden thing .
He talks of wood : it is some carpenter .
Yet so my fancy may be satisfied ,
And peace established between these realms .
But there remains a scruple in that too ;
For though her father be the King of Naples ,
Duke of Anjou and Maine , yet is he poor ,
And our nobility will scorn the match .
Hear ye , captain ? Are you not at leisure ?
It shall be so , disdain they ne'er so much :
Henry is youthful and will quickly yield .
Madam , I have a secret to reveal .
What though I be enthrall'd ? he seems a knight ,
And will not any way dishonour me .
Lady , vouchsafe to listen what I say .
Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French ;
And then I need not crave his courtesy .
Sweet madam , give me hearing in a cause 
Tush , women have been captivate ere now .
Lady , wherefore talk you so ?
I cry you mercy , 'tis but quid for quo .
Say , gentle princess , would you not suppose 
Your bondage happy to be made a queen ?
To be a queen in bondage is more vile 
Than is a slave in base servility ;
For princes should be free .
And so shall you ,
If happy England's royal king be free .
Why , what concerns his freedom unto me ?
I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen ,
To put a golden sceptre in thy hand 
And set a precious crown upon thy head ,
If thou wilt condescend to be my 
His love .
I am unworthy to be Henry's wife .
No , gentle madam ; I unworthy am 
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife 
And have no portion in the choice myself .
How say you , madam , are you so content ?
An if my father please , I am content .
Then call our captains and our colours forth !
And , madam , at your father's castle walls 
We'll crave a parley , to confer with him .
See , Reignier , see thy daughter prisoner !
To whom ?
To me .
Suffolk , what remedy ?
I am a soldier , and unapt to weep ,
Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness .
Yes , there is remedy enough ; my lord :
Consent , and for thy honour , give consent ,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king ,
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto ;
And this her easy-held imprisonment 
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty .
Speaks Suffolk as he thinks ?
Fair Margaret knows 
That Suffolk doth not flatter , face , or feign .
Upon thy princely warrant , I descend 
To give thee answer of thy just demand .
And here I will expect thy coming .
Welcome , brave earl , into our territories :
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases .
Thanks , Reignier , happy for so sweet a child ,
Fit to be made companion with a king .
What answer makes your Grace unto my suit ?
Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth 
To be the princely bride of such a lord ,
Upon condition I may quietly 
Enjoy mine own , the county Maine and Anjou ,
Free from oppression or the stroke of war ,
My daughter shall be Henry's if he please .
That is her ransom ; I deliver her ;
And those two counties I will undertake 
Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy .
And I again , in Henry's royal name ,
As deputy unto that gracious king ,
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith .
Reignier of France , I give thee kingly thanks ,
Because this is in traffic of a king :
And yet , methinks , I could be well content 
To be mine own attorney in this case .
I'll over then , to England with this news ,
And make this marriage to be solemniz'd .
So farewell , Reignier : set this diamond safe ,
In golden palaces , as it becomes .
I do embrace thee , as I would embrace 
The Christian prince , King Henry , were he here .
Farewell , my lord . Good wishes , praise , and prayers 
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret .
Farewell , sweet madam ! but hark you , Margaret ;
No princely commendations to my king ?
Such commendations as become a maid ,
A virgin , and his servant , say to him .
Words sweetly plac'd and modestly directed .
But madam , I must trouble you again ,
No loving token to his majesty ?
Yes , my good lord ; a pure unspotted heart ,
Never yet taint with love , I send the king .
And this withal .
That for thyself : I will not so presume ,
To send such peevish tokens to a king .
O ! wert thou for myself ! But Suffolk , stay ;
Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth ;
There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk .
Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise :
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount 
And natural graces that extinguish art ;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas ,
That , when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet ,
Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder .
Bring forth that sorceress , condemn'd to burn .
Ah , Joan ! this kills thy father's heart outright .
Have I sought every country far and near ,
And , now it is my chance to find thee out ,
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death ?
Ah , Joan ! sweet daughter Joan , I'll die with thee .
Decrepit miser ! base ignoble wretch !
I am descended of a gentler blood :
Thou art no father nor no friend of mine .
Out , out ! My lords , an please you , 'tis not so ;
I did beget her all the parish knows :
Her mother liveth yet , can testify 
She was the first fruit of my bachelorship .
Graceless ! wilt thou deny thy parentage ?
This argues what her kind of life hath been :
Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes .
Fie , Joan , that thou wilt be so obstacle !
God knows , thou art a collop of my flesh ;
And for thy sake have I shed many a tear :
Deny me not , I prithee , gentle Joan .
Peasant , avaunt ! You have suborn'd this man ,
Of purpose to obscure my noble birth .
'Tis true , I gave a noble to the priest ,
The morn that I was wedded to her mother .
Kneel down and take my blessing , good my girl .
Wilt thou not stoop ? Now cursed be the time 
Of thy nativity ! I would the milk 
Thy mother gave thee , when thou suck'dst her breast ,
Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake !
Or else , when thou didst keep my lambs a-field 
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee !
Dost thou deny thy father , cursed drab ?
O ! burn her , burn her ! hanging is too good .
Take her away ; for she hath liv'd too long ,
To fill the world with vicious qualities .
First , let me tell you whom you have condemn'd :
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain ,
But issu'd from the progeny of kings ;
Virtuous and holy ; chosen from above ,
By inspiration of celestial grace ,
To work exceeding miracles on earth .
I never had to do with wicked spirits :
But you ,that are polluted with your lusts ,
Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents ,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices ,
Because you want the grace that others have ,
You judge it straight a thing impossible 
To compass wonders but by help of devils .
No misconceived ! Joan of Arc hath been 
A virgin from her tender infancy ,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought ;
Whose maiden blood , thus rigorously effus'd ,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven .
Ay , ay : away with her to execution !
And hark ye , sirs ; because she is a maid ,
Spare for no fagots , let there be enow :
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake ,
That so her torture may be shortened .
Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts ?
Then , Joan , discover thine infirmity ;
That warranteth by law to be thy privilege .
I am with child , ye bloody homicides :
Murder not then the fruit within my womb ,
Although ye hale me to a violent death .
Now , heaven forefend ! the holy maid with child !
The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought !
Is all your strict preciseness come to this ?
She and the Dauphin have been juggling :
I did imagine what would be her refuge .
Well , go to ; we will have no bastards live ;
Especially since Charles must father it .
You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of his :
It was Alen on that enjoy'd my love .
Alen on ! that notorious Machiavel !
It dies an if it had a thousand lives .
O ! give me leave , I have deluded you :
'Twas neither Charles , nor yet the duke I nam'd ,
But Reignier , King of Naples , that prevail'd .
A married man : that's most intolerable .
Why , here's a girl ! I think she knows not well ,
There were so many , whom she may accuse .
It's sign she hath been liberal and free .
And yet , forsooth , she is a virgin pure .
Strumpet , thy words condemn thy brat and thee :
Use no entreaty , for it is in vain .
Then lead me hence ; with whom I leave my curse :
May never glorious sun reflex his beams 
Upon the country where you make abode ;
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
Environ you , till mischief and despair 
Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves !
Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes ,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell !
Lord regent , I do greet your excellence 
With letters of commission from the king .
For know , my lords , the states of Christendom ,
Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils ,
Have earnestly implor'd a general peace 
Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French ;
And here at hand the Dauphin , and his train ,
Approacheth to confer about some matter .
Is all our travail turn'd to this effect ?
After the slaughter of so many peers ,
So many captains , gentlemen , and soldiers ,
That in this quarrel have been overthrown ,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit ,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ?
Have we not lost most part of all the towns ,
By treason , falsehood , and by treachery ,
Our great progenitors had conquered ?
O ! Warwick , Warwick ! I foresee with grief 
The utter loss of all the realm of France .
Be patient , York : if we conclude a peace ,
It shall be with such strict and severe covenants 
As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby .
Since , lords of England , it is thus agreed ,
That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France ,
We come to be informed by yourselves 
What the conditions of that league must be .
Speak , Winchester ; for boiling choler chokes 
The hollow passage of my poison'd voice ,
By sight of these our baleful enemies .
Charles , and the rest , it is enacted thus :
That , in regard King Henry gives consent ,
Of mere compassion and of lenity ,
To ease your country of distressful war ,
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace ,
You shall become true liegemen to his crown :
And , Charles , upon-condition thou wilt swear 
To pay him tribute , and submit thyself ,
Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him ,
And still enjoy thy regal dignity .
Must he be then , as shadow of himself ?
Adorn his temples with a coronet ,
And yet , in substance and authority ,
Retain but privilege of a private man ?
This proffer is absurd and reasonless .
'Tis known already that I am possess'd 
With more than half the Gallian territories ,
And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king :
Shall I , for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd ,
Detract so much from that prerogative 
As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole ?
No , lord ambassador ; I'll rather keep 
That which I have than , coveting for more ,
Be cast from possibility of all .
Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret means 
Us'd intercession to obtain a league ,
And now the matter grows to compromise ,
Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison ?
Either accept the title thou usurp'st ,
Of benefit proceeding from our king 
And not of any challenge of desert ,
Or we will plague thee with incessant wars .
My lord , you do not well in obstinacy 
To cavil in the course of this contract :
If once it be neglected , ten to one ,
We shall not find like opportunity .
To say the truth , it is your policy 
To save your subjects from such massacre 
And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen 
By our proceeding in hostility ;
And therefore take this compact of a truce ,
Although you break it when your pleasure serves .
How sayst thou , Charles ? shall our condition stand ?
It shall ;
Only reserv'd , you claim no interest 
In any of our towns of garrison .
Then swear allegiance to his majesty ;
As thou art knight , never to disobey 
Nor be rebellious to the crown of England ,
Thou , nor thy nobles , to the crown of England .
So , now dismiss your army when ye please ;
Hang up your ensigns , let your drums be still ,
For here we entertain a solemn peace .
Your wondrous rare description , noble earl ,
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me :
Her virtues , graced with external gifts 
Do breed love's settled passions in my heart :
And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts 
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide ,
So am I driven by breath of her renown 
Either to suffer shipwrack , or arrive 
Where I may have fruition of her love .
Tush ! my good lord , this superficial tale 
Is but a preface of her worthy praise :
The chief perfections of that lovely dame 
Had I sufficient skill to utter them 
Would make a volume of enticing lines ,
Able to ravish any dull conceit :
And , which is more , she is not so divine ,
So full replete with choice of all delights ,
But with as humble lowliness of mind 
She is content to be at your command ;
Command , I mean , of virtuous chaste intents ,
To love and honour Henry as her lord .
And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume .
Therefore , my Lord Protector , give consent 
That Margaret may be England's royal queen .
So should I give consent to flatter sin .
You know , my lord , your highness is betroth'd 
Unto another lady of esteem ;
How shall we then dispense with that contract ,
And not deface your honour with reproach ?
As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths ;
Or one that , at a triumph having vow'd 
To try his strength , forsaketh yet the lists 
By reason of his adversary's odds .
A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds ,
And therefore may be broke without offence .
Why , what , I pray , is Margaret more than that ?
Her father is no better than an earl ,
Although in glorious titles he excel .
Yes , my good lord , her father is a king ,
The King of Naples and Jerusalem ;
And of such great authority in France 
As his alliance will confirm our peace ,
And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance .
And so the Earl of Armagnac may do ,
Because he is near kinsman unto Charles .
Beside , his wealth doth warrant liberal dower ,
Where Reignier sooner will receive than give .
A dower , my lords ! disgrace not so your king ,
That he should be so abject , base , and poor ,
To choose for wealth and not for perfect love .
Henry is able to enrich his queen ,
And not to seek a queen to make him rich :
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives ,
As market-men for oxen , sheep , or horse .
Marriage is a matter of more worth 
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship :
Not whom we will , but whom his Grace affects ,
Must be companion of his nuptial bed ;
And therefore , lords , since he affects her most 
It most of all these reasons bindeth us ,
In our opinions she should be preferr'd .
For what is wedlock forced , but a hell ,
An age of discord and continual strife ?
Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss ,
And is a pattern of celestial peace .
Whom should we match with Henry , being a king ,
But Margaret , that is daughter to a king ?
Her peerless feature , joined with her birth ,
Approves her fit for none but for a king :
Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit 
More than in women commonly is seen 
Will answer our hope in issue of a king ;
For Henry , son unto a conqueror ,
Is likely to beget more conquerors ,
If with a lady of so high resolve 
As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love .
Then yield , my lords ; and here conclude with me 
That Margaret shall be queen , and none but she .
Whether it be through force of your report ,
My noble lord of Suffolk , or for that 
My tender youth was never yet attaint 
With any passion of inflaming love ,
I cannot tell ; but this I am assur'd ,
I feel such sharp dissension in my breast ,
Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear ,
As I am sick with working of my thoughts .
Take , therefore , shipping ; post , my lord , to France ;
Agree to any covenants , and procure 
That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
To cross the seas to England and be crown'd 
King Henry's faithful and anointed queen :
For your expenses and sufficient charge ,
Among the people gather up a tenth .
Be gone , I say ; for till you do return 
I rest perplexed with a thousand cares .
And you , good uncle , banish all offence :
If you do censure me by what you were ,
Not what you are , I know it will excuse 
This sudden execution of my will .
And so , conduct me , where , from company 
I may revolve and ruminate my grief .
Ay , grief , I fear me , both at first and last .
Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd ; and thus he goes ,
As did the youthful Paris once to Greece ;
With hope to find the like event in love ,
But prosper better than the Trojan did .
Margaret shall now be queen , and rule the king ;
But I will rule both her , the king , and realm .
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF KING JOHN
Now , say , Chatillon , what would France with us ?
Thus , after greeting , speaks the King of France ,
In my behaviour , to the majesty ,
The borrow'd majesty of England here .
A strange beginning ; 'borrow'd majesty !' 
Silence , good mother ; hear the embassy .
Philip of France , in right and true behalf 
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son ,
Arthur Plantagenet , lays most lawful claim 
To this fair island and the territories ,
To Ireland , Poictiers , Anjou , Touraine , Maine ;
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword 
Which sways usurpingly these several titles ,
And put the same into young Arthur's hand ,
Thy nephew and right royal sovereign .
What follows if we disallow of this ?
The proud control of fierce and bloody war ,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld .
Here have we war for war , and blood for blood ,
Controlment for controlment : so answer France .
Then take my king's defiance from my mouth ,
The furthest limit of my embassy .
Bear mine to him , and so depart in peace :
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ;
For ere thou canst report I will be there ,
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard .
So , hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath 
And sullen presage of your own decay .
An honourable conduct let him have :
Pembroke , look to't . Farewell , Chatillon .
What now , my son ! have I not ever said 
How that ambitious Constance would not cease 
Till she had kindled France and all the world 
Upon the right and party of her son ?
This might have been prevented and made whole 
With very easy arguments of love ,
Which now the manage of two kingdoms must 
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate .
Our strong possession and our right for us .
Your strong possession much more than your right ,
Or else it must go wrong , with you and me :
So much my conscience whispers in your ear ,
Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear .
My liege , here is the strangest controversy ,
Come from the country to be judg'd by you ,
That e'er I heard : shall I produce the men ?
Let them approach .
Our abbeys and our priories shall pay 
This expedition's charge .
What men are you ?
Your faithful subject I , a gentleman 
Born in Northamptonshire , and eldest son ,
As I suppose , to Robert Faulconbridge ,
A soldier , by the honour-giving hand 
Of C ur-de-Lion knighted in the field .
What art thou ?
The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge .
Is that the elder , and art thou the heir ?
You came not of one mother then , it seems .
Most certain of one mother , mighty king ,
That is well known : and , as I think , one father :
But for the certain knowledge of that truth 
I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother :
Of that I doubt , as all men's children may .
Out on thee , rude man ! thou dost shame thy mother 
And wound her honour with this diffidence .
I , madam ? no , I have no reason for it ;
That is my brother's plea and none of mine ;
The which if he can prove , a' pops me out 
At least from fair five hundred pound a year :
Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land !
A good blunt fellow . Why , being younger born ,
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ?
I know not why , except to get the land .
But once he slander'd me with bastardy :
But whe'r I be as true-begot or no ,
That still I lay upon my mother's head ;
But that I am as well-begot , my liege ,
Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me !
Compare our faces and be judge yourself .
If old Sir Robert did beget us both ,
And were our father , and this son like him ;
O old Sir Robert , father , on my knee 
I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee !
Why , what a madcap hath heaven lent us here !
He hath a trick of C ur-de-Lion's face ;
The accent of his tongue affecteth him .
Do you not read some tokens of my son 
In the large composition of this man ?
Mine eye hath well examined his parts ,
And finds them perfect Richard . Sirrah , speak :
What doth move you to claim your brother's land ?
Because he hath a half-face , like my father .
With half that face would he have all my land ;
A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year !
My gracious liege , when that my father liv'd ,
Your brother did employ my father much ,
Well , sir , by this you cannot get my land :
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother .
And once dispatch'd him in an embassy 
To Germany , there with the emperor 
To treat of high affairs touching that time .
The advantage of his absence took the king ,
And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's ;
Where how he did prevail I shame to speak ,
But truth is truth : large lengths of seas and shores 
Between my father and my mother lay ,
As I have heard my father speak himself ,
When this same lusty gentleman was got .
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd 
His lands to me , and took it on his death 
That this my mother's son was none of his ;
An if he were , he came into the world 
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time .
Then , good my liege , let me have what is mine ,
My father's land , as was my father's will .
Sirrah , your brother is legitimate ;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him ,
And if she did play false , the fault was hers ;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands 
That marry wives . Tell me , how if my brother ,
Who , as you say , took pains to get this son ,
Had of your father claim'd this son for his ?
In sooth , good friend , your father might have kept 
This calf bred from his cow from all the world ;
In sooth he might : then , if he were my brother's ,
My brother might not claim him ; nor your father ,
Being none of his , refuse him : this concludes ;
My mother's son did get your father's heir ;
Your father's heir must have your father's land .
Shall then my father's will be of no force 
To dispossess that child which is not his ?
Of no more force to dispossess me , sir ,
Than was his will to get me , as I think .
Whe'r hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge 
And like thy brother , to enjoy thy land ,
Or the reputed son of C ur-de-Lion ,
Lord of thy presence and no land beside ?
Madam , an if my brother had my shape ,
And I had his , Sir Robert his , like him ;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods ,
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd , my face so thin 
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose 
Lest men should say , 'Look , where three-far-things goes !' 
And , to his shape , were heir to all this land ,
Would I might never stir from off this place ,
I'd give it every foot to have this face :
I would not be Sir Nob in any case .
I like thee well : wilt thou forsake thy fortune ,
Bequeath thy land to him , and follow me ?
I am a soldier and now bound to France .
Brother , take you my land , I'll take my chance .
Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year ,
Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear .
Madam , I'll follow you unto the death .
Nay , I would have you go before me thither .
Our country manners give our betters way .
What is thy name ?
Philip , my liege , so is my name begun ;
Philip , good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son .
From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest :
Kneel thou down Philip , but arise more great ;
Arise Sir Richard , and Plantagenet .
Brother by the mother's side , give me your hand :
My father gave me honour , yours gave land .
Now blessed be the hour , by night or day ,
When I was got , Sir Robert was away !
The very spirit of Plantagenet !
I am thy grandam , Richard : call me so .
Madam , by chance but not by truth ; what though ?
Something about , a little from the right ,
In at the window , or else o'er the hatch :
Who dares not stir by day must walk by night ,
And have is have , however men do catch .
Near or far off , well won is still well shot ,
And I am I , howe'er I was begot .
Go , Faulconbridge : now hast thou thy desire ;
A landless knight makes thee a landed squire .
Come , madam , and come , Richard : we must speed 
For France , for France , for it is more than need .
Brother , adieu : good fortune come to thee !
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty .
A foot of honour better than I was ,
But many a many foot of land the worse .
Well , now can I make any Joan a lady .
'Good den , Sir Richard !' 'God-a-mercy , fellow !' 
And if his name be George , I'll call him Peter ;
For new-made honour doth forget men's names :
'Tis too respective and too sociable 
For your conversion . Now your traveller ,
He and his toothpick at my worship's mess ,
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd ,
Why then I suck my teeth , and catechize 
My picked man of countries : 'My dear sir ,' 
Thus , leaning on mine elbow , I begin ,
'I shall beseech you ,' that is question now ;
And then comes answer like an absey-book :
'O , sir ,' says answer , 'at your best command ;
At your employment ; at your service , sir :' 
'No , sir ,' says question , 'I , sweet sir , at yours :' 
And so , ere answer knows what question would ,
Saving in dialogue of compliment ,
And talking of the Alps and Apennines ,
The Pyrenean and the river Po ,
It draws toward supper in conclusion so .
But this is worshipful society 
And fits the mounting spirit like myself ;
For he is but a bastard to the time ,
That doth not smack of observation ;
And so am I , whether I smack or no ;
And not alone in habit and device ,
Exterior form , outward accoutrement ,
But from the inward motion to deliver 
Sweet , sweet , sweet poison for the age's tooth :
Which , though I will not practise to deceive ,
Yet , to avoid deceit , I mean to learn ;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising .
But who comes in such haste in riding-robes ?
What woman-post is this ? hath she no husband 
That will take pains to blow a horn before her ?
O me ! it is my mother . How now , good lady !
What brings you here to court so hastily ?
Where is that slave , thy brother ? where is he ,
That holds in chase mine honour up and down ?
My brother Robert ? old Sir Robert's son ?
Colbrand the giant , that same mighty man ?
Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so ?
Sir Robert's son ! Ay , thou unreverend boy ,
Sir Robert's son : why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert ?
He is Sir Robert's son , and so art thou .
James Gurney , wilt thou give us leave awhile ?
Good leave , good Philip .
Philip ! sparrow ! James ,
There's toys abroad : anon I'll tell thee more .
Madam , I was not old Sir Robert's son :
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me 
Upon Good-Friday and ne'er broke his fast .
Sir Robert could do well : marry , to confess ,
Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it :
We know his handiwork : therefore , good mother ,
To whom am I beholding for these limbs ?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg .
Hast thou conspired with thy brother too ,
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour ?
What means this scorn , thou most untoward knave ?
Knight , knight , good mother , Basilisco-like .
What ! I am dubb'd ; I have it on my shoulder .
But , mother , I am not Sir Robert's son ;
I have disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land ;
Legitimation , name , and all is gone .
Then , good my mother , let me know my father ;
Some proper man , I hope ; who was it , mother ?
Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge ?
As faithfully as I deny the devil .
King Richard C ur-de-Lion was thy father :
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd 
To make room for him in my husband's bed .
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge !
Thou art the issue of my dear offence ,
Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence .
Now , by this light , were I to get again ,
Madam , I would not wish a better father .
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth ,
And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly :
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose ,
Subjected tribute to commanding love ,
Against whose fury and unmatched force 
The aweless lion could not wage the fight ,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand .
He that perforce robs lions of their hearts 
May easily win a woman's . Ay , my mother ,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father !
Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well 
When I was got , I'll send his soul to hell .
Come , lady , I will show thee to my kin ;
And they shall say , when Richard me begot ,
If thou hadst said him nay , it had been sin :
Who says it was , he lies : I say , 'twas not .
Before Angiers well met , brave Austria .
Arthur , that great forerunner of thy blood ,
Richard , that robb'd the lion of his heart 
And fought the holy wars in Palestine ,
By this brave duke came early to his grave :
And , for amends to his posterity ,
At our importance hither is he come ,
To spread his colours , boy , in thy behalf ,
And to rebuke the usurpation 
Of thy unnatural uncle , English John :
Embrace him , love him , give him welcome hither .
God shall forgive you C ur-de-Lion's death 
The rather that you give his offspring life ,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war .
I give you welcome with a powerless hand ,
But with a heart full of unstained love :
Welcome before the gates of Angiers , duke .
A noble boy ! Who would not do thee right ?
Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss ,
As seal to this indenture of my love ,
That to my home I will no more return 
Till Angiers , and the right thou hast in France ,
Together with that pale , that white-fac'd shore ,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides 
And coops from other lands her islanders ,
Even till that England , hedg'd in with the main ,
That water-walled bulwark , still secure 
And confident from foreign purposes ,
Even till that utmost corner of the west 
Salute thee for her king : till then , fair boy ,
Will I not think of home , but follow arms .
O ! take his mother's thanks , a widow's thanks ,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength 
To make a more requital to your love .
The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords 
In such a just and charitable war .
Well then , to work : our cannon shall be bent 
Against the brows of this resisting town .
Call for our chiefest men of discipline ,
To cull the plots of best advantages :
We'll lay before this town our royal bones ,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood ,
But we will make it subject to this boy .
Stay for an answer to your embassy ,
Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood .
My Lord Chatillon may from England bring 
That right in peace which here we urge in war ;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood 
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed .
A wonder , lady ! lo , upon thy wish ,
Our messenger , Chatillon , is arriv'd !
What England says , say briefly , gentle lord ;
We coldly pause for thee ; Chatillon , speak .
Then turn your forces from this paltry siege 
And stir them up against a mightier task .
England , impatient of your just demands ,
Hath put himself in arms : the adverse winds ,
Whose leisure I have stay'd , have given him time 
To land his legions all as soon as I ;
His marches are expedient to this town ,
His forces strong , his soldiers confident .
With him along is come the mother-queen ,
An Ate , stirring him to blood and strife ;
With her her niece , the Lady Blanch of Spain ;
With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd ;
And all the unsettled humours of the land ,
Rash , inconsiderate , fiery voluntaries ,
With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens ,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes ,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs ,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here .
In brief , a braver choice of dauntless spirits 
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er 
Did never float upon the swelling tide ,
To do offence and scathe in Christendom .
The interruption of their churlish drums 
Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand ,
To parley or to fight ; therefore prepare .
How much unlook'd for is this expedition !
By how much unexpected , by so much 
We must awake endeavour for defence ,
For courage mounteth with occasion :
Let them be welcome then , we are prepar'd .
Peace be to France , if France in peace permit 
Our just and lineal entrance to our own ;
If not , bleed France , and peace ascend to heaven ,
Whiles we , God's wrathful agent , do correct 
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven .
Peace be to England , if that war return 
From France to England , there to live in peace .
England we love ; and , for that England's sake 
With burden of our armour here we sweat :
This toil of ours should be a work of thine ;
But thou from loving England art so far 
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king ,
Cut off the sequence of posterity ,
Out-faced infant state , and done a rape 
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown .
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face :
These eyes , these brows , were moulded out of his ;
This little abstract doth contain that large 
Which died in Geffrey , and the hand of time 
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume .
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born ,
And this his son ; England was Geffrey's right 
And this is Geffrey's . In the name of God 
How comes it then that thou art call'd a king ,
When living blood doth in these temples beat ,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest ?
From whom hast thou this great commission , France ,
To draw my answer from thy articles ?
From that supernal judge , that stirs good thoughts 
In any breast of strong authority ,
To look into the blots and stains of right :
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy :
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong ,
And by whose help I mean to chastise it .
Alack ! thou dost usurp authority .
Excuse ; it is to beat usurping down .
Who is it thou dost call usurper , France ?
Let me make answer ; thy usurping son .
Out , insolent ! thy bastard shall be king ,
That thou mayst be a queen , and check the world !
My bed was ever to thy son as true 
As thine was to thy husband , and this boy 
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey 
Than thou and John in manners ; being as like 
As rain to water , or devil to his dam .
My boy a bastard ! By my soul I think 
His father never was so true begot :
It cannot be an if thou wert his mother .
There's a good mother , boy , that blots thy father .
There's a good grandam , boy , that would blot thee .
Peace !
Hear the crier .
What the devil art thou ?
One that will play the devil , sir , with you ,
An a' may catch your hide and you alone .
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes ,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard .
I'll smoke your skin coat , an I catch you right .
Sirrah , look to't ; i' faith , I will , i' faith .
O ! well did he become that lion's robe ,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe .
It lies as sightly on the back of him 
As great Alcides' shows upon an ass :
But , ass , I'll take that burden from your back ,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack .
What cracker is this same that deafs our ears 
With this abundance of superfluous breath ?
King ,Lewis , determine what we shall do straight .
Women and fools , break off your conference .
King John , this is the very sum of all :
England and Ireland , Anjou , Touraine , Maine ,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee .
Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms ?
My life as soon : I do defy thee , France .
Arthur of Britaine , yield thee to my hand ;
And out of my dear love I'll give thee more 
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win .
Submit thee , boy .
Come to thy grandam , child .
Do , child , go to it grandam , child ;
Give grandam kingdom , and it grandam will 
Give it a plum , a cherry , and a fig :
There's a good grandam .
Good my mother , peace !
I would that I were low laid in my grave :
I am not worth this coil that's made for me .
His mother shames him so , poor boy , he weeps .
Now shame upon you , whe'r she does or no !
His grandam's wrongs , and not his mother's shames ,
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes ,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ;
Ay , with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd 
To do him justice and revenge on you .
Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth !
Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth !
Call not me slanderer ; thou and thine usurp 
The dominations , royalties , and rights 
Of this oppressed boy : this is thy eld'st son's son ,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee :
Thy sins are visited in this poor child ;
The canon of the law is laid on him ,
Being but the second generation 
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb .
Bedlam , have done .
I have but this to say ,
That he's not only plagued for her sin ,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
On this removed issue , plagu'd for her ,
And with her plague , her sin ; his injury 
Her injury , the beadle to her sin ,
All punish'd in the person of this child ,
And all for her . A plague upon her !
Thou unadvised scold , I can produce 
A will that bars the title of thy son .
Ay , who doubts that ? a will ! a wicked will ;
A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will !
Peace , lady ! pause , or be more temperate :
It ill beseems this presence to cry aim 
To these ill-tuned repetitions .
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls 
These men of Angiers : let us hear them speak 
Whose title they admit , Arthur's or John's .
Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls ?
'Tis France , for England .
England for itself .
You men of Angiers , and my loving subjects ,
You loving men of Angiers , Arthur's subjects ,
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle ,
For our advantage ; therefore hear us first .
These flags of France , that are advanced here 
Before the eye and prospect of your town ,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement :
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ,
And ready mounted are they to spit forth 
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls :
All preparation for a bloody siege 
And merciless proceeding by these French 
Confronts your city's eyes , your winking gates ;
And but for our approach those sleeping stones ,
That as a waist do girdle you about ,
By the compulsion of their ordinance 
By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
Had been dishabited , and wide havoc made 
For bloody power to rush upon your peace .
But on the sight of us your lawful king ,
Who painfully with much expedient march 
Have brought a countercheck before your gates ,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks ,
Behold , the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle ;
And now , instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire ,
To make a shaking fever in your walls ,
They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke ,
To make a faithless error in your ears :
Which trust accordingly , kind citizens ,
And let us in , your king , whose labour'd spirits ,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed ,
Crave harbourage within your city walls .
When I have said , make answer to us both .
Lo ! in this right hand , whose protection 
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
Of him it holds , stands young Plantagenet ,
Son to the elder brother of this man ,
And king o'er him and all that he enjoys :
For this down-trodden equity , we tread 
In war-like march these greens before your town ,
Being no further enemy to you 
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal ,
In the relief of this oppressed child ,
Religiously provokes . Be pleased then 
To pay that duty which you truly owe 
To him that owes it , namely , this young prince ;
And then our arms , like to a muzzled bear ,
Save in aspect , have all offence seal'd up ;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent 
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven ;
And with a blessed and unvex'd retire ,
With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd ,
We will bear home that lusty blood again 
Which here we came to spout against your town ,
And leave your children , wives , and you , in peace .
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer ,
'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls 
Can hide you from our messengers of war ,
Though all these English and their discipline 
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference .
Then tell us , shall your city call us lord ,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it ?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage 
And stalk in blood to our possession ?
In brief , we are the King of England's subjects :
For him , and in his right , we hold this town .
Acknowledge then the king , and let me in .
That can we not ; but he that proves the king ,
To him will we prove loyal : till that time 
Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world .
Doth not the crown of England prove the king ?
And if not that , I bring you witnesses ,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed ,
Bastards , and else .
To verify our title with their lives .
As many and as well-born bloods as those ,
Some bastards too .
Stand in his face to contradict his claim .
Till thou compound whose right is worthiest ,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both .
Then God forgive the sins of all those souls 
That to their everlasting residence ,
Before the dew of evening fall , shall fleet ,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king !
Amen , Amen ! Mount , chevaliers ! to arms !
Saint George , that swing'd the dragon , and e'er since 
Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door ,
Teach us some fence !
Sirrah , were I at home ,
At your den , sirrah , with your lioness ,
I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide ,
And make a monster of you .
Peace ! no more .
O ! tremble , for you hear the lion roar .
Up higher to the plain ; where we'll set forth 
In best appointment all our regiments .
Speed then , to take advantage of the field .
It shall be so ;
and at the other hill 
Command the rest to stand . God , and our right !
You men of Angiers , open wide your gates ,
And let young Arthur , Duke of Britaine , in ,
Who , by the hand of France this day hath made 
Much work for tears in many an English mother ,
Whose sons he scatter'd on the bleeding ground ;
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies ,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth ;
And victory , with little loss , doth play 
Upon the dancing banners of the French ,
Who are at hand , triumphantly display'd ,
To enter conquerors and to proclaim 
Arthur of Britaine England's king and yours .
Rejoice , you men of Angiers , ring your bells ;
King John , your king and England's , doth approach ,
Commander of this hot malicious day .
Their armours , that march'd hence so silver-bright ,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood ;
There stuck no plume in any English crest 
That is removed by a staff of France ;
Our colours do return in those same hands 
That did display them when we first march'd forth ;
And , like a jolly troop of huntsmen , come 
Our lusty English , all with purpled hands 
Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes .
Open your gates and give the victors way .
Heralds , from off our towers we might behold ,
From first to last , the onset and retire 
Of both your armies ; whose equality 
By our best eyes cannot be censured :
Blood hath bought blood , and blows have answer'd blows ;
Strength match'd with strength , and power confronted power :
Both are alike ; and both alike we like .
One must prove greatest : while they weigh so even ,
We hold our town for neither , yet for both .
France , hast thou yet more blood to cast away ?
Say , shall the current of our right run on ?
Whose passage , vex'd with thy impediment ,
Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell 
With course disturb'd even thy conflning shores ,
Unless thou let his silver water keep 
A peaceful progress to the ocean .
England , thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood ,
In this hot trial , more than we of France ;
Rather , lost more : and by this hand I swear ,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks ,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms ,
We'll put thee down , 'gainst whom these arms we bear ,
Or add a royal number to the dead ,
Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss 
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings .
Ha , majesty ! how high thy glory towers 
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire !
O ! now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel ;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth , his fangs ;
And now he feasts , mousing the flesh of men ,
In undetermin'd differences of kings .
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ?
Cry 'havoc !' kings ; back to the stained field ,
You equal-potents , fiery-kindled spirits !
Then let confusion of one part confirm 
The other's peace ; till then , blows , blood , and death !
Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?
Speak , citizens , for England ; who's your king ?
The King of England , when we know the king .
Know him in us , that here hold up his right .
In us , that are our own great deputy ,
And bear possession of our person here ,
Lord of our presence , Angiers , and of you .
A greater power than we denies all this ;
And , till it be undoubted , we do lock 
Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates ,
Kings of ourselves ; until our fears , resolv'd ,
Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd .
By heaven , these scroyles of Angiers flout you , kings ,
And stand securely on their battlements 
As in a theatre , whence they gape and point 
At your industrious scenes and acts of death .
Your royal presences be rul'd by me :
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem ,
Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend 
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town .
By east and west let France and England mount 
Their battering cannon charged to the mouths ,
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down 
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city :
I'd play incessantly upon these jades ,
Even till unfenced desolation 
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air .
That done , dissever your united strengths ,
And part your mingled colours once again ;
Turn face to face and bloody point to point ;
Then , in a moment , Fortune shall cull forth 
Out of one side her happy minion ,
To whom in favour she shall give the day ,
And kiss him with a glorious victory .
How like you this wild counsel , mighty states ?
Smacks it not something of the policy ?
Now , by the sky that hangs above our heads ,
I like it well . France , shall we knit our powers 
And lay this Angiers even with the ground ;
Then after fight who shall be king of it ?
An if thou hast the mettle of a king ,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town ,
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery ,
As we will ours , against these saucy walls ;
And when that we have dash'd them to the ground ,
Why then defy each other , and , pell-mell ,
Make work upon ourselves , for heaven or hell .
Let it be so . Say , where will you assault ?
We from the west will send destruction 
Into this city's bosom .
I from the north .
Our thunder from the south 
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town .
O , prudent discipline ! From north to south 
Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth :
I'll stir them to it . Come , away , away !
Hear us , great kings : vouchsafe a while to stay ,
And I shall show you peace and fair-fac'd league ;
Win you this city without stroke or wound ;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds ,
That here come sacrifices for the field .
Persever not , but hear me , mighty kings .
Speak on with favour : we are bent to hear .
That daughter there of Spain , the Lady Blanch ,
Is near to England : look upon the years 
Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid .
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty ,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue ,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch ?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth ,
Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch ?
Such as she is , in beauty , virtue , birth ,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete :
If not complete of , say he is not she ;
And she again wants nothing , to name want ,
If want it be not that she is not he :
He is the half part of a blessed man ,
Left to be finished by such a she ;
And she a fair divided excellence ,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him .
O ! two such silver currents , when they join ,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in ;
And two such shores to two such streams made one ,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be , kings ,
To these two princes , if you marry them .
This union shall do more than battery can 
To our fast-closed gates ; for at this match ,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce ,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope ,
And give you entrance ; but without this match ,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf ,
Lions more confident , mountains and rocks 
More free from motion , no , not death himself 
In mortal fury half so peremptory ,
As we to keep this city .
Here's a stay ,
That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death 
Out of his rags ! Here's a large mouth , indeed ,
That spits forth death and mountains , rocks and seas ,
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions 
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs .
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?
He speaks plain cannon fire , and smoke and bounce ;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue ;
Our ears are cudgell'd ; not a word of his 
But buffets better than a fist of France .
'Zounds ! I was never so bethump'd with words 
Since I first call'd my brother's father dad .
Son , list to this conjunction , make this match ;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough ;
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 
Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown ,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe 
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit .
I see a yielding in the looks of France ;
Mark how they whisper : urge them while their souls 
Are capable of this ambition ,
Lest zeal , now melted by the windy breath 
Of soft petitions , pity and remorse ,
Cool and congeal again to what it was .
Why answer not the double majesties 
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town ?
Speak England first , that hath been forward first 
To speak unto this city : what say you ?
If that the Dauphin there , thy princely son ,
Can in this book of beauty read 'I love ,' 
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen :
For Anjou , and fair Touraine , Maine , Poictiers ,
And all that we upon this side the sea ,
Except this city now by us besieg'd ,
Find liable to our crown and dignity ,
Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich 
In titles , honours , and promotions ,
As she in beauty , education , blood ,
Holds hand with any princess of the world .
What sayst thou , boy ? look in the lady's face .
I do , my lord ; and in her eye I find 
A wonder , or a wondrous miracle ,
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ;
Which , being but the shadow of your son 
Becomes a sun , and makes your son a shadow :
I do protest I never lov'd myself 
Till now infixed I beheld myself ,
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye .
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye !
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow !
And quarter'd in her heart ! he doth espy 
Himself love's traitor : this is pity now ,
That hang'd and drawn and quarter'd , there should be 
In such a love so vile a lout as he .
My uncle's will in this respect is mine :
If he see aught in you that makes him like ,
That anything he sees , which moves his liking ,
I can with ease translate it to my will ;
Or if you will , to speak more properly ,
I will enforce it easily to my love .
Further I will not flatter you , my lord ,
That all I see in you is worthy love ,
Than this : that nothing do I see in you ,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge ,
That I can find should merit any hate .
What say these young ones ? What say you , my niece ?
That she is bound in honour still to do 
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say .
Speak then , Prince Dauphin ; can you love this lady ?
Nay , ask me if I can refrain from love ;
For I do love her most unfeignedly .
Then do I give Volquessen , Touraine , Maine ,
Poictiers , and Anjou , these five provinces ,
With her to thee ; and this addition more ,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin .
Philip of France , if thou be pleas'd withal ,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands .
It likes us well . Young princes , close your hands .
And your lips too ; for I am well assur'd 
That I did so when I was first assur'd .
Now , citizens of Angiers , ope your gates ,
Let in that amity which you have made ;
For at Saint Mary's chapel presently 
The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd .
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop ?
I know she is not ; for this match made up 
Her presence would have interrupted much :
Where is she and her son ? tell me , who knows .
She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent .
And , by my faith , this league that we have made 
Will give her sadness very little cure .
Brother of England , how may we content 
This widow lady ? In her right we came ;
Which we , God knows , have turn'd another way ,
To our own vantage .
We will heal up all ;
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britaine 
And Earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town 
We make him lord of . Call the Lady Constance :
Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
To our solemnity : I trust we shall ,
If not fill up the measure of her will ,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so ,
That we shall stop her exclamation .
Go we , as well as haste will suffer us ,
To this unlook'd-for unprepared pomp .
Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition !
John , to stop Arthur's title in the whole ,
Hath willingly departed with a part ;
And France , whose armour conscience buckled on ,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field 
As God's own soldier , rounded in the ear 
With that same purpose-changer , that sly devil ,
That broker , that still breaks the pate of faith ,
That daily break-vow , he that wins of all ,
Of kings , of beggars , old men , young men , maids ,
Who having no external thing to lose 
But the word 'maid ,' cheats the poor maid of that ,
That smooth-fac'd gentleman , tickling Commodity ,
Commodity , the bias of the world ;
The world , who of itself is peized well ,
Made to run even upon even ground ,
Till this advantage , this vile-drawing bias ,
This sway of motion , this Commodity ,
Makes it take head from all indifferency ,
From all direction , purpose , course , intent :
And this same bias , this Commodity ,
This bawd , this broker , this all-changing word ,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France ,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid ,
From a resolv'd and honourable war ,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace .
And why rail I on this Commodity ?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet .
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand 
When his fair angels would salute my palm ;
But for my hand , as unattempted yet ,
Like a poor beggar , raileth on the rich .
Well , whiles I am a beggar , I will rail ,
And say there is no sin but to be rich ;
And being rich , my virtue then shall be 
To say there is no vice but beggary .
Since kings break faith upon Commodity ,
Gain , be my lord , for I will worship thee !
Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace !
False blood to false blood join'd ! gone to be friends !
Shall Lewis have Blanch , and Blanch those provinces ?
It is not so ; thou hast misspoke , misheard ;
Be well advis'd , tell o'er thy tale again :
It cannot be ; thou dost but say 'tis so .
I trust I may not trust thee , for thy word 
Is but the vain breath of a common man :
Believe me , I do not believe thee , man ;
I have a king's oath to the contrary .
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me ,
For I am sick and capable of fears ;
Oppress'd with wrongs , and therefore full of fears ;
A widow , husbandless , subject to fears ;
A woman , naturally born to fears ;
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest ,
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce ,
But they will quake and tremble all this day .
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine ?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum ,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ?
Then speak again ; not all thy former tale ,
But this one word , whether thy tale be true .
As true as I believe you think them false 
That give you cause to prove my saying true .
O ! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow ,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ;
And let belief and life encounter so 
As doth the fury of two desperate men 
Which in the very meeting fall and die .
Lewis marry Blanch ! O boy ! then where art thou ?
France friend with England what becomes of me ?
Fellow , be gone ! I cannot brook thy sight :
This news hath made thee a most ugly man .
What other harm have I , good lady , done ,
But spoke the harm that is by others done ?
Which harm within itself so heinous is 
As it makes harmful all that speak of it .
I do beseech you , madam , be content .
If thou , that bidd'st me be content , wert grim ,
Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb ,
Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains ,
Lame , foolish , crooked , swart , prodigious ,
Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks ,
I would not care , I then would be content ;
For then I should not love thee , no , nor thou 
Become thy great birth , nor deserve a crown .
But thou art fair ; and at thy birth , dear boy ,
Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great :
Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast 
And with the half-blown rose . But Fortune , O !
She is corrupted , chang'd , and won from thee :
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ,
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France 
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty ,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs .
France is a bawd to Fortune and King John ,
That strumpet Fortune , that usurping John !
Tell me , thou fellow , is not France forsworn ?
Envenom him with words , or get thee gone 
And leave those woes alone which I alone 
Am bound to underbear .
Pardon me , madam ,
I may not go without you to the kings .
Thou mayst , thou shalt : I will not go with thee .
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ;
For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop .
To me and to the state of my great grief 
Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great 
That no supporter but the huge firm earth 
Can hold it up : here I and sorrows sit ;
Here is my throne , bid kings come bow to it .
'Tis true , fair daughter ; and this blessed day 
Ever in France shall be kept festival :
To solemnize this day the glorious sun 
Stays in his course and plays the alchemist ,
Turning with splendour of his precious eye 
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :
The yearly course that brings this day about 
Shall never see it but a holiday .
A wicked day , and not a holy day !
What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it done 
That it in golden letters should be set 
Among the high tides in the calendar ?
Nay , rather turn this day out of the week ,
This day of shame , oppression , perjury :
Or , if it must stand still , let wives with child 
Pray that their burdens may not fall this day ,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd :
But on this day let seamen fear no wrack ;
No bargains break that are not this day made ;
This day all things begun come to ill end ;
Yea , faith itself to hollow falsehood change !
By heaven , lady , you shall have no cause 
To curse the fair proceedings of this day :
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?
You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit 
Resembling majesty , which , being touch'd and tried ,
Proves valueless : you are forsworn , forsworn ;
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood ,
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours :
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war 
Is cold in amity and painted peace ,
And our oppression hath made up this league .
Arm , arm , you heavens , against these perjur'd kings !
A widow cries ; be husband to me , heavens !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
Wear out the day in peace ; but , ere sunset ,
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings !
Hear me ! O , hear me !
Lady Constance , peace !
War ! war ! no peace ! peace is to me a war .
O , Lymoges ! O , Austria ! thou dost shame 
That bloody spoil . thou slave , thou wretch , thou coward !
Thou little valiant , great in villany !
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side !
Thou Fortune's champion , that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjur'd too ,
And sooth'st up greatness . What a fool art thou ,
A ramping fool , to brag , and stamp and swear 
Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave ,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ?
Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend 
Upon thy stars , thy fortune , and thy strength ?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
Thou wear a hon's hide ! doff it for shame ,
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .
O ! that a man should speak those words to me .
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .
Thou dar'st not say so , villain , for thy life .
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .
We like not this ; thou dost forget thyself .
Here comes the holy legate of the pope .
Hail , you anointed deputies of heaven !
To thee , King John , my holy errand is .
I Pandulph , of fair Milan cardinal ,
And from Pope Innocent the legate here ,
Do in his name religiously demand 
Why thou against the church , our holy mother ,
So wilfully dost spurn ; and , force perforce ,
Keep Stephen Langton , chosen Archbishop 
Of Canterbury , from that holy see ?
This , in our foresaid holy father's name ,
Pope Innocent , I do demand of thee .
What earthly name to interrogatories 
Can task the free breath of a sacred king ?
Thou canst not , cardinal , devise a name 
So slight , unworthy and ridiculous ,
To charge me to an answer , as the pope .
Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England 
Add thus much more : that no Italian priest 
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ;
But as we under heaven are supreme head ,
So under him that great supremacy ,
Where we do reign , we will alone uphold ,
Without the assistance of a mortal hand :
So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart 
To him , and his usurp'd authority .
Brother of England , you blaspheme in this .
Though you and all the kings of Christendom 
Are led so grossly by this meddling priest ,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out ;
And , by the merit of vile gold , dross , dust ,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man ,
Who in that sale sells pardon from himself ;
Though you and all the rest so grossly led 
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish ;
Yet I alone , alone do me oppose 
Against the pope , and count his friends my foes .
Then , by the lawful power that I have ,
Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate :
And blessed shall he be that doth revolt 
From his allegiance to a heretic ;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd ,
Canonized and worshipp'd as a saint ,
That takes away by any secret course 
Thy hateful life .
O ! lawful let it be 
That I have room with Rome to curse awhile .
Good father cardinal , cry thou amen 
To my keen curses ; for without my wrong 
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right .
There's law and warrant , lady , for my curse .
And for mine too : when law can do no right ,
Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong .
Law cannot give my child his kingdom here ,
For he that holds his kingdom holds the law :
Therefore , since law itself is perfect wrong ,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ?
Philip of France , on peril of a curse ,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ,
And raise the power of France upon his head ,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome .
Look'st thou pale , France ? do not let go thy hand .
Look to that , devil , lest that France repent ,
And by disjoining hands , hell lose a soul .
King Philip , listen to the cardinal .
And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs .
Well , ruffian , I must pocket up these wrongs ,
Because 
Your breeches best may carry them .
Philip , what sayst thou to the cardinal ?
What should he say , but as the cardinal ?
Bethink you , father ; for the difference 
Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome ,
Or the light loss of England for a friend :
Forego the easier .
That's the curse of Rome .
O Lewis , stand fast ! the devil tempts thee here ,
In likeness of a new untrimmed bride .
The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith ,
But from her need .
O ! if thou grant my need ,
Which only lives but by the death of faith ,
That need must needs infer this principle ,
That faith would live again by death of need :
O ! then , tread down my need , and faith mounts up ;
Keep my need up , and faith is trodden down .
The king is mov'd , and answers not to this .
O ! be remov'd from him , and answer well .
Do so , King Philip : hang no more in doubt .
Hang nothing but a calf's-skin , most sweet lout .
I am perplex'd , and know not what to say .
What canst thou say but will perplex thee more ,
If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd ?
Good reverend father , make my person yours ,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself .
This royal hand and mine are newly knit ,
And the conjunction of our inward souls 
Married in league , coupled and link'd together 
With all religious strength of sacred vows ;
The latest breath that gave the sound of words 
Was deep-sworn faith , peace , amity , true love ,
Between our kingdoms and our royal selves ;
And even before this truce , but new before ,
No longer than we well could wash our hands 
To clap this royal bargain up of peace ,
Heaven knows , they were besmear'd and overstain'd 
With slaughter's pencil , where revenge did paint 
The fearful difference of incensed kings :
And shall these hands , so lately purg'd of blood ,
So newly join'd in love , so strong in both ,
Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet ?
Play fast and loose with faith ? so jest with heaven ,
Make such unconstant children of ourselves ,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm ,
Unswear faith sworn , and on the marriage-bed 
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host ,
And make a riot on the gentle brow 
Of true sincerity ? O ! holy sir ,
My reverend father , let it not be so !
Out of your grace , devise , ordain , impose 
Some gentle order , and then we shall be bless'd 
To do your pleasure and continue friends .
All form is formless , order orderless ,
Save what is opposite to England's love .
Therefore to arms ! be champion of our church ,
Or let the church , our mother , breathe her curse ,
A mother's curse , on her revolting son .
France , thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue ,
A chafed lion by the mortal paw ,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth ,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold .
I may disjoin my hand , but not my faith .
So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith :
And like a civil war sett'st oath to oath ,
Thy tongue against thy tongue . O ! let thy vow 
First made to heaven , first be to heaven perform'd ;
That is , to be the champion of our church .
What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself 
And may not be performed by thyself ;
For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss 
Is not amiss when it is truly done ;
And being not done , where doing tends to ill ,
The truth is then most done not doing it .
The better act of purposes mistook 
Is to mistake again ; though indirect ,
Yet indirection thereby grows direct ,
And falsehood falsehood cures , as fire cools fire 
Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd .
It is religion that doth make vows kept ;
But thou hast sworn against religion 
By what thou swear'st , against the thing thou swear'st ,
And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth 
Against an oath : the truth thou art unsure 
To swear , swears only not to be forsworn ;
Else what a mockery should it be to swear !
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn ;
And most forsworn , to keep what thou dost swear .
Therefore thy later vows against thy first 
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself ;
And better conquest never canst thou make 
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts 
Against these giddy loose suggestions :
Upon which better part our prayers come in ,
If thou vouchsafe them ; but , if not , then know 
The peril of our curses light on thee 
So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off ,
But in despair die under their black weight .
Rebellion , flat rebellion !
Will't not be ?
Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ?
Father , to arms !
Upon thy wedding-day ?
Against the blood that thou hast married ?
What ! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ?
Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums ,
Clamours of hell , be measures to our pomp ?
O husband , hear me ! ay , alack ! how new 
Is husband in my mouth ; even for that name ,
Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce ,
Upon my knee I beg , go not to arms 
Against mine uncle .
O ! upon my knee ,
Made hard with kneeling , I do pray to thee ,
Thou virtuous Dauphin , alter not the doom 
Forethought by heaven .
Now shall I see thy love : what motive may 
Be stronger with thee than the name of wife ?
That which upholdeth him that thee upholds ,
His honour : O ! thine honour , Lewis , thine honour .
I muse your majesty doth seem so cold ,
When such profound respects do pull you on .
I will denounce a curse upon his head .
Thou shalt not need . England , I'll fall from thee .
O fair return of banish'd majesty !
O foul revolt of French inconstancy !
France , thou shalt rue this hour within this hour .
Old Time the clock-setter , that bald sexton Time ,
Is it as he will ? well then , France shall rue .
The sun's o'ercast with blood : fair day , adieu !
Which is the side that I must go withal ?
I am with both : each army hath a hand ;
And in their rage , I having hold of both ,
They whirl asunder and dismember me .
Husband , I cannot pray that thou mayst win ;
Uncle , I needs must pray that thou mayst lose ;
Father , I may not wish the fortune thine ;
Grandam , I will not wish thy wishes thrive :
Whoever wins , on that side shall I lose ;
Assured loss before the match be play'd .
Lady , with me ; with me thy fortune lies .
There where my fortune lives , there my life dies .
Cousin , go draw our puissance together .
France , I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ;
A rage whose heat hath this condition ,
That nothing can allay , nothing but blood ,
The blood , and dearest-valu'd blood of France .
Thy rage shall burn thee up , and thou shalt turn 
To ashes , ere our blood shall quench that fire :
Look to thyself , thou art in jeopardy .
No more than he that threats . To arms let's hie !
Now , by my life , this day grows wondrous hot ;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky 
And pours down mischief . Austria's head lie there ,
While Philip breathes .
Hubert , keep this boy . Philip , make up ,
My mother is assailed in our tent ,
And ta'en , I fear .
My lord , I rescu'd her ;
Her highness is in safety , fear you not :
But on , my liege ; for very little pains 
Will bring this labour to a happy end .
So shall it be ; your grace shall stay behind 
So strongly guarded .
Cousin , look not sad :
Thy grandam loves thee ; and thy uncle will 
As dear be to thee as thy father was .
O ! this will make my mother die with grief .
Cousin , away for England ! haste before ;
And , ere our coming , see thou shake the bags 
Of hoarding abbots ; set at liberty 
Imprison'd angels : the fat ribs of peace 
Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force .
Bell , book , and candle shall not drive me back 
When gold and silver becks me to come on .
I leave your highness . Grandam , I will pray ,
If ever I remember to be holy ,
For your fair safety ; so I kiss your hand .
Farewell , gentle cousin .
Coz , farewell .
Come hither , little kinsman ; hark , a word .
Come hither , Hubert . O my gentle Hubert ,
We owe thee much : within this wall of flesh 
There is a soul counts thee her creditor ,
And with advantage means to pay thy love :
And , my good friend , thy voluntary oath 
Lives in this bosom , dearly cherished .
Give me thy hand . I had a thing to say ,
But I will fit it with some better time .
By heaven , Hubert , I am almost asham'd 
To say what good respect I have of thee .
I am much bounden to your majesty .
Good friend , thou hast no cause to say so yet ;
But thou shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow ,
Yet it shall come for me to do thee good .
I had a thing to say , but let it go :
The sun is in the heaven , and the proud day ,
Attended with the pleasures of the world ,
Is all too wanton and too full of gawds 
To give me audience : if the midnight bell 
Did , with his iron tongue and brazen mouth ,
Sound one into the drowsy race of night ;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand ,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ;
Or if that surly spirit , melancholy ,
Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick ,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins ,
Making that idiot , laughter , keep men's eyes 
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment ,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes ,
Hear me without thine ears , and make reply 
Without a tongue , using conceit alone ,
Without eyes , ears , and harmful sound of words ;
Then , in despite of brooded watchful day ,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts :
But ah ! I will not : yet I love thee well ;
And , by my troth , I think thou lov'st me well .
So well , that what you bid me undertake ,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act ,
By heaven , I would do it .
Do not I know thou wouldst ?
Good Hubert ! Hubert , Hubert , throw thine eye 
On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what , my friend ,
He is a very serpent in my way ;
And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread 
He lies before me : dost thou understand me ?
Thou art his keeper .
And I'll keep him so 
That he shall not offend your majesty .
Death .
My lord ?
A grave .
He shall not live .
Enough .
I could be merry now . Hubert , I love thee ;
Well , I'll not say what I intend for thee :
Remember . Madam , fare you well :
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty .
My blessing go with thee !
For England , cousin ; go :
Hubert shall be your man , attend on you 
With all true duty . On toward Calais , ho !
So , by a roaring tempest on the flood ,
A whole armado of convicted sail 
Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship .
Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go well .
What can go well when we have run so ill ?
Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers lost ?
Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain ?
And bloody England into England gone ,
O'erbearing interruption , spite of France ?
What he hath won that hath he fortified :
So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd ,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause ,
Doth want example : who hath read or heard 
Of any kindred action like to this ?
Well could I bear that England had this praise ,
So we could find some pattern of our shame .
Look , who comes here ! a grave unto a soul ;
Holding the eternal spirit , against her will ,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath .
I prithee lady , go away with me .
Lo now ! now see the issue of your peace .
Patience , good lady ! comfort , gentle Constance !
No , I defy all counsel , all redress ,
But that which ends all counsel , true redress ,
Death , death : O , amiable lovely death !
Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness !
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night ,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity ,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones ,
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows ,
And ring these fingers with thy household worms ,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust ,
And be a carrion monster like thyself :
Come , grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st 
And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love ,
O ! come to me .
O fair affliction , peace !
No , no , I will not , having breath to cry :
O ! that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth !
Then with a passion would I shake the world ,
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy 
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice ,
Which scorns a modern invocation .
Lady , you utter madness , and not sorrow .
Thou art not holy to belie me so ;
I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine ;
My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ;
Young Arthur is my son , and he is lost !
I am not mad : I would to heaven I were !
For then 'tis like I should forget myself :
O ! if I could , what grief should I forget .
Preach some philosophy to make me mad ,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd , cardinal ;
For being not mad but sensible of grief ,
My reasonable part produces reason 
How I may be deliver'd of these woes ,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself :
If I were mad , I should forget my son ,
Or madly think a babe of clouts were he .
I am not mad : too well , too well I feel 
The different plague of each calamity .
Bind up those tresses . O ! what love I note 
In the fair multitude of those her hairs :
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen ,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends 
Do glue themselves in sociable grief ;
Like true , inseparable , faithful loves ,
Sticking together in calamity .
To England , if you will .
Bind up your hairs .
Yes , that I will ; and wherefore will I do it ?
I tore them from their bonds , and cried aloud 
'O ! that these hands could so redeem my son ,
As they have given these hairs their liberty !' 
But now I envy at their liberty ,
And will again commit them to their bonds ,
Because my poor child is a prisoner .
And , father cardinal , I have heard you say 
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven .
If that be true , I shall see my boy again ;
For since the birth of Cain , the first male child ,
To him that did but yesterday suspire ,
There was not such a gracious creature born .
But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud 
And chase the native beauty from his cheek ,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost ,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ,
And so he'll die ; and , rising so again ,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven 
I shall not know him : therefore never , never 
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more .
You hold too heinous a respect of grief .
He talks to me , that never had a son .
You are as fond of grief as of your child .
Grief fills the room up of my absent child ,
Lies in his bed , walks up and down with me ,
Puts on his pretty looks , repeats his words ,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts ,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form :
Then have I reason to be fond of grief .
Fare you well : had you such a loss as I ,
I could give better comfort than you do .
I will not keep this form upon my head 
When there is such disorder in my wit .
O Lord ! my boy , my Arthur , my fair son !
My life , my joy , my food , my all the world !
My widow-comfort , and my sorrows' cure !
I fear some outrage , and I'll follow her .
There's nothing in this world can make me joy :
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale ,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste ,
That it yields nought but shame and bitterness .
Before the curing of a strong disease ,
Even in the instant of repair and health ,
The fit is strongest : evils that take leave ,
On their departure most of all show evil .
What have you lost by losing of this day ?
All days of glory , joy , and happiness .
If you had won it , certainly you had .
No , no ; when Fortune means to men most good ,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye .
'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost 
In this which he accounts so clearly won .
Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner ?
As heartily as he is glad he hath him .
Your mind is all as youthful as your blood .
Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ;
For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
Shall blow each dust , each straw , each little rub ,
Out of the path which shall directly lead 
Thy foot to England's throne ; and therefore mark .
John hath seiz'd Arthur ; and it cannot be ,
That whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins 
The misplac'd John should entertain an hour ,
One minute , nay , one quiet breath of rest .
A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand 
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd ;
And he that stands upon a slippery place 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up :
That John may stand , then Arthur needs must fall ;
So be it , for it cannot be but so .
But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall ?
You , in the right of Lady Blanch your wife ,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did .
And lose it , life and all , as Arthur did .
How green you are and fresh in this old world !
John lays you plots ; the times conspire with you ;
For he that steeps his safety in true blood 
Shall find but bloody safety and untrue .
This act so evilly borne shall cool the hearts 
Of all his people and freeze up their zeal ,
That none so small advantage shall step forth 
To check his reign , but they will cherish it ;
No natural exhalation in the sky ,
No scope of nature , no distemper'd day ,
No common wind , no customed event ,
But they will pluck away his natural cause 
And call them meteors , prodigies , and signs ,
Abortives , presages , and tongues of heaven ,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John .
May be he will not touch young Arthur's life ,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment .
O ! sir , when he shall hear of your approach ,
If that young Arthur be not gone already ,
Even at that news he dies ; and then the hearts 
Of all his people shall revolt from him 
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ,
And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath 
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John .
Methinks I see this hurly all on foot :
And , O ! what better matter breeds for you 
Than I have nam'd . The bastard Faulconbridge 
Is now in England ransacking the church ,
Offending charity : if but a dozen French 
Were there in arms , they would be as a call 
To train ten thousand English to their side ;
Or as a little snow , tumbled about ,
Anon becomes a mountain . O noble Dauphin !
Go with me to the king . 'Tis wonderful 
What may be wrought out of their discontent 
Now that their souls are topful of offence .
For England go ; I will whet on the king .
Strong reasons make strong actions . Let us go :
If you say ay , the king will not say no .
Heat me these irons hot ; and look thou stand 
Within the arras : when I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground , rush forth ,
And bind the boy which you shall find with me 
Fast to the chair : be heedful . Hence , and watch .
I hope your warrant will bear out the deed .
Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you : look to't .
Young lad , come forth ; I have to say with you .
Good morrow , Hubert .
Good morrow , little prince .
As little prince ,having so great a title 
To be more prince ,as may be . You are sad .
Indeed , I have been merrier .
Mercy on me !
Methinks nobody should be sad but I :
Yet I remember , when I was in France ,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night ,
Only for wantonness . By my christendom ,
So I were out of prison and kept sheep ,
I should be as merry as the day is long ;
And so I would be here , but that I doubt 
My uncle practises more harm to me :
He is afraid of me , and I of him .
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
No , indeed , is't not ; and I would to heaven 
I were your son , so you would love me , Hubert .
If I talk to him with his innocent prate 
He will awake my mercy which lies dead :
Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch .
Are you sick , Hubert ? you look pale to-day :
In sooth , I would you were a little sick ,
That I might sit all night and watch with you :
I warrant I love you more than you do me .
His words do take possession of my bosom .
Read here , young Arthur .
How now , foolish rheum !
Turning dispiteous torture out of door !
I must be brief , lest resolution drop 
Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears .
Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ ?
Too fairly , Hubert , for so foul effect .
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ?
Young boy , I must .
And will you ?
And I will .
Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache ,
I knit my handkercher about your brows ,
The best I had , a princess wrought it me ,
And I did never ask it you again ;
And with my hand at midnight held your head ,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour ,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ,
Saying , 'What lack you ?' and , 'Where lies your grief ?' 
Or , 'What good love may I perform for you ?' 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still ,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
But you at your sick-service had a prince .
Nay , you may think my love was crafty love ,
And call it cunning : do an if you will .
If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill ,
Why then you must . Will you put out mine eyes ?
These eyes that never did nor never shall 
So much as frown on you ?
I have sworn to do it ;
And with hot irons must I burn them out .
Ah ! none but in this iron age would do it !
The iron of itself , though heat red-hot ,
Approaching near these eyes , would drink my tears 
And quench this fiery indignation 
Even in the matter of mine innocence ;
Nay , after that , consume away in rust ,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye .
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron ?
An if an angel should have come to me 
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes ,
I would not have believ'd him ; no tongue but Hubert's .
Come forth .
Do as I bid you do .
O ! save me , Hubert , save me ! my eyes are out 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men .
Give me the iron , I say , and bind him here .
Alas ! what need you be so boisterousrough ?
I will not struggle ; I will stand stone-still .
For heaven's sake , Hubert , let me not be bound !
Nay , hear me , Hubert : drive these men away ,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ;
I will not stir , nor wince , nor speak a word ,
Nor look upon the iron angerly .
Thrust but these men away , and I'll forgive you ,
Whatever torment you do put me to .
Go , stand within : let me alone with him .
I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed .
Alas ! I then have chid away my friend :
He hath a stern look , but a gentle heart .
Let him come back , that his compassion may 
Give life to yours .
Come , boy , prepare yourself .
Is there no remedy ?
None , but to lose your eyes .
O heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours ,
A grain , a dust , a gnat , a wandering hair ,
Any annoyance in that precious sense ;
Then feeling what small things are boisterous there ,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible .
Is this your promise ? go to , hold your tongue .
Hubert , the utterance of a brace of tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes :
Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not , Hubert :
Or Hubert , if you will , cut out my tongue ,
So I may keep mine eyes : O ! spare mine eyes ,
Though to no use but still to look on you :
Lo ! by my troth , the instrument is cold 
And would not harm me .
I can heat it , boy .
No , in good sooth ; the fire is dead with grief ,
Being create for comfort , to be us'd 
In undeserv'd extremes : see else yourself ;
There is no malice in this burning coal ;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out 
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head .
But with my breath I can revive it , boy .
An if you do you will but make it blush 
And glow with shame of your proceedings , Hubert :
Nay , it perchance will sparkle in your eyes ;
And like a dog that is compell'd to fight ,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on .
All things that you should use to do me wrong 
Deny their office : only you do lack 
That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends ,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses .
Well , see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes :
Yet am I sworn and I did purpose , boy ,
With this same very iron to burn them out .
O ! now you look like Hubert , all this while 
You were disguised .
Peace ! no more . Adieu .
Your uncle must not know but you are dead ;
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports :
And , pretty child , sleep doubtless and secure ,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world 
Will not offend thee .
O heaven ! I thank you , Hubert .
Silence ! no more , go closely in with me :
Much danger do I undergo for thee .
Here once again we sit , once again crown'd ,
And look'd upon , I hope , with cheerful eyes .
This 'once again ,' but that your highness pleas'd ,
Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before ,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off ,
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land 
With any long'd-for change or better state .
Therefore , to be possess'd with double pomp ,
To guard a title that was rich before ,
To gild refined gold , to paint the lily ,
To throw a perfume on the violet ,
To smooth the ice , or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow , or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish ,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess .
But that your royal pleasure must be done ,
This act is as an ancient tale new told ,
And in the last repeating troublesome ,
Being urged at a time unseasonable .
In this the antique and well-noted face 
Of plain old form is much disfigured ;
And , like a shifted wind unto a sail ,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ,
Startles and frights consideration ,
Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected ,
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe .
When workmen strive to do better than well 
They do confound their skill in covetousness ;
And oftentimes excusing of a fault 
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse :
As patches set upon a little breach 
Discredit more in hiding of the fault 
Than did the fault before it was so patch'd .
To this effect , before you were newcrown'd ,
We breath'd our counsel : but it pleas'd your highness 
To overbear it , and we are all well pleas'd ;
Since all and every part of what we would 
Doth make a stand at what your highness will .
Some reasons of this double coronation 
I have possess'd you with and think them strong ;
And more , more strong ,when lesser is my fear ,
I shall indue you with : meantime but ask 
What you would have reform'd that is not well ;
And well shall you perceive how willingly 
I will both hear and grant you your requests .
Then I ,as one that am the tongue of these 
To sound the purposes of all their hearts ,
Both for myself and them ,but , chief of all ,
Your safety , for the which myself and them 
Bend their best studies ,heartily request 
The enfranchisement of Arthur ; whose restraint 
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent 
To break into this dangerous argument :
If what in rest you have in right you hold ,
Why then your fears ,which , as they say , attend 
The steps of wrong ,should move you to mew up 
Your tender kinsman , and to choke his days 
With barbarous ignorance , and deny his youth 
The rich advantage of good exercise ?
That the time's enemies may not have this 
To grace occasions , let it be our suit 
That you have bid us ask , his liberty ;
Which for our goods we do no further ask 
Than whereupon our weal , on you depending ,
Counts it your weal he have his liberty .
Let it be so : I do commit his youth 
To your direction . Hubert , what news with you ?
This is the man should do the bloody deed ;
He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine :
The image of a wicked hemous fault 
Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his 
Does show the mood of a much troubled breast ;
And I do fearfully believe 'tis done ,
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do .
The colour of the king doth come and go 
Between his purpose and his conscience ,
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set :
His passion is so ripe it needs must break .
And when it breaks , I fear will issue thence 
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death .
We cannot hold mortality's strong hand :
Good lords , although my will to give is living ,
The suit which you demand is gone and dead :
He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night .
Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past cure .
Indeed we heard how near his death he was 
Before the child himself felt he was sick :
This must be answer'd , either here or hence .
Why do you bend such solemn brows on me ?
Think you I bear the shears of destiny ?
Have I commandment on the pulse of life ?
It is apparent foul play ; and 'tis shame 
That greatness should so grossly offer it :
So thrive it in your game ! and so , farewell .
Stay yet , Lord Salisbury ; I'll go with thee ,
And find the inheritance of this poor child ,
His little kingdom of a forced grave .
That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle ,
Three foot of it doth hold : bad world the while !
This must not be thus borne : this will break out 
To all our sorrows , and ere long I doubt .
They burn in indignation . I repent :
There is no sure foundation set on blood ,
No certain life achiev'd by others' death .
A fearful eye thou hast : where is that blood 
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm :
Pour down thy weather : how goes all in France ?
From France to England . Never such a power 
For any foreign preparation 
Was levied in the body of a land .
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ;
For when you should be told they do prepare ,
The tidings come that they are all arriv'd .
O ! where hath our intelligence been drunk ?
Where hath it slept ? Where is my mother's care 
That such an army could be drawn in France ,
And she not hear of it ?
My liege , her ear 
Is stopp'd with dust : the first of April died 
Your noble mother ; and , as I hear , my lord ,
The Lady Constance in a frenzy died 
Three days before : but this from rumour's tongue 
I idly heard ; if true or false I know not .
Withhold thy speed , dreadful occasion !
O ! make a league with me , till I have pleas'd 
My discontented peers . What ! mother dead !
How wildly then walks my estate in France !
Under whose conduct came those powers of France 
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here ?
Under the Dauphin .
Thou hast made me giddy 
With these ill tidings .
Now , what says the world 
To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff 
My head with more ill news , for it is full .
But if you be afeard to hear the worst ,
Then let the worst unheard fall on your head .
Bear with me , cousin , for I was amaz'd 
Under the tide ; but now I breathe again 
Aloft the flood , and can give audience 
To any tongue , speak it of what it will .
How I have sped among the clergymen ,
The sums I have collected shall express .
But as I travell'd hither through the land ,
I find the people strangely fantasied ,
Possess'd with rumours , full of idle dreams ,
Not knowing what they fear , but full of fear .
And here's a prophet that I brought with me 
From forth the streets of Pomfret , whom I found 
With many hundreds treading on his heels ;
To whom he sung , in rude harsh-sounding rimes ,
That , ere the next Ascension-day at noon ,
Your highness should deliver up your crown .
Thou idle dreamer , wherefore didst thou so ?
Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so .
Hubert , away with him ; imprison him :
And on that day at noon , whereon , he says ,
I shall yield up my crown , let him be hang'd .
Deliver him to safety , and return ,
For I must use thee .
O my gentle cousin ,
Hear'st thou the news abroad , who are arriv'd ?
The French , my lord ; men's mouths are full of it :
Besides , I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury ,
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire ,
And others more , going to seek the grave 
Of Arthur , whom they say is kill'd to-night 
On your suggestion .
Gentle kinsman , go ,
And thrust thyself into their companies .
I have a way to win their loves again ;
Bring them before me .
I will seek them out .
Nay , but make haste ; the better foot before .
O ! let me have no subject enemies 
When adverse foreigners affright my towns 
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion .
Be Mercury , set feathers to thy heels ,
And fly like thought from them to me again .
The spirit of the time shall teach me speed .
Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman .
Go after him ; for he perhaps shall need 
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ;
And be thou he .
With all my heart , my liege .
My mother dead !
My lord , they say five moons were seen to-night :
Four fixed , and the fifth did whirl about 
The other four in wondrous motion .
Five moons !
Old men and beldams in the streets 
Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ;
And when they talk of him , they shake their heads 
And whisper one another in the ear ;
And he that speaks , doth gripe the hearer's wrist 
Whilst he that hears makes fearful action ,
With wrinkled brows , with nods , with rolling eyes .
I saw a smith stand with his hammer , thus ,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool ,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ;
Who , with his shears and measure in his hand ,
Standing on slippers ,which his nimble haste 
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet ,
Told of a many thousand warlike French ,
That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent .
Another lean unwash'd artificer 
Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur's death .
Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears ?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ?
Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had a mighty cause 
To wish him dead , but thou hadst none to kill him .
No had , my lord ! why , did you not provoke me ?
It is the curse of kings to be attended 
By slaves that take their humours for a warrant 
To break within the bloody house of life ,
And on the winking of authority 
To understand a law , to know the meaning 
Of dangerous majesty , when , perchance , it frowns 
More upon humour than advis'd respect .
Here is your hand and seal for what I did .
O ! when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth 
Is to be made , then shall this hand and seal 
Witness against us to damnation .
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes ill deeds done ! Hadst not thou been by ,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd ,
Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame ,
This murder had not come into my mind ;
But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect ,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany ,
Apt , liable to be employ'd in danger ,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ;
And thou , to be endeared to a king ,
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince .
My lord ,
Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause 
When I spake darkly what I purposed ,
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face ,
As bid me tell my tale in express words ,
Deep shame had struck me dumb , made me break off ,
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me :
But thou didst understand me by my signs 
And didst in signs again parley with sin ;
Yea , without stop , didst let thy heart consent ,
And consequently thy rude hand to act 
The deed which both our tongues held vile to name .
Out of my sight , and never see me more !
My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd ,
Even at my gates , with ranks of foreign powers :
Nay , in the body of this fleshly land ,
This kingdom , this confine of blood and breath ,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
Between my conscience and my cousin's death .
Arm you against your other enemies ,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you .
Young Arthur is alive : this hand of mine 
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand ,
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood .
Within this bosom never enter'd yet 
The dreadful motion of a murderous thought ;
And you have slander'd nature in my form ,
Which , howsoever rude exteriorly ,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
Than to be butcher of an innocent child .
Doth Arthur live ? O ! haste thee to the peers ,
Throw this report on their incensed rage ,
And make them tame to their obedience .
Forgive the comment that my passion made 
Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind ,
And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
Presented thee more hideous than thou art .
O ! answer not ; but to my closet bring 
The angry lords , with all expedient haste .
I conjure thee but slowly ; run more fast .
The wall is high ; and yet will I leap down 
Good ground , be pitiful and hurt me not !
There's few or none do know me ; if they did ,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite .
I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it .
If I get down , and do not break my limbs ,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away :
As good to die and go , as die and stay .
O me ! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :
Heaven take my soul , and England keep my bones !
Lords , I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury .
It is our safety , and we must embrace 
This gentle offer of the perilous time .
Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
The Count Melun , a noble lord of France ;
Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love ,
Is much more general than these lines import .
To-morrow morning let us meet him then .
Or rather then set forward ; for 'twill be 
Two long days' journey , lords , or e'er we meet .
Once more to-day well met , distemper'd lords !
The king by me requests your presence straight .
The king hath dispossess'd himself of us :
We will not line his thin bestained cloak 
With our pure honours , nor attend the foot 
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks .
Return and tell him so : we know the worst .
Whate'er you think , good words , I think , were best .
Our griefs , and not our manners , reason now .
But there is little reason in your grief ;
Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now .
Sir , sir , impatience hath his privilege .
'Tis true ; to hurt his master , no man else .
This is the prison .
What is he lies here ?
O death , made proud with pure and princely beauty !
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed .
Murder , as hating what himself hath done ,
Doth lay it open to urge on revenge .
Or when he doom'd this beauty to a grave ,
Found it too precious-princely for a grave .
Sir Richard , what think you ? Have you beheld ,
Or have you read , or heard ? or could you think ?
Or do you almost think , although you see ,
That you do see ? could thought , without this object ,
Form such another ? This is the very top ,
The height , the crest , or crest unto the crest ,
Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame ,
The wildest savagery , the vilest stroke ,
That ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage 
Presented to the tears of soft remorse .
All murders past do stand excus'd in this :
And this , so sole and so unmatchable ,
Shall give a holiness , a purity ,
To the yet unbegotten sin of times ;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest ,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle .
It is a damned and a bloody work ;
The graceless action of a heavy hand ,
If that it be the work of any hand .
If that it be the work of any hand !
We had a kind of light what would ensue :
It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ;
The practice and the purpose of the king :
From whose obedience I forbid my soul ,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life ,
And breathing to his breathless excellence 
The incense of a vow , a holy vow ,
Never to taste the pleasures of the world ,
Never to be infected with delight ,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness ,
Till I have set a glory to this hand ,
By giving it the worship of revenge .
Our souls religiously confirm thy words .
Our souls religiously confirm thy words .
Lords , I am hot with haste in seeking you :
Arthur doth live : the king hath sent for you .
O ! he is bold and blushes not at death .
Avaunt , thou hateful villain ! get thee gone .
I am no villain .
Must I rob the law ?
Your sword is bright , sir ; put it up again .
Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin .
Stand back , Lord Salisbury , stand back , I say :
By heaven , I think my sword's as sharp as yours .
I would not have you , lord , forget yourself ,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ;
Lest I , by marking of your rage , forget 
Your worth , your greatness , and nobility .
Out , dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a nobleman ?
Not for my life ; but yet I dare defend 
My innocent life against an emperor .
Thou art a murderer .
Do not prove me so ;
Yet I am none . Whose tongue soe'er speaks false ,
Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly , lies .
Cut him to pieces .
Keep the peace , I say .
Stand by , or I shall gall you , Faulconbridge .
Thou wert better gall the devil , Salisbury :
If thou but frown on me , or stir thy foot ,
Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame ,
I'll strike thee dead . Put up thy sword betime :
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron ,
That you shall think the devil is come from hell .
What wilt thou do , renowned Faulconbridge ?
Second a villain and a murderer ?
Lord Bigot , I am none .
Who kill'd this prince ?
'Tis not an hour since I left him well :
I honour'd him , I lov'd him ; and will weep 
My date of life out for his sweet life's loss .
Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes ,
For villany is not without such rheum ;
And he , long traded in it , makes it seem 
Like rivers of remorse and innocency .
Away with me , all you whose souls abhor 
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house ;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin .
Away toward Bury ; to the Dauphin there !
There tell the king he may inquire us out .
Here's a good world ! Knew you of this fair work ?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
Of mercy , if thou didst this deed of death ,
Art thou damn'd , Hubert .
Do but hear me , sir .
Ha ! I'll tell thee what ;
Thou art damn'd as black nay , nothing is so black ;
Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer :
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
As thou shalt be , if thou didst kill this child .
Upon my soul ,
If thou didst but consent 
To this most cruel act , do but despair ;
And if thou want'st a cord , the smallest thread 
That ever spider twisted from her womb 
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be a beam 
To hang thee on ; or wouldst thou drown thyself ,
Put but a little water in a spoon ,
And it shall be as all the ocean ,
Enough to stifle such a villain up .
I do suspect thee very grievously .
If I in act , consent , or sin of thought ,
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay ,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me .
I left him well .
Go , bear him in thine arms .
I am amaz'd , methinks , and lose my way 
Among the thorns and dangers of this world .
How easy dost thou take all England up !
From forth this morsel of dead royalty ,
The life , the right and truth of all this realm 
Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left 
To tug and scamble and to part by the teeth 
The unow'd interest of proud swelling state .
Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty 
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest ,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace :
Now powers from home and discontents at home 
Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits ,
As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast ,
The imminent decay of wrested pomp .
Now happy he whose cloak and ceinture can 
Hold out this tempest . Bear away that child 
And follow me with speed : I'll to the king :
A thousand businesses are brief in hand ,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land .
Thus have I yielded up into your hand 
The circle of my glory .
Take again 
From this my hand , as holding of the pope ,
Your sovereign greatness and authority .
Now keep your holy word : go meet the French ,
And from his holiness use all your power 
To stop their marches 'fore we are inflam'd .
Our discontented counties do revolt ,
Our people quarrel with obedience ,
Swearing allegiance and the love of soul 
To stranger blood , to foreign royalty .
This inundation of mistemper'd humour 
Rests by you only to be qualified :
Then pause not ; for the present time's so sick ,
That present medicine must be minister'd ,
Or overthrow incurable ensues .
It was my breath that blew this tempest up 
Upon your stubborn usage of the pope ;
But since you are a gentle convertite ,
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war 
And make fair weather in your blustering land .
On this Ascension-day , remember well ,
Upon your oath of service to the pope ,
Go I to make the French lay down their arms .
Is this Ascension-day ? Did not the prophet 
Say that before Ascension-day at noon 
My crown I should give off ? Even so I have :
I did suppose it should be on constraint ;
But , heaven be thank'd , it is but voluntary .
All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there holds out 
But Dover Castle : London hath receiv'd ,
Like a kind host , the Dauphin and his powers :
Your nobles will not hear you , but are gone 
To offer service to your enemy ;
And wild amazement hurries up and down 
The little number of your doubtful friends .
Would not my lords return to me again 
After they heard young Arthur was alive ?
They found him dead and cast into the streets ,
An empty casket , where the jewel of life 
By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away .
That villain Hubert told me he did live .
So , on my soul , he did , for aught he knew .
But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ?
Be great in act , as you have been in thought ;
Let not the world see fear and sad distrust 
Govern the motion of a kingly eye :
Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ;
Threaten the threatener , and outface the brow 
Of bragging horror : so shall inferior eyes ,
That borrow their behaviours from the great ,
Grow great by your example and put on 
The dauntless spirit of resolution .
Away ! and glister like the god of war 
When he intendeth to become the field :
Show boldness and aspiring confidence .
What ! shall they seek the lion in his den 
And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ?
O ! let it not be said . Forage , and run 
To meet displeasure further from the doors ,
And grapple with him ere he comes so nigh .
The legate of the pope hath been with me ,
And I have made a happy peace with him ;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers 
Led by the Dauphin .
O inglorious league !
Shall we , upon the footing of our land ,
Send fair-play orders and make compromise ,
Insinuation , parley and base truce 
To arms invasive ? shall a beardless boy ,
A cocker'd silken wanton , brave our fields ,
And flesh his spirit in a war-like soul ,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread ,
And find no check ? Let us , my liege , to arms :
Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace ;
Or if he do , let it at least be said 
They saw we had a purpose of defence .
Have thou the ordering of this present time .
Away then , with good courage ! yet , I know ,
Our party may well meet a prouder foe .
My Lord Melun , let this be copied out ,
And keep it safe for our remembrance .
Return the precedent to these lords again ;
That , having our fair order written down ,
Both they and we , perusing o'er these notes ,
May know wherefore we took the sacrament ,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable .
Upon our sides it never shall be broken .
And , noble Dauphin , albeit we swear 
A voluntary zeal , an unurg'd faith 
To your proceedings ; yet , believe me , prince ,
I am not glad that such a sore of time 
Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt ,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound 
By making many . O ! it grieves my soul 
That I must draw this metal from my side 
To be a widow-maker ! O ! and there 
Where honourable rescue and defence 
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury .
But such is the infection of the time ,
That , for the health and physic of our right ,
We cannot deal but with the very hand 
Of stern injustice and confused wrong .
And is't not pity , O my grieved friends !
That we , the sons and children of this isle ,
Were born to see so sad an hour as this ;
Wherein we step after a stranger march 
Upon her gentle bosom , and fill up 
Her enemies' ranks ,I must withdraw and weep 
Upon the spot of this enforced cause ,
To grace the gentry of a land remote ,
And follow unacquainted colours here ?
What , here ? O nation ! that thou couldst remove ;
That Neptune's arms , who clippeth thee about ,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself ,
And gripple thee unto a pagan shore ;
Where these two Christian armies might combine 
The blood of malice in a vein of league ,
And not to spend it so unneighbourly !
A noble temper dost thou show in this ;
And great affections wrestling in thy bosom 
Do make an earthquake of nobility .
O ! what a noble combat hast thou fought 
Between compulsion and a brave respect .
Let me wipe off this honourable dew ,
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks :
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears ,
Being an ordinary inundation ;
But this effusion of such manly drops ,
This shower , blown up by tempest of the soul ,
Startles mine eyes , and makes me more amaz'd 
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors .
Lift up thy brow , renowned Salisbury ,
And with a great heart heave away this storm :
Commend these waters to those baby eyes 
That never saw the giant world enrag'd ;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts ,
Full warm of blood , of mirth , of gossiping .
Come , come ; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep 
Into the purse of rich prosperity 
As Lewis himself : so , nobles , shall you all ,
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine .
And even there , methinks , an angel spake :
Look , where the holy legate comes apace ,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven ,
And on our actions set the name of right 
With holy breath .
Hail , noble prince of France !
The next is this : King John hath reconcil'd 
Himself to Rome ; his spirit is come in 
That so stood out against the holy church ,
The great metropolis and see of Rome .
Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up ,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war ,
That , like a lion foster'd up at hand ,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace ,
And be no further harmful than in show .
Your grace shall pardon me ; I will not back :
I am too high-born to be propertied ,
To be a secondary at control ,
Or useful serving-man and instrument 
To any sovereign state throughout the world .
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars 
Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself ,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire ;
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out 
With that same weak wind which enkindled it .
You taught me how to know the face of right ,
Acquainted me with interest to this land ,
Yea , thrust this enterprise into my heart ;
And come you now to tell me John hath made 
His peace with Rome ? What is that peace to me ?
I , by the honour of my marriage-bed ,
After young Arthur , claim this land for mine ;
And , now it is half-conquer'd , must I back 
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome ?
Am I Rome's slave ? What penny hath Rome borne ,
What men provided , what munition sent ,
To underprop this action ? is't not I 
That undergo this charge ? who else but I ,
And such as to my claim are liable ,
Sweat in this business and maintain this war ?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out ,
Vive le roy ! as I have bank'd their towns ?
Have I not here the best cards for the game 
To win this easy match play'd for a crown ?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ?
No , no , on my soul , it never shall be said .
You look but on the outside of this work .
Outside or inside , I will not return 
Till my attempt so much be glorified 
As to my ample hope was promised 
Before I drew this gallant head of war ,
And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world ,
To outlook conquest and to win renown 
Even in the jaws of danger and of death .
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?
According to the fair play of the world ,
Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak :
My holy Lord of Milan , from the king 
I come , to learn how you have dealt for him ;
And , as you answer , I do know the scope 
And warrant limited unto my tongue .
The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite ,
And will not temporize with my entreaties :
He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms .
By all the blood that ever fury breath'd ,
The youth says well . Now hear our English king ;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me .
He is prepar'd ; and reason too he should :
This apish and unmannerly approach ,
This harness'd masque and unadvised revel ,
This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops ,
The king doth smile at ; and is well prepar'd 
To whip this dwarfish war , these pigmy arms ,
From out the circle of his territories .
That hand which had the strength , even at your door ,
To cudgel you and make you take the hatch ;
To dive , like buckets , in concealed wells ;
To crouch in litter of your stable planks :
To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks ;
To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safety out 
In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill and shake ,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow ,
Thinking this voice an armed Englishman :
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here 
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No ! Know , the gallant monarch is in arms ,
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers ,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest .
And you degenerate , you ingrate revolts ,
You bloody Neroes , ripping up the womb 
Of your dear mother England , blush for shame :
For your own ladies and pale-visag'd maids 
Like Amazons come tripping after drums ,
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change ,
Their neelds to lances , and their gentle hearts 
To fierce and bloody inclination .
There end thy brave , and turn thy face in peace ;
We grant thou canst outscold us : fare thee well ;
We hold our time too precious to be spent 
With such a brabbler .
Give me leave to speak .
No , I will speak .
We will attend to neither .
Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war 
Plead for our interest and our being here .
Indeed , your drums , being beaten , will cry out ;
And so shall you , being beaten . Do but start 
An echo with the clamour of thy drum ,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd 
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ;
Sound but another , and another shall 
As loud as thine rattle the welkin's ear 
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at hand ,
Not trusting to this halting legate here ,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need ,
Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits 
A bare-ribb'd death , whose office is this day 
To feast upon whole thousands of the French .
Strike up our drums , to find this danger out .
And thou shalt find it , Dauphin , do not doubt .
How goes the day with us ? O ! tell me , Hubert .
Badly , I fear . How fares your majesty ?
This fever , that hath troubled me so long ,
Lies heavy on me : O ! my heart is sick .
My lord , your valiant kinsman , Faulconbridge ,
Desires your majesty to leave the field ,
And send him word by me which way you go .
Tell him , toward Swinstead , to the abbey there .
Be of good comfort : for the great supply 
That was expected by the Dauphin here ,
Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands .
This news was brought to Richard but even now .
The French fight coldly , and retire themselves .
Ay me ! this tyrant fever burns me up ,
And will not let me welcome this good news .
Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight ;
Weakness possesseth me , and I am faint .
I did not think the king so stor'd with friends .
Up once again ; put spirit in the French :
If they miscarry we miscarry too .
That misbegotten devil , Faulconbridge ,
In spite of spite , alone upholds the day .
They say King John , sore sick , hath left the field .
Lead me to the revolts of England here .
When we were happy we had other names .
It is the Count Melun .
Wounded to death .
Fly , noble English ; you are bought and sold ;
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion ,
And welcome home again discarded faith .
Seek out King John and fall before his feet ;
For if the French be lords of this loud day ,
He means to recompense the pains you take 
By cutting off your heads . Thus hath he sworn ,
And I with him , and many moe with me ,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury ;
Even on that altar where we swore to you 
Dear amity and everlasting love .
May this be possible ? may this be true ?
Have I not hideous death within my view ,
Retaining but a quantity of life ,
Which bleeds away , even as a form of wax 
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?
What in the world should make me now deceive ,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
Why should I then be false , since it is true 
That I must die here and live hence by truth ?
I say again , if Lewis do win the day ,
He is forsworn , if e'er those eyes of yours 
Behold another day break in the east :
But even this night , whose black contagious breath 
Already smokes about the burning crest 
Of the old , feeble , and day-wearied sun ,
Even this ill night , your breathing shall expire ,
Paying the fine of rated treachery 
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives ,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day .
Commend me to one Hubert with your king ;
The love of him , and this respect besides ,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman ,
Awakes my conscience to confess all this .
In lieu whereof , I pray you , bear me hence 
From forth the noise and rumour of the field ,
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 
In peace , and part this body and my soul 
With contemplation and devout desires .
We do believe thee : and beshrew my soul 
But I do love the favour and the form 
Of this most fair occasion , by the which 
We will untread the steps of damned flight ,
And like a bated and retired flood ,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course ,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd ,
And calmly run on in obedience ,
Even to our ocean , to our great King John .
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ,
For I do see the cruel pangs of death 
Right in thine eye . Away , my friends ! New flight ;
And happy newness , that intends old right .
The sun of heaven methought was loath to set ,
But stay'd and made the western welkin blush ,
When the English measur'd backward their own ground 
In faint retire . O ! bravely came we off ,
When with a volley of our needless shot ,
After such bloody toil , we bid good night ,
And wound our tottering colours clearly up ,
Last in the field , and almost lords of it !
Where is my prince , the Dauphin ?
Here : what news ?
The Count Melun is slain ; the English lords ,
By his persuasion , are again fall'n off ;
And your supply , which you have wish'd so long ,
Are cast away and sunk , on Goodwin sands .
Ah , foul shrewd news ! Beshrew thy very heart !
I did not think to be so sad to-night 
As this hath made me . Who was he that said 
King John did fly an hour or two before 
The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
Whoever spoke it , it is true , my lord .
Well ; keep good quarter and good care to-night :
The day shall not be up so soon as I ,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow .
Who's there ? speak , ho ! speak quickly , or I shoot .
A friend . What art thou ?
Of the part of England .
Whither dost thou go ?
What's that to thee ? Why may not I demand 
Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine ?
Hubert , I think ?
Thou hast a perfect thought :
I will upon all hazards well believe 
Thou art my friend , that know'st my tongue so well .
Who art thou ?
Who thou wilt : and if thou please ,
Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think 
I come one way of the Plantagenets .
Unkind remembrance ! thou and eyeless night 
Have done me shame : brave soldier , pardon me ,
That any accent breaking from thy tongue 
Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear .
Come , come ; sans compliment , what news abroad ?
Why , here walk I in the black brow of night ,
To find you out .
Brief , then ; and what's the news ?
O ! my sweet sir , news fitting to the night ,
Black , fearful , comfortless , and horrible .
Show me the very wound of this ill news :
I am no woman ; I'll not swound at it .
The king , I fear , is poison'd by a monk :
I left him almost speechless ; and broke out 
To acquaint you with this evil , that you might 
The better arm you to the sudden time 
Than if you had at leisure known of this .
How did he take it ? who did taste to him ?
A monk , I tell you ; a resolved villain ,
Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king 
Yet speaks , and peradventure may recover .
Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
Why , know you not ? the lords are all come back ,
And brought Prince Henry in their company ;
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them ,
And they are all about his majesty .
Withhold thine indignation , mighty heaven ,
And tempt us not to bear above our power !
I'll tell thee , Hubert , half my power this night ,
Passing these flats , are taken by the tide ;
These Lincoln Washes have devoured them :
Myself , well-mounted , hardly have escap'd .
Away before ! conduct me to the king ;
I doubt he will be dead or ere I come .
It is too late : the life of all his blood 
Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain ,
Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house ,
Doth , by the idle comments that it makes ,
Foretell the ending of mortality .
His highness yet doth speak ; and holds belief 
That , being brought into the open air ,
It would allay the burning quality 
Of that fell poison which assaileth him .
Let him be brought into the orchard here .
Doth he still rage ?
He is more patient 
Than when you left him : even now he sung .
O , vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes 
In their continuance will not feel themselves .
Death , having prey'd upon the outward parts ,
Leaves them invisible ; and his siege is now 
Against the mind , the which he pricks and wounds 
With many legions of strange fantasies ,
Which , in their throng and press to that last hold ,
Confound themselves . 'Tis strange that death should sing .
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan ,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ,
And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings 
His soul and body to their lasting rest 
Be of good comfort , prince ; for you are born 
To set a form upon that indigest 
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude .
Ay , marry , now my soul hath elbow-room ;
It would not out at windows , nor at doors .
There is so hot a summer in my bosom 
That all my bowels crumble up to dust :
I am a scribbled form , drawn with a pen 
Upon a parchment , and against this fire 
Do I shrink up .
How fares your majesty ?
Poison'd , ill-fare ; dead , forsook , cast off ;
And none of you will bid the winter come 
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north 
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips 
And comfort me with cold . I do not ask you much :
I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait 
And so ingrateful you deny me that .
O ! that there were some virtue in my tears ,
That might relieve you .
The salt in them is hot .
Within me is a hell ; and there the poison 
Is as a fiend confin'd to tyrannize 
On unreprievable condemned blood .
O ! I am scalded with my violent motion 
And spleen of speed to see your majesty .
O cousin ! thou art come to set mine eye :
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ,
And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail 
Are turned to one thread , one little hair ;
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by ,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered ;
And then all this thou seest is but a clod 
And module of confounded royalty .
The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ,
Where heaven he knows how we shall answer him :
For in a night the best part of my power ,
As I upon advantage did remove ,
Were in the Washes all unwarily 
Devoured by the unexpected flood .
You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear .
My liege ! my lord ! But now a king , now thus .
Even so must I run on , and even so stop .
What surety of the world , what hope , what stay ,
When this was now a king , and now is clay ?
Art thou gone so ? I do but stay behind 
To do the office for thee of revenge ,
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven ,
As it on earth hath been thy servant still .
Now , now , you stars , that move in your right spheres ,
Where be your powers ? Show now your mended faiths ,
And instantly return with me again ,
To push destruction and perpetual shame 
Out of the weak door of our fainting land .
Straight let us seek , or straight we shall be sought :
The Dauphin rages at our very heels .
It seems you know not then so much as we .
The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest ,
Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin ,
And brings from him such offers of our peace 
As we with honour and respect may take ,
With purpose presently to leave this war .
He will the rather do it when he sees 
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence .
Nay , it is in a manner done already ;
For many carriages he hath dispatch'd 
To the sea-side , and put his cause and quarrel 
To the disposing of the cardinal :
With whom yourself , myself , and other lords ,
If you think meet , this afternoon will post 
To consummate this business happily .
Let it be so . And you , my noble prince ,
With other princes that may best be spar'd ,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral .
At Worcester must his body be interr'd ;
For so he will'd it .
Thither shall it then .
And happily may your sweet self put on 
The lineal state and glory of the land !
To whom , with all submission , on my knee ,
I do bequeath my faithful services 
And true subjection everlastingly .
And the like tender of our love we make ,
To rest without a spot for evermore .
I have a kind soul that would give you thanks ,
And knows not how to do it but with tears .
O ! let us pay the time but needful woe 
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs .
This England never did , nor never shall ,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror ,
But when it first did help to wound itself .
Now these her princes are come home again ,
Come the three corners of the world in arms ,
And we shall shock them . Nought shall make us rue ,
If England to itself do rest but true .
THE LIFE OF KING HENRY V
Chorus .
O ! for a Muse of fire , that would ascend 
The brightest heaven of invention ;
A kingdom for a stage , princes to act 
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene .
Then should the war-like Harry , like himself ,
Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels ,
Leash'd in like hounds , should famine , sword , and fire 
Crouch for employment . But pardon , gentles all ,
The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd 
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth 
So great an object : can this cockpit hold 
The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram 
Within this wooden O the very casques 
That did affright the air at Agincourt ?
O , pardon ! since a crooked figure may 
Attest in little place a million ;
And let us , ciphers to this great accompt ,
On your imaginary forces work .
Suppose within the girdle of these walls 
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies ,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts 
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder :
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts :
Into a thousand parts divide one man ,
And make imaginary puissance ;
Think when we talk of horses that you see them 
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth ;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings ,
Carry them here and there , jumping o'er times ,
Turning the accomplishment of many years 
Into an hour-glass : for the which supply ,
Admit me Chorus to this history ;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray ,
Gently to hear , kindly to judge , our play .
My lord , I'll tell you ; that self bill is urg'd ,
Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign 
Was like , and had indeed against us pass'd ,
But that the scambling and unquiet time 
Did push it out of further question .
But how , my lord , shall we resist it now ?
It must be thought on . If it pass against us ,
We lose the better half of our possession ;
For all the temporal lands which men devout 
By testament have given to the church 
Would they strip from us ; being valu'd thus :
As much as would maintain , to the king's honour ,
Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights ,
Six thousand and two hundred good esquires ;
And , to relief of lazars and weak age ,
Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil ,
A hundred almshouses right well supplied ;
And to the coffers of the king beside ,
A thousand pounds by the year . Thus runs the bill .
This would drink deep .
'Twould drink the cup and all .
But what prevention ?
The king is full of grace and fair regard .
And a true lover of the holy church .
The courses of his youth promis'd it not .
The breath no sooner left his father's body 
But that his wildness , mortified in him ,
Seem'd to die too ; yea , at that very moment ,
Consideration like an angel came ,
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him ,
Leaving his body as a paradise ,
To envelop and contain celestial spirits .
Never was such a sudden scholar made ;
Never came reformation in a flood ,
With such a heady currance , scouring faults ;
Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 
So soon did lose his seat and all at once 
As in this king .
We are blessed in the change .
Hear him but reason in divinity ,
And , all-admiring , with an inward wish 
You would desire the king were made a prelate :
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs ,
You would say it hath been all in all his study :
List his discourse of war , and you shall hear 
A fearful battle render'd you in music :
Turn him to any cause of policy ,
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose ,
Familiar as his garter ; that , when he speaks ,
The air , a charter'd libertine , is still ,
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears ,
To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences ;
So that the art and practic part of life 
Must be the mistress to this theoric :
Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it ,
Since his addiction was to courses vain ;
His companies unletter'd , rude , and shallow ;
His hours fill'd up with riots , banquets , sports ;
And never noted in him any study ,
Any retirement , any sequestration 
From open haunts and popularity .
The strawberry grows underneath the nettle ,
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best 
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality :
And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation 
Under the veil of wildness ; which , no doubt ,
Grew like the summer grass , fastest by night ,
Unseen , yet crescive in his faculty .
It must be so ; for miracles are ceas'd ;
And therefore we must needs admit the means 
How things are perfected .
But , my good lord ,
How now for mitigation of this bill 
Urg'd by the commons ? Doth his majesty 
Incline to it , or no ?
He seems indifferent ,
Or rather swaying more upon our part 
Than cherishing the exhibiters against us ;
For I have made an offer to his majesty ,
Upon our spiritual convocation ,
And in regard of causes now in hand ,
Which I have open'd to his Grace at large ,
As touching France , to give a greater sum 
Than ever at one time the clergy yet 
Did to his predecessors part withal .
How did this offer seem receiv'd , my lord ?
With good acceptance of his majesty ;
Save that there was not time enough to hear ,
As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done ,
The severals and unhidden passages 
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms ,
And generally to the crown and seat of France ,
Deriv'd from Edward , his great-grandfather .
What was the impediment that broke this off ?
The French ambassador upon that instant 
Crav'd audience ; and the hour I think is come 
To give him hearing : is it four o'clock ?
It is .
Then go we in to know his embassy ;
Which I could with a ready guess declare 
Before the Frenchman speak a word of it .
I'll wait upon you , and I long to hear it .
Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury ?
Not here in presence .
Send for him , good uncle .
Shall we call in the ambassador , my liege ?
Not yet , my cousin : we would be resolv'd ,
Before we hear him , of some things of weight 
That task our thoughts , concerning us and France .
God and his angels guard your sacred throne ,
And make you long become it !
Sure , we thank you .
My learned lord , we pray you to proceed ,
And justly and religiously unfold 
Why the law Salique that they have in France 
Or should , or should not , bar us in our claim .
And God forbid , my dear and faithful lord ,
That you should fashion , wrest , or bow your reading ,
Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
With opening titles miscreate , whose right 
Suits not in native colours with the truth ;
For God doth know how many now in health 
Shall drop their blood in approbation 
Of what your reverence shall incite us to .
Therefore take heed how you impawn our person ,
How you awake the sleeping sword of war :
We charge you in the name of God , take heed ;
For never two such kingdoms did contend 
Without much fall of blood ; whose guiltless drops 
Are every one a woe , a sore complaint ,
'Gainst him whose wrongs give edge unto the swords 
That make such waste in brief mortality .
Under this conjuration speak , my lord ,
And we will hear , note , and believe in heart ,
That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd 
As pure as sin with baptism .
Then hear me , gracious sovereign , and you peers ,
That owe yourselves , your lives , and services 
To this imperial throne . There is no bar 
To make against your highness' claim to France 
But this , which they produce from Pharamond ,
In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant ,
'No woman shall succeed in Salique land :' 
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze 
To be the realm of France , and Pharamond 
The founder of this law and female bar .
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm 
That the land Salique is in Germany ,
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe ;
Where Charles the Great , having subdu'd the Saxons ,
There left behind and settled certain French ;
Who , holding in disdain the German women 
For some dishonest manners of their life ,
Establish'd then this law ; to wit , no female 
Should be inheritrix in Salique land :
Which Salique , as I said , 'twixt Elbe and Sala ,
Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen .
Then doth it well appear the Salique law 
Was not devised for the realm of France ;
Nor did the French possess the Salique land 
Until four hundred one-and-twenty years 
After defunction of King Pharamond ,
Idly suppos'd the founder of this law ;
Who died within the year of our redemption 
Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charles the Great 
Subdu'd the Saxons , and did seat the French 
Beyond the river Sala , in the year 
Eight hundred five . Besides , their writers say ,
King Pepin , which deposed Childeric ,
Did , as heir general , being descended 
Of Blithild , which was daughter to King Clothair ,
Make claim and title to the crown of France .
Hugh Capet also , who usurp'd the crown 
Of Charles the Duke of Loraine , sole heir male 
Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great ,
To find his title with some shows of truth ,
Though in pure truth , it was corrupt and naught ,
Convey'd himself as heir to the Lady Lingare ,
Daughter to Charlemain , who was the son 
To Lewis the emperor , and Lewis the son 
Of Charles the Great . Also King Lewis the Tenth ,
Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet ,
Could not keep quiet in his conscience ,
Wearing the crown of France , till satisfied 
That fair Queen Isabel , his grandmother ,
Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare ,
Daughter to Charles the aforesaid Duke of Loraine :
By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great 
Was re-united to the crown of France .
So that , as clear as is the summer's sun ,
King Pepin's title , and Hugh Capet's claim ,
King Lewis his satisfaction , all appear 
To hold in right and title of the female :
So do the kings of France unto this day ;
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law 
To bar your highness claiming from the female ;
And rather choose to hide them in a net 
Than amply to imbar their crooked titles 
Usurp'd from you and your progenitors .
May I with right and conscience make this claim ?
The sin upon my head , dread sovereign !
For in the book of Numbers is it writ :
'When the son dies , let the inheritance 
Descend unto the daughter .' Gracious lord ,
Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ;
Look back into your mighty ancestors :
Go , my dread lord , to your great-grandsire's tomb ,
From whom you claim ; invoke his war-like spirit ,
And your great-uncle's , Edward the Black Prince ,
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy ,
Making defeat on the full power of France ;
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill 
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp 
Forage in blood of French nobility .
O noble English ! that could entertain 
With half their forces the full pride of France ,
And let another half stand laughing by ,
All out of work , and cold for action .
Awake remembrance of these valiant dead ,
And with your puissant arm renew their feats :
You are their heir , you sit upon their throne ,
The blood and courage that renowned them 
Runs in your veins ; and my thrice-puissantliege 
Is in the very May-morn of his youth ,
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises .
Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth 
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself ,
As did the former lions of your blood .
They know your Grace hath cause and means and might ;
So hath your highness ; never King of England 
Had nobles richer , and more loyal subjects ,
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England 
And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France .
O ! let their bodies follow , my dear liege ,
With blood and sword and fire to win your right ;
In aid whereof we of the spiritualty 
Will raise your highness such a mighty sum 
As never did the clergy at one time 
Bring in to any of your ancestors .
We must not only arm to invade the French ,
But lay down our proportions to defend 
Against the Scot , who will make road upon us 
With all advantages .
They of those marches , gracious sovereign ,
Shall be a wall sufficient to defend 
Our inland from the pilfering borderers .
We do not mean the coursing snatchers only ,
But fear the main intendment of the Scot ,
Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us ;
For you shall read that my great-grandfather 
Never went with his forces into France 
But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom 
Came pouring , like the tide into a breach ,
With ample and brim fulness of his force ,
Galling the gleaned land with hot essays ,
Girding with grievous siege castles and towns ;
That England , being empty of defence ,
Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood .
She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd , my liege ;
For hear her but exampled by herself :
When all her chivalry hath been in France 
And she a mourning widow of her nobles ,
She hath herself not only well defended ,
But taken and impounded as a stray 
The King of Scots ; whom she did send to France ,
To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings ,
And make your chronicle as rich with praise 
As is the owse and bottom of the sea 
With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries .
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 .
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 
The 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 .
Therefore doth heaven divide 
The state of man in divers functions ,
Setting endeavour in continual motion ;
To which is fixed , as an aim or butt ,
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 ,
Fly 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 may a thousand actions , once afoot ,
End in one purpose , and be all well borne 
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 .
Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin .
Now are we well resolv'd ; and by God's help ,
And yours , the noble 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 worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph .
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 .
May't please your majesty to give us leave 
Freely to render what we have in charge ;
Or shall we sparingly show you far off 
The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy ?
We are no tyrant , but a Christian king ;
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject 
As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons :
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness 
Tell us the Dauphin's mind .
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 .
What treasure , uncle ?
Tennis-balls , my liege .
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 balls ,
We will in France , by God'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 balls 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 out 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 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 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 .
This was a merry message .
We hope to make the sender blush at it .
Therefore , my lords , omit no happy hour 
That may give furtherance to our expedition ;
For we have now no thought in us but France ,
Save those to God , 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 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 .
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 hell and treason hold their promises ,
Ere he take ship for France , and in Southampton .
Linger your patience on ; and well digest 
The abuse of distance while we 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 playhouse 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 pass ; 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 shift our scene .
Well met , Corporal Nym .
Good morrow , Lieutenant Bardolph .
What , are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet ?
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 .
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends , and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France : let it be so , good Corporal 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 .
It is certain , corporal , that he is married to Nell Quickly ; and , certainly she did you wrong , for you were troth-plight to her .
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 .
Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife . Good corporal , be patient here . How now , mine host Pistol !
Base tike , call'st thou me host ?
Now , by this hand , I swear , I scorn the term ;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers .
No , by my troth , not long ; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles , but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight . [ 
Good lieutenant ! good corporal ! offer nothing here .
Pish for thee , Iceland dog ! thou prickeared cur of Iceland !
Good Corporal Nym , show thy valour and put up your sword .
Will you shog off ? I would have you solus .
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 cock is up ,
And flashing fire will follow .
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 prick your guts a little , in good terms , as I may ; and that's the humour of it .
O braggart vile and damned furious wight !
The grave doth gape , and doting death is near ;
Therefore exhale .
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 .
An oath of mickle might , and fury shall abate .
Give me thy fist , thy fore-foot to me give ;
Thy spirits are most tall .
I will cut thy throat , one time or other , in fair terms ; that is the humour of it .
Coupe le gorge !
That is the word . I thee defy again .
O hound of Crete , think'st thou my spouse to get ?
No ; to the spital go ,
And from the powdering-tub of infamy 
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind ,
Doll Tearsheet she by name , and her espouse :
I have , and I will hold , the quondam Quickly 
For the only she ; and pauca , there's enough .
Go to 
Mine host Pistol , you must come to my master , and your hostess : he is very sick , and would to bed . Good Bardolph , put thy face between his sheets and do the office of a warming-pan . Faith , he's very ill .
Away , you rogue !
By my troth , he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days . The king has killed his heart . Good husband , come home presently .
Come , shall I make you two friends ? We must to France together . Why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another's throats ?
Let floods o'erswell , and fiends for food howl on !
You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting ?
Base is the slave that pays .
That now I will have ; that's the humour of it .
As manhood shall compound : push home .
By this sword , he that makes the first thrust , I'll kill him ; by this sword , I will .
Sword is an oath , and oaths must have their course .
Corporal Nym , an thou wilt be friends , be friends : an thou wilt not , why then , be enemies with me too . Prithee , put up .
I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting ?
A noble shalt thou have , and present pay ;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee ,
And friendship shall combine , and brotherhood :
I'll live by Nym , and Nym shall live by me .
Is not this just ? for I shall sutler be 
Unto the camp , and profits will accrue .
Give me thy hand .
I shall have my noble ?
In cash most justly paid .
Well then , that's the humour of it .
As ever you came of women , come in quickly to Sir John . Ah , poor heart ! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian , that it is most lamentable to behold . Sweet men , come to him .
The king hath run bad humours on the knight ; that's the even of it .
Nym , thou hast spoke the right ;
His heart is fracted and corroborate .
The king is a good king : but it must be as it may ; he passes some humours and careers .
Let us condole the knight ; for , lambkins , we will live .
'Fore God , his Grace is bold to trust these traitors .
They shall be apprehended by and by .
How smooth and even they do bear themselves !
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat ,
Crowned with faith and constant loyalty .
The king hath note of all that they intend ,
By interception which they dream not of .
Nay , but the man that was his bedfellow ,
Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours ,
That he should , for a foreign purse , so sell 
His sovereign's life to death and treachery !
Now sits the wind fair , and we will aboard .
My Lord of Cambridge , and my kind Lord of Masham ,
And you , my gentle knight , give me your thoughts :
Think you not that the powers we bear with us 
Will cut their passage through the force of France ,
Doing the execution and the act 
For which we have in head assembled them ?
No doubt , my liege , if each man do his best .
I doubt not that ; since we are well persuaded 
We carry not a heart with us from hence 
That grows not in a fair consent with ours ;
Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish 
Success and conquest to attend on us .
Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd 
Than is your majesty : there's not , I think , a subject 
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
Under the sweet shade of your government .
True : those that were your father's enemies 
Have steep'd their galls in honey , and do serve you 
With hearts create of duty and of zeal .
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness ,
And shall forget the office of our hand ,
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit 
According to the weight and worthiness .
So service shall with steeled sinews toil ,
And labour shall refresh itself with hope ,
To do your Grace incessant services .
We judge no less . Uncle of Exeter ,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday 
That rail'd against our person : we consider 
It was excess of wine that set him on ;
And on his more advice we pardon him .
That's mercy , but too much security :
Let him be punish'd , sovereign , lest example 
Breed , by his sufference , more of such a kind .
O ! let us yet be merciful .
So may your highness , and yet punish too .
You show great mercy , if you give him life 
After the taste of much correction .
Alas ! your too much love and care of me 
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch .
If little faults , proceeding on distemper ,
Shall not be wink'd at , how shall we stretch our eye 
When capital crimes , chew'd , swallow'd , and digested ,
Appear before us ? We'll yet enlarge that man ,
Though Cambridge , Scroop , and Grey , in their dear care ,
And tender preservation of our person ,
Would have him punish'd . And now to our French causes :
Who are the late commissioners ?
I one , my lord :
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day .
So did you me , my liege .
And I , my royal sovereign .
Then , Richard , Earl of Cambridge , there is yours ;
There yours , Lord Scroop of Masham ; and , sir knight ,
Grey of Northumberland , this same is yours :
Read them ; and know , I know your worthiness .
My Lord of Westmoreland , and uncle Exeter ,
We will aboard to-night . Why , how now , gentlemen !
What see you in those papers that you lose 
So much complexion ? Look ye , how they change !
Their cheeks are paper . Why , what read you there ,
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood 
Out of appearance ?
I do confess my fault ,
And do submit me to your highness' mercy .
To which we all appeal .
To which we all appeal .
The mercy that was quick in us but late 
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd :
You must not dare , for shame , to talk of mercy ;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms ,
As dogs upon their masters , worrying you .
See you , my princes and my noble peers ,
These English monsters ! My Lord of Cambridge here ,
You know how apt our love was to accord 
To furnish him with all appertinents 
Belonging to his honour ; and this man 
Hath , for a few light crowns , lightly conspir'd ,
And sworn unto the practices of France ,
To kill us here in Hampton : to the which 
This knight , no less for bounty bound to us 
Than Cambridge is , hath likewise sworn . But O !
What shall I say to thee , Lord Scroop ? thou cruel ,
Ingrateful , savage and inhuman creature !
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels ,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul ,
That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold 
Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use !
May it be possible that foreign hire 
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil 
That might annoy my finger ? 'tis so strange 
That , though the truth of it stands off as gross 
As black from white , my eye will scarcely see it .
Treason and murder ever kept together ,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose ,
Working so grossly in a natural cause 
That admiration did not whoop at them :
But thou , 'gainst all proportion , didst bring in 
Wonder to wait on treason and on murder :
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was 
That wrought upon thee so preposterously 
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence :
And other devils that suggest by treasons 
Do botch and bungle up damnation 
With patches , colours , and with forms , being fetch'd 
From glistering semblances of piety ;
But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up ,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason ,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor .
If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus 
Should with his lion gait walk the whole world ,
He might return to vasty Tartar back ,
And tell the legions , 'I can never win 
A soul so easy as that Englishman's .' 
O ! how hast thou with jealousy infected 
The sweetness of affiance . Show men dutiful ?
Why , so didst thou : seem they grave and learned ?
Why , so didst thou : come they of noble family ?
Why , so didst thou : seem they religious ?
Why , so didst thou : or are they spare in diet ,
Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger ,
Constant in spirit , not swerving with the blood ,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement ,
Not working with the eye without the ear ,
And but in purged judgment trusting neither ?
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem :
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot ,
To mark the full-fraught man and best indu'd 
With some suspicion . I will weep for thee ;
For this revolt of thine , methinks , is like 
Another fall of man . Their faults are open :
Arrest them to the answer of the law ;
And God acquit them of their practices !
I arrest thee of high treason , by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge .
I arrest thee of high treason , by the name of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham .
I arrest thee of high treason , by the name of Thomas Grey , knight , of Northumberland .
Our purposes God justly hath discover'd ,
And I repent my fault more than my death ;
Which I beseech your highness to forgive ,
Although my body pay the price of it .
For me , the gold of France did not seduce ,
Although I did admit it as a motive 
The sooner to effect what I intended :
But God be thanked for prevention ;
Which I in sufference heartily will rejoice ,
Beseeching God and you to pardon me .
Never did faithful subject more rejoice 
At the discovery of most dangerous treason 
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself ,
Prevented from a damned enterprise .
My fault , but not my body ; pardon , sovereign .
God quit you in his mercy ! Hear your sentence .
You have conspir'd against our royal person ,
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd , and from his coffers 
Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death ;
Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter ,
His princes and his peers to servitude ,
His subjects to oppression and contempt ,
And his whole kingdom into desolation .
Touching our person seek we no revenge ;
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender ,
Whose ruin you have sought , that to her laws 
We do deliver you . Get you therefore hence ,
Poor miserable wretches , to your death ;
The taste whereof , God of his mercy give you 
Patience to endure , and true repentance 
Of all your dear offences ! Bear them hence .
Now , lords , for France ! the enterprise whereof 
Shall be to you , as us , like glorious .
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war ,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light 
This dangerous treason lurking in our way 
To hinder our beginnings . We doubt not now 
But every rub is smoothed on our way .
Then forth , dear countrymen : let us deliver 
Our puissance into the hand of God ,
Putting it straight in expedition .
Cheerly to sea ! the signs of war advance :
No king of England , if not king of France .
Prithee , honey-sweet husband , let me bring thee to Staines .
No ; for my manly heart doth yearn .
Bardolph , be blithe ; Nym , rouse thy vaunting veins ;
Boy , bristle thy courage up ; for Falstaff he is dead ,
And we must yearn therefore .
Would I were with him , wheresome'er he is , either in heaven or in hell !
Nay , sure , he's not in hell : he's in Arthur's bosom , if ever man went to Arthur's bosom . A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child ; a' parted even just between twelve and one , even at the turning o' the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends , I knew there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen , and a' babbled of green fields . 'How now , Sir John !' quoth I : 'what man ! be of good cheer .' So a' cried out 'God , God , God !' three or four times : now I , to comfort him , bid him a' should not think of God , I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet . So a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet : I put my hand into the bed and felt them , and they were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to his knees , and so upward , and upward , and all was as cold as any stone .
They say he cried out of sack .
Ay , that a' did .
And of women .
Nay , that a' did not .
Yes , that a' did ; and said they were devils incarnate .
A' could never abide carnation ; 'twas a colour he never liked .
A' said once , the devil would have him about women .
A' did in some sort , indeed , handle women ; but then he was rheumatic , and talked of the whore of Babylon .
Do you not remember a' saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose , and a' said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire ?
Well , the fuel is gone that maintained that fire : that's all the riches I got in his service .
Shall we shog ? the king will be gone from Southampton .
Come , let's away . My love , give me thy lips .
Look to my chattels and my moveables :
Let senses rule , the word is , 'Pitch and pay ;' 
Trust none ;
For oaths are straws , men's faiths are wafercakes ,
And hold-fast is the only dog , my duck :
Therefore , caveto be thy counsellor .
Go , clear thy crystals . Yoke-fellows in arms ,
Let us to France ; like horse-leeches , my boys ,
To suck , to suck , the very blood to suck !
And that's but unwholesome food , they say .
Touch her soft mouth , and march .
Farewell , hostess .
I cannot kiss , that is the humour of it ; but , adieu .
Let housewifery appear : keep close , I thee command .
Farewell ; adieu .
Thus come the English with full power upon us ;
And more than carefully it us concerns 
To answer royally in our defences .
Therefore the Dukes of Berri and Britaine ,
Of Brabant and of Orleans , shall make forth ,
And you , Prince Dauphin , with all swift dispatch ,
To line and new repair our towns of war 
With men of courage and with means defendant :
For England his approaches makes as fierce 
As waters to the sucking of a gulf .
It fits us then to be as provident 
As fear may teach us , out of late examples 
Left by the fatal and neglected English 
Upon our fields .
My most redoubted father ,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe ;
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom ,
Though war nor no known quarrel were in question ,
But that defences , musters , preparations ,
Should be maintain'd , assembled , and collected ,
As were a war in expectation .
Therefore , I say 'tis meet we all go forth 
To view the sick and feeble parts of France :
And let us do it with no show of fear ;
No , with no more than if we heard that England 
Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance :
For , my good liege , she is so idly king'd ,
Her sceptre so fantastically borne 
By a vain , giddy , shallow , humorous youth ,
That fear attends her not .
O peace , Prince Dauphin !
You are too much mistaken in this king .
Question your Grace the late ambassadors ,
With what great state he heard their embassy ,
How well supplied with noble counsellors ,
How modest in exception , and , withal 
How terrible in constant resolution ,
And you shall find his vanities forespent 
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus ,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly ;
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
That shall first spring and be most delicate .
Well , 'tis not so , my lord high constable ;
But though we think it so , it is no matter :
In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh 
The enemy more mighty than he seems :
So the proportions of defence are fill'd ;
Which of a weak and niggardly projection 
Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting 
A little cloth .
Think we King Harry strong ;
And , princes , look you strongly arm to meet him .
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us ,
And he is bred out of that bloody strain 
That haunted us in our familiar paths :
Witness our too much memorable shame 
When Cressy battle fatally was struck 
And all our princes captiv'd by the hand 
Of that black name , Edward Black Prince of Wales ;
Whiles that his mounting sire , on mountain standing ,
Up in the air , crown'd with the golden sun ,
Saw his heroical seed , and smil'd to see him 
Mangle the work of nature , and deface 
The patterns that by God and by French fathers 
Had twenty years been made . This is a stem 
Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear 
The native mightiness and fate of him .
Ambassadors from Harry King of England 
Do crave admittance to your majesty .
We'll give them present audience . Go , and bring them .
You see this chase is hotly follow'd , friends .
Turn head , and stop pursuit ; for coward dogs 
Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten 
Runs far before them . Good my sovereign ,
Take up the English short , and let them know 
Of what a monarchy you are the head :
Self-love , my liege , is not so vile a sin 
As self-neglecting .
From our brother England ?
From him ; and thus he greets your majesty .
He wills you , in the name of God Almighty ,
That you divest yourself , and lay apart 
The borrow'd glories that by gift of heaven ,
By law of nature and of nations 'long 
To him and to his heirs ; namely , the crown 
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain 
By custom and the ordinance of times 
Unto the crown of France . That you may know 
'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim ,
Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days ,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd ,
He sends you this most memorable line ,
In every branch truly demonstrative ;
Willing you overlook this pedigree ;
And when you find him evenly deriv'd 
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors ,
Edward the Third , he bids you then resign 
Your crown and kingdom , indirectly held 
From him the native and true challenger .
Or else what follows ?
Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the crown 
Even in your hearts , there will he rake for it :
Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming ,
In thunder and in earthquake like a Jove ,
That , if requiring fail , he will compel ;
And bids you , in the bowels of the Lord ,
Deliver up the crown , and to take mercy 
On the poor souls for whom this hungry war 
Opens his vasty jaws ; and on your head 
Turning the widows' tears , the orphans' cries ,
The dead men's blood , the pining maidens' groans ,
For husbands , fathers , and betrothed lovers ,
That shall be swallow'd in this controversy .
This is his claim , his threat'ning , and my message ;
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here ,
To whom expressly I bring greeting too .
For us , we will consider of this further :
To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
Back to our brother England .
For the Dauphin ,
I stand here for him : what to him from England ?
Scorn and defiance , slight regard , contempt ,
And anything that may not misbecome 
The mighty sender , doth he prize you at .
Thus says my king : an if your father's highness 
Do not , in grant of all demands at large ,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty ,
He'll call you to so hot an answer of it ,
That caves and womby vaultages of France 
Shall chide your trespass and return your mock 
In second accent of his ordinance .
Say , if my father render fair return ,
It is against my will ; for I desire 
Nothing but odds with England : to that end ,
As matching to his youth and vanity ,
I did present him with the Paris balls .
He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it ,
Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe :
And , be assur'd , you'll find a difference 
As we his subjects have in wonder found 
Between the promise of his greener days 
And these he masters now . Now he weighs time 
Even to the utmost grain ; that you shall read 
In your own losses , if he stay in France .
To-morrow shall you know our mind at full .
Dispatch us with all speed , lest that our king 
Come here himself to question our delay ;
For he is footed in this land already .
You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions :
A night is but small breath and little pause 
To answer matters of this consequence .
Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies 
In motion of no less celerity 
Than that of thought . Suppose that you have seen 
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet 
With silken streamers the young Ph bus fanning :
Play with your fancies , and in them behold 
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing ;
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give 
To sounds confus'd ; behold the threaden sails ,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind ,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea ,
Breasting the lofty surge . O ! do but think 
You stand upon the rivage and behold 
A city on the inconstant billows dancing ;
For so appears this fleet majestical ,
Holding due course to Harfleur . Follow , follow !
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy ,
And leave your England , as dead midnight still ,
Guarded with grandsires , babies , and old women ,
Either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance :
For who is he , whose chin is but enrich'd 
With one appearing hair , that will not follow 
Those call'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France ?
Work , work your thoughts , and therein see a siege ;
Behold the ordenance on their carriages ,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur .
Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back ;
Tells Harry that the king doth offer him 
Katharine his daughter ; and with her , to dowry ,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms :
The offer likes not : and the nimble gunner 
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches ,
And down goes all before them . Still be kind ,
And eke out our performance with your mind .
Once more unto the breach , dear friends , once more ;
Or close the wall up with our English dead !
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 
As modest stillness and humility :
But when the blast of war blows in our ears ,
Then imitate the action of the tiger ;
Stiffen the sinews , summon up the blood ,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage ;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ;
Let it pry through the portage of the head 
Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it 
As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base ,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean .
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide ,
Hold hard the breath , and bend up every spirit 
To his full height ! On , on , you noblest English !
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof ;
Fathers that , like so many Alexanders ,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought ,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument .
Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest 
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you .
Be copy now to men of grosser blood ,
And teach them how to war . And you , good yeomen ,
Whose limbs were made in England , show us here 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding ; which I doubt not ;
For there is none of you so mean and base 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes .
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips ,
Straining upon the start . The game's afoot :
Follow your spirit ; and , upon this charge 
Cry 'God for Harry ! England and Saint George !' 
On , on , on , on , on ! to the breach , to the breach !
Pray thee , corporal , stay : the knocks are too hot ; and for mine own part , I have not a case of lives : the humour of it is too hot , that is the very plain-song of it .
The plain-song is most just , for humours do abound :
Knocks go and come : God's vassals drop and die ;
And sword and shield 
In bloody field 
Doth win immortal fame .
Would I were in an alehouse in London ! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale , and safety .
And I :
If wishes would prevail with me ,
My purpose should not fail with me ,
But thither would I hie .
As duly ,
But not as truly ,
As bird doth sing on bough .
Up to the breach , you dogs ! avaunt , you cullions !
Be merciful , great duke , to men of mould !
Abate thy rage , abate thy manly rage !
Abate thy rage , great duke !
Good bawcock , bate thy rage ; use lenity , sweet chuck !
These be good humours ! your honour wins bad humours .
As young as I am , I have observed these three swashers . I am boy to them all three , but all they three , though they would serve me , could not be man to me ; for , indeed three such antiques do not amount to a man . For Bardolph , he is white-livered and red-faced ; by the means whereof , a' faces it out , but fights not . For Pistol , he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword ; by the means whereof a' breaks words , and keeps whole weapons . For Nym , he hath heard that men of few words are the best men ; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers , lest a' should be thought a coward : but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds ; for a' never broke any man's head but his own , and that was against a post when he was drunk . They will steal any thing and call it purchase . Bardolph stole a lute-case , bore it twelve leagues , and sold it for three half-pence . Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching , and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel ;I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals ,they would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers : which makes much against my manhood if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine ; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs . I must leave them and seek some better service : their villany goes against my weak stomach , and therefore I must cast it up .
Captain Fluellen , you must come presently to the mines : the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you .
To the mines ! tell you the duke it is not so good to come to the mines . For look you , the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war ; the concavities of it is not sufficient ; for , look you , th' athversary you may discuss unto the duke , look you is digt himself four yards under the countermines ; by Cheshu , I think , a' will plow up all if there is not better directions .
The Duke of Gloucester , to whom the order of the siege is given , is altogether directed by an Irishman , a very valiant gentleman , i' faith .
It is Captain Macmorris , is it not ?
I think it be .
By Cheshu , he is an ass , as in the world :
I will verify as much in his peard : he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars , look you , of the Roman disciplines , than is a puppy-dog .
Here a' comes ; and the Scots captain , Captain Jamy , with him .
Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman , that is certain ; and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient wars , upon my particular knowledge of his directions : by Cheshu , he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world , in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans .
I say gud day , Captain Fluellen .
God-den to your worship , good Captain James .
How now , Captain Macmorris ! have you quit the mines ? have the pioners given o'er ?
By Chrish , la ! tish ill done : the work ish give over , the trumpet sound the retreat . By my hand , I swear , and my father's soul , the work ish ill done ; it ish give over : I would have blowed up the town , so Chrish save me , la ! in an hour : O ! tish ill done , tish ill done ; by my hand , tish ill done !
Captain Macmorris , I beseech you now , will you voutsafe me , look you , a few disputations with you , as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war , the Roman wars , in the way of argument , look you , and friendly communication ; partly to satisfy my opinion , and partly for the satisfaction , look you , of my mind , as touching the direction of the military discipline : that is the point .
It sall be vary gud , gud feith , gud captains bath :
and I sall quit you with gud leve , as I may pick occasion ; that sall I , marry .
It is no time to discourse , so Chrish save me : the day is hot , and the weather , and the wars , and the king , and the dukes : it is no time to discourse . The town is beseeched , and the trumpet calls us to the breach ; and we talk , and be Chrish , do nothing : 'tis shame for us all ; so God sa' me , 'tis shame to stand still ; it is shame , by my hand ; and there is throats to be cut , and works to be done ; and there ish nothing done , so Chrish sa' me , la !
By the mess , ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slumber , aile do gud service , or aile lig i' the grund for it ; ay , or go to death ; and aile pay it as valorously as I may , that sal I suerly do , that is the breff and the long . Marry , I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway .
Captain Macmorris , I think , look you , under your correction , there is not many of your nation 
Of my nation ! What ish my nation ? ish a villain , and a bastard , and a knave , and a rascal ? What ish my nation ? Who talks of my nation ?
Look you , if you take the matter otherwise than is meant , Captain Macmorris , peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me , look you ; being as good a man as yourself , both in the disciplines of wars , and in the derivation of my birth , and in other particularities .
I do not know you so good a man as myself : so Chrish save me , I will cut off your head .
Gentlemen both , you will mistake each other .
A ! that's a foul fault .
The town sounds a parley .
Captain Macmorris , when there is more better opportunity to be required , look you , I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of wars ; and there is an end .
How yet resolves the governor of the town ?
This is the latest parle we will admit :
Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves ;
Or like to men proud of destruction 
Defy us to our worst : for , as I am a soldier ,
A name that in my thoughts , becomes me best ,
If I begin the battery once again ,
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur 
Till in her ashes she lie buried .
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up ,
And the flesh'd soldier , rough and hard of heart ,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range 
With conscience wide as hell , mowing like grass 
Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants .
What is it then to me , if impious war ,
Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends ,
Do , with his smirch'd complexion , all fell feats 
Enlink'd to waste and desolation ?
What is't to me , when you yourselves are cause ,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand 
Of hot and forcing violation ?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness 
When down the hill he holds his fierce career ?
We may as bootless spend our vain command 
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil 
As send precepts to the leviathan 
To come ashore . Therefore , you men of Harfleur ,
Take pity of your town and of your people ,
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ;
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds 
Of heady murder , spoil , and villany .
If not , why , in a moment , look to see 
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand 
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters ;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards ,
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls ;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes ,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd 
Do break the clouds , as did the wives of Jewry 
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen .
What say you ? will you yield , and this avoid ?
Or , guilty in defence , be thus destroy'd ?
Our expectation hath this day an end .
The Dauphin , whom of succour we entreated ,
Returns us that his powers are yet not ready 
To raise so great a siege . Therefore , great king ,
We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy .
Enter our gates ; dispose of us and ours ;
For we no longer are defensible .
Open your gates ! Come , uncle Exeter ,
Go you and enter Harfleur ; there remain ,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French :
Use mercy to them all . For us , dear uncle ,
The winter coming on and sickness growing 
Upon our soldiers , we will retire to Calais .
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest ;
To-morrow for the march are we addrest .
Alice , tu as est  en Angleterre , et tu parles bien le langage .
Un peu , madame .
Je te prie , m'enseignez ; il faut que j'apprenne   parler . Comment appellez vous la main en Anglois ?
La main ? elle est appell e , de hand .
De hand . Et les doigts ?
Les doigts ? ma foy , je oublie les doigts ; mais je me souviendray . Les doigts ? je pense qu'ils sont appell s de fingres ; ouy , de fingres .
La main , de hand ; les doigts , de fingres . Je pense que je suis le bon escolier . J'ai gagn  deux mots d'Anglois vistement . Comment appellez vous les ongles ?
Lesongles ? nous les appellons , de nails .
De nails . Escoutez ; dites moy , si je parle bien : de hands , de fingres , et de nails .
C'est bien dict , madame ; il est fort bon Anglois .
Dites moy l'Anglois pour le bras .
De arm , madame .
Et le coude ?
De elbow .
De elbow . Je m'en fais la r p tition de tous les mots que vous m'avez appris d s   pr sent .
Il est trop difficile , madame , comme je pense .
Excusez moy , Alice ; escoutez : de hand , de fingres , de nails , de arma , de bilbow .
De elbow , madame .
O Seigneur Dieu ! je m'en oublie ; de elbow . Comment appellez vous le col ?
De nick , madame .
De nick . Et le menton ?
De chin .
De sin . Le col , de nick : le menton , de sin .
Ouy . Sauf vostre honneur , en v rit  vous prononcez les mots aussi droict que les natifs d'Angleterre .
Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de Dieu , et en peu de temps .
N'avez vous d j  oubli  ce que je vous ay enseign e ?
Non , je reciteray   vous promptement .
De hand , de fingre , de mails ,
De nails , madame .
De nails , de arme , de ilbow .
Sauf vostre honneur , d'elbow .
Ainsi dis je ; d'elbow , de nick , et de sin . Comment appellez vous le pied et la robe ?
De foot , madame ; et de coun .
De foot , et de coun ? O Seigneur Dieu ! ces sont mots de son mauvais , corruptible , gros , et impudique , et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user . Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France , pour tout le monde . Foh ! le foot , et le coun . N antmoins je reciterai une autre fois ma le on ensemble : de hand , de fingre , de nails , d'arm , d'elbow , de nick , de sin , de foot , de coun .
Excellent , madame !
C'est assez pour une fois : allons nous   diner .
'Tis certain , he hath pass'd the river Somme .
And if he be not fought withal , my lord ,
Let us not live in France ; let us quit all ,
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people .
O Dieu vivant ! shall a few sprays of us ,
The emptying of our fathers' luxury ,
Our scions , put in wild and savage stock ,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds ,
And overlook their grafters ?
Normans , but bastard Normans , Norman bastards !
Mort de ma vie ! if they march along 
Unfought withal , but I will sell my dukedom ,
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm 
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion .
Dieu de battailes ! where have they this mettle ?
Is not their climate foggy , raw , and dull ,
On whom , as in despite , the sun looks pale ,
Killing their fruit with frowns ? Can sodden water ,
A drench for sur-rein'd jades , their barley-broth ,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat ?
And shall our quick blood , spirited with wine ,
Seem frosty ? O ! for honour of our land ,
Let us not hang like roping icicles 
Upon our houses' thatch , whiles a more frosty people 
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields ;
Poor we may call them in their native lords .
By faith and honour ,
Our madams mock at us , and plainly say 
Our mettle is bred out ; and they will give 
Their bodies to the lust of English youth 
To new-store France with bastard warriors .
They bid us to the English dancing-schools ,
And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos ;
Saying our grace is only in our heels ,
And that we are most lofty runaways .
Where is Montjoy the herald ? speed him hence :
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance .
Up , princes ! and , with spirit of honour edg'd 
More sharper than your swords , hie to the field :
Charles Delabreth , High Constable of France ;
You Dukes of Orleans , Bourbon , and Berri ,
Alen on , Brabant , Bar , and Burgundy ;
Jaques Chatillon , Rambures , Vaudemont ,
Beaumont , Grandpr , Roussi , and Fauconberg ,
Foix , Lestrale , Bouciqualt , and Charolois ;
High dukes , great princes , barons , lords , and knights ,
For your great seats now quit you of great shames .
Bar Harry England , that sweeps through our land 
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur :
Rush on his host , as doth the melted snow 
Upon the valleys , whose low vassal seat 
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon :
Go down upon him , you have power enough ,
And in a captive chariot into Roan 
Bring him our prisoner .
This becomes the great .
Sorry am I his numbers are so few ,
His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march ,
For I am sure when he shall see our army 
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear ,
And for achievement offer us his ransom .
Therefore , lord constable , haste on Montjoy ,
And let him say to England that we send 
To know what willing ransom he will give .
Prince Dauphin , you shall stay with us in Roan .
Not so , I do beseech your majesty .
Be patient , for you shall remain with us .
Now forth , lord constable and princes all ,
And quickly bring us word of England's fall .
How now , Captain Fluellen ! come you from the bridge ?
I assure you , there is very excellent services committed at the pridge .
Is the Duke of Exeter safe ?
The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon ; and a man that I love and honour with my soul , and my heart , and my duty , and my life , and my living , and my uttermost power : he is not God be praised and plessed !any hurt in the world ; but keeps the pridge most valiantly , with excellent discipline . There is an aunchient lieutenant there at the pridge , I think , in my very conscience , he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony ; and he is a man of no estimation in the world ; but I did see him do as gallant service .
What do you call him ?
He is called Aunchient Pistol .
I know him not .
Here is the man .
Captain , I thee beseech to do me favours :
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well .
Ay , I praise God ; and I have merited some love at his hands .
Bardolph , a soldier firm and sound of heart ,
And of buxom valour , hath , by cruel fate 
And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel ,
That goddess blind ,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone ,
By your patience , Aunchient Pistol . Fortune is painted plind , with a muffler afore her eyes , to signify to you that Fortune is plind : and she is painted also with a wheel , to signify to you , which is the moral of it , that she is turning , and inconstant , and mutability , and variation : and her foot , look you , is fixed upon a spherical stone , which rolls , and rolls , and rolls : in good truth , the poet makes a most excellent description of it : Fortune is an excellent moral .
Fortune is Bardolph's foe , and frowns on him ;
For he hath stol'n a pax , and hanged must a' be ,
A damned death !
Let gallows gape for dog , let man go free 
And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate .
But Exeter hath given the doom of death 
For pax of little price .
Therefore , go speak ; the duke will hear thy voice ;
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut 
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach :
Speak , captain , for his life , and I will thee requite .
Aunchient Pistol , I do partly understand your meaning .
Why then , rejoice therefore .
Certainly , aunchient , it is not a thing to rejoice at ; for , if , look you , he were my brother , I would desire the duke to use his good pleasure and put him to execution ; for discipline ought to be used .
Die and be damn'd ; and figo for thy friendship !
It is well .
The fig of Spain !
Very good .
Why , this is an arrant counterfeit rascal : I remember him now ; a bawd , a cutpurse .
I'll assure you a' uttered as prave words at the pridge as you shall see in a summer's day . But it is very well ; what he has spoke to me , that is well , I warrant you , when time is serve .
Why , 'tis a gull , a fool , a rogue , that now and then goes to the wars to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a soldier . And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names , and they will learn you by rote where services were done ; at such and such a sconce , at such a breach , at such a convoy ; who came off bravely , who was shot , who disgraced , what terms the enemy stood on ; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war , which they trick up with new-tuned oaths : and what a beard of the general's cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits , is wonderful to be thought on . But you must learn to know such slanders of the age , or else you may be marvellously mistook .
I tell you what , Captain Gower ; I do perceive , he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is : if I find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind .
Hark you , the king is coming ; and I must speak with him from the pridgo .
God pless your majesty !
How now , Fluellen ! cam'st thou from the bridge ?
Ay , so please your majesty . The Duke of Exeter hath very gallantly maintained the pridge : the French is gone off , look you , and there is gallant and most prave passages . Marry , th' athversary was have possession of the pridge , but he is enforced to retire , and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge . I can tell your majesty the duke is a prave man .
What men have you lost , Fluellen ?
The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great , reasonable great : marry , for my part , I think the duke hath lost never a man but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church ; one Bardolph , if your majesty know the man : his face is all bubukles , and whelks , and knobs , and flames o' fire ; and his lips blows at his nose , and it is like a coal of fire , sometimes plue and sometimes red ; but his nose is executed , and his fire's out .
We would have all such offenders so cut off : and we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages , nothing taken but paid for , none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language ; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom , the gentler gamester is the soonest winner .
You know me by my habit .
Well then I know thee : what shall I know of thee ?
My master's mind .
Unfold it .
Thus says my king : Say thou to Harry of England : Though we seemed dead , we did but sleep : advantage is a better soldier than rashness . Tell him , we could have rebuked him at Harfleur , but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe : now we speak upon our cue , and our voice is imperial : England shall repent his folly , see his weakness , and admire our sufferance . Bid him therefore consider of his ransom ; which must proportion the losses we have borne , the subjects we have lost , the disgrace we have digested ; which , in weight to re-answer , his pettiness would bow under . For our losses , his exchequer is too poor ; for the effusion of our blood , the muster of his kingdom too faint a number ; and for our disgrace , his own person , kneeling at our feet , but a weak and worthless satisfaction . To this add defiance : and tell him , for conclusion , he hath betrayed his followers , whose condemnation is pronounced . So far my king and master , so much my office .
What is thy name ? I know thy quality .
Montjoy .
Thou dost thy office fairly . Turn thee back ,
And tell thy king I do not seek him now ,
But could be willing to march on to Calais 
Without impeachment ; for , to say the sooth ,
Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much 
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage ,
My people are with sickness much enfeebled ,
My numbers lessen'd , and those few I have 
Almost no better than so many French :
Who , when they were in health , I tell thee , herald ,
I thought upon one pair of English legs 
Did march three Frenchmen . Yet , forgive me , God ,
That I do brag thus ! this your air of France 
Hath blown that vice in me ; I must repent .
Go therefore , tell thy master here I am :
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk ,
My army but a weak and sickly guard ;
Yet , God before , tell him we will come on ,
Though France himself and such another neighbour 
Stand in our way . There's for thy labour , Montjoy .
Go , bid thy master well advise himself :
If we may pass , we will ; if we be hinder'd ,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
Discolour : and so , Montjoy , fare you well .
The sum of all our answer is but this :
We would not seek a battle as we are ;
Nor , as we are , we say we will not shun it :
So tell your master .
I shall deliver so . Thanks to your highness .
I hope they will not come upon us now .
We are in God's hand , brother , not in theirs .
March to the bridge ; it now draws toward night :
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ,
And on to-morrow bid them march away .
Tut ! I have the best armour of the world . Would it were day !
You have an excellent armour ; but let my horse have his due .
It is the best horse of Europe .
Will it never be morning ?
My Lord of Orleans , and my lord high constable , you talk of horse and armour 
You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world .
What a long night is this ! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns .  a , ha ! He bounds from the earth as if his entrails were hairs : le cheval volant , the Pegasus , qui a les narines de feu ! When I bestride him , I soar , I am a hawk : he trots the air ; the earth sings when he touches it ; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes .
He's of the colour of the nutmeg .
And of the heat of the ginger . It is a beast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him : he is indeed a horse ; and all other jades you may call beasts .
Indeed , my lord , it is a most absolute and excellent horse .
It is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch and his countenance enforces homage .
No more , cousin .
Nay , the man hath no wit that cannot , from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb , vary deserved praise on my palfrey : it is a theme as fluent as the sea ; turn the sands into eloquent tongues , and my horse is argument for them all . 'Tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on , and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on ; and for the world familiar to us , and unknown to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him . I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus : 'Wonder of nature !' 
I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress .
Then did they imitate that which I composed to my courser ; for my horse is my mistress .
Your mistress bears well .
Me well ; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress .
Ma foi , methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back .
So perhaps did yours .
Mine was not bridled .
O ! then belike she was old and gentle ; and you rode , like a kern of Ireland , your French hose off and in your straight strossers .
You have good judgment in horsemanship .
Be warned by me , then : they that ride so , and ride not warily , fall into foul bogs . I had rather have my horse to my mistress .
I had as lief have my mistress a jade .
I tell thee , constable , my mistress wears his own hair .
I could make as true a boast as that if I had a sow to my mistress .
Le chien est retourn    son propre vomissement , et la truie lav e au bourbier : thou makest use of any thing .
Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress : or any such proverb so little kin to the purpose .
My lord constable , the armour that I saw in your tent to-night , are those stars or suns upon it ?
Stars , my lord .
Some of them will fall to-morrow , I hope .
And yet my sky shall not want .
That may be , for you bear a many superfluously , and 'twere more honour some were away .
Even as your horse bears your praises ; who would trot as well were some of your brags dismounted .
Would I were able to load him with his desert ! Will it never be day ? I will trot to-morrow a mile , and my way shall be paved with English faces .
I will not say so for fear I should be faced out of my way . But I would it were morning , for I would fain be about the ears of the English .
Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners ?
You must first go yourself to hazard , ere you have them .
'Tis midnight : I'll go arm myself .
The Dauphin longs for morning .
He longs to eat the English .
I think he will eat all he kills .
By the white hand of my lady , he's a gallant prince .
Swear by her foot , that she may tread out the oath .
He is simply the most active gentleman of France .
Doing is activity , and he will still be doing .
He never did harm , that I heard of .
Nor will do none to-morrow : he will keep that good name still .
I know him to be valiant .
I was told that by one that knows him better than you .
What's he ?
Marry , he told me so himself ; and he said he cared not who knew it .
He needs not ; it is no hidden virtue in him .
By my faith , sir , but it is ; never any body saw it but his lackey : 'tis a hooded valour ; and when it appears , it will bate .
'Ill will never said well .' 
I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship .' 
And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due .' 
Well placed : there stands your friend for the devil : have at the very eye of that proverb , with 'A pox of the devil .' 
You are the better at proverbs , by how much 'A fool's bolt is soon shot .' 
You have shot over .
'Tis not the first time you were overshot .
My lord high constable , the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents .
Who hath measured the ground ?
The Lord Grandpr .
A valiant and most expert gentleman . Would it were day ! Alas ! poor Harry of England , he longs not for the dawning as we do .
What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England , to mope with his fatbrained followers so far out of his knowledge !
If the English had any apprehension they would run away .
That they lack ; for if their heads had any intellectual armour they could never wear such heavy head-pieces .
That island of England breeds very valiant creatures : their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage .
Foolish curs ! that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed like rotten apples . You may as well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion .
Just , just ; and the men do sympathize with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on , leaving their wits with their wives : and then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel , they will eat like wolves and fight like devils .
Ay , but these English are shrewdly out of beef .
Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs to eat and none to fight . Now is it time to arm ; come , shall we about it ?
It is now two o'clock : but , let me see , by ten 
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen .
Now entertain conjecture of a time 
When creeping murmur and the poring dark 
Fills the wide vessel of the universe .
From camp to camp , through the foul womb of night ,
The hum of either army stilly sounds ,
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive 
The secret whispers of each other's watch :
Fire answers fire , and through their paly flames 
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face :
Steed threatens steed , in high and boastful neighs 
Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents 
The armourers , accomplishing the knights ,
With busy hammers closing rivets up ,
Give dreadful note of preparation .
The country cocks do crow , the clocks do toll ,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name .
Proud of their numbers , and secure in soul ,
The confident and over-lusty French 
Do the low-rated English play at dice ;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night 
Who , like a foul and ugly witch , doth limp 
So tediously away . The poor condemned English ,
Like sacrifices , by their watchful fires 
Sit patiently , and inly ruminate 
The morning's danger , and their gesture sad 
Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats 
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
So many horrid ghosts . O ! now , who will behold 
The royal captain of this ruin'd band 
Walking from watch to watch , from tent to tent ,
Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head !' 
For forth he goes and visits all his host ,
Bids them good morrow with a modest smile ,
And calls them brothers , friends , and countrymen .
Upon his royal face there is no note 
How dread an army hath enrounded him ;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
Unto the weary and all-watched night :
But freshly looks and overbears attaint 
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch , pining and pale before ,
Beholding him , plucks comfort from his looks ,
A largess universal , like the sun 
His liberal eye doth give to every one ,
Thawing cold fear . Then mean and gentle all ,
Behold , as may unworthiness define ,
A little touch of Harry in the night .
And so our scene must to the battle fly ;
Where ,O for pity ,we shall much disgrace ,
With four or five most vile and ragged foils ,
Right ill dispos'd in brawl ridiculous ,
The name of Agincourt . Yet sit and see ;
Minding true things by what their mockeries be .
Gloucester , 'tis true that we are in great danger ;
The greater therefore should our courage be .
Good morrow , brother Bedford . God Almighty !
There is some soul of goodness in things evil ,
Would men observingly distil it out ;
For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers ,
Which is both healthful , and good husbandry :
Besides , they are our outward consciences ,
And preachers to us all ; admonishing 
That we should dress us fairly for our end .
Thus may we gather honey from the weed ,
And make a moral of the devil himself .
Good morrow , old Sir Thomas Erpingham :
A good soft pillow for that good white head 
Were better than a churlish turf of France .
Not so , my liege : this lodging likes me better ,
Since I may say , 'Now lie I like a king .' 
'Tis good for men to love their present pains 
Upon example ; so the spirit is eas'd :
And when the mind is quicken'd , out of doubt ,
The organs , though defunct and dead before ,
Break up their drowsy grave , and newly move 
With casted slough and fresh legerity .
Lend me thy cloak , Sir Thomas . Brothers both ,
Commend me to the princes in our camp ;
Do my good morrow to them ; and anon 
Desire them all to my pavilion .
We shall , my liege .
Shall I attend your Grace ?
No , my good knight ;
Go with my brothers to my lords of England :
I and my bosom must debate awhile ,
And then I would no other company .
The Lord in heaven bless thee , noble Harry !
God-a-mercy , old heart ! thou speak'st cheerfully .
Qui va l ?
A friend .
Discuss unto me ; art thou officer ?
Or art thou base , common and popular ?
I am a gentleman of a company .
Trail'st thou the puissant pike ?
Even so . What are you ?
As good a gentleman as the emperor .
Then you are a better than the king .
The king's a bawcock , and a heart of gold ,
A lad of life , an imp of fame :
Of parents good , of fist most valiant :
I kiss his dirty shoe , and from my heart-string 
I love the lovely bully . What's thy name ?
Harry le Roy .
Le Roy ! a Cornish name : art thou of Cornish crew ?
No , I am a Welshman .
Know'st thou Fluellen ?
Tell him , I'll knock his leek about his pate 
Upon Saint Davy's day .
Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day , lest he knock that about yours .
Art thou his friend ?
And his kinsman too .
The figo for thee then !
I thank you . God be with you !
My name is Pistol called .
It sorts well with your fierceness .
Captain Fluellen !
Sol in the name of Cheshu Christ , speak lower . It is the greatest admiration in the universal world , when the true and auncient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept . If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great , you shall find , I warrant you , that there is no tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp ; I warrant you , you shall find the ceremonies of the wars , and the cares of it , and the forms of it , and the sobriety of it , and the modesty of it , to be otherwise .
Why , the enemy is loud ; you heard him all night .
If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb , is it meet , think you , that we should also , look you , be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb , in your own conscience now ?
I will speak lower .
I pray you and peseech you that you will .
Though it appear a little out of fashion ,
There is much care and valour in this Welshman .
Brother John Bates , is not that the morning which breaks yonder ?
I think it be ; but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day .
We see yonder the beginning of the day , but I think we shall never see the end of it . Who goes there ?
A friend .
Under what captain serve you ?
Under Sir Thomas Erpingham .
A good old commander and a most kind gentleman : I pray you , what thinks he of our estate ?
Even as men wracked upon a sand , that look to be washed off the next tide .
He hath not told his thought to the king ?
No ; nor it is not meet he should . For , though I speak it to you , I think the king is but a man , as I am : the violet smells to him as it doth to me ; the element shows to him as it doth to me ; all his senses have but human conditions : his ceremonies laid by , in his nakedness he appears but a man ; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours , yet when they stoop , they stoop with the like wing . Therefore when he sees reason of fears , as we do , his fears , out of doubt , be of the same relish as ours are : yet , in reason , no man should possess him with any appearance of fear , lest he , by showing it , should dishearten his army .
He may show what outward courage he will , but I believe , as cold a night as 'tis , he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck , and so I would he were , and I by him , at all adventures , so we were quit here .
By my troth , I will speak my conscience of the king : I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is .
Then I would he were here alone ; so should he be sure to be ransomed , and a many poor men's lives saved .
I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone , howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds . Methinks I could not die any where so contented as in the king's company , his cause being just and his quarrel honourable .
That's more than we know .
Ay , or more than we should seek after ; for we know enough if we know we are the king's subjects . If his cause be wrong , our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us .
But if the cause be not good , the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make ; when all those legs and arms and heads , chopped off in a battle , shall join together at the latter day , and cry all , 'We died at such a place ;' some swearing , some crying for a surgeon , some upon their wives left poor behind them , some upon the debts they owe , some upon their children rawly left . I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle ; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing when blood is their argument ? Now , if these men do not die well , it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it , whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection .
So , if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea , the imputation of his wickedness , by your rule , should be imposed upon his father that sent him : or if a servant , under his master's command transporting a sum of money , be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconciled iniquities , you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation . But this is not so : the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers , the father of his son , nor the master of his servant ; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services . Besides , there is no king , be his cause never so spotless , if it come to the arbitrement of swords , can try it out with all unspotted soldiers . Some , peradventure , have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder ; some , of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury ; some , making the wars their bulwark , that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery . Now , if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment , though they can outstrip men , they have no wings to fly from God : war is his beadle , war is his vengeance ; so that here men are punished for before-breach of the king's laws in now the king's quarrel : where they feared the death they have borne life away , and where they would be safe they perish . Then , if they die unprovided , no more is the king guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited . Every subject's duty is the king's ; but every subject's soul is his own . Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed , wash every mote out of his conscience ; and dying so , death is to him advantage ; or not dying , the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained : and in him that escapes , it were not sin to think , that making God so free an offer , he let him outlive that day to see his greatness , and to teach others how they should prepare .
'Tis certain , every man that dies ill , the ill upon his own head : the king is not to answer it .
I do not desire he should answer for me ; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him .
I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed .
Ay , he said so , to make us fight cheerfully ; but when our throats are cut he may be ransomed , and we ne'er the wiser .
If I live to see it , I will never trust his word after .
You pay him then . That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun , that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch . You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather . You'll never trust his word after ! come , 'tis a foolish saying .
Your reproof is something too round ; I should be angry with you if the time were convenient .
Let it be a quarrel between us , if you live .
I embrace it .
How shall I know thee again ?
Give me any gage of thine , and I will wear it in my bonnet : then , if ever thou darest acknowledge it , I will make it my quarrel .
Here's my glove : give me another of thine .
There .
This will I also wear in my cap : if ever thou come to me and say after to-morrow , 'This is my glove ,' by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear .
If ever I live to see it , I will challenge it .
Thou darest as well be hanged .
Well , I will do it , though I take thee in the king's company .
Keep thy word : fare thee well .
Be friends , you English fools , be friends : we have French quarrels enow , if you could tell how to reckon .
Indeed , the French may lay twenty French crowns to one , they will beat us ; for they bear them on their shoulders : but it is no English treason to cut French crowns , and to-morrow the king himself will be a clipper .
Upon the king ! let us our lives , our souls ,
Our debts , our careful wives ,
Our children , and our sins lay on the king !
We must bear all . O hard condition !
Twin-born with greatness , subject to the breath 
Of every fool , whose sense no more can feel 
But his own wringing . What infinite heart's ease 
Must kings neglect that private men enjoy !
And what have kings that privates have not too ,
Save ceremony , save general ceremony ?
And what art thou , thou idle ceremony ?
What kind of god art thou , that suffer'st more 
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers ?
What are thy rents ? what are thy comings-in ?
O ceremony ! show me but thy worth :
What is thy soul of adoration ?
Art thou aught else but place , degree , and form ,
Creating awe and fear in other men ?
Wherein thou art less happy , being fear'd ,
Than they in fearing .
What drink'st thou oft , instead of homage sweet ,
But poison'd flattery ? O ! be sick , great greatness ,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure .
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out 
With titles blown from adulation ?
Will it give place to flexure and low-bending ?
Canst thou , when thou command'st the beggar's knee ,
Command the health of it ? No , thou proud dream ,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose ;
I am a king that find thee ; and I know 
'Tis not the balm , the sceptre and the ball ,
The sword , the mace , the crown imperial ,
The intertissued robe of gold and pearl ,
The farced title running 'fore the king ,
The throne he sits on , nor the tide of pomp 
That beats upon the high shore of this world ,
No , not all these , thrice-gorgeous ceremony ,
Not all these , laid in bed majestical ,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ,
Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind 
Gets him to rest , cramm'd with distressful bread ;
Never sees horrid night , the child of hell ,
But , like a lackey , from the rise to set 
Sweats in the eye of Ph bus , and all night 
Sleeps in Elysium ; next day after dawn ,
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse ,
And follows so the ever-running year 
With profitable labour to his grave :
And , but for ceremony , such a wretch ,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep ,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king .
The slave , a member of the country's peace ,
Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots 
What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace ,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages .
My lord , your nobles , jealous of your absence ,
Seek through your camp to find you .
Good old knight ,
Collect them all together at my tent :
I'll be before thee .
I shall do't , my lord .
O God of battles ! steel my soldiers' hearts ;
Possess them not with fear ; take from them now 
The sense of reckoning , if the opposed numbers 
Pluck their hearts from them . Not to-day , O Lord !
O ! not to-day , think not upon the fault 
My father made in compassing the crown .
I Richard's body have interr'd anew ,
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears 
Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood .
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay ,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up 
Toward heaven , to pardon blood ; and I have built 
Two chantries , where the sad and solemn priests 
Sing still for Richard's soul . More will I do ;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth ,
Since that my penitence comes after all ,
Imploring pardon .
My liege !
My brother Gloucester's voice ! Ay ;
I know thy errand , I will go with thee :
The day , my friends , and all things stay for me .
The sun doth gild our armour : up , my lords !
Montez   cheval ! My horse ! varlet ! lacquais ! ha !
O brave spirit !
Via ! les eaux et la terre !
Rien puis ? l'air et le feu .
Ciel ! cousin Orleans .
Now , my lord constable !
Hark how our steeds for present service neigh !
Mount them , and make incision in their hides ,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes ,
And dout them with superfluous courage : ha !
What ! will you have them weep our horses' blood ?
How shall we then behold their natural tears ?
The English are embattail'd , you French peers .
To horse , you gallant princes ! straight to horse !
Do but behold yon poor and starved band ,
And your fair show shall suck away their souls ,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men .
There is not work enough for all our hands ;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins 
To give each naked curtal-axe a stain ,
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out ,
And sheathe for lack of sport : let us but blow on them ,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them .
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions , lords ,
That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants ,
Who in unnecessary action swarm 
About our squares of battle , were enow 
To purge this field of such a hilding foe ,
Though we upon this mountain's basis by 
Took stand for idle speculation :
But that our honours must not . What's to say ?
A very little little let us do ,
And all is done . Then let the trumpets sound 
The tucket sonance and the note to mount :
For our approach shall so much dare the field ,
That England shall couch down in fear and yield .
Why do you stay so long , my lords of France ?
Yon island carrions desperate of their bones ,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field :
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose ,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully :
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host ,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps :
The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks ,
With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor jades 
Lob down their heads , dropping the hides and hips ,
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ,
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit 
Lies foul with chew'd grass , still and motionless ;
And their executors , the knavish crows ,
Fly o'er them , all impatient for their hour .
Description cannot suit itself in words 
To demonstrate the life of such a battle 
In life so lifeless as it shows itself .
They have said their prayers , and they stay for death .
Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits ,
And give their fasting horses provender ,
And after fight with them ?
I stay but for my guard : on , to the field !
I will the banner from a trumpet take ,
And use it for my haste . Come , come , away !
The sun is high , and we outwear the day .
Where is the king ?
The king himself is rode to view their battle .
Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand .
There's five to one ; besides , they all are fresh .
God's arm strike with us ! 'tis a fearful odds .
God be wi' you , princes all ; I'll to my charge :
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven ,
Then , joyfully , my noble Lord of Bedford ,
My dear Lord Gloucester , and my good Lord Exeter ,
And my kind kinsman , warriors all , adieu !
Farewell , good Salisbury ; and good luck go with thee !
Farewell , kind lord . Fight valiantly to-day :
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it ,
For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour .
He is as full of valour as of kindness ;
Princely in both .
O ! that we now had here 
But one ten thousand of those men in England 
That do no work to-day .
What's he that wishes so ?
My cousin Westmoreland ? No , my fair cousin :
If we are mark'd to die , we are enow 
To do our country loss ; and if to live ,
The fewer men , the greater share of honour .
God's will ! I pray thee , wish not one man more .
By Jove , I am not covetous for gold ,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear ;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires :
But if it be a sin to covet honour ,
I am the most offending soul alive .
No , faith , my coz , wish not a man from England :
God's peace ! I would not lose so great an honour 
As one man more , methinks , would share from me ,
For the best hope I have . O ! do not wish one more :
Rather proclaim it , Westmoreland , through my host ,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight ,
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made ,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse :
We would not die in that man's company 
That fears his fellowship to die with us .
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian :
He that outlives this day , and comes safe home ,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd ,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian .
He that shall live this day , and see old age ,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours ,
And say , 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian :' 
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars ,
And say , 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day .' 
Old men forget : yet all shall be forgot ,
But he'll remember with advantages 
What feats he did that day . Then shall our names ,
Familiar in his mouth as household words ,
Harry the king , Bedford and Exeter ,
Warwick and Talbot , Salisbury and Gloucester ,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd .
This story shall the good man teach his son ;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by ,
From this day to the ending of the world ,
But we in it shall be remembered ;
We few , we happy few , we band of brothers ;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me 
Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile 
This day shall gentle his condition :
And gentlemen in England , now a-bed 
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here ,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks 
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day .
My sov'reign lord , bestow yourself with speed :
The French are bravely in their battles set ,
And will with all expedience charge on us .
All things are ready , if our minds be so .
Perish the man whose mind is backward now !
Thou dost not wish more help from England , coz ?
God's will ! my liege , would you and I alone ,
Without more help , could fight this royal battle !
Why , now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men ;
Which likes me better than to wish us one .
You know your places : God be with you all !
Once more I come to know of thee , King Harry ,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound ,
Before thy most assured overthrow :
For certainly thou art so near the gulf 
Thou needs must be englutted . Besides , in mercy ,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind 
Thy followers of repentance ; that their souls 
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire 
From off these fields , where , wretches , their poor bodies 
Must lie and fester .
Who hath sent thee now ?
The Constable of France .
I pray thee , bear my former answer back :
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones .
Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows thus ?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin 
While the beast liv'd , was kill'd with hunting him .
A many of our bodies shall no doubt 
Find native graves ; upon the which , I trust ,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work ;
And those that leave their valiant bones in France ,
Dying like men , though buried in your dung-hills ,
They shall be fam'd ; for there the sun shall greet them ,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven ,
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime ,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France .
Mark then abounding valour in our English ,
That being dead , like to the bullet's grazing ,
Break out into a second course of mischief ,
Killing in relapse of mortality .
Let me speak proudly : tell the constable ,
We are but warriors for the working-day ;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd 
With rainy marching in the painful field ;
There's not a piece of feather in our host 
Good argument , I hope , we will not fly 
And time hath worn us into slovenry :
But , by the mass , our hearts are in the trim ;
And my poor soldiers tell me , yet ere night 
They'll be in fresher robes , or they will pluck 
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads ,
And turn them out of service . If they do this ,
As , if God please , they shall ,my ransom then 
Will soon be levied . Herald , save thou thy labour ;
Come thou no more for ransom , gentle herald :
They shall have none , I swear , but these my joints ;
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them ,
Shall yield them little , tell the constable .
I shall , King Harry . And so , fare thee well :
Thou never shalt hear herald any more .
I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom .
My lord , most humbly on my knee I beg 
The leading of the vaward .
Take it , brave York . Now , soldiers , march away :
And how thou pleasest , God , dispose the day !
Yield , cur !
Je pense que vous estes le gentilhomme de bonne qualit .
Quality ? Calen O custure me ! Art thou a gentleman ?
What is thy name ? discuss .
O Seigneur Dieu !
O Signieur Dew should be a gentleman :
Perpend my words , O Signieur Dew , and mark :
O Signieur Dew , thou diest on point of fox 
Except , O signieur , thou do give to me 
Egregious ransom .
O , prenez misericorde ! ayez piti  de moy !
Moy shall not serve ; I will have forty moys ;
Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat 
In drops of crimson blood .
Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras ?
Brass , cur !
Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat ,
Offer'st me brass ?
O pardonnez moy !
Sayst thou me so ? is that a ton of moys ?
Come hither , boy : ask me this slave in French 
What is his name .
Escoutez : comment estes vous appell ?
Monsieur le Fer .
He says his name is Master Fer .
Master Fer ! I'll fer him , and firk him , and ferret him . Discuss the same in French unto him .
I do not know the French for fer , and ferret , and firk .
Bid him prepare , for I will cut his throat .
Que dit-il , monsieur ?
Il me commande   vous dire que vous faites vous prest ; car ce soldat icy est dispos  tout   cette heure de couper vostre gorge .
Ouy , cuppele gorge , permafoy .
Peasant , unless thou give me crowns , brave crowns ;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword .
O ! je vous supplie pour l'amour de 
Dieu , me pardonner ! Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison : gardez ma vie , et je vous donneray deux cents escus .
What are his words ?
He prays you to save his life : he is a gentleman of a good house ; and , for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns .
Tell him , my fury shall abate , and I 
The crowns will take .
Petit monsieur , que dit-il ?
Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucan prisonnier ; neant-moins , pour les escus que vous l'avez promis , il est content de vous donner la liberte , le franchisement .
Sur mes genoux , je vous donne mille remerciemens ; et je m'estime heureux que je suis tomb  entre les mains d'un chevalier , je pense , le plus brave , valiant , et tr s distingu  seigneur d'Angleterre .
Expound unto me , boy .
He gives you , upon his knees , a thousand thanks ; and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one as he thinks the most brave , valorous , and thrice-worthy signieur of England .
As I suck blood , I will some mercy show .
Follow me !
Suivez vous le grand capitaine . I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart : but the saying is true , 'The empty vessel makes the greatest sound .' Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' the old play , that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger ; and they are both hanged ; and so would this be if he durst steal anything adventurously . I must stay with the lackeys , with the luggage of our camp : the French might have a good prey of us , if he knew of it ; for there is none to guard it but boys .
O seigneur ! le jour est perdu ! tout est perdu !
Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded , all !
Reproach and everlasting shame 
Sit mocking in our plumes . O meschante fortune !
Do not run away .
Why , all our ranks are broke .
O perdurable shame ! let's stab ourselves .
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for ?
Is this the king we sent to for his ransom ?
Shame , and eternal shame , nothing but shame !
Let's die in honour ! once more back again ;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now ,
Let him go hence , and with his cap in hand ,
Like a base pander , hold the chamber-door 
Whilst by a slave , no gentler than my dog ,
His fairest daughter is contaminated .
Disorder , that hath spoil'd us , friend us now !
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives .
We are enough yet living in the field 
To smother up the English in our throngs ,
If any order might be thought upon .
The devil take order now ! I'll to the throng :
Let life be short , else shame will be too long .
Well have we done , thrice-valiant countrymen :
But all's not done ; yet keep the French the field .
The Duke of York commends him to your majesty .
Lives he , good uncle ? thrice within this hour 
I saw him down ; thrice up again , and fighting ;
From helmet to the spur all blood he was .
In which array , brave soldier , doth he lie ,
Larding the plain ; and by his bloody side ,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds ,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies .
Suffolk first died : and York , all haggled over ,
Comes to him , where in gore he lay insteep'd ,
And takes him by the beard , kisses the gashes 
That bloodily did yawn upon his face ;
And cries aloud , 'Tarry , dear cousin Suffolk !
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven ;
Tarry , sweet soul , for mine , then fly abreast ,
As in this glorious and well-foughten field ,
We kept together in our chivalry !' 
Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up :
He smil'd me in the face , raught me his hand ,
And with a feeble gripe says , 'Dear my lord ,
Commend my service to my sovereign .' 
So did he turn , and over Suffolk's neck 
He threw his wounded arm , and kiss'd his lips ;
And so espous'd to death , with blood he seal'd 
A testament of noble-ending love .
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 
Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd ;
But I had not so much of man in me ,
And all my mother came into mine eyes 
And gave me up to tears .
I blame you not ;
For , hearing this , I must perforce compound 
With mistful eyes , or they will issue too .
But hark ! what new alarum is this same ?
The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men :
Then every soldier kill his prisoners !
Give the word through .
Kill the poys and the luggage ! 'tis expressly against the law of arms : 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery , mark you now , as can be offer't : in your conscience now , is it not ?
'Tis certain , there's not a boy left alive ; and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle have done this slaughter : besides , they have burned and carried away all that was in the king's tent ; wherefore the king most worthily hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat . O ! 'tis a gallant king .
Ay , he was porn at Monmouth , Captain Gower . What call you the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born ?
Alexander the Great .
Why , I pray you , is not pig great ? The pig , or the great , or the mighty , or the huge , or the magnanimous , are all one reckonings , save the phrase is a little variations .
I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon : his father was called Philip of Macedon , as I take it .
I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn . I tell you , captain , if you look in the maps of the 'orld , I warrant you sall find , in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth , that the situations , look you , is both alike . There is a river in Macedon , and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth : it is called Wye at Monmouth ; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river ; but 'tis all one , 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers , and there is salmons in both . If you mark Alexander's life well , Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well ; for there is figures in all things . Alexander ,God knows , and you know ,in his rages , and his furies , and his wraths , and his cholers , and his moods , and his displeasures , and his indignations , and also being a little intoxicates in his prains , did , in his ales and his angers , look you , kill his pest friend , Cleitus .
Our king is not like him in that : he never killed any of his friends .
It is not well done , mark you now , to take the tales out of my mouth , ere it is made and finished . I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it : as Alexander killed his friend Cleitus , being in his ales and his cups , so also Harry Monmouth , being in his right wits and his good judgments , turned away the fat knight with the great belly-doublet : he was full of jests , and gipes , and knaveries , and mocks ; I have forgot his name .
Sir John Falstaff .
That is he . I'll tell you , there is goot men porn at Monmouth .
Here comes his majesty .
I was not angry since I came to France 
Until this instant . Take a trumpet , herald ;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill :
If they will fight with us , bid them come down ,
Or void the field ; they do offend our sight .
If they'll do neither , we will come to them ,
And make them skirr away , as swift as stones 
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings .
Besides , we'll cut the throats of those we have ,
And not a man of them that we shall take 
Shall taste our mercy . Go and tell them so .
Here comes the herald of the French , my liege .
His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be .
How now ! what means this , herald ? know'st thou not 
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom ?
Com'st thou again for ransom ?
No , great king .
I come to thee for charitable licence ,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field 
To book our dead , and then to bury them ;
To sort our nobles from our common men ;
For many of our princes woe the while !
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood ;
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
In blood of princes ; and their wounded steeds 
Fret fetlock-deep in gore , and with wild rage 
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters ,
Killing them twice . O ! give us leave , great king ,
To view the field in safety and dispose 
Of their dead bodies .
I tell thee truly , herald ,
I know not if the day be ours or no ;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer 
And gallop o'er the field .
The day is yours .
Praised be God , and not our strength , for it !
What is this castle call'd that stands hard by ?
They call it Agincourt .
Then call we this the field of Agincourt ,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus .
Your grandfather of famous memory , an't please your majesty , and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales , as I have read in the chronicles , fought a most prave pattle here in France .
They did , Fluellen .
Your majesty says very true . If your majesties is remembered of it , the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow , wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps ; which , your majesty know , to this hour is an honourable badge of the service ; and I do believe , your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day .
I wear it for a memorable honour ; For I am Welsh , you know , good countryman .
All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody , I can tell you that : Got pless it and preserve it , as long as it pleases his grace , and his majesty too !
Thanks , good my countryman .
By Jeshu , I am your majesty's countryman , I care not who know it ; I will confess it to all the 'orld : I need not be ashamed of your majesty , praised be God , so long as your majesty is an honest man .
God keep me so ! Our heralds go with him :
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
On both our parts . Call yonder fellow hither .
Soldier , you must come to the king .
Soldier , why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap ?
An't please your majesty , 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal , if he be alive .
An Englishman ?
An't please your majesty , a rascal that swaggered with me last night ; who , if a' live and ever dare to challenge this glove , I have sworn to take him a box o' the ear : or , if I can see my glove in his cap ,which he swore as he was a soldier he would wear if alive ,I will strike it out soundly .
What think you , Captain Fluellen ? is it fit this soldier keep his oath ?
He is a craven and a villain else , an't please your majesty , in my conscience .
It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort , quite from the answer of his degree .
Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is , as Lucifer and Belzebub himself , it is necessary , look your Grace , that he keep his vow and his oath . If he be perjured , see you now , his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack-sauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth , in my conscience , la !
Then keep thy vow , sirrah , when thou meetest the fellow .
So I will , my liege , as I live .
Who servest thou under ?
Under Captain Gower , my liege .
Gower is a goot captain , and is good knowledge and literatured in the wars .
Call him hither to me , soldier .
I will , my liege .
Here , Fluellen ; wear thou this favour for me and stick it in thy cap . When Alen on and myself were down together I plucked this glove from his helm : if any man challenge this , he is a friend to Alen on , and an enemy to our person ; if thou encounter any such , apprehend him , an thou dost me love .
Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects : I would fain see the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove , that is all ; but I would fain see it once , and please God of his grace that I might see .
Knowest thou Gower ?
He is my dear friend , an't please you .
Pray thee , go seek him , and bring him to my tent .
I will fetch him .
My Lord of Warwick , and my brother Gloucester ,
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels .
The glove which I have given him for a favour ,
May haply purchase him a box o' the ear ;
It is the soldier's ; I by bargain should 
Wear it myself . Follow , good cousin Warwick :
If that the soldier strike him ,as , I judge 
By his blunt bearing he will keep his word ,
Some sudden mischief may arise of it ;
For I do know Fluellen valiant ,
And touch'd with choler , hot as gunpowder ,
And quickly will return an injury :
Follow and see there be no harm between them .
Go you with me , uncle of Exeter .
I warrant it is to knight you , captain .
God's will and his pleasure , captain , I peseech you now come apace to the king : there is more good toward you peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of .
Sir , know you this glove ?
Know the glove ! I know the glove is a glove .
I know this ; and thus I challenge it .
'Sblood ! an arrant traitor as any's in the universal 'orld , or in France , or in England 
How now , sir ! you villain !
Do you think I'll be forsworn ?
Stand away , Captain Gower ; I will give treason his payment into plows , I warrant you .
I am no traitor .
That's a lie in thy throat . I charge you in his majesty's name , apprehend him : he is a friend of the Duke Alen on's .
How now , how now ! what's the matter ?
My Lord of Warwick , here is ,praised be God for it !a most contagious treason come to light , look you , as you shall desire in a summer's day . Here is his majesty .
How now ! what's the matter ?
My liege , here is a villain and a traitor , that , look your Grace , has struck the glove which your majesty is take out of the helmet of Alen on .
My liege , this was my glove ; here is the fellow of it ; and he that I gave it to in change promised to wear it in his cap : I promised to strike him , if he did : I met this man with my glove in his cap , and I have been as good as my word .
Your majesty hear now ,saving your majesty's manhood ,what an arrant , rascally , beggarly , lousy knave it is . I hope your majesty is pear me testimony and witness , and avouchments , that this is the glove of Alen on that your majesty is give me ; in your conscience now .
Give me thy glove , soldier : look , here is the fellow of it .
'Twas I , indeed , thou promisedst to strike ;
And thou hast given me most bitter terms .
An't please your majesty , let his neck answer for it , if there is any martial law in the 'orld .
How canst thou make me satisfaction ?
All offences , my lord , come from the heart : never came any from mine that might offend your majesty .
It was ourself thou didst abuse .
Your majesty came not like yourself : you appeared to me but as a common man ; witness the night , your garments , your lowliness ; and what your highness suffered under that shape , I beseech you , take it for your own fault and not mine : for had you been as I took you for I made no offence ; therefore , I beseech your highness , pardon me .
Here , uncle Exeter , fill this glove with crowns ,
And give it to this fellow . Keep it , fellow ;
And wear it for an honour in thy cap 
Till I do challenge it . Give him the crowns :
And , captain , you must needs be friends with him .
By this day and this light , the fellow has mettle enough in his belly . Hold , there is twelve pence for you , and I pray you to serve God , and keep you out of prawls , and prabbles , and quarrels , and dissensions , and , I warrant you , it is the better for you .
I will none of your money .
It is with a good will ; I can tell you it will serve you to mend your shoes : come , wherefore should you be so pashful ? your shoes is not so good : 'tis a good shilling , I warrant you , or I will change it .
Now , herald , are the dead number'd ?
Here is the number of the slaughter'd French .
What prisoners of good sort are taken , uncle ?
Charles Duke of Orleans , nephew to the king ;
John Duke of Bourbon , and Lord Bouciqualt :
Of other lords and barons , knights and squires ,
Full fifteen hundred , besides common men .
This note doth tell me of ten thousand French 
That in the field lie slain : of princes , in this number ,
And nobles bearing banners , there lie dead 
One hundred twenty-six : added to these ,
Of knights , esquires , and gallant gentlemen ,
Eight thousand and four hundred ; of the which 
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights :
So that , in these ten thousand they have lost ,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ;
The rest are princes , barons , lords , knights , squires ,
And gentlemen of blood and quality .
The names of those their nobles that lie dead :
Charles Delabreth , High Constable of France ;
Jaques of Chatillon , Admiral of France ;
The master of the cross-bows , Lord Rambures ;
Great-master of France , the brave Sir Guischard Dauphin ;
John Duke of Alen on ; Antony Duke of Brabant ,
The brother to the Duke of Burgundy ,
And Edward Duke of Bar : of lusty earls ,
Grandpr  and Roussi , Fauconberg and Foix ,
Beaumont and Marle , Vaudemont and Lestrale .
Here was a royal fellowship of death !
Where is the number of our English dead ?
Edward the Duke of York , the Earl of Suffolk ,
Sir Richard Ketly , Davy Gam , esquire :
None else of name : and of all other men 
But five and twenty . O God ! thy arm was here ;
And not to us , but to thy arm alone ,
Ascribe we all . When , without stratagem ,
But in plain shock and even play of battle ,
Was ever known so great and little loss 
On one part and on the other ? Take it , God ,
For it is none but thine !
'Tis wonderful !
Come , go we in procession to the village :
And be it death proclaimed through our host 
To boast of this or take the praise from God 
Which is his only .
Is it not lawful , an please your majesty , to tell how many is killed ?
Yes , captain ; but with this acknowledgment ,
That God fought for us .
Yes , my conscience , he did us great good .
Do we all holy rites :
Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum ;
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay .
We'll then to Calais ; and to England then ,
Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men .
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 the 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 the antique Rome ,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels ,
Go forth and fetch their conquering C sar 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 remembering you 'tis past .
Then brook abridgment , and your eyes advance ,
After your thoughts , straight back again to France .
Nay , that's right ; but why wear you your leek to-day ? Saint Davy's day is past .
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things : I will tell you , asse my friend , Captain Gower . The rascally , scald , beggarly , lousy , 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 contention 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 .
Why , here he comes , swelling like a turkey-cock .
'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks . God pless you , Aunchient Pistol ! you scurvy , lousy knave , God pless you !
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 .
I peseech you heartily , scurvy lousy knave , at my desires and my requests and my petitions to eat , look you , this leek ; pecause , 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 .
Not for Cadwallader and all his goats .
There is one goat for you .
Will you be so good , scald knave , as eat it ?
Base Troyan , thou shalt die .
You say very true , scald knave , when 
God's will is . I will desire you to live in the mean time and eat your victuals ; come , there is sauce for it .
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 .
Enough , captain : you have astonished him .
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 .
Must I bite ?
Yes , certainly , and out of doubt and out of question too and ambiguities .
By this leek , I will most horribly revenge . I eat and eat , I swear 
Eat , I pray you : will you have some more sauce to your leek ? there is not enough leek to swear by .
Quiet thy cudgel : thou dost see I eat .
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 .
Ay , leeks is good . Hold you , there is a groat to heal your pate .
Me a groat !
Yes , verily and in truth , you shall take it ; or I have another leek in my pocket , which you shall eat .
I take thy groat in earnest of revenge .
If I owe you anything 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 .
All hell shall stir for this .
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 predeceased valour , and dare not a vouch 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 .
Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now ?
News have I that my Nell is dead i' the spital 
Of malady of France :
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off .
Old I do wax , and from my weary limbs 
Honour is cudgelled . 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 .
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 Katharine ;
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 !
Right joyous are we to behold your face ,
Most worthy brother England ; fairly met :
So are you , princes English , every one .
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 borne 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 .
To cry amen to that , thus we appear .
You English princes all , I do salute you .
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 its 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 every thing that seems unnatural .
Which to reduce into our former favour 
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 .
If , Duke of Burgundy , you would the peace ,
Whose want gives growth to the 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 .
The king hath heard them ; to the which as yet ,
There is no answer made .
Well then the peace ,
Which you before so urg'd , lies in his answer .
I have but with a cursorary eye 
O'erglanc'd 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 .
Brother , we shall . Go , uncle Exeter ,
And brother Clarence , and you , brother Gloucester ,
Warwick and Huntingdon , 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 ,
Anything in or out of our demands ,
And we'll consign thereto . Will you , fair sister ,
Go with the princes , or stay here with us ?
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 .
Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us :
She is our capital demand , compris'd 
Within the fore-rank of our articles .
She hath good leave .
Fair Katharine , 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 ?
Your majesty sall mock at me ; I cannot speak your England .
O fair Katharine ! 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 ?
Pardonnez moy , I cannot tell vat is 'like me .' 
An angel is like you , Kate ; and you are like an angel .
Que dit-il ? que je suis semblable   les anges ?
Ouy , vrayment , sauf vostre grace , ainsi dit-il .
I said so , dear Katharine ; and I must not blush to affirm it .
O bon Dieu ! les langues des hommes sont pleines des tromperies .
What says she , fair one ? that the tongues of men are full of deceits ?
Ouy , dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits : dat is de princess .
The princess is the better Englishwoman . 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 further 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 ?
Sauf vostre honneur , me understand vell .
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 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 , Kate , 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 caust love a fellow of this temper , Kate . whose face is not worth sun-burning , 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 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 rime themselves into ladies' favours , they do always reason themselves out again . What ! a speaker is but a prater ; a rime is but a ballad . A good leg will fall , a straight back will stoop , a black beard will turn white , a curled 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 sayest thou then to my love ? speak , my fair , and fairly , I pray thee .
Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France ?
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 .
I cannot tell vat is dat .
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 moy ,let me see , what then ? Saint Denis be my speed !donc vostre est France , et 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 .
Sauf vostre honneur , le Fran ois que vous parlez est meilleur que l'Anglois lequel je parle .
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 ?
I cannot tell .
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 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 sayest thou , my fair flower-de-luce ?
I do not know dat .
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 Katharine du monde , mon tr s cher et divine d esse ?
Your majest  ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France .
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 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 , Katharine , break thy mind to me in broken English : wilt thou have me ?
Dat is as it sall please de roy mon p re .
Nay , it will please him well , Kate ; it shall please him , Kate .
Den it sall also content me .
Upon that I kiss your hand , and I call you my queen .
Laissez , mon seigneur , laissez , laissez ! Ma foy , je ne veux point que vous abaissez vostre grandeur , en baisant la main d'une vostre indigne serviteure : excusez moy , je vous supplie , mon tr s puissant seigneur .
Then I will kiss your lips , Kate .
Les dames , et demoiselles , pour estre bais es devant leur noces , il n'est pas la coutume de France .
Madam my interpreter , what says she ?
Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France ,I cannot tell what is baiser in English .
To kiss .
Your majesty entendre bettre que moy .
It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married , would she say ?
Ouy , vrayment .
O Kate ! nice customs curtsy 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 find-faults , as I will do yours , for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss : therefore , patiently , and yielding 
. 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 .
God save your majesty ! My royal cousin , teach you our princess English ?
I would have her learn , my fair cousin , how perfectly I love her ; and that is good English .
Is she not apt ?
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 .
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 rosed 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 .
Yet they do wink and yield , as love is blind and enforces .
They are then excused , my lord , when they see not what they do .
Then , good my lord , teach your cousin to consent winking .
I will wink on her to consent , my lord , if you will teach her to know my meaning : for maids , well summered 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 .
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 .
As love is , my lord , before it loves .
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 .
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 entered .
Shall Kate be my wife ?
So please you .
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 .
We have consented to all terms of reason .
Is't so , my lords of England ?
The king hath granted every article :
His daughter first , and then in sequel all ,
According to their firm proposed natures .
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 tr s cher filz Henry roy d'Angleterre , H retier de France ; and thus in Latin , Pr clarissimus filius noster Henricus , Rex Angli , et H res Franci .
Nor this I have not , brother , so denied ,
But your request shall make me let it pass .
I pray you then , in love and dear alliance ,
Let that one article rank with the rest ;
And thereupon give me your daughter .
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 .
Now , welcome , Kate : and bear me witness all ,
That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen .
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 !
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 prosperous be !
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 liv'd 
This star of England : Fortune made his sword ,
By which the world's best garden he achiev'd ,
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 .
THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV
Open your ears ; for which of you will stop 
The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks ?
I , from the orient to the drooping west ,
Making the wind my post-horse , still unfold 
The acts commenced on this ball of earth :
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ,
The which in every language I pronounce ,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports .
I speak of peace , while covert enmity 
Under the smile of safety wounds the world :
And who but Rumour , who but only I ,
Make fearful musters and prepar'd defence ,
Whilst the big year , swoln with some other grief ,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war ,
And no such matter ? Rumour is a pipe 
Blown by surmises , jealousies , conjectures ,
And of so easy and so plain a stop 
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads ,
The still-discordant wavering multitude ,
Can play upon it . But what need I thus 
My well-known body to anatomize 
Among my household ? Why is Rumour here ?
I run before King Harry's victory ;
Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury 
Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops ,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
Even with the rebels' blood . But what mean I 
To speak so true at first ? my office is 
To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell 
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ,
And that the king before the Douglas' rage 
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death .
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns 
Between the royal field of Shrewsbury 
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone ,
Where Hotspur's father , old Northumberland ,
Lies crafty-sick . The posts come tiring on ,
And not a man of them brings other news 
Than they have learn'd of me : from Rumour's tongues 
They bring smooth comforts false , worse than true wrongs .
Who keeps the gate here ? ho !
Where is the earl ?
What shall I say you are ?
Tell thou the earl 
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here .
His Lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard :
Please it your honour knock but at the gate ,
And he himself will answer .
Here comes the earl .
What news , Lord Bardolph ? every minute now 
Should be the father of some stratagem .
The times are wild ; contention , like a horse 
Full of high feeding , madly hath broke loose 
And bears down all before him .
Noble earl ,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury .
Good , an God will !
As good as heart can wish .
The king is almost wounded to the death ;
And , in the fortune of my lord your son ,
Prince Harry slain outright ; and both the Blunts 
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas ; young Prince John 
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field .
And Harry Monmouth's brawn , the hulk Sir John ,
Is prisoner to your son : O ! such a day ,
So fought , so follow'd , and so fairly won ,
Came not till now to dignify the times 
Since C sar's fortunes .
How is this deriv'd ?
Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury ?
I spake with one , my lord , that came from thence ;
A gentleman well bred and of good name ,
That freely render'd me these news for true .
Here comes my servant Travers , whom I sent 
On Tuesday last to listen after news .
My lord , I over-rode him on the way ;
And he is furnish'd with no certainties 
More than he haply may retail from me .
Now , Travers , what good tidings come with you ?
My lord , Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back 
With joyful tidings ; and , being better hors'd ,
Out-rode me . After him came spurring hard 
A gentleman , almost forspent with speed ,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse .
He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him 
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury .
He told me that rebellion had bad luck ,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold .
With that he gave his able horse the head ,
And , bending forward struck his armed heels 
Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
Up to the rowel-head , and , starting so ,
He seem'd in running to devour the way ,
Staying no longer question .
Ha ! Again :
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold ?
Of Hotspur , Coldspur ? that rebellion 
Had met ill luck ?
My lord , I'll tell you what :
If my young lord your son have not the day ,
Upon mine honour , for a silken point 
I'll give my barony : never talk of it .
Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers 
Give then such instances of loss ?
Who , he ?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen 
The horse he rode on , and , upon my life ,
Spoke at a venture . Look , here comes more news .
Yea , this man's brow , like to a title-leaf ,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume :
So looks the strond , whereon the imperious flood 
Hath left a witness'd usurpation .
Say , Morton , didst thou come from Shrewsbury ?
I ran from Shrewsbury , my noble lord ;
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask 
To fright our party .
How doth my son and brother ?
Thou tremblest , and the whiteness in thy cheek 
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand .
Even such a man , so faint , so spiritless ,
So dull , so dead in look , so woe-begone ,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night ,
And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd ;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue ,
And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it .
This thou wouldst say , 'Your son did thus and thus ;
Your brother thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ;' 
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds :
But in the end , to stop mine ear indeed ,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise ,
Ending with 'Brother , son , and all are dead .' 
Douglas is living , and your brother , yet ;
But , for my lord your son ,
Why , he is dead .
See , what a ready tongue suspicion hath !
He that but fears the thing he would not know 
Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes 
That what he fear'd is chanced . Yet speak , Morton :
Tell thou thy earl his divination lies ,
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace 
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong .
You are too great to be by me gainsaid ;
Your spirit is too true , your fears too certain .
Yet , for all this , say not that Percy's dead .
I see a strange confession in thine eye :
Thou shak'st thy head , and hold'st it fear or sin 
To speak a truth . If he be slain , say so ;
The tongue offends not that reports his death :
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead ,
Not he which says the dead is not alive .
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing office , and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell ,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend .
I cannot think , my lord , your son is dead .
I am sorry I should force you to believe 
That which I would to God I had not seen ;
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state ,
Rendering faint quittance , wearied and outbreath'd ,
To Harry Monmouth ; whose swift wrath beat down 
The never-daunted Percy to the earth ,
From whence with life he never more sprung up .
In few , his death ,whose spirit lent a fire 
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp ,
Being bruited once , took fire and heat away 
From the best-temper'd courage in his troops ;
For from his metal was his party steel'd ;
Which once in him abated , all the rest 
Turn'd on themselves , like dull and heavy lead :
And as the thing that's heavy in itself ,
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed ,
So did our men , heavy in Hotspur's loss ,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear 
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim 
Than did our soldiers , aiming at their safety ,
Fly from the field . Then was that noble Worcester 
Too soon ta'en prisoner ; and that furious Scot ,
The bloody Douglas , whose well-labouring sword 
Had three times slain the appearance of the king ,
'Gan vail his stomach , and did grace the shame 
Of those that turn'd their backs ; and in his flight ,
Stumbling in fear , was took . The sum of all 
Is , that the king hath won , and hath sent out 
A speedy power to encounter you , my lord ,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster 
And Westmoreland . This is the news at full .
For this I shall have time enough to mourn .
In poison there is physic ; and these news ,
Having been well , that would have made me sick ,
Being sick , have in some measure made me well :
And as the wretch , whose fever-weaken'd joints ,
Like strengthless hinges , buckle under life ,
Impatient of his fit , breaks like a fire 
Out of his keeper's arms , even so my limbs ,
Weaken'd with grief , being now enrag'd with grief ,
Are thrice themselves . Hence , therefore , thou nice crutch !
A scaly gauntlet now , with joints of steel 
Must glove this hand : and hence , thou sickly quoif !
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head 
Which princes , flesh'd with conquest , aim to hit .
Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach 
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring 
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland !
Let heaven kiss earth ! now let not nature's hand 
Keep the wild flood confin'd ! let order die !
And let this world no longer be a stage 
To feed contention in a lingering act ;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
Reign in all bosoms , that , each heart being set 
On bloody courses , the rude scene may end ,
And darkness be the burier of the dead !
This strained passion doth you wrong , my lord .
Sweet earl , divorce not wisdom from your honour .
The lives of all your loving complices 
Lean on your health ; the which , if you give o'er 
To stormy passion must perforce decay .
You cast the event of war , my noble lord ,
And summ'd the account of chance , before you said ,
'Let us make head .' It was your presurmise 
That in the dole of blows your son might drop :
You knew he walk'd o'er perils , on an edge ,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er ;
You were advis'd his flesh was capable 
Of wounds and scars , and that his forward spirit 
Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd :
Yet did you say , 'Go forth ;' and none of this ,
Though strongly apprehended , could restrain 
The stiff-borne action : what hath then befallen ,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth ,
More than that being which was like to be ?
We all that are engaged to this loss 
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas 
That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one ;
And yet we ventur'd , for the gain propos'd 
Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd ;
And since we are o'erset , venture again .
Come , we will all put forth , body and goods .
'Tis more than time : and , my most noble lord ,
I hear for certain , and do speak the truth ,
The gentle Archbishop of York is up ,
With well-appointed powers : he is a man 
Who with a double surety binds his followers .
My lord your son had only but the corpse' ,
But shadows and the shows of men to fight ;
For that same word , rebellion , did divide 
The action of their bodies from their souls ;
And they did fight with queasiness , constrain'd ,
As men drink potions , that their weapons only 
Seem'd on our side : but , for their spirits and souls ,
This word , rebellion , it had froze them up ,
As fish are in a pond . But now the bishop 
Turns insurrection to religion :
Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts ,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind ,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 
Of fair King Richard , scrap'd from Pomfret stones ;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause ;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land ,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ;
And more and less do flock to follow him .
I knew of this before ; but , to speak truth ,
This present grief had wip'd it from my mind .
Go in with me ; and counsel every man 
The aptest way for safety and revenge :
Get posts and letters , and make friends with speed :
Never so few , and never yet more need .
Sirrah , you giant , what says the doctor to my water ?
He said , sir , the water itself was a good healthy water ; but , for the party that owed it , he might have more diseases than he knew for .
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay , man , is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter , more than I invent or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself , but the cause that wit is in other men . I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one . If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off , why then I have no judgment . Thou whoreson mandrake , thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels . I was never manned with an agate till now ; but I will set you neither in gold nor silver , but in vile apparel , and send you back again to your master , for a jewel ; the juvenal , the prince your master , whose chin is not yet fledged . I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his cheek ; and yet he will not stick to say , his face is a face-royal : God may finish it when he will , it is not a hair amiss yet : he may keep it still as a face-royal , for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it ; and yet he will be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor . He may keep his own grace , but he is almost out of mine , I can assure him . What said Master Dombledon about the satin for my short cloak and my slops ?
He said , sir , you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph ; he would not take his bond and yours : he liked not the security .
Let him be damned like the glutton ! may his tongue be hotter ! A whoreson Achitophel ! a rascally yea-forsooth knave ! to bear a gentleman in hand , and then stand upon security . The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes , and bunches of keys at their girdles ; and if a man is thorough with them in honest taking up , then they must stand upon security . I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security . I looked a' should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin , as I am a true knight , and he sends me security . Well , he may sleep in security ; for he hath the horn of abundance , and the lightness of his wife shines through it : and yet cannot he see , though he have his own lanthorn to light him . Where's Bardolph ?
He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse .
I bought him in Paul's , and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield : an I could get me but a wife in the stews , I were manned , horsed , and wived .
Sir , here comes the nobleman that committed the prince for striking him about Bardolph .
Wait close ; I will not see him .
What's he that goes there ?
Falstaff , an't please your lordship .
He that was in question for the robbery ?
He , my lord ; but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury , and , as I hear , is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster .
What , to York ? Call him back again .
Sir John Falstaff !
Boy , tell him I am deaf .
You must speak louder , my master is deaf .
I am sure he is , to the hearing of anything good . Go , pluck him by the elbow ; I must speak with him .
Sir John !
What ! a young knave , and beg ! Is there not wars ? is there not employment ? doth not the king lack subjects ? do not the rebels want soldiers ? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one , it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side , were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it .
You mistake me , sir .
Why , sir , did I say you were an honest man ? setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside , I had lied in my throat if I had said so .
I pray you , sir , then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside , and give me leave to tell you you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than an honest man .
I give thee leave to tell me so ! I lay aside that which grows to me ! If thou gett'st any leave of me , hang me : if thou takest leave , thou wert better be hanged . You hunt-counter : hence ! avaunt !
Sir , my lord would speak with you .
Sir John Falstaff , a word with you .
My good lord ! God give your lordship good time of day . I am glad to see your lordship abroad ; I heard say your lordship was sick : I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice . Your lordship , though not clean past your youth , hath yet some smack of age in you , some relish of the saltness of time ; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverend care of your health .
Sir John , I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury .
An't please your lordship , I hear his majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales .
I talk not of his majesty . You would not come when I sent for you .
And I hear , moreover , his highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy .
Well , heaven mend him ! I pray you , let me speak with you .
This apoplexy is , as I take it , a kind of lethargy , an't please your lordship ; a kind of sleeping in the blood , a whoreson tingling .
What tell you me of it ? be it as it is .
It hath its original from much grief , from study and perturbation of the brain . I have read the cause of his effects in Galen : it is a kind of deafness .
I think you are fallen into the disease , for you hear not what I say to you .
Very well , my lord , very well : rather , an't please you , it is the disease of not listening , the malady of not marking , that I am troubled withal .
To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears ; and I care not if I do become your physician .
I am as poor as Job , my lord , but not so patient : your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty ; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions , the wise may make some dram of a scruple , or indeed a scruple itself .
I sent for you , when there were matters against you for your life , to come speak with me .
As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service , I did not come .
Well , the truth is , Sir John , you live in great infamy .
He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less .
Your means are very slender , and your waste is great .
I would it were otherwise : I would my means were greater and my waist slenderer .
You have misled the youthful prince .
The young prince hath misled me : I am the fellow with the great belly , and he my dog .
Well , I am loath to gall a new-healed wound : your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gadshill : you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting that action .
My lord !
But since all is well , keep it so : wake not a sleeping wolf .
To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox .
What ! you are as a candle , the better part burnt out .
A wassail candle , my lord ; all tallow : if I did say of wax , my growth would approve the truth .
There is not a white hair on your face but should have his effect of gravity .
His effect of gravy , gravy , gravy .
You follow the young prince up and down , like his ill angel .
Not so , my lord ; your ill angel is light , but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing : and yet , in some respects , I grant , I cannot go , I cannot tell . Virtue is of so little regard in these costermonger times that true valour is turned bear-herd : pregnancy is made a tapster , and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings : all the other gifts appertinent to man , as the malice of this age shapes them , are not worth a gooseberry . You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young ; you measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls ; and we that are in the vaward of our youth , I must confess , are wags too .
Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth , that are written down old with all the characters of age ? Have you not a moist eye , a dry hand , a yellow cheek , a white beard , a decreasing leg , an increasing belly ? Is not your voice broken , your wind short , your chin double , your wit single , and every part about you blasted with antiquity , and will you yet call yourself young ? Fie , fie , fie , Sir John !
My lord , I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon , with a white head , and something a round belly . For my voice , I have lost it with hollaing , and singing of anthems . To approve my youth further , I will not : the truth is , I am only old in judgment and understanding ; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks , let him lend me the money , and have at him ! For the box o' the ear that the prince gave you , he gave it like a rude prince , and you took it like a sensible lord . I have checked him for it , and the young lion repents ; marry , not in ashes and sackcloth , but in new silk and old sack .
Well , God send the prince a better companion !
God send the companion a better prince ! I cannot rid my hands of him .
Well , the king hath severed you and Prince Harry . I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland .
Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it . But look you pray , all you that kiss my lady Peace at home , that our armies join not in a hot day ; for , by the Lord , I take but two shirts out with me , and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if it be a hot day , and I brandish anything but my bottle , I would I might never spit white again . There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it . Well , I cannot last ever . But it was always yet the trick of our English nation , if they have a good thing , to make it too common . If you will needs say I am an old man , you should give me rest . I would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is : I were better to be eaten to death with rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion .
Well , be honest , be honest ; and God bless your expedition .
Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth ?
Not a penny ; not a penny ; you are too impatient to bear crosses . Fare you well : commend me to my cousin Westmoreland .
If I do , fillip me with a three-man beetle . A man can no more separate age and covetousness than he can part young limbs and lechery ; but the gout galls the one , and the pox pinches the other ; and so both the degrees prevent my curses . Boy !
What money is in my purse ?
Seven groats and twopence .
I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse : borrowing only lingers and lingers it out , but the disease is incurable . Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster ; this to the prince ; this to the Earl of Westmoreland ; and this to old Mistress Ursula , whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin . About it : you know where to find me .
A pox of this gout ! or , a gout of this pox ! for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe . 'Tis no matter if I do halt ; I have the wars for my colour , and my pension shall seem the more reasonable . A good wit will make use of anything ; I will turn diseases to commodity .
Thus have you heard our cause and known our means ;
And , my most noble friends , I pray you all ,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes :
And first , Lord Marshal , what say you to it ?
I well allow the occasion of our arms ;
But gladly would be better satisfied 
How in our means we should advance ourselves 
To look with forehead bold and big enough 
Upon the power and puissance of the king .
Our present musters grow upon the file 
To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice ;
And our supplies live largely in the hope 
Of great Northumberland , whose bosom burns 
With an incensed fire of injuries .
The question , then , Lord Hastings , standeth thus :
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand 
May hold up head without Northumberland .
With him , we may .
Ay , marry , there's the point :
But if without him we be thought too feeble ,
My judgment is , we should not step too far 
Till we had his assistance by the hand ;
For in a theme so bloody-fao'd as this ,
Conjecture , expectation , and surmise 
Of aids incertain should not be admitted .
'Tis very true , Lord Bardolph ; for , indeed 
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury .
It was , my lord ; who lin'd himself with hope ,
Eating the air on promise of supply ,
Flattering himself with project of a power 
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts ;
And so , with great imagination 
Proper to madmen , led his powers to death ,
And winking leap'd into destruction .
But , by your leave , it never yet did hurt 
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope .
Yes , if this present quality of war ,
Indeed the instant action ,a cause on foot ,
Lives so in hope , as in an early spring 
We see the appearing buds ; which , to prove fruit ,
Hope gives not so much warrant as despair 
That frosts will bite them . When we mean to build ,
We first survey the plot , then draw the model ;
And when we see the figure of the house ,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection ;
Which if we find outweighs ability ,
What do we then but draw anew the model 
In fewer offices , or at last desist 
To build at all ? Much more , in this great work ,
Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down 
And set another up ,should we survey 
The plot of situation and the model ,
Consent upon a sure foundation ,
Question surveyors , know our own estate ,
How able such a work to undergo ,
To weigh against his opposite ; or else ,
We fortify in paper , and in figures ,
Using the names of men instead of men :
Like one that draws the model of a house 
Beyond his power to build it ; who , half through ,
Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost 
A naked-subject to the weeping clouds ,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny .
Grant that our hopes , yet likely of fair birth ,
Should be still-born , and that we now possess'd 
The utmost man of expectation ;
I think we are a body strong enough ,
Even as we are , to equal with the king .
What ! is the king but five-and-twenty thousand ?
To us no more ; nay , not so much , Lord Bardolph .
For his divisions , as the times do brawl ,
Are in three heads : one power against the French ,
And one against Glendower ; perforce , a third 
Must take up us : so is the unfirm king 
In three divided , and his coffers sound 
With hollow poverty and emptiness .
That he should draw his several strengths together 
And come against us in full puissance ,
Need not be dreaded .
If he should do so ,
He leaves his back unarm'd , the French and Welsh 
Baying him at the heels : never fear that .
Who is it like should lead his forces hither ?
The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland ;
Against the Welsh , himself and Harry Monmouth :
But who is substituted 'gainst the French 
I have no certain notice .
Let us on 
And publish the occasion of our arms .
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice ;
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited .
A habitation giddy and unsure 
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart .
O thou fond many ! with what loud applause 
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke 
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be :
And being now trimm'd in thine own desires ,
Thou , beastly feeder , art so full of him 
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up .
So , so , thou common dog , didst thou disgorge 
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard ,
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up ,
And howl'st to find it . What trust is in these times ?
They that , when Richard liv'd , would have him die ,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave :
Thou , that threw'st dust upon his goodly head ,
When through proud London he came sighing on 
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke ,
Cry'st now , 'O earth ! yield us that king again ,
And take thou this !' O , thoughts of men accurst !
Past and to come seem best ; things present worst .
Shall we go draw our numbers and set on ?
We are time's subjects , and time bids be gone .
Master Fang , have you entered the exion ?
It is entered .
Where's your yeoman ? Is it a lusty yeoman ? will a' stand to't ?
Sirrah , where's Snare ?
O Lord , ay ! good Master Snare .
Here , here .
Snare , we must arrest Sir John Falstaff .
Yea , good Master Snare ; I have entered him and all .
It may chance cost some of us our lives , for he will stab .
Alas the day ! take heed of him : he stabbed me in mine own house , and that most beastly . In good faith , he cares not what mischief he doth if his weapon be out : he will foin like any devil , he will spare neither man , woman , nor child .
If I can close with him I care not for his thrust .
No , nor I neither : I'll be at your elbow .
An I but fist him once ; an a' come but within my vice ,
I am undone by his going ; I warrant you , he's an infinitive thing upon my score . Good Master Fang , hold him sure : good Master Snare , let him not 'scape . A' comes continuantly to Pie-corner saving your manhoods to buy a saddle , and he's indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert-Street , to Master Smooth's the silkman : I pray ye , since my exion is entered , and my case so openly known to the world , let him be brought in to his answer . A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear ; and I have borne , and borne , and borne ; and have been fubbed off , and fubbed off , and fubbed off , from this day to that day , that it is a shame to be thought on . There is no honesty in such dealing ; unless a woman should be made an ass , and a beast , to bear every knave's wrong . Yonder he comes ; and that arrant malmseynose knave , Bardolph , with him . Do your offices , do your offices , Master Fang and Master Snare ; do me , do me , do me your offices .
How now ! whose mare's dead ? what's the matter ?
Sir John , I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly .
Away , varlets ! Draw , Bardolph : cut me off the villain's head ; throw the quean in the channel .
Throw me in the channel ! I'll throw thee in the channel . Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou bastardly rogue ! Murder , murder ! Ah , thou honey-suckle villain ! wilt thou kill God's officers and the king's ? Ah , thou honey-seed rogue ! thou art a honey-seed , a man-queller , and a woman-queller .
Keep them off , Bardolph .
A rescue ! a rescue !
Good people , bring a rescue or two ! Thou wo't , wo't thou ? thou wo't , wo't ta ? do , do , thou rogue ! do , thou hemp-seed !
Away , you scullion ! you rampallian ! you fustilarian ! I'll tickle your catastrophe .
What is the matter ? keep the peace here , ho !
Good my lord , be good to me ! I beseech you , stand to me !
How now , Sir John ! what ! are you brawling here ?
Doth this become your place , your time and business ?
You should have been well on your way to York .
Stand from him , fellow : wherefore hang'st upon him ?
O , my most worshipful lord , an't please your grace , I am a poor widow of Eastcheap , and he is arrested at my suit .
For what sum ?
It is more than for some , my lord ; it is for all , all I have . He hath eaten me out of house and home ; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his : but I will have some of it out again , or I will ride thee o' nights like the mare .
I think I am as like to ride the mare if I have any vantage of ground to get up .
How comes this , Sir John ? Fie ! what man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation ? Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own ?
What is the gross sum that I owe thee ?
Marry , if thou wert an honest man , thyself and the money too . Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet , sitting in my Dolphin-chamber , at the round table , by a seacoal fire , upon Wednesday in Wheeson week , when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor , thou didst swear to me then , as I was washing thy wound , to marry me and make me my lady thy wife . Canst thou deny it ? Did not goodwife Keech , the butcher's wife , come in then and call me gossip Quickly ? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us she had a good dish of prawns ; whereby thou didst desire to eat some , whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound ? And didst thou not , when she was gone down-stairs , desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people ; saying that ere long they should call me madam ? And didst thou not kiss me and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings ? I put thee now to thy book-oath : deny it if thou canst .
My lord , this is a poor mad soul ; and she says up and down the town that her eldest son is like you . She hath been in good case , and the truth is , poverty hath distracted her . But for these foolish officers , I beseech you I may have redress against them .
Sir John , Sir John , I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way . It is not a confident brow , nor the throng of words that come with such more than impudent sauciness from you , can thrust me from a level consideration ; you have , as it appears to me , practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman , and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person .
Yea , in troth , my lord .
Prithee , peace . Pay her the debt you owe her , and unpay the villany you have done her : the one you may do with sterling money , and the other with current repentance .
My lord , I will not undergo this sneap without reply . You call honourable boldness impudent sauciness : if a man will make curtsy , and say nothing , he is virtuous . No , my lord , my humble duty remembered , I will not be your suitor : I say to you , I do desire deliverance from these officers , being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs .
You speak as having power to do wrong : but answer in the effect of your reputation , and satisfy the poor woman .
Come hither , hostess .
Now , Master Gower ! what news ?
The king , my lord , and Harry Prince of Wales 
Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells .
As I am a gentleman .
Nay , you said so before .
As I am a gentleman . Come , no more words of it .
By this heavenly ground I tread on , I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers .
Glasses , glasses , is the only drinking : and for thy walls , a pretty slight drollery , or the story of the Prodigal , or the German hunting in water-work , is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and these fly-bitten tapestries . Let it be ten pound if thou canst . Come , an it were not for thy humours , there is not a better wench in England . Go , wash thy face , and draw thy action . Come , thou must not be in this humour with me ; dost not know me ? Come , come , I know thou wast set on to this .
Prithee , Sir John , let it be but twenty nobles : i' faith , I am loath to pawn my plate , so God save me , la !
Let it alone ; I'll make other shift : you'll be a fool still .
Well , you shall have it , though I pawn my gown . I hope you'll come to supper . You'll pay me all together ?
Will I live ?
Go , with her , with her ; hook on , hook on .
Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper ?
No more words ; let's have her .
I have heard better news .
What's the news , my good lord ?
Where lay the king last night ?
At Basingstoke , my lord .
I hope , my lord , all's well : what is the news , my lord ?
Come all his forces back ?
No ; fifteen hundred foot , five hundred horse ,
Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster ,
Against Northumberland and the archbishop .
Comes the king back from Wales , my noble lord ?
You shall have letters of me presently .
Come , go along with me , good Master Gower .
My lord !
What's the matter ?
Master Gower , shall I entreat you with me to dinner ?
I must wait upon my good lord here ;
I thank you , good Sir John .
Sir John , you loiter here too long , being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go .
Will you sup with me , Master Gower ?
What foolish master taught you these manners , Sir John ?
Master Gower , if they become me not , he was a fool that taught them me . This is the right fencing grace , my lord ; tap for tap , and so part fair .
Now the Lord lighten thee ! thou art a great fool .
Before God , I am exceeding weary .
Is it come to that ? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood .
Faith , it does me , though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it . Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer ?
Why , a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition .
Belike then my appetite was not princely got ; for , by my troth , I do now remember the poor creature , small beer . But , indeed , these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness . What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name , or to know thy face to-morrow ! or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast ; viz . these , and those that were thy peach-coloured ones ! or to bear the inventory of thy shirts ; as , one for superfluity , and one other for use ! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I , for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there ; as thou hast not done a great while , because the rest of thy low-countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland : and God knows whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom ; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault ; whereupon the world increases , and kindreds are mightily strengthened .
How ill it follows , after you have laboured so hard , you should talk so idly ! Tell me , how many good young princes would do so , their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is ?
Shall I tell thee one thing , Poins ?
Yes , faith , and let it be an excellent good thing .
It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine .
Go to ; I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell .
Marry , I tell thee , it is not meet that I should be sad , now my father is sick : albeit I could tell to thee ,as to one it pleases me , for fault of a better , to call my friend ,I could be sad , and sad indeed too .
Very hardly upon such a subject .
By this hand , thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency : let the end try the man . But I tell thee my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick ; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow .
The reason ?
What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep ?
I would think thee a most princely hypocrite .
It would be every man's thought ; and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks : never a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way better than thine : every man would think me a hypocrite indeed . And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so ?
Why , because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed to Falstaff .
And to thee .
By this light , I am well spoke on ; I can hear it with mine own ears : the worst that they can say of me is that I am a second brother and that I am a proper fellow of my hands ; and these two things I confess I cannot help . By the mass , here comes Bardolph .
And the boy that I gave Falstaff : a' had him from me Christian ; and look , if the fat villain have not transformed him ape .
God save your Grace !
And yours , most noble Bardolph .
Come , you virtuous ass , you bashful fool , must you be blushing ? wherefore blush you now ? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become ! Is it such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead ?
A' calls me even now , my lord , through a red lattice , and I could discern no part of his face from the window : at last , I spied his eyes , and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat , and peeped through .
Hath not the boy profited ?
Away , you whoreson upright rabbit , away !
Away , you rascally Althea's dream , away !
Instruct us , boy ; what dream , boy ?
Marry , my lord , Althea dreamed she was delivered of a firebrand ; and therefore I call him her dream .
A crown's worth of good interpretation . There it is , boy .
O ! that this good blossom could be kept from cankers . Well , there is sixpence to preserve thee .
An you do not make him be hanged among you , the gallows shall have wrong .
And how doth thy master , Bardolph ?
Well , my lord . He heard of your Grace's coming to town : there's a letter for you .
Delivered with good respect . And how doth the martlemas , your master ?
In bodily health , sir .
Marry , the immortal part needs a physician ; but that moves not him : though that be sick , it dies not .
I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog ; and he holds his place , for look you how he writes .
'John Falstaff , knight ,' every man must know that , as oft as he has occasion to name himself : even like those that are akin to the king , for they never prick their finger but they say , 'There is some of the king's blood spilt .' 'How comes that ?' says he that takes upon him not to conceive . The answer is as ready as a borrower's cap , 'I am the king's poor cousin , sir .' 
Nay , they will be kin to us , or they will fetch it from Japhet . But to the letter :
Sir John Falstaff , knight , to the son of the king nearest his father , Harry Prince of Wales , greeting . Why , this is a certificate .
Peace !
I will imitate the honourable Romans in brevity : sure he means brevity in breath , short-winded .I commend me to thee , I commend thee , and I leave thee . Be not too familiar with Poins ; for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell . Repent at idle times as thou mayest , and so farewell .
My lord , I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it .
That's to make him eat twenty of his words . But do you use me thus , Ned ? must I marry your sister ?
God send the wench no worse fortune ! but I never said so .
Well , thus we play the fools with the time , and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us . Is your master here in London ?
Yes , my lord .
Where sups he ? doth the old boar feed in the old frank ?
At the old place , my lord , in Eastcheap .
What company ?
Ephesians , my lord , of the old church .
Sup any women with him ?
None , my lord , but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet .
What pagan may that be ?
A proper gentlewoman , sir , and a kinswoman of my master's .
Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull . Shall we steal upon them , Ned , at supper ?
I am your shadow , my lord ; I'll follow you .
Sirrah , you boy , and Bardolph ; no word to your master that I am yet come to town : there's for your silence .
I have no tongue , sir .
And for mine , sir , I will govern it .
Fare ye well ; go .
This Doll Tearsheet should be some road .
I warrant you , as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London .
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours , and not ourselves be seen ?
Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons , and wait upon him at his table as drawers .
From a god to a bull ! a heavy descension ! it was Jove's case . From a prince to a prentice ! a low transformation ! that shall be mine ; for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the folly . Follow me , Ned .
I pray thee , loving wife , and gentle daughter ,
Give even way unto my rough affairs :
Put not you on the visage of the times ,
And be like them to Percy troublesome .
I have given over , I will speak no more :
Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide .
Alas ! sweet wife , my honour is at pawn ;
And , but my going , nothing can redeem it .
O ! yet for God's sake , go not to these wars .
The time was , father , that you broke your word 
When you were more endear'd to it than now ;
When your own Percy , when my heart's dear Harry ,
Threw many a northward look to see his father 
Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain .
Who then persuaded you to stay at home ?
There were two honours lost , yours and your son's :
For yours , the God of heaven brighten it !
For his , it stuck upon him as the sun 
In the grey vault of heaven ; and by his light 
Did all the chivalry of England move 
To do brave acts : he was indeed the glass 
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves :
He had no legs , that practis'd not his gait ;
And speaking thick , which nature made his blemish ,
Became the accents of the valiant ;
For those that could speak low and tardily ,
Would turn their own perfection to abuse ,
To seem like him : so that , in speech , in gait ,
In diet , in affections of delight ,
In military rules , humours of blood ,
He was the mark and glass , copy and book ,
That fashion'd others . And him , O wondrous him !
O miracle of men ! him did you leave ,
Second to none , unseconded by you ,
To look upon the hideous god of war 
In disadvantage ; to abide a field 
Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name 
Did seem defensible : so you left him .
Never , O ! never , do his ghost the wrong 
To hold your honour more precise and nice 
With others than with him : let them alone .
The marshal and the archbishop are strong :
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers ,
To-day might I , hanging on Hotspur's neck ,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave .
Beshrew your heart ,
Fair daughter ! you do draw my spirits from me 
With new lamenting ancient oversights .
But I must go and meet with danger there ,
Or it will seek me in another place ,
And find me worse provided .
O ! fly to Scotland ,
Till that the nobles and the armed commons 
Have of their puissance made a little taste .
If they get ground and vantage of the king ,
Then join you with them , like a rib of steel ,
To make strength stronger ; but , for all our loves ,
First let them try themselves . So did your son ;
He was so suffer'd : so came I a widow ;
And never shall have length of life enough 
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes ,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven ,
For recordation to my noble husband .
Come , come , go in with me . 'Tis with my mind 
As with the tide swell'd up unto its height ,
That makes a still-stand , running neither way :
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop ,
But many thousand reasons hold me back .
I will resolve for Scotland : there am I ,
Till time and vantage crave my company .
What the devil hast thou brought there ? apple-johns ? thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john .
Mass , thou sayst true . The prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him , and told him there were five more Sir Johns ; and , putting off his hat , said , 'I will now take my leave of these six dry , round , old withered knights .' It angered him to the heart ; but he hath forgot that .
Why then , cover , and set them down : and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise ; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music . Dispatch : the room where they supped is too hot ; they'll come in straight .
Sirrah , here will be the prince and Master Poins anon ; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons ; and Sir John must not know of it : Bardolph hath brought word .
By the mass , here will be old utis : it will be an excellent stratagem .
I'll see if I can find out Sneak .
I'faith , sweetheart , methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality : your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire ; and your colour , I warrant you , is as red as any rose ; in good truth , la ! But , i' faith , you have drunk too much canaries , and that's a marvellous searching wine , and it perfumes the blood ere one can say , What's this ? How do you now ?
Better than I was : hem !
Why , that's well said ; a good heart's worth gold . Lo ! here comes Sir John .
When Arthur first in court Empty the jordan .
And was a worthy king . How now , Mistress Doll !
Sick of a calm : yea , good sooth .
So is all her sect ; an they be once in a calm they are sick .
You muddy rascal , is that all the comfort you give me ?
You make fat rascals , Mistress Doll .
I make them ! gluttony and diseases make them ; I make them not .
If the cook help to make the gluttony , you help to make the diseases , Doll : we catch of you , Doll , we catch of you ; grant that , my poor virtue , grant that .
Ay , marry ; our chains and our jewels .
'Your brooches , pearls , and owches :' for to serve bravely is to come halting off you know : to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely , and to surgery bravely ; to venture upon the charged chambers bravely ,
Hang yourself , you muddy conger , hang yourself !
By my troth , this is the old fashion ; you two never meet but you fall to some discord : you are both , in good troth , as rheumatic as two dry toasts ; you cannot one bear with another's confirmities . What the good-year ! one must bear , and that must be you : you are the weaker vessel , as they say , the emptier vessel .
Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead ? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him : you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold . Come , I'll be friends with thee , Jack : thou art going to the wars ; and whether I shall ever see thee again or no , there is nobody cares .
Sir , Ancient Pistol's below , and would speak with you .
Hang him , swaggering rascal ! let him not come hither : it is the foul-mouthedest rogue in England .
If he swagger , let him not come here : no , by my faith ; I must live amongst my neighbours ; I'll no swaggerers : I am in good name and fame with the very best . Shut the door ; there comes no swaggerers here : I have not lived all this while to have swaggering now : shut the door , I pray you .
Dost thou hear , hostess ?
Pray you , pacify yourself , Sir John : there comes no swaggerers here .
Dost thou hear ? it is mine ancient .
Tilly-fally , Sir John , never tell me : your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors . I was before Master Tisick , the deputy , t'other day ; and , as he said to me ,'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last ,'Neighbour Quickly ,' says he ;Master Dumbe , our minister , was by then ;'Neighbour Quickly ,' says he , 'receive those that are civil , for ,' said he , 'you are in an ill name ;' now , a' said so , I can tell whereupon ; 'for ,' says he , 'you are an honest woman , and well thought on ; therefore take heed what guests you receive : receive ,' says he , 'no swaggering companions .' There comes none here :you would bless you to hear what he said . No , I'll no swaggerers .
He's no swaggerer , hostess ; a tame cheater , i' faith ; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound : he will not swagger with a Barbary hen if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance . Call him up , drawer .
Cheater , call you him ? I will bar no honest man my house , nor no cheater ; but I do not love swaggering , by my troth ; I am the worse , when one says swagger . Feel , masters , how I shake ; look you , I warrant you .
So you do , hostess .
Do I ? yea , in very truth , do I , an 'twere an aspen leaf : I cannot abide swaggerers .
God save you , Sir John !
Welcome , Ancient Pistol . Here , Pistol , I charge you with a cup of sack : do you discharge upon mine hostess .
I will discharge upon her , Sir John , with two bullets .
She is pistol-proof , sir ; you shall hardly offend her .
Come , I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets : I'll drink no more than will do me good , for no man's pleasure , I .
Then to you , Mistress Dorothy ; I will charge you .
Charge me ! I scorn you , scurvy companion . What ! you poor , base , rascally , cheating , lack-linen mate ! Away , you mouldy rogue , away ! I am meat for your master .
I know you , Mistress Dorothy .
Away , you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy bung , away ! By this wine , I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy cuttle with me . Away , you bottle-ale rascal ! you basket-hilt stale juggler , you ! Since when , I pray you , sir ? God's light ! with two points on your shoulder ? much !
God let me not live . I will murder your ruff for this !
No more , Pistol : I would not have you go off here . Discharge yourself of our company , Pistol .
No , good captain Pistol ; not here , sweet captain .
Captain ! thou abominable damned cheater , art thou not ashamed to be called captain ? An captains were of my mind , they would truncheon you out for taking their names upon you before you have earned them . You a captain , you slave ! for what ? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house ? He a captain ! Hang him , rogue ! He lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes . A captain ! God's light , these villains will make the word captain as odious as the word 'occupy ,' which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted : therefore captains had need look to it .
Pray thee , go down , good ancient .
Hark thee hither , Mistress Doll .
Not I ; I tell thee what , Corporal Bardolph ; I could tear her . I'll be revenged of her .
Pray thee , go down .
I'll see her damned first ; to Pluto's damned lake , by this hand , to the infernal deep , with Erebus and tortures vile also . Hold hook and line , say I . Down , down , dogs ! down fates ! Have we not Hiren here ?
Good Captain Peesel , be quiet ; it is very late , i' faith . I beseek you now , aggravate your choler .
These be good humours , indeed ! Shall pack-horses ,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia ,
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day ,
Compare with C sars , and with Cannibals ,
And Trojan Greeks ? nay , rather damn them with 
King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar .
Shall we fall foul for toys ?
By my troth , captain , these are very bitter words .
Be gone , good ancient : this will grow to a brawl anon .
Dio men like dogs ! give crowns like pins ! Have we not Hiren here ?
O' my word , captain , there's none such here . What the good-year ! do you think I would deny her ? for God's sake ! be quiet .
Then feed , and be fat , my fair Calipolis .
Come , give's some sack .
Si fortuna me tormente , sperato me contento .
Fear we broadsides ? no , let the fiend give fire :
Give me some sack ; and , sweetheart , lie thou there .
Come we to full points here , and are et ceteras nothing ?
Pistol , I would be quiet .
Sweet knight , I kiss thy neif . What ! we have seen the seven stars .
For God's sake , thrust him down stairs ! I cannot endure such a fustian rascal .
'Thrust him down stairs !' know we not Galloway nags ?
Quoit him down , Bardolph , like a shovegroat shilling : nay , an a' do nothing but speak nothing , a' shall be nothing here .
Come , get you down stairs .
What ! shall we have incision ? Shall we imbrue ?
Then death rock me asleep , abridge my doleful days !
Why then , let grievous , ghastly , gaping wounds 
Untwine the Sisters Three ! Come , Atropos , I say !
Here's goodly stuff toward !
Give me my rapier , boy .
I pray thee , Jack , I pray thee , do not draw .
Get you down stairs .
Here's a goodly tumult ! I'll forswear keeping house , afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights . So ; murder , I warrant now . Alas , alas ! put up your naked weapons ; put up your naked weapons .
I pray thee , Jack , be quiet ; the rascal's gone . Ah ! you whoreson little valiant villain , you !
Are you not hurt i' the groin ? methought a' made a shrewd thrust at your belly .
Have you turned him out o' doors ?
Yes , sir : the rascal's drunk . You have hurt him , sir , i' the shoulder .
A rascal , to brave me !
Ah , you sweet little rogue , you ! Alas , poor ape , how thou sweatest ! Come , let me wipe thy face ; come on , you whoreson chops . Ah , rogue ! i' faith , I love thee . Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy , worth five of Agamemnon , and ten times better than the Nine Worthies . Ah , villain !
A rascally slave ! I will toss the rogue in a blanket .
Do , an thou darest for thy heart : an thou dost , I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets .
The music is come , sir .
Let them play . Play , sirs . Sit on my knee , Doll . A rascal bragging slave ! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver .
I' faith , and thou followedst him like a church . Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig , when wilt thou leave fighting o' days , and foining o' nights , and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven ?
Peace , good Doll ! do not speak like a death's head : do not bid me remember mine end .
Sirrah , what humour is the prince of ?
A good shallow young fellow : a' would have made a good pantler , a' would have chipped bread well .
They say , Poins has a good wit .
He a good wit ! hang him , baboon ! his wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard : there is no more conceit in him than is in a mallet .
Why does the prince love him so , then ?
Because their legs are both of a bigness , and he plays at quoits well , and eats conger and fennel , and drinks off candles' ends for flapdragons , and rides the wild mare with the boys , and jumps upon joint-stools , and swears with a good grace , and wears his boots very smooth , like unto the sign of the leg , and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories ; and such other gambol faculties a' has , that show a weak mind and an able body , for the which the prince admits him : for the prince himself is such another ; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois .
Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off ?
Let's beat him before his whore .
Look , whether the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot .
Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance ?
Kiss me , Doll .
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction ! what says the almanack to that ?
And , look , whether the fiery Trigon , his man , be not lisping to his master's old tables , his note-book , his counsel-keeper .
Thou dost give me flattering busses .
By my troth , I kiss thee with a most constant heart .
I am old , I am old .
I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all .
What stuff wilt have a kirtle of ? I shall receive money o' Thursday ; thou shalt have a cap to-morrow . A merry song ! come : it grows late ; we'll to bed . Thou'lt forget me when I am gone .
By my troth , thou'lt set me a-weeping an thou sayst so : prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return . Well , hearken at the end .
Some sack , Francis !
Anon , anon , sir .
Anon , anon , sir .
Ha ! a bastard son of the king's ? And art not thou Poins his brother ?
Why , thou globe of sinful cntinents , what a life dost thou lead !
A better than thou : I am a gentleman ; thou art a drawer .
Very true , sir ; and I come to draw you out by the ears .
O ! the Lord preserve thy good Grace ; by my troth , welcome to London . Now , the Lord bless that sweet face of thine ! O Jesu ! are you come from Wales ?
Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty , by this light flesh and corrupt blood 
thou art welcome .
How , you fat fool ! I scorn you .
My lord , he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment , if you take not the heat .
You whoreson candle-mine , you , how vilely did you speak of me even now before this honest , virtuous , civil gentlewoman !
Blessing on your good heart ! and so she is , by my troth .
Didst thou hear me ?
Yea ; and you knew me , as you did when you ran away by Gadshill : you knew I was at your back , and spoke it on purpose to try my patience .
No , no , no ; not so ; I did not think thou wast within hearing .
I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse ; and then I know how to handle you .
No abuse , Hal , o' mine honour ; no abuse .
Not to dispraise me , and call me pantler and bread-chipper and I know not what ?
No abuse , Hal .
No abuse !
No abuse , Ned , in the world ; honest Ned , none . I dispraised him before the wicked , that the wicked might not fall in love with him ; in which doing I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject , and thy father is to give me thanks for it . No abuse , Hal ; none , Ned , none : no , faith , boys , none .
See now , whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us ? Is she of the wicked ? Is thine hostess here of the wicked ? Or is thy boy of the wicked ? Or honest Bardolph , whose zeal burns in his nose , of the wicked ?
Answer , thou dead elm , answer .
The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable ; and his face is Lucifer's privykitchen , where he doth nothing but roast maltworms . For the boy , there is a good angel about him ; but the devil outbids him too .
For the women ?
For one of them , she is in hell already , and burns poor souls . For the other , I owe her money ; and whether she be damned for that , I know not .
No , I warrant you .
No , I think thou art not ; I think thou art quit for that . Marry , there is another indictment upon thee , for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house , contrary to the law ; for the which I think thou wilt howl .
All victuallers do so : what's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent ?
You , gentlewoman ,
What says your Grace ?
His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against .
Who knocks so loud at door ? Look to the door there , Francis .
Peto , how now ! what news ?
The king your father is at Westminster ;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts 
Come from the north : and as I came along ,
I met and overtook a dozen captains ,
Bare-headed , sweating , knocking at the taverns ,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff .
By heaven , Poins , I feel me much to blame ,
So idly to profane the precious time ,
When tempest of commotion , like the south ,
Borne with black vapour , doth begin to melt 
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads .
Give me my sword and cloak . Falstaff , good night .
Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night , and we must hence and leave it unpicked .
More knocking at the door !
How now ! what's the matter ?
You must away to court , sir , presently ;
A dozen captains stay at door for you .
Pay the musicians , sirrah . Farewell , hostess ; farewell , Doll . You see , my good wenches , how men of merit are sought after : the undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on . Farewell , good wenches . If I be not sent away post , I will see you again ere I go .
I cannot speak ; if my heart be not ready to burst ,well , sweet Jack , have a care of thyself .
Farewell , farewell .
Well , fare thee well : I have known thee these twenty-nine years , come peascod-time ; but an honester , and truer-hearted man ,well , fare thee well .
Mistress Tearsheet !
What's the matter ?
Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master .
O ! run , Doll , run ; run , good Doll .
Go , call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick ;
But , ere they come , bid them o'er-read these letters ,
And well consider of them . Make good speed .
How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
Are at this hour asleep ! O sleep ! O gentle sleep !
Nature's soft nurse , how have I frighted thee ,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ?
Why rather , sleep , liest thou in smoky cribs ,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee ,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ,
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great ,
Under the canopies of costly state ,
And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody ?
O thou dull god ! why liest thou with the vile 
In loathsome beds , and leav'st the kingly couch 
A watch-case or a common 'larum bell ?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
Seel up the ship-boy's eyes , and rock his brains 
In cradle of the rude imperious surge ,
And in the visitation of the winds ,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top ,
Curling their monstrous heads , and hanging them 
With deaf'ning clamour in the slippery clouds ,
That with the hurly death itself awakes ?
Canst thou , O partial sleep ! give thy repose 
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ,
And in the calmest and most stillest night ,
With all appliances and means to boot ,
Deny it to a king ? Then , happy low , lie down !
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown .
Many good morrows to your majesty !
Is it good morrow , lords ?
'Tis one o'clock , and past .
Why then , good morrow to you all , my lords .
Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you ?
We have , my liege .
Then you perceive the body of our kingdom ,
How foul it is ; what rank diseases grow ,
And with what danger , near the heart of it .
It is but as a body , yet , distemper'd ,
Which to his former strength may be restor'd 
With good advice and little medicine :
My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd .
O God ! that one might read the book of fate ,
And see the revolution of the times 
Make mountains level , and the continent ,
Weary of solid firmness ,melt itself 
Into the sea ! and , other times , to see 
The beachy girdle of the ocean 
Too wide for Neptune's hips ; how chances mock ,
And changes fill the cup of alteration 
With divers liquors ! O ! if this were seen ,
The happiest youth , viewing his progress through ,
What perils past , what crosses to ensue ,
Would shut the book , and sit him down and die .
'Tis not ten years gone 
Since Richard and Northumberland , great friends ,
Did feast together , and in two years after 
Were they at wars : it is but eight years since 
This Percy was the man nearest my soul ,
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs 
And laid his love and life under my foot ;
Yea , for my sake , even to the eyes of Richard 
Gave him defiance . But which of you was by ,
You , cousin Nevil , as I may remember ,
When Richard , with his eye brimful of tears ,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland ,
Did speak these words , now prov'd a prophecy ?
'Northumberland , thou ladder , by the which 
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne ;' 
Though then , God knows , I had no such intent ,
But that necessity so bow'd the state 
That I and greatness were compelled to kiss :
'The time shall come ,' thus did he follow it ,
'The time will come , that foul sin , gathering head ,
Shall break into corruption :' so went on ,
Foretelling this same time's condition 
And the division of our amity .
There is a history in all men's lives ,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd ;
The which observ'd , a man may prophesy ,
With a near aim , of the main chance of things 
As yet not come to life , which in their seeds 
And weak leginnings lie intreasured .
Such things become the hatch and brood of time ;
And by the necessary form of this 
King Richard might create a perfect guess 
That great Northumberland , then false to him ,
Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness ,
Which should not find a ground to root upon ,
Unless on you .
Are these things then necessities ?
Then let us meet them like necessities ;
And that same word even now cries out on us .
They say the bishop and Northumberland 
Are fifty thousand strong .
It cannot be , my lord !
Rumour doth double , like the voice and echo ,
The numbers of the fear'd . Please it your Grace 
To go to bed : upon my soul , my lord ,
The powers that you already have sent forth 
Shall bring this prize in very easily .
To comfort you the more , I have receiv'd 
A certain instance that Glendower is dead .
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill ,
And these unseason'd hours perforce must add 
Unto your sickness .
I will take your counsel :
And were these inward wars once out of hand ,
We would , dear lords , unto the Holy Land .
Come on , come on , come on , sir ; give me your hand , sir , give me your hand , sir : an early stirrer , by the rood ! And how doth my good cousin Silence ?
Good morrow , good cousin Shallow .
And how doth my cousin , your bed-fellow ? and your fairest daughter and mine , my god-daughter Ellen ?
Alas ! a black ousel , cousin Shallow !
By yea and nay , sir , I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar . He is at Oxford still , is he not ?
Indeed , sir , to my cost .
A' must , then , to the inns o' court shortly . I was once of Clement's Inn ; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet .
You were called 'lusty Shallow' then , cousin .
By the mass , I was called any thing ; and I would have done any thing indeed too , and roundly too . There was I , and Little John Doit of Staffordshire , and black George Barnes , and Francis Pickbone , and Will Squele a Cotswold man ; you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again : and , I may say to you , we knew where the bona-robas were , and had the best of them all at commandment . Then was Jack Falstaff , now Sir John , a boy , and page to Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk .
This Sir John , cousin , that comes hither anon about soldiers ?
The same Sir John , the very same . I saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate , when a' was a crack not thus high : and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish , a fruiterer , behind Gray's Inn . Jesu ! Jesu ! the mad days that I have spent ; and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead !
We shall all follow , cousin .
Certain , 'tis certain ; very sure , very sure : death , as the Psalmist saith , is certain to all ; all shall die . How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair ?
Truly , cousin , I was not there .
Death is certain . Is old Double of your town living yet ?
Dead , sir .
Jesu ! Jesu ! dead ! a' drew a good bow ; and dead ! a' shot a fine shoot : John a Gaunt loved him well , and betted much money on his head . Dead ! a' would have clapped i' the clout at twelve score ; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half , that it would have done a man's heart good to see . How a score of ewes now ?
Thereafter as they be : a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds .
And is old Double dead ?
Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men , as I think .
Good morrow , honest gentlemen : I beseech you , which is Justice Shallow ?
I am Robert Shallow , sir ; a poor esquire of this county , and one of the king's justices of the peace : what is your good pleasure with me ?
My captain , sir , commends him to you ; my captain , Sir John Falstaff : a tall gentleman , by heaven , and a most gallant leader .
He greets me well , sir . I knew him a good backsword man . How doth the good knight ? may I ask how my lady his wife doth ?
Sir , pardon ; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife .
It is well said , in faith , sir ; and it is well said indeed too . 'Better accommodated !' it is good ; yea indeed , is it : good phrases are surely and ever were , very commendable . Accommodated ! it comes of accommodo : very good ; a good phrase .
Pardon me , sir ; I have heard the word . 'Phrase ,' call you it ? By this good day , I know not the phrase ; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word , and a word of exceeding good command , by heaven . Accommodated ; that is , when a man is , as they say , accommodated ; or , when a man is , being , whereby , a' may be thought to be accommodated , which is an excellent thing .
It is very just . Look , here comes good Sir John . Give me your good hand , give me your worship's good hand . By my troth , you look well and bear your years very well : welcome , good Sir John .
I am glad to see you well , good Master Robert Shallow . Master Surecard , as I think .
No , Sir John ; it is my cousin , Silence , in commission with me .
Good Master Silence , it well befits you should be of the peace .
Your good worship is welcome .
Fie ! this is hot weather , gentlemen .
Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men ?
Marry , have we , sir . Will you sit ?
Let me see them , I beseech you .
Where's the roll ? where's the roll ? where's the roll ? Let me see , let me see , let me see . So , so , so , so , so , so , so : yea , marry , sir : Ralph Mouldy ! let them appear as I call ; let them do so , let them do so . Let me see ; where is Mouldy ?
Here , an't please you .
What think you , Sir John ? a goodlimbed fellow ; young , strong , and of good friends .
Is thy name Mouldy ?
Yea , an't please you .
'Tis the more time thou wert used .
Ha , ha , ha ! most excellent , i' faith ! things that are mouldy lack use : very singular good . In faith , well said , Sir John ; very well said .
Prick him .
I was pricked well enough before , an you could have let me alone : my old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery : you need not to have pricked me ; there are other men fitter to go out than I .
Go to : peace , Mouldy ! you shall go . Mouldy , it is time you were spent .
Spent !
Peace , fellow , peace ! stand aside : know you where you are ? For the other , Sir John : let me see . Simon Shadow !
Yea , marry , let me have him to sit under : he's like to be a cold soldier .
Where's Shadow ?
Here , sir .
Shadow , whose son art thou ?
My mother's son , sir .
Thy mother's son ! like enough , and thy father's shadow : so the son of the female is the shadow of the male : it is often so , indeed ; but not of the father's substance .
Do you like him , Sir John ?
Shadow will serve for summer ; prick him , for we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book .
Thomas Wart ?
Where's he ?
Here , sir .
Is thy name Wart ?
Yea , sir .
Thou art a very ragged wart .
Shall I prick him , Sir John ?
It were superfluous ; for his apparel is built upon his back , and the whole frame stands upon pins : prick him no more .
Ha , ha , ha ! you can do it , sir ; you can do it : I commend you well . Francis Feeble !
Here , sir .
What trade art thou , Feeble ?
A woman's tailor , sir .
Shall I prick him , sir ?
You may ; but if he had been a man's tailor he'd have pricked you . Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat ?
I will do my good will , sir : you can have no more .
Well said , good woman's tailor ! well said , courageous Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse . Prick the woman's tailor ; well , Master Shallow ; deep , Master Shallow .
I would Wart might have gone , sir .
I would thou wert a man's tailor , that thou mightst mend him , and make him fit to go . I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands : let that suffice , most forcible Feeble .
It shall suffice , sir .
I am bound to thee , reverend Feeble .
Who is next ?
Peter Bullcalf o' the green !
Yea , marry , let's see Bullcalf .
Here , sir .
'Fore God , a likely fellow ! Come , prick me Bullcalf till he roar again .
O Lord ! good my lord captain ,
What ! dost thou roar before thou art pricked ?
O Lord , sir ! I am a diseased man .
What disease hast thou ?
A whoreson cold , sir ; a cough , sir , which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs upon his coronation day , sir .
Come , thou shalt go to the wars in a gown ; we will have away thy cold ; and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee . Is here all ?
Here is two more called than your number ; you must have but four here , sir : and so , I pray you , go in with me to dinner .
Come , I will go drink with you , but I cannot tarry dinner . I am glad to see you , by my troth , Master Shallow .
O , Sir John , do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's fields ?
No more of that , good Master Shallow , no more of that .
Ha ! it was a merry night . And is Jane Nightwork alive ?
She lives , Master Shallow .
She never could away with me .
Never , never ; she would always say she could not abide Master Shallow .
By the mass , I could anger her to the heart . She was then a bona-roba . Doth she hold her own well ?
Old , old , Master Shallow .
Nay she must be old ; she cannot choose but be old ; certain she's old ; and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn .
That's fifty-five year ago .
Ha ! cousin Silence , that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen . Ha ! Sir John , said I well ?
We have heard the chimes at midnight , Master Shallow .
That we have , that we have , that we have ; in faith , Sir John , we have . Our watchword was , 'Hem , boys !' Come , let's to dinner ; come , let's to dinner . Jesus , the days that we have seen ! Come , come .
Good Master Corporate Bardolph , stand my friend , and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you . In very truth , sir , I had as lief be hanged , sir , as go : and yet , for mine own part , sir , I do not care ; but rather , because I am unwilling , and , for mine own part , have a desire to stay with my friends : else , sir , I did not care , for mine own part , so much .
Go to ; stand aside .
And , good Master corporal captain , for my old dame's sake , stand my friend : she has nobody to do any thing about her , when I am gone ; and she is old , and cannot help herself . You shall have forty , sir .
Go to ; stand aside .
By my troth , I care not ; a man can die but once ; we owe God a death . I'll ne'er bear a base mind : an't be my destiny , so ; an't be not , so . No man's too good to serve's prince ; and let it go which way it will , he that dies this year is quit for the next .
Well said ; thou'rt a good fellow .
Faith , I'll bear no base mind .
Come , sir , which men shall I have ?
Four , of which you please .
Sir , a word with you . I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf .
Go to ; well .
Come , Sir John , which four will you have ?
Do you choose for me .
Marry , then , Mouldy , Bullcalf , Feeble , and Shadow .
Mouldy , and Bullcalf : for you , Mouldy , stay at home till you are past service : and for your part , Bullcalf , grow till you come unto it : I will none of you .
Sir John , Sir John , do not yourself wrong : they are your likeliest men , and I would have you served with the best .
Will you tell me , Master Shallow , how to choose a man ? Care I for the limb , the thewes , the stature , bulk , and big assemblance of a man ! Give me the spirit , Master Shallow . Here's Wart ; you see what a ragged appearance it is : a' shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer , come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket . And this same half-faced fellow , Shadow , give me this man : he presents no mark to the enemy ; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife . And , for a retreat ; how swiftly will this Feeble the woman's tailor run off ! O ! give me the spare men , and spare me the great ones . Put me a caliver into Wart's hand , Bardolph .
Hold , Wart , traverse ; thus , thus , thus .
Come , manage me your caliver . So : very well : go to : very good : exceeding good . O , give me always a little , lean , old , chopp'd , bald shot . Well said , i' faith , Wart ; thou'rt a good scab : hold , there's a tester for thee .
He is not his craft's master , he doth not do it right . I remember at Mile-end Green , when I lay at Clement's Inn ,I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show ,there was a little quiver fellow , and a' would manage you his piece thus : and a' would about and about , and come you in , and come you in ; 'rah , tah , tah ,' would a' say ; 'bounce ,' would a' say ; and away again would a' go , and again would a' come : I shall never see such a fellow .
These fellows will do well , Master Shallow . God keep you , Master Silence : I will not use many words with you . Fare you well , gentlemen both : I thank you : I must a dozen mile to-night . Bardolph , give the soldiers coats .
Sir John , the Lord bless you ! and prosper your affairs ! God send us peace ! At your return visit our house ; let our old acquaintance be renewed : peradventure I will with ye to the court .
'Fore God I would you would , Master Shallow .
Go to ; I have spoke at a word . God keep you .
Fare you well , gentle gentlemen .
As I return , I will fetch off these justices : I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow . Lord , Lord ! how subject we old men are to this vice of lying . This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street ; and every third word a lie , duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute . I do remember him at Clement's Inn like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring : when a' was naked he was for all the world like a forked radish , with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife : a' was so forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invincible : a' was the very genius of famine ; yet lecherous as a monkey , and the whores called him mandrake : a' came ever in the rearward of the fashion and sung those tunes to the over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen whistle , and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights . And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire , and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him ; and I'll be sworn a' never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard , and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal's men . I saw it and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name ; for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin ; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him , a court ; and now has he land and beefs . Well , I will be acquainted with him , if I return ; and it shall go hard but I will make him a philosopher's two stones to me . If the young dace be a bait for the old pike , I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him . Let time shape , and there an end .
What is this forest call'd ?
'Tis Gaultree Forest , an't shall please your Grace .
Here stand , my lords , and send discovers forth ,
To know the numbers of our enemies .
We have sent forth already .
'Tis well done .
My friends and brethren in these great affairs ,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd 
New-dated letters from Northumberland ;
Their cold intent , tenour and substance , thus :
Here doth he wish his person , with such powers 
As might hold sortance with his quality ;
The which he could not levy ; whereupon 
He is retir'd , to ripe his growing fortunes ,
To Scotland ; and concludes in hearty prayers 
That your attempts may overlive the hazard 
And fearful meeting of their opposite .
Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground 
And dash themselves to pieces .
Now , what news ?
West of this forest , scarcely off a mile ,
In goodly form comes on the enemy ;
And , by the ground they hide , I judge their number 
Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand .
The just proportion that we gave them out .
Let us sway on and face them in the field .
What well-appointed leader fronts us here ?
I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland .
Health and fair greeting from our general .
The Prince , Lord John and Duke of Lancaster .
Say on , my Lord of Westmoreland , in peace ,
What doth concern your coming .
Then , my lord ,
Unto your Grace do I in chief address 
The substance of my speech . If that rebellion 
Came like itself , in base and abject routs ,
Led on by bloody youth , guarded with rags ,
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary ;
I say , if damn'd commotion so appear'd ,
In his true , native , and most proper shape ,
You , reverend father , and these noble lords 
Had not been here , to dress the ugly form 
Of base and bloody insurrection 
With your fair honours . You , lord archbishop ,
Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd ,
Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd ,
Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd ,
Whose white investments figure innocence ,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace ,
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself 
Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace 
Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war ;
Turning your books to greaves , your ink to blood ,
Your pens to lances , and your tongue divine 
To a loud trumpet and a point of war ?
Wherefore do I this ? so the question stands .
Briefly to this end : we are all diseas'd ;
And , with our surfeiting and wanton hours 
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever ,
And we must bleed for it : of which disease 
Our late king , Richard , being infected , died .
But , my most noble Lord of Westmoreland ,
I take not on me here as a physician ,
Nor do I as an enemy to peace 
Troop in the throngs of military men ;
But rather show a while like fearful war ,
To diet rank minds sick of happiness 
And purge the obstructions which begin to stop 
Our very veins of life . Hear me more plainly :
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd 
What wrongs our arms may do , what wrongs we suffer ,
And find our griefs heavier than our offences .
We see which way the stream of time doth run 
And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere 
By the rough torrent of occasion ;
And have the summary of all our griefs ,
When time shall serve , to show in articles ,
Which long ere this we offer'd to the king ,
And might by no suit gain our audience .
When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs ,
We are denied access unto his person 
Even by those men that most have done us wrong .
The dangers of the days but newly gone ,
Whose memory is written on the earth 
With yet appearing blood ,and the examples 
Of every minute's instance , present now ,
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms ;
Not to break peace , or any branch of it ,
But to establish here a peace indeed ,
Concurring both in name and quality .
When ever yet was your appeal denied ?
Wherein have you been galled by the king ?
What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you ,
That you should seal this lawless bloody book 
Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine ,
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge ?
My brother general , the commonwealth ,
To brother born an household cruelty ,
I make my quarrel in particular .
There is no need of any such redress ;
Or if there were , it not belongs to you .
Why not to him in part , and to us all 
That feel the bruises of the days before ,
And suffer the condition of these times 
To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
Upon our honours ?
O ! my good Lord Mowbray ,
Construe the times to their necessities ,
And you shall say indeed , it is the time ,
And not the king , that doth you injuries .
Yet , for your part , it not appears to me 
Either from the king or in the present time 
That you should have an inch of any ground 
To build a grief on : were you not restor'd 
To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories ,
Your noble and right well-remember'd father's ?
What thing , in honour , had my father lost ,
That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me ?
The king that lov'd him as the state stood then ,
Was force perforce compell'd to banish him :
And then that Harry Bolingbroke and he ,
Being mounted and both roused in their seats ,
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur ,
Their armed staves in charge , their beavers down ,
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel ,
And the loud trumpet blowing them together ,
Then , then , when there was nothing could have stay'd 
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke ,
O ! when the king did throw his warder down ,
His own life hung upon the staff he threw ;
Then threw he down himself and all their lives 
That by indictment and by dint of sword 
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke .
You speak , Lord Mowbray , now you know not what .
The Earl of Hereford was reputed then 
In England the most valiant gentleman :
Who knows on whom Fortune would then have smil'd ?
But if your father had been victor there ,
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry ;
For all the country in a general voice 
Cried hate upon him ; and all their prayers and love 
Were set on Hereford , whom they doted on 
And bless'd and grac'd indeed , more than the king .
But this is mere digression from my purpose .
Here come I from our princely general 
To know your griefs ; to tell you from his Grace 
That he will give you audience ; and wherein 
It shall appear that your demands are just ,
You shall enjoy them ; every thing set off 
That might so much as think you enemies .
But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer ,
And it proceeds from policy , not love .
Mowbray , you overween to take it so .
This offer comes from mercy , not from fear :
For , lo ! within a ken our army lies 
Upon mine honour , all too confident 
To give admittance to a thought of fear .
Our battle is more full of names than yours ,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms ,
Our armour all as strong , our cause the best ;
Then reason will our hearts should be as good :
Say you not then our offer is compell'd .
Well , by my will we shall admit no parley .
That argues but the shame of your offence :
A rotten case abides no handling .
Hath the Prince John a full commission ,
In very ample virtue of his father ,
To hear and absolutely to determine 
Of what conditions we shall stand upon ?
That is intended in the general's name .
I muse you make so slight a question .
Then take , my Lord of Westmoreland , this schedule ,
For this contains our general grievances :
Each several article herein redress'd ;
All members of our cause , both here and hence ,
That are insinew'd to this action ,
Acquitted by a true substantial form 
And present execution of our wills 
To us and to our purposes consign'd ;
We come within our awful banks again 
And knit our powers to the arm of peace .
This will I show the general . Please you , lords ,
In sight of both our battles we may meet ;
And either end in peace , which God so frame !
Or to the place of difference call the swords 
Which must decide it .
My lord , we will do so .
There is a thing within my bosom tells me 
That no conditions of our peace can stand .
Fear you not that : if we can make our peace 
Upon such large terms , and so absolute 
As our condition shall consist upon ,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains .
Yea , but our valuation shall be such 
That every slight and false-derived cause ,
Yea , every idle , nice , and wanton reason 
Shall to the king taste of this action ;
That , were our royal faiths martyrs in love ,
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind 
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff 
And good from bad find no partition .
No , no , my lord . Note this ; the king is weary 
Of dainty and such picking grievances :
For he hath found to end one doubt by death 
Revives two greater in the heirs of life ;
And therefore will he wipe his tables clean ,
And keep no tell-tale to his memory 
That may repeat and history his loss 
To new remembrance ; for full well he knows 
He cannot so precisely weed this land 
As his misdoubts present occasion :
His foes are so enrooted with his friends 
That , plucking to unfix an enemy ,
He doth unfasten so and shake a friend .
So that this land , like an offensive wife ,
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes ,
As he is striking , holds his infant up 
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm 
That was uprear'd to execution .
Besides , the king hath wasted all his rods 
On late offenders , that he now doth lack 
The very instruments of chastisement ;
So that his power , like to a fangless lion ,
May offer , but not hold .
'Tis very true :
And therefore be assur'd , my good lord marshal ,
If we do now make our atonement well ,
Our peace will , like a broken limb united ,
Grow stronger for the breaking .
Be it so .
Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland .
The prince is here at hand : pleaseth your lordship ,
To meet his Grace just distance 'tween our armies ?
Your Grace of York , in God's name then , set forward .
Before , and greet his Grace : my lord , we come .
You are well encounter'd here , my cousin Mowbray :
Good day to you , gentle lord archbishop ;
And so to you , Lord Hastings , and to all .
My Lord of York , it better show'd with you ,
When that your flock , assembled by the bell ,
Encircled you to hear with reverence 
Your exposition on the holy text 
Than now to see you here an iron man ,
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum ,
Turning the word to sword and life to death .
That man that sits within a monarch's heart 
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour ,
Would he abuse the countenance of the king ,
Alack ! what mischief might he set abroach 
In shadow of such greatness . With you , lord bishop ,
It is even so . Who hath not heard it spoken 
How deep you were within the books of God ?
To us , the speaker in his parliament ;
To us the imagin'd voice of God himself ;
The very opener and intelligencer 
Between the grace , the sanctities of heaven ,
And our dull workings . O ! who shall believe 
But you misuse the reverence of your place ,
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven ,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name ,
In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken up ,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God ,
The subjects of his substitute , my father ;
And both against the peace of heaven and him 
Have here upswarm'd them .
Good my Lord of Lancaster ,
I am not here against your father's peace ;
But , as I told my Lord of Westmoreland ,
The time misorder'd doth , in common sense ,
Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form ,
To hold our safety up . I sent your Grace 
The parcels and particulars of our grief ,
The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the court ,
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born ;
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep 
With grant of our most just and right desires ,
And true obedience , of this madness cur'd ,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty .
If not , we ready are to try our fortunes 
To the last man .
And though we here fall down ,
We have supplies to second our attempt :
If they miscarry , theirs shall second them ;
And so success of mischief shall be born ,
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up 
Whiles England shall have generation .
You are too shallow , Hastings , much too shallow ,
To sound the bottom of the after-times .
Pleaseth your Grace , to answer them directly 
How far forth you do like their articles .
I like them all , and do allow them well ;
And swear here , by the honour of my blood ,
My father's purposes have been mistook ,
And some about him have too lavishly 
Wrested his meaning and authority .
My lord , these griefs shall be with speed redress'd ;
Upon my soul , they shall . If this may please you ,
Discharge your powers unto their several counties ,
As we will ours : and here between the armies 
Let's drink together friendly and embrace ,
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home 
Of our restored love and amity .
I take your princely word for these redresses .
I give it you , and will maintain my word :
And thereupon I drink unto your Grace .
Go , captain , and deliver to the army 
This news of peace : let them have pay , and part :
I know it will well please them : hie thee , captain .
To you , my noble Lord of Westmoreland .
I pledge your Grace : and , if you knew what pains 
I have bestow'd to breed this present peace ,
You would drink freely ; but my love to you 
Shall show itself more openly hereafter .
I do not doubt you .
I am glad of it .
Health to my lord and gentle cousin , Mowbray .
You wish me health in very happy season ;
For I am , on the sudden , something ill .
Against ill chances men are ever merry ,
But heaviness foreruns the good event .
Therefore be merry , coz ; since sudden sorrow 
Serves to say thus , Some good thing comes to morrow .
Believe me , I am passing light in spirit .
So much the worse if your own rule be true .
The word of peace is render'd : hark , how they shout !
This had been cheerful , after victory .
A peace is of the nature of a conquest ;
For then both parties nobly are subdu'd ,
And neither party loser .
Go , my lord ,
And let our army be discharged too .
And , good my lord , so please you , let our trains 
March by us , that we may peruse the men 
We should have cop'd withal .
Go , good Lord Hastings ,
And , ere they be dismiss'd , let them march by .
I trust , lords , we shall lie to-night together .
Now , cousin , wherefore stands our army still ?
The leaders , having charge from you to stand ,
Will not go off until they hear you speak .
They know their duties .
My lord , our army is dispers'd already :
Like youthful steers unyok'd , they take their courses 
East , west , north , south ; or , like a school broke up ,
Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place .
Good tidings , my Lord Hastings ; for the which 
I do arrest thee , traitor , of high treason :
And you , lord archbishop , and you , Lord Mowbray ,
Of capital treason I attach you both .
Is this proceeding just and honourable ?
Is your assembly so ?
Will you thus break your faith ?
I pawn'd thee none .
I promis'd you redress of these same grievances 
Whereof you did complain ; which , by mine honour ,
I will perform with a most Christian care .
But for you , rebels , look to taste the due 
Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours .
Most shallowly did you these arms commence ,
Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence .
Strike up our drums ! pursue the scatter'd stray :
God , and not we , hath safely fought to-day .
Some guard these traitors to the block of death ;
Treason's true bed , and yielder up of breath .
What's your name , sir ? of what condition are you , and of what place , I pray ?
I am a knight , sir ; and my name is Colevile of the dale .
Well then , Colevile is your name , a knight is your degree , and your place the dale : Colevile shall still be your name , a traitor your degree , and the dungeon your place , a place deep enough ; so shall you be still Colevile of the dale .
Are not you Sir John Falstaff ?
As good a man as he , sir , whoe'er I am . Do ye yield , sir , or shall I sweat for you ? If I do sweat , they are the drops of thy lovers , and they weep for thy death : therefore rouse up fear and trembling , and do observance to my mercy .
I think you are Sir John Falstaff , and in that thought yield me .
I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine , and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name . An I had but a belly of any indifferency , I were simply the most active fellow in Europe : my womb , my womb , my womb undoes me . Here comes our general .
The heat is past , follow no further now .
Call in the powers , good cousin Westmoreland .
Now , Falstaff , where have you been all this while ?
When everything is ended , then you come :
These tardy tricks of yours will , on my life ,
One time or other break some gallows' back .
I would be sorry , my lord , but it should be thus : I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour . Do you think me a swallow , an arrow , or a bullet ? have I , in my poor and old motion , the expedition of thought ? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility ; I have foundered nine score and odd posts ; and here , travel-tainted as I am , have , in my pure and immaculate valour , taken Sir John Colevile of the dale , a most furious knight and valorous enemy . But what of that ? he saw me , and yielded ; that I may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome , 'I came , saw , and overcame .' 
It was more of his courtesy than your deserving .
I know not : here he is , and here I yield him ; and I beseech your Grace , let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds ; or , by the Lord , I will have it in a particular ballad else , with mine own picture on the top on't , Colevile kissing my foot . To the which course if I be enforced , if you do not all show like gilt two-pences to me , and I in the clear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element , which show like pins' heads to her , believe not the word of the noble . Therefore let me have right , and let desert mount .
Thine's too heavy to mount .
Let it shine then .
Thine's too thick to shine .
Let it do something , my good lord , that may do me good , and call it what you will .
Is thy name Colevile ?
It is , my lord .
A famous rebel art thou , Colevile .
And a famous true subject took him .
I am , my lord , but as my betters are 
That led me hither : had they been rul'd by me 
You should have won them dearer than you have .
I know not how they sold themselves : but thou , like a kind fellow , gavest thyself away gratis , and I thank thee for thee .
Have you left pursuit ?
Retreat is made and execution stay'd .
Send Colevile with his confederates 
To York , to present execution .
Blunt , lead him hence , and see you guard him sure .
And now dispatch we toward the court , my lords :
I hear , the king my father is sore sick :
Our news shall go before us to his majesty ,
Which , cousin 
, you shall bear , to comfort him ;
And we with sober speed will follow you .
My lord , I beseech you , give me leave to go ,
Through Gloucestershire , and when you come to court 
Stand my good lord , pray , in your good report .
Fare you well , Falstaff : I , in my condition ,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve .
I would you had but the wit : 'twere better than your dukedom . Good faith , this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me ; nor a man cannot make him laugh ; but that's no marvel , he drinks no wine . There's never none of these demure boys come to any proof ; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood , and making many fish-meals , that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness ; and then , when they marry , they get wenches . They are generally fools and cowards , which some of us should be too but for inflammation . A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it . It ascends me into the brain ; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it ; makes it apprehensive , quick , forgetive , full of nimble fiery and delectable shapes ; which , deliver'd o'er to the voice , the tongue , which is the birth , becomes excellent wit . The second property of your excellent sherris is , the warming of the blood ; which , before cold and settled , left the liver white and pale , which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice : but the sherris warms it and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extreme . It illumineth the face , which , as a beacon , gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom , man , to arm ; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain , the heart , who , great and puffed up with this retinue , doth any deed of courage ; and this valour comes of sherris . So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack , for that sets it a-work ; and leaining , a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use . Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant ; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father , he hath , like lean , sterile , and bare land , manured , husbanded , and tilled , with excellent endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris , that he is become very hot and valiant . If I had a thousand sons , the first human principle I would teach them should be , to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack .
How now , Bardolph ?
The army is discharged all and gone .
Let them go . I'll through Gloucestershire ; and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow , esquire : I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb , and shortly will I seal with him . Come away .
Now , lords , if God doth give successful end 
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors ,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields 
And draw no swords but what are sanctified .
Our navy is address'd , our power collected ,
Our substitutes in absence well invested ,
And everything lies level to our wish :
Only , we want a little personal strength ;
And pause us , till these rebels , now afoot ,
Come underneath the yoke of government .
Both which we doubt not but your majesty 
Shall soon enjoy .
Humphrey , my son of Gloucester ,
Where is the prince your brother ?
I think he's gone to hunt , my lord , at Windsor .
And how accompanied ?
I do not know , my lord .
Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him ?
No , my good lord ; he is in presence here .
What would my lord and father ?
Nothing but well to thee , Thomas of Clarence .
How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother ?
He loves thee , and thou dost neglect him , Thomas ;
Thou hast a better place in his affection 
Than all thy brothers : cherish it , my boy ,
And noble offices thou mayst effect 
Of mediation , after I am dead ,
Between his greatness and thy other brethren :
Therefore omit him not ; blunt not his love ,
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace 
By seeming cold or careless of his will ;
For he is gracious , if he be observ'd :
He hath a tear for pity and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity ;
Yet , notwithstanding , being incens'd , he's flint ;
As humorous as winter , and as sudden 
As flaws congealed in the spring of day .
His temper therefore must be well observ'd :
Chide him for faults , and do it reverently ,
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth ;
But , being moody , give him line and scope ,
Till that his passions , like a whale on ground ,
Confound themselves with working . Learn this , Thomas ,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends ,
A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in ,
That the united vessel of their blood ,
Mingled with venom of suggestion 
As , force perforce , the age will pour it in 
Shall never leak , though it do work as strong 
As aconitum or rash gunpowder .
I shall observe him with all care and love .
Why art thou not at Windsor with him , Thomas ?
He is not there to-day ; he dines in London .
And how accompanied ? canst thou tell that ?
With Poins and other his continual followers .
Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds ;
And he , the noble image of my youth ,
Is overspread with them : therefore my grief 
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death :
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape 
In forms imaginary the unguided days 
And rotten times that you shall look upon 
When I am sleeping with my ancestors .
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb ,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors ,
When means and lavish manners meet together ,
O ! with what wings shall his affections fly 
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay .
My gracious lord , you look beyond him quite :
The prince but studies his companions 
Like a strange tongue , wherein , to gain the language ,
'Tis needful that the most immodest word 
Be look'd upon , and learn'd ; which once attain'd ,
Your highness knows , comes to no further use 
But to be known and hated . So , like gross terms ,
The prince will in the perfectness of time 
Cast off his followers ; and their memory 
Shall as a pattern or a measure live ,
By which his Grace must mete the lives of others ,
Turning past evils to advantages .
'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb 
In the dead carrion .
Who's here ? Westmoreland !
Health to my sovereign , and new happiness 
Added to that that I am to deliver !
Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace's hand :
Mowbray , the Bishop Scroop , Hastings and all 
Are brought to the correction of your law .
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd ,
But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere .
The manner how this action hath been borne 
Here at more leisure may your highness read ,
With every course in his particular .
O Westmoreland ! thou art a summer bird ,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
The lifting up of day .
Look ! here's more news .
From enemies heaven keep your majesty ;
And , when they stand against you , may they fall 
As those that I am come to tell you of !
The Earl Northumberland , and the Lord Bardolph ,
With a great power of English and of Scots ,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown .
The manner and true order of the fight 
This packet , please it you , contains at large .
And wherefore should these good news make me sick ?
Will Fortune never come with both hands full 
But write her fair words still in foulest letters ?
She either gives a stomach and no food ;
Such are the poor , in health ; or else a feast 
And takes away the stomach ; such are the rich ,
That have abundance and enjoy it not .
I should rejoice now at this happy news ,
And now my sight fails , and my brain is giddy .
O me ! come near me , now I am much ill .
Comfort , your majesty !
O my royal father !
My sovereign lord , cheer up yourself : look up !
Be patient , princes : you do know these fits 
Are with his highness very ordinary :
Stand from him , give him air ; he'll straight be well .
No , no ; he cannot long hold out these pangs :
The incessant care and labour of his mind 
Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in 
So thin , that life looks through and will break out .
The people fear me ; for they do observe 
Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature :
The seasons change their manners , as the year 
Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over .
The river hath thrice flow'd , no ebb between ;
And the old folk , time's doting chronicles ,
Say it did so a little time before 
That our great-grandsire , Edward , sick'd and died .
Speak lower , princes , for the king recovers .
This apoplexy will certain be his end .
I pray you take me up , and bear me hence 
Into some other chamber : softly , pray .
Let there be no noise made , my gentle friends ;
Unless some dull and favourable hand 
Will whisper music to my weary spirit .
Call for the music in the other room .
Set me the crown upon my pillow here .
His eye is hollow , and he changes much .
Less noise , less noise !
Who saw the Duke of Clarence ?
I am here , brother , full of heaviness .
How now ! rain within doors , and none abroad !
How doth the king ?
Exceeding ill .
Heard he the good news yet ?
Tell it him .
He alter'd much upon the hearing it .
If he be sick with joy , he will recover without physic .
Not so much noise , my lords . Sweet prince , speak low ;
The king your father is dispos'd to sleep .
Let us withdraw into the other room .
Will't please your Grace to go along with us ?
No ; I will sit and watch here by the king .
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow ,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
O polish'd perturbation ! golden care !
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night ! Sleep with it now !
Yet not so sound , and half so deeply sweet 
As he whose brow with homely biggin bound 
Snores out the watch of night . O majesty !
When thou dost pinch thy bearer , thou dost sit 
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day ,
That scalds with safety . By his gates of breath 
There lies a downy feather which stirs not :
Did he suspire , that light and weightless down 
Perforce must move . My gracious lord ! my father !
This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep 
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd 
So many English kings . Thy due from me 
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood ,
Which nature , love , and filial tenderness 
Shall , O dear father ! pay thee plenteously :
My due from thee is this imperial crown ,
Which , as immediate from thy place and blood ,
Derives itself to me . Lo ! here it sits ,
Which heaven shall guard ; and put the world's whole strength 
Into one giant arm , it shall not force 
This lineal honour from me . This from thee 
Will I to mine leave , as 'tis left to me .
Warwick ! Gloucester ! Clarence !
Doth the king call ?
What would your majesty ? How fares your Grace ?
Why did you leave me here alone , my lords ?
We left the prince my brother here , my liege ,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you .
The Prince of Wales ! Where is he ? let me see him :
He is not here .
This door is open ; he is gone this way .
He came not through the chamber where we stay'd .
Where is the crown ? who took it from my pillow ?
When we withdrew , my liege , we left it here .
The prince hath ta'en it hence : go , seek him out .
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose 
My sleep my death ?
Find him , my Lord of Warwick ; chide him hither .
This part of his conjoins with my disease ,
And helps to end me . See , sons , what things you are !
How quickly nature falls into revolt 
When gold becomes her object !
For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
Have broke their sleeps with thoughts ,
Their brains with care , their bones with industry ;
For this they have engrossed and pil'd up 
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold ;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
Their sons with arts and martial exercises :
When , like the bee , culling from every flower 
The virtuous sweets ,
Our thighs packed with wax , our mouths with honey ,
We bring it to the hive , and like the bees ,
Are murder'd for our pains . This bitter taste 
Yield his engrossments to the ending father .
Now , where is he that will not stay so long 
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me ?
My lord , I found the prince in the next room ,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ,
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow 
That tyranny , which never quaff'd but blood ,
Would , by beholding him , have wash'd his knife 
With gentle eye-drops . He is coming hither .
But wherefore did he take away the crown ?
Lo , where he comes . Come hither to me , Harry .
Depart the chamber , leave us here alone .
I never thought to hear you speak again .
Thy wish was father , Harry , to that thought :
I stay too long by thee , I weary thee .
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair 
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours 
Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth !
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee .
Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity 
Is held from falling with so weak a wind 
That it will quickly drop : my day is dim .
Thou hast stol'n that which after some few hours 
Were thine without offence ; and at my death 
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :
Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not ,
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it .
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ,
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart ,
To stab at half an hour of my life .
What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ?
Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself ,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear 
That thou art crowned , not that I am dead .
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse 
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head :
Only compound me with forgotten dust ;
Give that which gave thee life unto the worms .
Pluck down my officers , break my decrees ;
For now a time is come to mock at form .
Harry the Fifth is crown'd ! Up , vanity !
Down , royal state ! all you sage counsellors , hence !
And to the English court assemble now ,
From every region , apes of idleness !
Now , neighbour confines , purge you of your scum :
Have you a ruffian that will swear , drink , dance ,
Revel the night , rob , murder , and commit 
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ?
Be happy , he will trouble you no more :
England shall double gild his treble guilt .
England shall give him office , honour , might ;
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks 
The muzzle of restraint , and the wild dog 
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent .
O my poor kingdom ! sick with civil blows .
When that my care could not withhold thy riots ,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care ?
O ! thou wilt be a wilderness again ,
Peopled with wolves , thy old inhabitants .
O ! pardon me , my liege ; but for my tears ,
The moist impediments unto my speech ,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke 
Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard 
The course of it so far . There is your crown ;
And he that wears the crown immortally 
Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more 
Than as your honour and as your renown ,
Let me no more from this obedience rise ,
Which my most true and inward duteous spirit 
Teacheth ,this prostrate and exterior bending .
God witness with me , when I here came in ,
And found no course of breath within your majesty ,
How cold it struck my heart ! if I do feign ,
O ! let me in my present wildness die 
And never live to show the incredulous world 
The noble change that I have purposed .
Coming to look on you , thinking you dead ,
And dead almost , my liege , to think you were ,
I spake unto the crown as having sense ,
And thus upbraided it : 'The care on thee depending 
Hath fed upon the body of my father ;
Therefore , thou best of gold art worst of gold :
Other , less fine in carat , is more precious ,
Preserving life in medicine potable :
But thou most fine , most honour'd , most renown'd ,
Hast eat thy bearer up .' Thus , my most royal liege ,
Accusing it , I put it on my head ,
To try with it , as with an enemy 
That had before my face murder'd my father ,
The quarrel of a true inheritor .
But if it did infect my blood with joy ,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ;
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
Did with the least affection of a welcome 
Give entertainment to the might of it ,
Let God for ever keep it from my head ,
And make me as the poorest vassal is 
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it !
O my son !
God put it in thy mind to take it hence ,
That thou mightst win the more thy father's love ,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it .
Come hither , Harry : sit thou by my bed ;
And hear , I think , the very latest counsel 
That ever I shall breathe . God knows , my son ,
By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways 
I met this crown ; and I myself know well 
How troublesome it sat upon my head :
To thee it shall descend with better quiet ,
Better opinion , better confirmation ;
For all the soil of the achievement goes 
With me into the earth . It seem'd in me 
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand ,
And I had many living to upbraid 
My gain of it by their assistances ;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed ,
Wounding supposed peace . All these bold fears 
Thou seest with peril I have answered ;
For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
Acting that argument ; and now my death 
Changes the mode : for what in me was purchas'd ,
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ;
So thou the garment wear'st successively .
Yet , though thou stand'st more sure than I could do ,
Thou art not firm enough , since griefs are green ;
And all my friends , which thou must make thy friends ,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out ;
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd ,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
To be again displac'd : which to avoid ,
I cut them off ; and had a purpose now 
To lead out many to the Holy Land ,
Lest rest and lying still might make them look 
Too near unto my state . Therefore , my Harry ,
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds 
With foreign quarrels ; that action , hence borne out ,
May waste the memory of the former days .
More would I , but my lungs are wasted so 
That strength of speech is utterly denied me .
How I came by the crown , O God , forgive !
And grant it may with thee in true peace live .
My gracious liege ,
You won it , wore it , kept it , gave it me ;
Then plain and right must my possession be :
Which I with more than with a common pain 
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain .
Look , look , here comes my John of Lancaster .
Health , peace , and happiness to my royal father !
Thou bring'st me happiness and peace , son John ;
But health , alack , with youthful wings is flown 
From this bare wither'd trunk : upon thy sight 
My worldly business makes a period .
Where is my Lord of Warwick ?
My Lord of Warwick !
Doth any name particular belong 
Unto the lodging where I first did swound ?
'Tis call'd Jerusalem , my noble lord .
Laud be to God ! even there my life must end .
It hath been prophesied to me many years 
I should not die but in Jerusalem ,
Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land .
But bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie :
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die .
By cock and pie , sir , you shall not away to-night . What ! Davy , I say .
You must excuse me , Master Robert Shallow .
I will not excuse you ; you shall not be excused ; excuses shall not be admitted ; there is no excuse shall serve ; you shall not be excused . Why , Davy !
Here , sir .
Davy , Davy , Davy , Davy , let me see , Davy ; let me see : yea , marry , William cook , bid him come hither . Sir John , you shall not be excused .
Marry , sir , thus ; those precepts cannot be served : and again , sir , shall we sow the headland with wheat ?
With red wheat , Davy . But for William cook : are there no young pigeons ?
Yes , sir . Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and plough-irons .
Let it be cast and paid . Sir John , you shall not be excused .
Now , sir , a new link to the bucket must needs be had : and , sir , do you mean to stop any of William's wages , about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair ?
A' shall answer it . Some pigeons , Davy , a couple of short-legged hens , a joint of mutton , and any pretty little tiny kickshaws , tell William cook .
Doth the man of war stay all night , sir ?
Yea , Davy . I will use him well . A friend i' the court is better than a penny in purse . Use his men well , Davy , for they are arrant knaves , and will backbite .
No worse than they are back-bitten , sir ; for they have marvellous foul linen .
Well conceited , Davy : about thy business , Davy .
I beseech you , sir , to countenance William Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of the hill .
There are many complaints , Davy , against that Visor : that Visor is an arrant knave , on my knowledge .
I grant your worship that he is a knave , sir ; but yet , God forbid , sir , but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request . An honest man , sir , is able to speak for himself , when a knave is not . I have served your worship truly , sir , this eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man , I have but a very little credit with your worship . The knave is mine honest friend , sir ; therefore , I beseech your worship , let him be countenanced .
Go to ; I say he shall have no wrong . Look about , Davy .
Where are you , Sir John ? Come , come , come ; off with your boots . Give me your hand , Master Bardolph .
I am glad to see your worship .
I thank thee with all my heart , kind Master Bardolph :
and welcome , my tall fellow . Come , Sir John .
I'll follow you , good Master Robert Shallow .
If I were sawed into quantities , I should make four dozen of such bearded hermit's staves as Master Shallow . It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his : they , by observing him , do bear themselves like foolish justices ; he , by conversing with them , is turned into a justice-like serving-man . Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent , like so many wild-geese . If I had a suit to Master Shallow , I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master : if to his men , I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants . It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught , as men take diseases , one of another : therefore let men take heed of their company . I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions ,which is four terms , or two actions ,and a' shall laugh without intervallums . O ! it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders . O ! you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up !
Sir John !
I come , Master Shallow : I come , Master Shallow .
How now , my Lord Chief Justice ! whither away ?
How doth the king ?
Exceeding well : his cares are now all ended .
I hope not dead .
He's walk'd the way of nature ;
And to our purposes he lives no more .
I would his majesty had call'd me with him :
The service that I truly did his life 
Hath left me open to all injuries .
Indeed I think the young king loves you not .
I know he doth not , and do arm myself ,
To welcome the condition of the time ;
Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
Than I have drawn it in my fantasy .
Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry :
O ! that the living Harry had the temper 
Of him , the worst of these three gentlemen .
How many nobles then should hold their places ,
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort !
O God ! I fear all will be overturn'd .
Good morrow , cousin Warwick , good morrow .
Good morrow , cousin .
Good morrow , cousin .
We meet like men that had forgot to speak .
We do remember ; but our argument 
Is all too heavy to admit much talk .
Well , peace be with him that hath made us heavy !
Peace be with us , lest we be heavier !
O ! good my lord , you have lost a friend indeed ;
And I dare swear you borrow not that face 
Of seeming sorrow ; it is sure your own .
Though no man be assur'd what grace to find ,
You stand in coldest expectation .
I am the sorrier ; would 'twere otherwise .
Well , you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair ,
Which swims against your stream of quality .
Sweet princes , what I did , I did in honour ,
Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ;
And never shall you see that I will beg 
A ragged and forestall'd remission .
If truth and upright innocency fail me ,
I'll to the king my master that is dead ,
And tell him who hath sent me after him .
Here comes the prince .
Good morrow , and God save your majesty !
This new and gorgeous garment , majesty ,
Sits not so easy on me as you think .
Brothers , you mix your sadness with some fear :
This is the English , not the Turkish court ;
Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds ,
But Harry Harry . Yet be sad , good brothers ,
For , to speak truth , it very well becomes you :
Sorrow so royally in you appears 
That I will deeply put the fashion on 
And wear it in my heart . Why then , be sad ;
But entertain no more of it , good brothers ,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all .
For me , by heaven , I bid you be assur'd ,
I'll be your father and your brother too ;
Let me but bear your love , I'll bear your cares :
Yet weep that Harry's dead , and so will I ;
But Harry lives that shall convert those tears 
By number into hours of happiness .
We hope no other from your majesty .
You all look strangely on me :
and you most ;
You are , I think , assur'd I love you not .
I am assur'd , if I be measur'd rightly ,
Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me .
How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
So great indignities you laid upon me ?
What ! rate , rebuke , and roughly send to prison 
The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy ?
May this be wash'd in Lethe , and forgotten ?
I then did use the person of your father ;
The image of his power lay then in me :
And , in the administration of his law ,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth ,
Your highness pleased to forget my place ,
The majesty and power of law and justice ,
The image of the king whom I presented ,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment ;
Whereon , as an offender to your father ,
I gave bold way to my authority ,
And did commit you . If the deed were ill ,
Be you contented , wearing now the garland ,
To have a son set your decrees at nought ,
To pluck down justice from your awful bench ,
To trip the course of law , and blunt the sword 
That guards the peace and safety of your person :
Nay , more , to spurn at your most royal image 
And mock your workings in a second body .
Question your royal thoughts , make the case yours ;
Be now the father and propose a son ,
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd ,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted ,
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd ;
And then imagine me taking your part ,
And in your power soft silencing your son :
After this cold considerance , sentence me ;
And , as you are a king , speak in your state 
What I have done that misbecame my place ,
My person , or my liege's sov'reignty .
You are right , justice ; and you weigh this well ;
Therefore still bear the balance and the sword :
And I do wish your honours may increase 
Till you do live to see a son of mine 
Offend you and obey you , as I did .
So shall I live to speak my father's words :
'Happy am I , that have a man so bold 
That dares do justice on my proper son ;
And not less happy , having such a son ,
That would deliver up his greatness so 
Into the hands of justice .' You did commit me :
For which , I do commit into your hand 
The unstained sword that you have us'd to bear ;
With this remembrance , that you use the same 
With the like bold , just , and impartial spirit 
As you have done 'gainst me . There is my hand :
You shall be as a father to my youth ;
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear ,
And I will stoop and humble my intents 
To your well-practis'd wise directions .
And , princes all , believe me , I beseech you ;
My father is gone wild into his grave ,
For in his tomb lie my affections ;
And with his spirit sadly I survive ,
To mock the expectation of the world ,
To frustrate prophecies , and to raze out 
Rotten opinion , who hath writ me down 
After my seeming . The tide of blood in me 
Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now :
Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea ,
Where it shall mingle with the state of floods 
And flow henceforth in formal majesty .
Now call we our high court of parliament ;
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel ,
That the great body of our state may go 
In equal rank with the best govern'd nation ;
That war or peace , or both at once , may be 
As things acquainted and familiar to us ;
In which you , father , shall have foremost hand .
Our coronation done , we will accite ,
As I before remember'd , all our state :
And , God consigning to my good intents ,
No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say ,
God shorten Harry's happy life one day .
Nay , you shall see mine orchard , where , in an arbour , we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing , with a dish of caraways , and so forth ; come , cousin Silence ; and then to bed .
'Fore God , you have here a goodly dwelling , and a rich .
Barren , barren , barren ; beggars all , beggars all , Sir John : marry , good air . Spread , Davy ; spread , Davy : well said , Davy .
This Davy serves you for good uses ; he is your serving-man and your husband .
A good varlet , a good varlet , a very good varlet , Sir John : by the mass , I have drunk too much sack at supper : a good varlet . Now sit down , now sit down . Come , cousin .
Ah , sirrah ! quoth a' , we shall 
Do nothing but eat , and make good cheer ,
And praise God for the merry year ;
When flesh is cheap and females dear ,
And lusty lads roam here and there ,
So merrily 
And ever among so merrily .
There's a merry heart ! Good Master Silence , I'll give you a health for that anon .
Give Master Bardolph some wine , Davy .
Sweet sir , sit ; I'll be with you anon : most sweet sir , sit . Master page , good master page , sit . Proface ! What you want in meat we'll have in drink : but you must bear : the heart's all .
Be merry , Master Bardolph ; and my little soldier there , be merry .
Be merry , be merry , my wife has all ;
For women are shrews , both short and tall :
'Tis merry in hall when beards wag all ,
And welcome merry Shrove-tide .
Be merry , be merry .
I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle .
Who , I ? I have been merry twice and once ere now .
There's a dish of leather-coats for you .
Your worship ! I'll be with you straight . A cup of wine , sir ?
A cup of wine that's brisk and fine 
And drink unto the leman mine ;
And a merry heart lives long-a .
Well said , Master Silence .
And we shall be merry , now comes in the sweet o' the night .
Health and long life to you , Master Silence .
Fill the cup , and let it come ;
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom .
Honest Bardolph , welcome : if thou wantest anything and wilt not call , beshrew thy heart .
Welcome , my little tiny thief ; and welcome indeed too . I'll drink to Master Bardolph and to all the cavaleiroes about London .
I hope to see London once ere I die .
An I might see you there , Davy ,
By the mass , you'll crack a quart together : ha ! will you not , Master Bardolph ?
Yea , sir , in a pottle-pot .
By God's liggens , I thank thee . The knave will stick by thee , I can assure thee that : a' will not out ; he is true bred .
And I'll stick by him , sir .
Why , there spoke a king . Lack nothing : be merry .
Look who's at door there . Ho ! who knocks ?
Why , now you have done me right .
Do me right ,
And dub me knight :
Samingo 
Is't not so ?
'Tis so .
Is't so ? Why , then , say an old man can do somewhat .
An't please your worship , there's one Pistol come from the court with news .
From the court ! let him come in .
How now , Pistol !
Sir John , God save you , sir !
What wind blew you hither , Pistol ?
Not the ill wind which blows no man to good .
Sweet knight , thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm .
By'r lady , I think a' be , but goodman Puff of Barson .
Puff in thy teeth , most recreant coward base !
Sir John , I am thy Pistol and thy friend ,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee ,
And tidings do I bring and lucky joys 
And golden times and happy news of price .
I prithee now , deliver them like a man of this world .
A foutra for the world and worldlings base !
I speak of Africa and golden joys .
O base Assyrian knight , what is thy news ?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof .
And Robin Hood , Scarlet , and John .
Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ?
And shall good news be baffled ?
Then , Pistol , lay thy head in Furies' lap .
Honest gentleman , I know not your breeding .
Why then , lament therefore .
Give me pardon , sir : if , sir , you come with news from the court , I take it there is but two ways : either to utter them , or to conceal them . I am , sir , under the king , in some authority .
Under which king , Bezonian ? speak , or die .
Under King Harry .
Harry the Fourth ? or Fifth ?
Harry the Fourth .
A foutra for thine office !
Sir John , thy tender lambkin now is king ;
Harry the Fifth's the man . I speak the truth :
When Pistol lies , do this ; and fig me , like 
The bragging Spaniard .
What ! is the old king dead ?
As nail in door : the things I speak are just .
Away , Bardolph ! saddle my horse . Master Robert Shallow , choose what office thou wilt in the land , 'tis thine . Pistol , I will double-charge thee with dignities .
O joyful day !
I would not take a knighthood for my fortune .
What ! I do bring good news .
Carry Master Silence to bed . Master Shallow , my Lord Shallow , be what thou wilt , I am Fortune's steward . Get on thy boots : we'll ride all night . O sweet Pistol ! Away , Bardolph !
Come , Pistol , utter more to me ; and , withal devise something to do thyself good . Boot , boot , Master Shallow : I know the young king is sick for me . Let us take any man's horses ; the laws of England are at my commandment . Happy are they which have been my friends , and woe unto my lord chief justice !
Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also !
'Where is the life that late I led ?' say they :
Why , here it is : welcome these pleasant days !
No , thou arrant knave : I would to God I might die that I might have thee hanged ; thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint .
The constables have delivered her over to me , and she shall have whipping-cheer enough , I warrant her : there hath been a man or two lately killed about her .
Nut-hook , nut-hook , you lie . Come on ; I'll tell thee what , thou damned tripe-visaged rascal , an the child I now go with do miscarry , thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother , thou paper-faced villain .
O the Lord ! that Sir John were come ; he would make this a bloody day to somebody . But I pray God the fruit of her womb miscarry !
If it do , you shall have a dozen of cushions again ; you have but eleven now . Come , I charge you both go with me ; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat among you .
I'll tell thee what , thou thin man in a censer , I will have you as soundly swinged for this , you blue-bottle rogue ! you filthy famished correctioner ! if you be not swinged , I'll forswear half-kirtles .
Come , come , you she knighterrant , come .
O , that right should thus overcome might ! Well , of sufferance comes ease .
Come , you rogue , come : bring me to a justice .
Ay ; come , you starved blood-hound .
Goodman death ! goodman bones !
Thou atomy , thou !
Come , you thin thing ; come , you rascal !
Very well .
More rushes , more rushes .
The trumpets have sounded twice .
It will be two o'clock ere they come from the coronation . Dispatch , dispatch .
Stand here by me , Master Robert Shallow ; I will make the king do you grace . I will leer upon him , as a' comes by ; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me .
God bless thy lungs , good knight .
Come here , Pistol ; stand behind me . O ! if I had had time to have made new liveries , I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you . But 'tis no matter ; this poor show doth better : this doth infer the zeal I had to see him .
It doth so .
It shows my earnestness of affection .
It doth so .
My devotion .
It doth , it doth , it doth .
As it were , to ride day and night ; and not to deliberate , not to remember , not to have patience to shift me .
It is most certain .
But to stand stained with travel , and sweating with desire to see him ; thinking of nothing else ; putting all affairs else in oblivion , as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him .
'Tis semper idem , for absque hoc nihil est :
'Tis all in every part .
'Tis so , indeed .
My knight , I will inflame thy noble liver ,
And make thee rage .
Thy Doll , and Helen of thy noble thoughts ,
Is in base durance and contagious prison ;
Hal'd thither 
By most mechanical and dirty hand :
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake ,
For Doll is in : Pistol speaks nought but truth .
I will deliver her .
There roar'd the sea , and trumpetclangor sounds .
God save thy grace , King Hal ! my royal Hal !
The heavens thee guard and keep , most royal imp of fame !
God save thee , my sweet boy !
My lord chief justice , speak to that vain man .
Have you your wits ? know you what 'tis you speak ?
My king ! my Jove ! I speak to thee , my heart !
I know thee not , old man : fall to thy prayers ;
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester !
I have long dream'd of such a kind of man ,
So surfeit-swell'd , so old , and so profane ;
But , being awak'd , I do despise my dream .
Make less thy body hence , and more thy grace ;
Leave gormandising ; know the grave doth gape 
For thee thrice wider than for other men .
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest :
Presume not that I am the thing I was ;
For God doth know , so shall the world perceive ,
That I have turn'd away my former self ;
So will I those that kept me company .
When thou dost hear I am as I have been ,
Approach me , and thou shalt be as thou wast ,
The tutor and the feeder of my riots :
Till then , I banish thee , on pain of death ,
As I have done the rest of my misleaders ,
Not to come near our person by ten mile .
For competence of life I will allow you ,
That lack of means enforce you not to evil :
And , as we hear you do reform yourselves ,
We will , according to your strength and qualities ,
Give you advancement . Be it your charge , my lord ,
To see perform'd the tenour of our word .
Set on .
Master Shallow , I owe you a thousand pound .
Ay , marry , Sir John ; which I beseech you to let me have home with me .
That can hardly be , Master Shallow . Do not you grieve at this : I shall be sent for in private to him . Look you , he must seem thus to the world . Fear not your advancements ; I will be the man yet that shall make you great .
I cannot perceive how , unless you should give me your doublet and stuff me out with straw . I beseech you , good Sir John , let me have five hundred of my thousand .
Sir , I will be as good as my word : this that you heard was but a colour .
A colour that I fear you will die in , Sir John .
Fear no colours : go with me to dinner . Come , Lieutenant Pistol ; come , Bardolph : I shall be sent for soon at night .
Go , carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet ;
Take all his company along with him .
My lord , my lord !
I cannot now speak : I will hear you soon .
Take them away .
Si fortuna me tormenta , spero contenta .
I like this fair proceeding of the king's .
He hath intent his wonted followers 
Shall all be very well provided for ;
But all are banish'd till their conversations 
Appear more wise and modest to the world .
And so they are .
The king hath call'd his parliament , my lord .
He hath .
I will lay odds , that , ere this year expire ,
We bear our civil swords and native fire 
As far as France . I heard a bird so sing ,
Whose music , to my thinking , pleas'd the king .
Come , will you hence ?
First , my fear ; then , my curtsy ; last my speech . My fear is , your displeasure , my curtsy , my duty , and my speech , to beg your pardon . If you look for a good speech now , you undo me ; for what I have to say is of mine own making ; and what indeed I should say will , I doubt , prove mine own marring . But to the purpose , and so to the venture . Be it known to you ,as it is very well ,I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play , to pray your patience for it and to promise you a better . I did mean indeed to pay you with this ; which , if like an ill venture it come unluckily home , I break , and you , my gentle creditors , lose . Here , I promised you I would be , and here I commit my body to your mercies : bate me some and I will pay you some ; and , as most debtors do , promise you infinitely .
If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me , will you command me to use my legs ? and yet that were but light payment , to dance out of your debt . But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction , and so will I . All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me : if the gentlemen will not , then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen , which was never seen before in such an assembly .
One word more , I beseech you . If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat , our humble author will continue the story , with Sir John in it , and make you merry with fair Katharine of France : where , for anything I know , Falstaff shall die of a sweat , unless already a' be killed with your hard opinions ; for Oldcastle died a martyr , and this is not the man . My tongue is weary ; when my legs are too , I will bid you good night : and so kneel down before you ; but , indeed , to pray for the queen .
THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI
As by your high imperial majesty 
I had in charge at my depart for France ,
As procurator to your excellence ,
To marry Princess Margaret for your Grace ;
So , in the famous ancient city , Tours ,
In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil ,
The Dukes of Orleans , Calaber , Britaine , and Alen on ,
Seven earls , twelve barons , and twenty reverend bishops ,
I have perform'd my task , and was espous'd :
And humbly now upon my bended knee ,
In sight of England and her lordly peers ,
Deliver up my title in the queen 
To your most gracious hands , that are the substance 
Of that great shadow I did represent ;
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave ,
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd .
Suffolk , arise . Welcome , Queen Margaret :
I can express no kinder sign of love 
Than this kind kiss . O Lord ! that lends me life ,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness !
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face 
A world of earthly blessings to my soul ,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts .
Great King of England and my gracious lord ,
The mutual conference that my mind hath had 
By day , by night , waking , and in my dreams ,
In courtly company , or at my beads ,
With you , mine alderliefest sovereign ,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
With ruder terms , such as my wit affords ,
And over-joy of heart doth minister .
Her sight did ravish , but her grace in speech ,
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty ,
Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys ;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content .
Lords , with one cheerful voice welcome my love .
Long live Queen Margaret , England's happiness !
We thank you all .
My Lord Protector , so it please your Grace ,
Here are the articles of contracted peace 
Between our sovereign and the French King Charles ,
For eighteen months concluded by consent .
Imprimis , It is agreed between the French king , Charles , and William De la Pole , Marquess of Suffolk , ambassador for Henry King of England , that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret , daughter unto Reignier King of Naples , Sicilia , and Jerusalem , and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing .
Item , That the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the king her father .
Uncle , how now !
Pardon me , gracious lord ;
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart 
And dimm'd mine eyes , that I can read no further .
Uncle of Winchester , I pray , read on .
Item , It is further agreed between them , that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father ; and she sent over of the King of England's own proper cost and charges , without having any dowry .
They please us well . Lord marquess , kneel down :
We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk ,
And girt thee with the sword . Cousin of York ,
We here discharge your Grace from being regent 
I' the parts of France , till term of eighteen months 
Be full expir'd . Thanks , uncle Winchester ,
Gloucester , York , Buckingham , Somerset ,
Salisbury , and Warwick ;
We thank you all for this great favour done ,
In entertainment to my princely queen .
Come , let us in , and with all speed provide 
To see her coronation be perform'd .
Brave peers of England , pillars of the state ,
To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief ,
Your grief , the common grief of all the land .
What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth ,
His valour , coin , and people , in the wars ?
Did he so often lodge in open field ,
In winter's cold , and summer's parching heat ,
To conquer France , his true inheritance ?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits ,
To keep by policy what Henry got ?
Have you yourselves , Somerset , Buckingham ,
Brave York , Salisbury , and victorious Warwick ,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy ?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself ,
With all the learned council of the realm ,
Studied so long , sat in the council-house 
Early and late , debating to and fro 
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe ?
And hath his highness in his infancy 
Been crown'd in Paris , in despite of foes ?
And shall these labours and these honours die ?
Shall Henry's conquest , Bedford's vigilance ,
Your deeds of war and all our counsel die ?
O peers of England ! shameful is this league ,
Fatal this marriage , cancelling your fame ,
Blotting your names from books of memory ,
Razing the characters of your renown ,
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France ,
Undoing all , as all had never been .
Nephew , what means this passionate discourse ,
This peroration with such circumstance ?
For France , 'tis ours ; and we will keep it still .
Ay , uncle ; we will keep it , if we can ;
But now it is impossible we should .
Suffolk , the new-made duke that rules the roast ,
Hath given the duchies of Anjou and Maine 
Unto the poor King Reignier , whose large style 
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse .
Now , by the death of him who died for all ,
These counties were the keys of Normandy .
But wherefore weeps Warwick , my valiant son ?
For grief that they are past recovery :
For , were there hope to conquer them again ,
My sword should shed hot blood , mine eyes no tears .
Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer :
And are the cities , that I got with wounds ,
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words ?
Mort Dieu !
For Suffolk's duke , may he be suffocate ,
That dims the honour of this war-like isle !
France should have torn and rent my very heart 
Before I would have yielded to this league .
I never read but England's kings have had 
Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives ;
And our King Henry gives away his own ,
To match with her that brings no vantages .
A proper jest , and never heard before ,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth 
For costs and charges in transporting her !
She should have stay'd in France , and starv'd in France ,
Before 
My Lord of Gloucester , now you grow too hot :
It was the pleasure of my lord the king .
My Lord of Winchester , I know your mind :
'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike ,
But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye .
Rancour will out : proud prelate , in thy face 
I see thy fury . If I longer stay 
We shall begin our ancient bickerings .
Lordings , farewell ; and say , when I am gone ,
I prophesied France will be lost ere long .
So , there goes our protector in a rage .
'Tis known to you he is mine enemy ,
Nay , more , an enemy unto you all ,
And no great friend , I fear me , to the king .
Consider lords , he is the next of blood ,
And heir apparent to the English crown :
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage ,
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west ,
There's reason he should be displeas'd at it .
Look to it , lords ; let not his smoothing words 
Bewitch your hearts ; be wise and circumspect .
What though the common people favour him ,
Calling him , 'Humphrey , the good Duke of Gloucester ;' 
Clapping their hands , and crying with loud voice ,
'Jesu maintain your royal excellence !' 
With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey !' 
I fear me , lords , for all this flattering gloss ,
He will be found a dangerous protector .
Why should he then protect our sovereign ,
He being of age to govern of himself ?
Cousin of Somerset , join you with me ,
And all together , with the Duke of Suffolk ,
We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat .
This weighty business will not brook delay ;
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently .
Cousin of Buckingham , though Humphrey's pride 
And greatness of his place be grief to us ,
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal :
His insolence is more intolerable 
Than all the princes in the land beside :
If Gloucester be displac'd , he'll be protector .
Or thou , or I , Somerset , will be protector ,
Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal .
Pride went before , ambition follows him .
While these do labour for their own preferment ,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm .
I never saw but Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester ,
Did bear him like a noble gentleman .
Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal 
More like a soldier than a man o' the church ,
As stout and proud as he were lord of all ,
Swear like a ruffian and demean himself 
Unlike the ruler of a commonweal .
Warwick , my son , the comfort of my age ,
Thy deeds , thy plainness , and thy house-keeping ,
Have won the greatest favour of the commons ,
Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey :
And , brother York , thy acts in Ireland ,
In bringing them to civil discipline ,
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France ,
When thou wert regent for our sovereign ,
Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people .
Join we together for the public good ,
In what we can to bridle and suppress 
The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal ,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition ;
And , as we may , cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds ,
While they do tend the profit of the land .
So God help Warwick , as he loves the land ,
And common profit of his country !
And so says York , for he hath greatest cause .
Then let's make haste away , and look unto the main .
Unto the main ! O father , Maine is lost !
That Maine which by main force Warwick did win ,
And would have kept so long as breath did last :
Main chance , father , you meant ; but I meant Maine ,
Which I will win from France , or else be slain .
Anjou and Maine are given to the French ;
Paris is lost ; the state of Normandy 
Stands on a tickle point now they are gone .
Suffolk concluded on the articles ,
The peers agreed , and Henry was well pleas'd 
To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter .
I cannot blame them all : what is't to them ?
'Tis thine they give away , and not their own .
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage ,
And purchase friends , and give to courtezans ,
Still revelling like lords till all be gone ;
While as the silly owner of the goods 
Weeps over them , and wrings his hapless hands ,
And shakes his head , and trembling stands aloof ,
While all is shar'd and all is borne away ,
Ready to starve and dare not touch his own :
So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue 
While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold .
Methinks the realms of England , France , and Ireland 
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood 
As did the fatal brand Alth a burn'd 
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon .
Anjou and Maine both given unto the French !
Cold news for me , for I had hope of France ,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil .
A day will come when York shall claim his own ;
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts 
And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey ,
And , when I spy advantage , claim the crown ,
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit .
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right .
Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist ,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head ,
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown .
Then , York , be still awhile , till time do serve :
Watch thou and wake when others be asleep ,
To pry into the secrets of the state ;
Till Henry , surfeiting in joys of love ,
With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen ,
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars :
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose ,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd ,
And in my standard bear the arms of York ,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster ;
And , force perforce , I'll make him yield the crown ,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down .
Why droops my lord , like over-ripen'd corn 
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load ?
Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows ,
As frowning at the favours of the world ?
Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth ,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight ?
What seest thou there ? King Henry's diadem 
Enchas'd with all the honours of the world ?
If so , gaze on , and grovel on thy face ,
Until thy head be circled with the same .
Put forth thy hand , reach at the glorious gold :
What ! is't too short ? I'll lengthen it with mine ;
And having both together heav'd it up ,
We'll both together lift our heads to heaven ,
And never more abase our sight so low 
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground .
O Nell , sweet Nell , if thou dost love thy lord ,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts :
And may that thought , when I imagine ill 
Against my king and nephew , virtuous Henry ,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world !
My troublous dream this night doth make me sad .
What dream'd my lord ? tell me , and I'll requite it 
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream .
Methought this staff , mine office-badge in court ,
Was broke in twain ; by whom I have forgot ,
But , as I think , it was by the cardinal ;
And on the pieces of the broken wand 
Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset ,
And William De la Pole , first Duke of Suffolk .
This was my dream : what it doth bode , God knows .
Tut ! this was nothing but an argument 
That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove 
Shall lose his head for his presumption .
But list to me , my Humphrey , my sweet duke :
Methought I sat in seat of majesty 
In the cathedral church of Westminster ,
And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd ;
Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me ,
And on my head did set the diadem .
Nay , Eleanor , then must I chide outright :
Presumptuous dame ! ill-nurtur'd Eleanor !
Art thou not second woman in the realm ,
And the protector's wife , belov'd of him ?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command ,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought ?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery ,
To tumble down thy husband and thyself 
From top of honour to disgrace's feet ?
Away from me , and let me hear no more .
What , what , my lord ! are you so choleric 
With Eleanor , for telling but her dream ?
Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself ,
And not be check'd .
Nay , be not angry ; I am pleas'd again .
My Lord Protector , 'tis his highness' pleasure 
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's ,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk .
I go . Come , Nell , thou wilt ride with us ?
Yes , my good lord , I'll follow presently .
Follow I must ; I cannot go before ,
While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind .
Were I a man , a duke , and next of blood ,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks 
And smooth my way upon their headless necks ;
And , being a woman , I will not be slack 
To play my part in Fortune's pageant .
Where are you there ? Sir John ! nay , fear not , man ,
We are alone ; here's none but thee and I .
Jesus preserve your royal majesty !
What sayst thou ? majesty ! I am but Grace .
But , by the grace of God , and Hume's advice ,
Your Grace's title shall be multiplied .
What sayst thou , man ? hast thou as yet conferr'd 
With Margery Jourdain , the cunning witch ,
With Roger Bolingbroke , the conjurer ?
And will they undertake to do me good ?
This they have promised , to show your highness 
A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground ,
That shall make answer to such questions 
As by your Grace shall be propounded him .
It is enough : I'll think upon the questions .
When from Saint Alban's we do make return 
We'll see these things effected to the full .
Here , Hume , take this reward ; make merry , man ,
With thy confed'rates in this weighty cause .
Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold ;
Marry and shall . But how now , Sir John Hume !
Seal up your lips , and give no words but mum :
The business asketh silent secrecy .
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch :
Gold cannot come amiss , were she a devil .
Yet have I gold flies from another coast :
I dare not say from the rich cardinal 
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk ;
Yet I do find it so : for , to be plain ,
They , knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour ,
Have hired me to undermine the duchess 
And buzz these conjurations in her brain .
They say , 'A crafty knave does need no broker ;' 
Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker .
Hume , if you take not heed , you shall go near 
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves .
Well , so it stands ; and thus , I fear , at last 
Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wrack ,
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall .
Sort how it will I shall have gold for all .
My masters , let's stand close : my Lord Protector will come this way by and by , and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill .
Marry , the Lord protect him , for he's a good man ! Jesu bless him !
Here a' comes , methinks , and the queen with him . I'll be the first , sure .
Come back , fool ! this is the Duke of Suffolk and not my Lord Protector .
How now , fellow ! wouldst anything with me ?
I pray , my lord , pardon me : I took ye for my Lord Protector .
To my Lord Protector ! are your supplications to his lordship ? Let me see them : what is thine ?
Mine is , an't please your Grace , against John Goodman , my Lord Cardinal's man , for keeping my house , and lands , my wife and all , from me .
Thy wife too ! that is some wrong indeed . What's yours ? What's here ? Against the Duke of Suffolk , for enclosing the commons of Melford ! How now , sir knave !
Alas ! sir , I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township .
Against my master , Thomas Horner , for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown .
What sayst thou ? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful heir to the crown ?
That my master was ? No , forsooth : my master said that he was ; and that the king was an usurper .
Who is there ?
Take this fellow in , and send for his master with a pursuivant presently . We'll hear more of your matter before the king .
And as for you , that love to be protected 
Under the wings of our protector's grace ,
Begin your suits anew and sue to him .
Away , base cullions ! Suffolk , let them go .
Come , let's be gone .
My Lord of Suffolk , say , is this the guise ,
Is this the fashion of the court of England ?
Is this the government of Britain's isle ,
And this the royalty of Albion's king ?
What ! shall King Henry be a pupil still 
Under the surly Gloucester's governance ?
Am I a queen in title and in style ,
And must be made a subject to a duke ?
I tell thee , Pole , when in the city Tours 
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love ,
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France ,
I thought King Henry had resembled thee 
In courage , courtship , and proportion :
But all his mind is bent to holiness ,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads ;
His champions are the prophets and apostles ;
His weapons holy saws of sacred writ ;
His study is his tilt-yard , and his loves 
Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints .
I would the college of the cardinals 
Would choose him pope , and carry him to Rome ,
And set the triple crown upon his head :
That were a state fit for his holiness .
Madam , be patient ; as I was cause 
Your highness came to England , so will I 
In England work your Grace's full content .
Beside the haught protector , have we Beaufort 
The imperious churchman , Somerset , Buckingham ,
And grumbling York ; and not the least of these 
But can do more in England than the king .
And he of these that can do most of all 
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils :
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers .
Not all these lords do vex me half so much 
As that proud dame , the Lord Protector's wife :
She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies ,
More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife .
Strangers in court do take her for the queen :
She bears a duke's revenues on her back ,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty .
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her ?
Contemptuous base-born callot as she is ,
She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day 
The very train of her worst wearing gown 
Was better worth than all my father's lands ,
Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter .
Madam , myself have lim'd a bush for her ,
And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds 
That she will light to listen to the lays ,
And never mount to trouble you again .
So , let her rest : and , madam , list to me ;
For I am bold to counsel you in this .
Although we fancy not the cardinal ,
Yet must we join with him and with the lords 
Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace .
As for the Duke of York , this late complaint 
Will make but little for his benefit :
So , one by one , we'll weed them all at last ,
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm .
For my part , noble lords , I care not which ;
Or Somerset or York , all's one to me .
If York have ill demean'd himself in France ,
Then let him be denay'd the regentship .
If Somerset be unworthy of the place ,
Let York be regent ; I will yield to him .
Whether your Grace be worthy , yea or no ,
Dispute not that : York is the worthier .
Ambitious Warwick , let thy betters speak .
The cardinal's not my better in the field .
All in this presence are thy betters , Warwick .
Warwick may live to be the best of all .
Peace , son ! and show some reason , Buckingham ,
Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this .
Because the king , forsooth , will have it so .
Madam , the king is old enough himself 
To give his censure : these are no women's matters .
If he be old enough , what needs your Grace 
To be protector of his excellence ?
Madam , I am protector of the realm ;
And at his pleasure will resign my place .
Resign it then and leave thine insolence .
Since thou wertking ,as who is king but thou ?
The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack ;
The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ;
And all the peers and nobles of the realm 
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty .
The commons hast thou rack'd ; the clergy's bags 
Are lank and lean with thy extortions .
Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire 
Have cost a mass of public treasury .
Thy cruelty in execution 
Upon offenders hath exceeded law ,
And left thee to the mercy of the law .
Thy sale of offices and towns in France ,
If they were known , as the suspect is great ,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head .
Give me my fan : what , minion ! can ye not ?
I cry you mercy , madam , was it you ?
Was't I ? yea , I it was , proud Frenchwoman :
Could I come near your beauty with my nails 
I'd set my ten commandments in your face .
Sweet aunt , be quiet ; 'twas against her will .
Against her will ! Good king , look to't in time ;
She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby :
Though in this place most master wear no breeches ,
She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unreveng'd .
Lord Cardinal , I will follow Eleanor ,
And listen after Humphrey , how he proceeds :
She's tickled now ; her fume can need no spurs ,
She'll gallop far enough to her destruction .
Now , lords , my choler being over-blown 
With walking once about the quadrangle ,
I come to talk of commonwealth affairs .
As for your spiteful false objections ,
Prove them , and I lie open to the law :
But God in mercy so deal with my soul 
As I in duty love my king and country !
But to the matter that we have in hand .
I say , my sov'reign , York is meetest man 
To be your regent in the realm of France .
Before we make election , give me leave 
To show some reason , of no little force ,
That York is most unmeet of any man .
I'll tell thee , Suffolk , why I am unmeet :
First , for I cannot flatter thee in pride ;
Next , if I be appointed for the place ,
My Lord of Somerset will keep me here ,
Without discharge , money , or furniture ,
Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands .
Last time I danc'd attendance on his will 
Till Paris was besieg'd , famish'd , and lost .
That can I witness ; and a fouler fact 
Did never traitor in the land commit .
Peace , headstrong Warwick !
Image of pride , why should I hold my peace ?
Because here is a man accus'd of treason :
Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself !
Doth any one accuse York for a traitor ?
What mean'st thou , Suffolk ? tell me , what are these ?
Please it your majesty , this is the man 
That doth accuse his master of high treason .
His words were these : that Richard , Duke of York ,
Was rightful heir unto the English crown ,
And that your majesty was a usurper .
Say , man , were these thy words ?
An't shall please your majesty , I never said nor thought any such matter : God is my witness , I am falsely accused by the villain .
By these ten bones , my lords , he did speak them to me in the garret one night , as we were scouring my Lord of York's armour .
Base dunghill villain , and mechanical ,
I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech .
I do beseech your royal majesty 
Let him have all the rigour of the law .
Alas ! my lord , hang me if ever I spake the words . My accuser is my prentice ; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day , he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me : I have good witness of this : therefore I beseech your majesty , do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation .
Uncle , what shall we say to this in law ?
This doom , my lord , if I may judge .
Let Somerset be regent o'er the French ,
Because in York this breeds suspicion ;
And let these have a day appointed them 
For single combat in convenient place ;
For he hath witness of his servant's malice .
This is the law , and this Duke Humphrey's doom .
Then be it so . My Lord of Somerset ,
We make your Grace lord regent o'er the French .
I humbly thank your royal majesty .
And I accept the combat willingly .
Alas ! my lord , I cannot fight : for God's sake , pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth against me . O Lord , have mercy upon me ! I shall never be able to fight a blow . O Lord , my heart !
Sirrah , or you must fight , or else be hang'd .
Away with them to prison ; and the day 
Of combat shall be the last of the next month .
Come , Somerset , we'll see thee sent away .
Come , my masters ; the duchess , I tell you , expects performance of your promises .
Master Hume , we are therefore provided . Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms ?
Ay ; what else ? fear you not her courage .
I have heard her reported to be a woman of invincible spirit : but it shall be convenient , Master Hume , that you be by her aloft while we be busy below ; and so , I pray you , go in God's name , and leave us .
Mother Jourdain , be you prostrate , and grovel on the earth ; John Southwell , read you ; and let us to our work .
Well said , my masters , and welcome all .
To this gear the sooner the better .
Patience , good lady ; wizards know their times :
Deep night , dark night , the silent of the night ,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire ;
The time when screech-owls cry , and ban-dogs howl ,
And spirits walk , and ghosts break up their graves ,
That time best fits the work we have in hand .
Madam , sit you , and fear not : whom we raise 
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge .
Adsum .
Asmath !
By the eternal God , whose name and power 
Thou tremblest at , answer that I shall ask ;
For till thou speak , thou shalt not pass from hence .
Ask what thou wilt . That I had said and done !
First , of the king : what shall of him become ?
The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
But him outlive , and die a violent death .
What fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?
By water shall he die and take his end .
What shall befall the Duke of Somerset ?
Let him shun castles :
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains 
Than where castles mounted stand .
Have done , for more I hardly can endure .
Descend to darkness and the burning lake !
False fiend , avoid !
Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash .
Beldam , I think we watch'd you at an inch .
What ! madam , are you there ? the king and commonweal 
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains :
My Lord Protector will , I doubt it not ,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts .
Not half so bad as thine to England's king ,
Injurious duke , that threat'st where is no cause .
True , madam , none at all . What call you this ?
Away with them ! let them be clapp'd up close 
And kept asunder . You , madam , shall with us :
Stafford , take her to thee .
We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming .
All , away !
Lord Buckingham , methinks you watch'd her well :
A pretty plot , well chosen to build upon !
Now , pray , my lord , let's see the devil's writ .
What have we here ?
The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
But him outlive , and die a violent death .
Why , this is just ,
Aio te ,  acida , Romanos vincere posse .
Well , to the rest :
Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?
By water shall he die and take his end .
What shall betide the Duke of Somerset ?
Let him shun castles :
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains 
Than where castles mounted stand .
Come , come , my lords ; these oracles 
Are hardly attain'd , and hardly understood .
The king is now in progress towards Saint Alban's ;
With him , the husband of this lovely lady :
Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them ,
A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector .
Your Grace shall give me leave , my Lord of York ,
To be the post , in hope of his reward .
At your pleasure , my good lord . Who's within there , ho !
Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick 
To sup with me to-morrow night . Away !
Believe me , lords , for flying at the brook ,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day :
Yet , by your leave , the wind was very high ,
And , ten to one , old Joan had not gone out .
But what a point , my lord , your falcon made ,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest !
To see how God in all his creatures works !
Yea , man and birds are fain of climbing high .
No marvel , an it like your majesty ,
My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well ;
They know their master loves to be aloft ,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch .
My lord , 'tis but a base ignoble mind 
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar .
I thought as much ; he'd be above the clouds .
Ay , my Lord Cardinal ; how think you by that ?
Were it not good your Grace could fly to heaven ?
The treasury of everlasting joy .
Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and thoughts 
Beat on a crown , the treasure of thy heart ;
Pernicious protector , dangerous peer ,
That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal !
What ! cardinal , is your priesthood grown peremptory ?
Tant ne animis c lestibus ir ?
Churchmen so hot ? good uncle , hide such malice ;
With such holiness can you do it ?
No malice , sir ; no more than well becomes 
So good a quarrel and so bad a peer .
As who , my lord ?
Why , as you , my lord ,
An't like your lordly lord-protectorship .
Why , Suffolk , England knows thine insolence .
And thy ambition , Gloucester .
I prithee , peace ,
Good queen , and whet not on these furious peers ;
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth .
Let me be blessed for the peace I make 
Against this proud protector with my sword !
Faith , holy uncle , would 'twere come to that !
Marry , when thou dar'st .
Make up no factious numbers for the matter ;
In thine own person answer thy abuse .
Ay , where thou dar'st not peep : an if thou dar'st ,
This evening on the east side of the grove .
How now , my lords !
Believe me , cousin Gloucester ,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly ,
We had had more sport .
Come with thy two-hand sword .
True , uncle .
Are you advis'd ?
the east side of the grove .
Cardinal , I am with you .
Why , how now , uncle Gloucester !
Talking of hawking ; nothing else , my lord .
Now , by God's mother , priest , I'll shave your crown 
For this , or all my fence shall fail .
Medice teipsum ;
Protector , see to't well , protect yourself .
The winds grow high ; so do your stomachs , lords .
How irksome is this music to my heart !
When such strings jar , what hope of harmony ?
I pray , my lords , let me compound this strife .
What means this noise ?
Fellow , what miracle dost thou proclaim ?
A miracle ! a miracle !
Come to the king , and tell him what miracle .
Forsooth , a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine ,
Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight ;
A man that ne'er saw in his life before .
Now , God be prais'd , that to believing souls 
Gives light in darkness , comfort in despair !
Here comes the townsmen on procession ,
To present your highness with the man .
Great is his comfort in this earthly vale ,
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied .
Stand by , my masters ; bring him near the king :
His highness' pleasure is to talk with him .
Good fellow , tell us here the circumstance ,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord .
What ! hast thou been long blind , and now restor'd ?
Born blind , an't please your Grace .
Ay , indeed , was he .
What woman is this ?
His wife , an't like your worship .
Hadst thou been his mother , thou couldst have better told .
Where wert thou born ?
At Berwick in the north , an't like your Grace .
Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been great to thee :
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass ,
But still remember what the Lord hath done .
Tell me , good fellow , cam'st thou here by chance ,
Or of devotion , to this holy shrine ?
God knows , of pure devotion ; being call'd 
A hundred times and oft'ner in my sleep ,
By good Saint Alban ; who said , 'Simpcox , come ;
Come , offer at my shrine , and I will help thee .' 
Most true , forsooth ; and many time and oft 
Myself have heard a voice to call him so .
What ! art thou lame ?
Ay , God Almighty help me !
How cam'st thou so ?
A fall off of a tree .
A plum-tree , master .
How long hast thou been blind ?
O ! born so , master .
What ! and wouldst climb a tree ?
But that in all my life , when I was a youth .
Too true ; and bought his climbing very dear .
Mass , thou lov'dst plums well , that wouldst venture so .
Alas ! master , my wife desir'd some damsons ,
And made me climb with danger of my life .
A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve .
Let me see thine eyes : wink now : now open them :
In my opinion yet thou seest not well .
Yes , master , clear as day ; I thank God and Saint Alban .
Sayst thou me so ? What colour is this cloak of ?
Red , master ; red as blood .
Why , that's well said . What colour is my gown of ?
Black , forsooth ; coal-black , as jet .
Why then , thou know'st what colour jet is of ?
And yet , I think , jet did he never see .
But cloaks and gowns before this day a many .
Never , before this day , in all his life .
Tell me , sirrah , what's my name ?
Alas ! master , I know not .
What's his name ?
I know not .
Nor his ?
No , indeed , master .
What's thine own name ?
Saunder Simpcox , an if it please you , master .
Then , Saunder , sit there , the lyingest knave in Christendom . If thou hadst been born blind , thou mightst as well have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we do wear . Sight may distinguish of colours , but suddenly to nominate them all , it is impossible . My lords , Saint Alban here hath done a miracle ; and would ye not think that cunning to be great , that could restore this cripple to his legs again ?
O , master , that you could !
My masters of Saint Alban's , have you not beadles in your town , and things called whips ?
Yes , my lord , if it please your Grace .
Then send for one presently .
Sirrah , go fetch the beadle hither straight .
Now fetch me a stool hither by and by .
Now , sirrah , if you mean to save yourself from whipping , leap me over this stool and run away .
Alas ! master , I am not able to stand alone :
You go about to torture me in vain .
Well , sir , we must have you find your legs . Sirrah beadle , whip him till he leap over that same stool .
I will , my lord . Come on , sirrah ; off with your doublet quickly .
Alas ! master , what shall I do ? I am not able to stand .
O God ! seest thou this , and bear'st so long ?
It made me laugh to see the villain run .
Follow the knave ; and take this drab away .
Alas ! sir , we did it for pure need .
Let them be whipp'd through every market town 
Till they come to Berwick , from whence they came .
Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day .
True ; made the lame to leap and fly away .
But you have done more miracles than I ;
You made in a day , my lord , whole towns to fly .
What tidings with our cousin Buckingham ?
Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold .
A sort of naughty persons , lewdly bent ,
Under the countenance and confederacy 
Of Lady Eleanor , the protector's wife ,
The ringleader and head of all this rout ,
Have practis'd dangerously against your state ,
Dealing with witches and with conjurers :
Whom we have apprehended in the fact ;
Raising up wicked spirits from under-ground ,
Demanding of King Henry's life and death ,
And other of your highness' privy council ,
As more at large your Grace shall understand .
And so , my Lord Protector , by this means 
Your lady is forthcoming yet at London .
This news , I think , hath turn'd your weapon's edge ;
'Tis like , my lord , you will not keep your hour .
Ambitious churchman , leave to afflict my heart :
Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers ;
And , vanquish'd as I am , I yield to thee ,
Or to the meanest groom .
O God ! what mischiefs work the wicked ones ,
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby .
Gloucester , see here the tainture of thy nest ;
And look thyself be faultless , thou wert best .
Madam , for myself , to heaven I do appeal ,
How I have lov'd my king and commonweal ;
And , for my wife , I know not how it stands .
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard :
Noble she is , but if she have forgot 
Honour and virtue , and convers'd with such 
As , like to pitch , defile nobility ,
I banish her my bed and company ,
And give her , as a prey , to law and shame ,
That hath dishonour'd Gloucester's honest name .
Well , for this night we will repose us here :
To-morrow toward London back again ,
To look into this business thoroughly ,
And call these foul offenders to their answers ;
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales ,
Whose beam stands sure , whose rightful cause prevails .
Now , my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick ,
Our simple supper ended , give me leave ,
In this close walk to satisfy myself ,
In craving your opinion of my title ,
Which is infallible to England's crown .
My lord , I long to hear it at full .
Sweet York , begin ; and if thy claim be good ,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command .
Then thus :
Edward the Third , my lords , had seven sons :
The first , Edward the Black Prince , Prince of Wales ;
The second , William of Hatfield ; and the third ,
Lionel , Duke of Clarence ; next to whom 
Was John of Gaunt , the Duke of Lancaster ;
The fifth was Edmund Langley , Duke of York ;
The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock , Duke of Gloucester ;
William of Windsor was the seventh and last .
Edward the Black Prince died before his father ,
And left behind him Richard , his only son ,
Who after Edward the Third's death , reign'd as king ;
Till Henry Bolingbroke , Duke of Lancaster ,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt ,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth ,
Seiz'd on the realm , depos'd the rightful king ,
Sent his poor queen to France , from whence she came ,
And him to Pomfret ; where as all you know ,
Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously .
Father , the duke hath told the truth ;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown .
Which now they hold by force and not by right ;
For Richard , the first son's heir , being dead ,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd .
But William of Hatfield died without an heir .
The third son , Duke of Clarence , from whose line 
I claim the crown , had issue , Philippe a daughter ,
Who married Edmund Mortimer , Earl of March :
Edmund had issue Roger , Earl of March :
Roger had issue Edmund , Anne , and Eleanor .
This Edmund , in the reign of Bolingbroke ,
As I have read , laid claim unto the crown ;
And but for Owen Glendower , had been king ,
Who kept him in captivity till he died .
But , to the rest .
His eldest sister , Anne ,
My mother , being heir unto the crown ,
Married Richard , Earl of Cambridge , who was son 
To Edmund Langley , Edward the Third's fifth son .
By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir 
To Roger , Earl of March ; who was the son 
Of Edmund Mortimer ; who married Philippe ,
Sole daughter unto Lionel , Duke of Clarence :
So , if the issue of the eldest son 
Succeed before the younger , I am king .
What plain proceeding is more plain than this ?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt ,
The fourth son ; York claims it from the third .
Till Lionel's issue fails , his should not reign :
It fails not yet , but flourishes in thee ,
And in thy sons , fair slips of such a stock .
Then , father Salisbury , kneel we together ,
And in this private plot be we the first 
That shall salute our rightful sovereign 
With honour of his birthright to the crown .
Long live our sovereign Richard , England's king !
We thank you , lords ! But I am not your king 
Till I be crown'd , and that my sword be stain'd 
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster ;
And that's not suddenly to be perform'd ,
But with advice and silent secrecy .
Do you as I do in these dangerous days ,
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence ,
At Beaufort's pride , at Somerset's ambition ,
At Buckingham and all the crew of them ,
Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock ,
That virtuous prince , the good Duke Humphrey :
'Tis that they seek ; and they , in seeking that 
Shall find their deaths , if York can prophesy .
My lord , break we off ; we know your mind at full .
My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick 
Shall one day make the Duke of York a king .
And , Nevil , this I do assure myself ,
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick 
The greatest man in England but the king .
Stand forth , Dame Eleanor Cobham , Gloucester's wife .
In sight of God and us , your guilt is great :
Receive the sentence of the law for sins 
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death .
You four , from hence to prison back again ;
From thence , unto the place of execution :
The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes ,
And you three shall be strangled on the gallows .
You , madam , for you are more nobly born ,
Despoiled of your honour in your life ,
Shall , after three days' open penance done ,
Live in your country here , in banishment ,
With Sir John Stanley , in the Isle of Man .
Welcome is banishment ; welcome were my death .
Eleanor , the law , thou seest , hath judged thee :
I cannot justify whom the law condemns .
Mine eyes are full of tears , my heart of grief .
Ah , Humphrey ! this dishonour in thine age 
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground .
I beseech your majesty , give me leave to go ;
Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease .
Stay , Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester : ere thou go ,
Give up thy staff : Henry will to himself 
Protector be ; and God shall be my hope ,
My stay , my guide , and lantern to my feet .
And go in peace , Humphrey ; no less belov'd 
Than when thou wert protector to thy king .
I see no reason why a king of years 
Should be to be protected like a child .
God and King Henry govern England's helm !
Give up your staff , sir , and the king his realm .
My staff ! here , noble Henry , is my staff :
As willingly do I the same resign 
As e'er thy father Henry made it mine ;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it 
As others would ambitiously receive it .
Farewell , good king ! when I am dead and gone ,
May honourable peace attend thy throne .
Why , now is Henry king , and Margaret queen ;
And Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester , scarce himself ,
That bears so shrewd a maim : two pulls at once ;
His lady banish'd , and a limb lopp'd off ;
This staff of honour raught : there let it stand ,
Where it best fits to be , in Henry's hand .
Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays ;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days .
Lords , let him go . Please it your majesty 
This is the day appointed for the combat ;
And ready are the appellant and defendant ,
The armourer and his man , to enter the lists ,
So please your highness to behold the fight .
Ay , good my lord ; for purposely therefore 
Left I the court , to see this quarrel tried .
O' God's name , see the lists and all things fit :
Here let them end it ; and God defend the right !
I never saw a fellow worse bested ,
Or more afraid to fight , than is the appellant ,
The servant of this armourer , my lords .
Here , neighbour Horner , I drink to you in a cup of sack : and fear not , neighbour , you shall do well enough .
And here , neighbour , here's a cup of charneco .
And here's a pot of good double beer , neighbour : drink , and fear not your man .
Let it come , i' faith , and I'll pledge you all ; and a fig for Peter !
Here , Peter , I drink to thee ; and be not afraid .
Be merry , Peter , and fear not thy master : fight for credit of the prentices .
I thank you all : drink , and pray for me , I pray you ; for , I think , I have taken my last draught in this world . Here , Robin , an if I die , I give thee my apron : and , Will , thou shalt have my hammer : and here , Tom , take all the money that I have . O Lord bless me ! I pray God , for I am never able to deal with my master , he hath learnt so much fence already .
Come , leave your drinking and fall to blows . Sirrah , what's thy name ?
Peter , forsooth .
Peter ! what more ?
Thump .
Thump ! then see thou thump thy master well .
Masters , I am come hither , as it were , upon my man's instigation , to prove him a knave , and myself an honest man : and touching the Duke of York , I will take my death I never meant him any ill , nor the king , nor the queen ; and therefore , Peter , have at thee with a downright blow !
Dispatch : this knave's tongue begins to double .
Sound , trumpets , alarum to the combatants .
Hold , Peter , hold ! I confess , I confess treason .
Take away his weapon . Fellow , thank 
God , and the good wine in thy master's way .
O God ! have I overcome mine enemies in this presence ? O Peter ! thou hast prevailed in right !
Go , take hence that traitor from our sight ;
For by his death we do perceive his guilt :
And God in justice hath reveal'd to us 
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow ,
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully .
Come , fellow , follow us for thy reward .
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud ;
And after summer evermore succeeds 
Barren winter , with his wrathful nipping cold :
So cares and joys abound , as seasons fleet .
Sirs , what's o'clock ?
Ten , my lord .
Ten is the hour that was appointed me 
To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess :
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets ,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet .
Sweet Nell , ill can thy noble mind abrook 
The abject people , gazing on thy face 
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame ,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels 
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets .
But , soft ! I think she comes ; and I'll prepare 
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries .
So please your Grace , we'll take her from the sheriff .
No , stir not , for your lives ; let her pass by .
Come you , my lord , to see my open shame ?
Now thou dost penance too . Look ! how they gaze .
See ! how the giddy multitude do point ,
And nod their heads , and throw their eyes on thee .
Ah , Gloucester , hide thee from their hateful looks ,
And , in thy closet pent up , rue my shame ,
And ban thine enemies , both mine and thine !
Be patient , gentle Nell ; forget this grief .
Ay , Gloucester , teach me to forget myself ;
For whilst I think I am thy wedded wife ,
And thou a prince , protector of this land ,
Methinks I should not thus be led along ,
Mail'd up in shame , with papers on my back ,
And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice 
To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans .
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ,
And when I start , the envious people laugh ,
And bid me be advised how I tread .
Ah , Humphrey ! can I bear this shameful yoke ?
Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world ,
Or count them happy that enjoy the sun ?
No ; dark shall be my light , and night my day ;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell .
Sometime I'll say , I am Duke Humphrey's wife ;
And he a prince and ruler of the land :
Yet so he rul'd and such a prince he was 
As he stood by whilst I , his forlorn duchess ,
Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock 
To every idle rascal follower .
But be thou mild and blush not at my shame ;
Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death 
Hang over thee , as , sure , it shortly will ;
For Suffolk , he that can do all in all 
With her that hateth thee , and hates us all ,
And York , and impious Beaufort , that false priest ,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings ;
And , fly thou how thou canst , they'll tangle thee :
But fear not thou , until thy foot be snar'd ,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes .
Ah , Nell ! forbear : thou aimest all awry ;
I must offend before I be attainted ;
And had I twenty times so many foes ,
And each of them had twenty times their power ,
All these could not procure me any scath ,
So long as I am loyal , true , and crimeless .
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach ?
Why , yet thy scandal were not wip'd away ,
But I in danger for the breach of law .
Thy greatest help is quiet , gentle Nell :
I pray thee , sort thy heart to patience ;
These few days' wonder will be quickly worn .
I summon your Grace to his majesty's parliament , holden at Bury the first of this next month .
And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before !
This is close dealing . Well , I will be there .
My Nell , I take my leave : and , master sheriff ,
Let not her penance exceed the king's commission .
An't please your Grace , here my commission stays ;
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now 
To take her with him to the Isle of Man .
Must you , Sir John , protect my lady here ?
So am I given in charge , may't please your Grace .
Entreat her not the worse in that I pray 
You use her well . The world may laugh again ;
And I may live to do you kindness if 
You do it her : and so , Sir John , farewell .
What ! gone , my lord , and bid me not farewell !
Witness my tears , I cannot stay to speak .
Art thou gone too ? All comfort go with thee !
For none abides with me : my joy is death ;
Death , at whose name I oft have been afear'd ,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity .
Stanley , I prithee , go , and take me hence ;
I care not whither , for I beg no favour ,
Only convey me where thou art commanded .
Why , madam , that is to the Isle of Man ;
There to be us'd according to your state .
That's bad enough , for I am but reproach :
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully ?
Like to a duchess , and Duke Humphrey's lady :
According to that state you shall be us'd .
Sheriff , farewell , and better than I fare ,
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame .
It is my office ; and , madam , pardon me .
Ay , ay , farewell ; thy office is discharg'd .
Come , Stanley , shall we go ?
Madam , your penance done , throw off this sheet ,
And go we to attire you for our journey .
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet :
No ; it will hang upon my richest robes ,
And show itself , attire me how I can .
Go , lead the way ; I long to see my prison .
I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come :
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man ,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now .
Can you not see ? or will ye not observe 
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance ?
With what a majesty he bears himself ,
How insolent of late he is become ,
How proud , how peremptory , and unlike himself ?
We know the time since he was mild and affable ,
An if we did but glance a far-off look ,
Immediately he was upon his knee ,
That all the court admir'd him for submission :
But meet him now , and , be it in the morn ,
When everyone will give the time of day ,
He knits his brow and shows an angry eye ,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee ,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs .
Small curs are not regarded when they grin ,
But great men tremble when the lion roars ;
And Humphrey is no little man in England .
First note that he is near you in descent ,
And should you fall , he is the next will mount .
Me seemeth then it is no policy ,
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears ,
And his advantage following your decease ,
That he should come about your royal person 
Or be admitted to your highness' council .
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ,
And when he please to make commotion ,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him .
Now 'tis the spring , and weeds are shallow-rooted ;
Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden ,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry .
The reverent care I bear unto my lord 
Made me collect these dangers in the duke .
If it be fond , call it a woman's fear ;
Which fear if better reasons can supplant ,
I will subscribe and say I wrong'd the duke .
My Lord of Suffolk , Buckingham , and York ,
Reprove my allegation if you can 
Or else conclude my words effectual .
Well hath your highness seen into this duke ;
And had I first been put to speak my mind ,
I think I should have told your Grace's tale .
The duchess , by his subornation ,
Upon my life , began her devilish practices :
Or if he were not privy to those faults ,
Yet , by reputing of his high descent ,
As , next the king he was successive heir ,
And such high vaunts of his nobility ,
Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess ,
By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall .
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ,
And in his simple show he harbours treason .
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb :
No , no , my sov'reign ; Gloucester is a man 
Unsounded yet , and full of deep deceit .
Did he not , contrary to form of law ,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done ?
And did he not , in his protectorship ,
Levy great sums of money through the realm 
For soldiers' pay in France , and never sent it ?
By means whereof the towns each day revolted .
Tut ! these are petty faults to faults unknown ,
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey .
My lords , at once : the care you have of us ,
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot ,
Is worthy praise ; but shall I speak my conscience ,
Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent 
From meaning treason to our royal person ,
As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove .
The duke is virtuous , mild , and too well given 
To dream on evil , or to work my downfall .
Ah ! what's more dangerous than this fond affiance !
Seems he a dove ? his feathers are but borrow'd ,
For he's disposed as the hateful raven :
Is he a lamb ? his skin is surely lent him ,
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf .
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit ?
Take heed , my lord ; the welfare of us all 
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man .
All health unto my gracious sovereign !
Welcome , Lord Somerset . What news from France ?
That all your interest in those territories 
Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost .
Cold news , Lord Somerset : but God's will be done !
Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France ,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England .
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud ,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away ;
But I will remedy this gear ere long ,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave .
All happiness unto my lord the king !
Pardon , my liege , that I have stay'd so long .
Nay , Gloucester , know that thou art come too soon ,
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art :
I do arrest thee of high treason here .
Well , Suffolk's duke , thou shalt not see me blush ,
Nor change my countenance for this arrest :
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted .
The purest spring is not so free from mud 
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign .
Who can accuse me ? wherein am I guilty ?
'Tis thought , my lord , that you took bribes of France ,
And , being protector , stay'd the soldiers' pay ;
By means whereof his highness hath lost France .
Is it but thought so ? What are they that think it ?
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay ,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France .
So help me God , as I have watch'd the night ,
Ay , night by night , in studying good for England ,
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king ,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use ,
Be brought against me at my trial-day !
No ; many a pound of mine own proper store ,
Because I would not tax the needy commons ,
Have I disbursed to the garrisons ,
And never ask'd for restitution .
It serves you well , my lord , to say so much .
I say no more than truth , so help me God !
In your protectorship you did devise 
Strange tortures for offenders , never heard of ,
That England was defam'd by tyranny .
Why , 'tis well known that , whiles I was protector ,
Pity was all the fault that was in me ;
For I should melt at an offender's tears ,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault .
Unless it were a bloody murderer ,
Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers ,
I never gave them condign punishment :
Murder , indeed , that bloody sin , I tortur'd 
Above the felon or what trespass else .
My lord , these faults are easy , quickly answer'd :
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge ,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself .
I do arrest you in his highness' name ;
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal 
To keep until your further time of trial .
My Lord of Gloucester , 'tis my special hope 
That you will clear yourself from all suspect :
My conscience tells me you are innocent .
Ah ! gracious lord , these days are dangerous .
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition ,
And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ;
Foul subornation is predominant ,
And equity exil'd your highness' land .
I know their complot is to have my life ;
And if my death might make this island happy ,
And prove the period of their tyranny ,
I would expend it with all willingness ;
But mine is made the prologue to their play ;
For thousands more , that yet suspect no peril ,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy .
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice ,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue 
The envious load that lies upon his heart ;
And dogged York , that reaches at the moon ,
Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back ,
By false accuse doth level at my life :
And you , my sov'reign lady , with the rest ,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ,
And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up 
My liefest liege to be mine enemy .
Ay , all of you have laid your heads together ;
Myself had notice of your conventicles ;
And all to make away my guiltless life .
I shall not want false witness to condemn me ,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ;
The ancient proverb will be well effected :
'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog .' 
My liege , his railing is intolerable .
If those that care to keep your royal person 
From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage 
Be thus upbraided , chid , and rated at ,
And the offender granted scope of speech ,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace .
Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here 
With ignominious words , though clerkly couch'd ,
As if she had suborned some to swear 
False allegations to o'erthrow his state ?
But I can give the loser leave to chide .
Far truer spoke than meant : I lose , indeed ;
Beshrew the winners , for they play'd me false !
And well such losers may have leave to speak .
He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day .
Lord Cardinal , he is your prisoner .
Sirs , take away the duke , and guard him sure .
Ah ! thus King Henry throws away his crutch 
Before his legs be firm to bear his body :
Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side ,
And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first .
Ah ! that my fear were false , ah ! that it were ;
For , good King Henry , thy decay I fear .
My lords , what to your wisdoms seemeth best 
Do or undo , as if ourself were here .
What ! will your highness leave the parliament ?
Ay , Margaret ; my heart is drown'd with grief ,
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ,
My body round engirt with misery ,
For what's more miserable than discontent ?
Ah ! uncle Humphrey , in thy face I see 
The map of honour , truth , and loyalty ;
And yet , good Humphrey , is the hour to come 
That e'er I prov'd thee false , or fear'd thy faith .
What low'ring star now envies thy estate ,
That these great lords , and Margaret our queen ,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ?
Thou never didst them wrong , nor no man wrong ;
And as the butcher takes away the calf ,
And binds the wretch , and beats it when it strays ,
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ,
Even so , remorseless , have they borne him hence ;
And as the dam runs lowing up and down ,
Looking the way her harmless young one went ,
And can do nought but wail her darling's loss ;
Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case ,
With sad unhelpful tears , and with dimm'd eyes 
Look after him , and cannot do him good ;
So mighty are his vowed enemies .
His fortunes I will weep ; and , 'twixt each groan ,
Say 'Who's a traitor , Gloucester he is none .' 
Fair lords , cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams .
Henry my lord is cold in great affairs ,
Too full of foolish pity ; and Gloucester's show 
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile 
With sorrow snares relenting passengers ;
Or as the snake , roll'd in a flow'ring bank ,
With shining checker'd slough , doth sting a child 
That for the beauty thinks it excellent .
Believe me , lords , were none more wise than I ,
And yet herein I judge mine own wit good ,
This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world ,
To rid us from the fear we have of him .
That he should die is worthy policy ;
And yet we want a colour for his death .
'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law .
But in my mind that were no policy :
The king will labour still to save his life ;
The commons haply rise to save his life ;
And yet we have but trivial argument ,
More than mistrust , that shows him worthy death .
So that , by this , you would not have him die .
Ah ! York , no man alive so fain as I .
'Tis York that hath more reason for his death .
But my Lord Cardinal , and you , my Lord of Suffolk ,
Say as you think , and speak it from your souls ,
Were't not all one an empty eagle were set 
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite ,
As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector ?
So the poor chicken should be sure of death .
Madam , 'tis true : and were't not madness , then ,
To make the fox surveyor of the fold ?
Who , being accus'd a crafty murderer ,
His guilt should be but idly posted over 
Because his purpose is not executed .
No ; let him die , in that he is a fox ,
By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock ,
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood ,
As Humphrey , prov'd by reasons , to my liege .
And do not stand on quillets how to slay him :
Be it by gins , by snares , by subtilty ,
Sleeping or waking , 'tis no matter how ,
So he be dead ; for that is good deceit 
Which mates him first that first intends deceit .
Thrice noble Suffolk , 'tis resolutely spoke .
Not resolute , except so much were done ,
For things are often spoke and seldom meant ;
But , that my heart accordeth with my tongue ,
Seeing the deed is meritorious ,
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe ,
Say but the word and I will be his priest .
But I would have him dead , my Lord of Suffolk ,
Ere you can take due orders for a priest :
Say you consent and censure well the deed ,
And I'll provide his executioner ;
I tender so the safety of my liege .
Here is my hand , the deed is worthy doing .
And so say I .
And I : and now we three have spoke it ,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom .
Great lords , from Ireland am I come amain ,
To signify that rebels there are up ,
And put the Englishmen unto the sword .
Send succours , lords , and stop the rage betime ,
Before the wound do grow uncurable ;
For , being green , there is great hope of help .
A breach that craves a quick expedient stop !
What counsel give you in this weighty cause ?
That Somerset be sent as regent thither .
'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd ;
Witness the fortune he hath had in France .
If York , with all his far-fet policy ,
Had been the regent there instead of me ,
He never would have stay'd in France so long .
No , not to lose it all , as thou hast done :
I rather would have lost my life betimes 
Than bring a burden of dishonour home ,
By staying there so long till all were lost .
Show me one scar character'd on thy skin :
Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win .
Nay then , this spark will prove a raging fire ,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with .
No more , good York ; sweet Somerset , be still :
Thy fortune , York , hadst thou been regent there ,
Might happily have prov'd far worse than his .
What ! worse than nought ? nay , then a shame take all .
And in the number thee , that wishest shame .
My Lord of York , try what your fortune is .
The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms 
And temper clay with blood of Englishmen :
To Ireland will you lead a band of men ,
Collected choicely , from each county some ,
And try your hap against the Irishmen ?
I will , my lord , so please his majesty .
Why , our authority is his consent ,
And what we do establish he confirms :
Then , noble York , take thou this task in hand .
I am content : provide me soldiers , lords ,
Whiles I take order for mine own affairs .
A charge , Lord York , that I will see perform'd .
But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey .
No more of him ; for I will deal with him 
That henceforth he shall trouble us no more .
And so break off ; the day is almost spent .
Lord Suffolk , you and I must talk of that event .
My Lord of Suffolk , within fourteen days 
At Bristol I expect my soldiers ;
For there I'll ship them all for Ireland .
I'll see it truly done , my Lord of York .
Now , York , or never , steel thy fearful thoughts ,
And change misdoubt to resolution :
Be that thou hop'st to be , or what thou art 
Resign to death ; it is not worth the enjoying .
Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man ,
And find no harbour in a royal heart .
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought ,
And not a thought but thinks on dignity .
My brain , more busy than the labouring spider ,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies .
Well , nobles , well ; 'tis politicly done ,
To send me packing with a host of men :
I fear me you but warm the starved snake ,
Who , cherish'd in your breasts , will sting your hearts .
'Twas men I lack'd , and you will give them me :
I take it kindly ; yet be well assur'd 
You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands .
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band ,
I will stir up in England some black storm 
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell ;
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 
Until the golden circuit on my head ,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams ,
Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw .
And , for a minister of my intent ,
I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman ,
John Cade of Ashford ,
To make commotion , as full well he can ,
Under the title of John Mortimer .
In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 
Oppose himself against a troop of kerns ,
And fought so long , till that his thighs with darts 
Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine :
And , in the end being rescu'd , I have seen 
Him caper upright like a wild Morisco ,
Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells .
Full often , like a shag-hair'd crafty kern ,
Hath he conversed with the enemy ,
And undiscover'd come to me again ,
And given me notice of their villanies .
This devil here shall be my substitute ;
For that John Mortimer , which now is dead ,
In face , in gait , in speech , he doth resemble ;
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind ,
How they affect the house and claim of York .
Say he be taken , rack'd , and tortured ,
I know no pain they can inflict upon him 
Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms .
Say that he thrive ,as 'tis great like he will ,
Why , then from Ireland come I with my strength ,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd ;
For , Humphrey being dead , as he shall be ,
And Henry put apart , the next for me .
Run to my Lord of Suffolk ; let him know 
We have dispatch'd the duke , as he commanded .
O ! that it were to do . What have we done ?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent ?
Here comes my lord .
Now , sirs , have you dispatch'd this thing ?
Ay , my good lord , he's dead .
Why , that's well said . Go , get you to my house ;
I will reward you for this venturous deed .
The king and all the peers are here at hand .
Have you laid fair the bed ? is all things well ,
According as I gave directions ?
'Tis , my good lord .
Away ! be gone .
Go , call our uncle to our presence straight ;
Say , we intend to try his Grace to-day ,
If he be guilty , as 'tis published .
I'll call him presently , my noble lord .
Lords , take your places ; and , I pray you all ,
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester 
Than from true evidence , of good esteem ,
He be approv'd in practice culpable .
God forbid any malice should prevail 
That faultless may condemn a nobleman !
Pray God , he may acquit him of suspicion !
I thank thee , Meg ; these words content me much .
How now ! why look'st thou pale ? why tremblest thou ?
Where is our uncle ? what's the matter , Suffolk ?
Dead in his bed , my lord ; Gloucester is dead .
Marry , God forfend !
God's secret judgment : I did dream to-night 
The duke was dumb , and could not speak a word .
How fares my lord ? Help , lords ! the king is dead .
Rear up his body ; wring him by the nose .
Run , go , help , help ! O Henry , ope thine eyes !
He doth revive again . Madam , be patient .
O heavenly God !
How fares my gracious lord ?
Comfort , my sovereign ! grocious Henry , comfort !
What ! doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me ?
Came he right now to sing a raven's note ,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ,
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren ,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast ,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound ?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words :
Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear , I say :
Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting .
Thou baleful messenger , out of my sight !
Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny 
Sits in grim majesty to fright the world .
Look not upon me , for thine eyes are wounding :
Yet do not go away ; come , basilisk ,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight ;
For in the shade of death I shall find joy ,
In life but double death , now Gloucester's dead .
Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus ?
Although the duke was enemy to him ,
Yet he , most Christian-like , laments his death :
And for myself , foe as he was to me ,
Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans 
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life ,
I would be blind with weeping , sick with groans ,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs ,
And all to have the noble duke alive .
What know I how the world may deem of me ?
For it is known we were but hollow friends :
It may be judg'd I made the duke away :
So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded ,
And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach .
This get I by his death . Ay me , unhappy !
To be a queen , and crown'd with infamy !
Ah ! woe is me for Gloucester , wretched man .
Be woe for me , more wretched than he is .
What ! dost thou turn away and hide thy face ?
I am no loathsome leper ; look on me .
What ! art thou , like the adder , waxen deaf ?
Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen .
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb ?
Why , then , Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy :
Erect his statua and worship it ,
And make my image but an alehouse sign .
Was I for this nigh wrack'd upon the sea ,
And twice by awkward wind from England's bank 
Drove back again unto my native clime ?
What boded this , but well forewarning wind 
Did seem to say , 'Seek not a scorpion's nest ,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore ?' 
What did I then , but curs'd the gentle gusts 
And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves ;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore ,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ?
Yet  olus would not be a murderer ,
But left that hateful office unto thee :
The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me ,
Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore 
With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness :
The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands ,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides ,
Because thy flinty heart , more hard than they ,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret .
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs ,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back ,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm ,
And when the dusky sky began to rob 
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view ,
I took a costly jewel from my neck ,
A heart it was , bound in with diamonds ,
And threw it towards thy land : the sea receiv'd it ,
And so I wish'd thy body might my heart :
And even with this I lost fair England's view ,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart ,
And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles 
For losing ken of Albion's wished coast .
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue 
The agent of thy foul inconstancy 
To sit and witch me , as Ascanius did 
When he to madding Dido would unfold 
His father's acts , commenc'd in burning Troy !
Am I not witch'd like her ? or thou not false like him ?
Ay me ! I can no more . Die , Margaret !
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long .
It is reported , mighty sovereign ,
That good Duke Humphrey trait'rously is murder'd 
By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means .
The commons , like an angry hive of bees 
That want their leader , scatter up and down ,
And care not who they sting in his revenge .
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny ,
Until they hear the order of his death .
That he is dead , good Warwick , 'tis too true ;
But how he died God knows , not Henry .
Enter his chamber , view his breathless corpse ,
And comment then upon his sudden death .
That shall I do , my liege . Stay , Salisbury ,
With the rude multitude till I return .
O ! Thou that judgest all things , stay my thoughts ,
My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul 
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life .
If my suspect be false , forgive me , God ,
For judgment only doth belong to thee .
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips 
With twenty thousand kisses , and to drain 
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ,
To tell my love unto his deaf dumb trunk ,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling :
But all in vain are these mean obsequies ,
And to survey his dead and earthly image 
What were it but to make my sorrow greater ?
Come hither , gracious sovereign , view this body .
That is to see how deep my grave is made ;
For with his soul fled all my worldly solace ,
For seeing him I see my life in death .
As surely as my soul intends to live 
With that dread King that took our state upon him 
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse ,
I do believe that violent hands were laid 
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke .
A dreadful oath , sworn with a solemn tongue !
What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow ?
See how the blood is settled in his face .
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost ,
Of ashy semblance , meagre , pale , and bloodless ,
Being all descended to the labouring heart ;
Who , in the conflict that it holds with death ,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ;
Which with the heart there cools , and ne'er returneth 
To blush and beautify the cheek again .
But see , his face is black and full of blood ,
His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd ,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ;
His hair uprear'd , his nostrils stretch'd with struggling :
His hands abroad display'd , as one that grasp'd 
And tugg'd for life , and was by strength subdu'd .
Look on the sheets , his hair , you see , is sticking ;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged ,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd .
It cannot be but he was murder'd here ;
The least of all these signs were probable .
Why , Warwick , who should do the duke to death ?
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection ;
And we , I hope , sir , are no murderers .
But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes ,
And you , forsooth , had the good duke to keep :
'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend ,
And 'tis well seen he found an enemy .
Then you , belike , suspect these noblemen 
As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death .
Who finds the heifer dead , and bleeding fresh ,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe ,
But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter ?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest ,
But may imagine how the bird was dead ,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak ?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy .
Are you the butcher , Suffolk ? where's your knife ?
Is Beaufort term'd a kite ? where are his talons ?
I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men ;
But here's a vengeful sword , rusted with ease ,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart 
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge .
Say , if thou dar'st , proud Lord of Warwickshire ,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death .
What dares not Warwick , if false Suffolk dare him ?
He dares not calm his contumelious spirit ,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller ,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times .
Madam , be still , with reverence may I say ;
For every word you speak in his behalf 
Is slander to your royal dignity .
Blunt-witted lord , ignoble in demeanour !
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much ,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed 
Some stern untutor'd churl , and noble stock 
Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou art ,
And never of the Nevils' noble race .
But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee ,
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee ,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames ,
And that my sov'reign's presence makes me mild ,
I would , false murd'rous coward , on thy knee 
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech ,
And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st ;
That thou thyself wast born in bastardy :
And after all this fearful homage done ,
Give thee thy hire , and send thy soul to hell ,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men .
Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood ,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me .
Away even now , or I will drag thee hence :
Unworthy though thou art , I'll cope with thee ,
And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost .
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted !
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ,
And he but naked , though lock'd up in steel ,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted .
What noise is this ?
Why , how now , lords ! your wrathful weapons drawn 
Here in our presence ! dare you be so bold ?
Why , what tumultuous clamour have we here ?
The traitorous Warwick , with the men of Bury ,
Set all upon me , mighty sovereign .
Sirs , stand apart ; the king shall know your mind .
Dread lord , the commons send you word by me ,
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death ,
Or banished fair England's territories ,
They will by violence tear him from your palace 
And torture him with grievous lingering death .
They say , by him the good Duke Humphrey died ;
They say , in him they fear your highness' death ;
And mere instinct of love and loyalty ,
Free from a stubborn opposite intent ,
As being thought to contradict your liking ,
Makes them thus forward in his banishment .
They say , in care of your most royal person ,
That if your highness should intend to sleep ,
And charge that no man should disturb your rest 
In pain of your dislike or pain of death ,
Yet , notwithstanding such a strait edict ,
Were there a serpent seen , with forked tongue ,
That slily glided towards your majesty ,
It were but necessary you were wak'd ,
Lest , being suffer'd in that harmful slumber ,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal :
And therefore do they cry , though you forbid ,
That they will guard you , whe'r you will or no ,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting ,
Your loving uncle , twenty times his worth ,
They say , is shamefully bereft of life .
An answer from the king , my Lord of Salisbury !
'Tis like the commons , rude unpolish'd hinds ,
Could send such message to their sovereign ;
But you , my lord , were glad to be employ'd ,
To show how quaint an orator you are :
But all the honour Salisbury hath won 
Is that he was the lord ambassador ,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king .
An answer from the king , or we will all break in !
Go , Salisbury , and tell them all from me ,
I thank them for their tender loving care ;
And had I not been cited so by them ,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat ;
For , sure , my thoughts do hourly prophesy 
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means :
And therefore , by his majesty I swear ,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am ,
He shall not breathe infection in this air 
But three days longer , on the pain of death .
O Henry ! let me plead for gentle Suffolk .
Ungentle queen , to call him gentle Suffolk !
No more , I say ; if thou dost plead for him 
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath .
Had I but said , I would have kept my word ,
But when I swear , it is irrevocable .
If after three days' space thou here be'st found 
On any ground that I am ruler of ,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life .
Come , Warwick , come , good Warwick , go with me ;
I have great matters to impart to thee .
Mischance and sorrow go along with you !
Heart's discontent and sour affliction 
Be playfellows to keep you company !
There's two of you ; the devil make a third ,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps !
Cease , gentle queen , these execrations ,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave .
Fie , coward woman and soft-hearted wretch !
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy ?
A plague upon them ! Wherefore should I curse them ?
Would curses kill , as doth the mandrake's groan ,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms ,
As curst , as harsh and horrible to hear ,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth ,
With full as many signs of deadly hate ,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave .
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ;
My hair be fix'd on end , as one distract ;
Ay , every joint should seem to curse and ban :
And even now my burden'd heart would break 
Should I not curse them . Poison be their drink !
Gall , worse than gall , the daintiest that they taste !
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees !
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks !
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings !
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss ,
And boding screech-owls make the concert full !
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell 
Enough , sweet Suffolk ; thou torment'st thyself ;
And these dread curses , like the sun 'gainst glass ,
Or like an over-charged gun , recoil ,
And turn the force of them upon thyself .
You bade me ban , and will you bid me leave ?
Now , by the ground that I am banish'd from ,
Well could I curse away a winter's night ,
Though standing naked on a mountain top ,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow ,
And think it but a minute spent in sport .
O ! let me entreat thee , cease ! Give me thy hand ,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears ;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place ,
To wash away my woeful monuments .
O ! could this kiss be printed in thy hand ,
That thou mightst think upon these by the seal ,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee .
So , get thee gone , that I may know my grief ;
'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by ,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want .
I will repeal thee , or , be well assur'd ,
Adventure to be banished myself ;
And banished I am , if but from thee .
Go ; speak not to me ; even now be gone .
O ! go not yet . Even thus two friends condemn'd 
Embrace and kiss , and take ten thousand leaves ,
Loather a hundred times to part than die .
Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee !
Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished ,
Once by the king , and three times thrice by thee .
'Tis not the land I care for , wert thou thence ;
A wilderness is populous enough ,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company :
For where thou art , there is the world itself ,
With every several pleasure in the world ,
And where thou art not , desolation .
I can no more : live thou to joy thy life ;
Myself to joy in nought but that thou liv'st .
Whither goes Vaux so fast ? what news , I prithee ?
To signify unto his majesty 
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death ;
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him ,
That makes him gasp and stare , and catch the air ,
Blaspheming God , and cursing men on earth .
Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost 
Were by his side ; sometime he calls the king ,
And whispers to his pillow , as to him ,
The secrets of his overcharged soul :
And I am sent to tell his majesty 
That even now he cries aloud for him .
Go tell this heavy message to the king .
Ay me ! what is this world ! what news are these !
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss ,
Omitting Suffolk's exile , my soul's treasure ?
Why only , Suffolk , mourn I not for thee ,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears ,
Theirs for the earth's increase , mine for my sorrows ?
Now get thee hence : the king , thou know'st , is coming ;
If thou be found by me thou art but dead .
If I depart from thee I cannot live ;
And in thy sight to die , what were it else 
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap ?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air ,
As mild and gentle as the cradle babe ,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips ;
Where , from thy sight , I should be raging mad ,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes ,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth :
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul ,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body ,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium .
To die by thee , were but to die in jest ;
From thee to die were torture more than death .
O ! let me stay , befall what may befall !
Away ! though parting be a fretful corsive ,
It is applied to a deathful wound .
To France , sweet Suffolk : let me hear from thee ;
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe ,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out .
And take my heart with thee .
A jewel , lock'd into the woefull'st cask 
That ever did contain a thing of worth .
Even as a splitted bark , so sunder we :
This way fall I to death .
This way for me .
How fares my lord ? speak , Beaufort , to thy sovereign .
If thou be'st death , I'll give thee England's treasure ,
Enough to purchase such another island ,
So thou wilt let me live , and feel no pain .
Ah ! what a sign it is of evil life 
Where death's approach is seen so terrible .
Beaufort , it is thy sov'reign speaks to thee .
Bring me unto my trial when you will .
Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ?
Can I make men live whe'r they will or no ?
O ! torture me no more , I will confess .
Alive again ? then show me where he is :
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him .
He hath no eyes , the dust hath blinded them .
Comb down his hair ; look ! look ! it stands upright ,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul .
Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him .
O thou eternal Mover of the heavens !
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ;
O ! beat away the busy meddling fiend 
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul ,
And from his bosom purge this black despair .
See how the pangs of death do make him grin !
Disturb him not ! let him pass peaceably .
Peace to his soul , if God's good pleasure be !
Lord Cardinal , if thou think'st on heaven's bliss ,
Hold up thy hand , make signal of thy hope .
He dies , and makes no sign . O God , forgive him !
So bad a death argues a monstrous life .
Forbear to judge , for we are sinners all .
Close up his eyes , and draw the curtain close ;
And let us all to meditation .
The gaudy , blabbing , and remorseful day 
Is crept into the bosom of the sea ,
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
That drag the tragic melancholy night ;
Who with their drowsy , slow , and flagging wings 
Clip dead men's graves , and from their misty jaws 
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air .
Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize ,
For , whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs 
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand ,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore .
Master , this prisoner freely give I thee :
And thou that art his mate make boot of this ;
The other 
, Walter Whitmore , is thy share .
What is my ransom , master ? let me know .
A thousand crowns , or else lay down your head .
And so much shall you give , or off goes yours .
What ! think you much to pay two thousand crowns ,
And bear the name and port of gentlemen ?
Cut both the villains' throats ! for die you shall :
The lives of those which we have lost in fight 
Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum !
I'll give it , sir ; and therefore spare my life .
And so will I , and write home for it straight .
I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard ,
And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die ;
And so should these if I might have my will .
Be not so rash : take ransom ; let him live .
Look on my George ; I am a gentleman :
Rate me at what thou wilt , thou shalt be paid .
And so am I ; my name is Walter Whitmore .
How now ! why start'st thou ? what ! doth death affright ?
Thy name affrights me , in whose sound is death .
A cunning man did calculate my birth ,
And told me that by Water I should die :
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded ;
Thy name is Gaultier , being rightly sounded .
Gaultier , or Walter , which it is I care not ;
Never yet did base dishonour blur our name 
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot :
Therefore , when merchant-like I sell revenge ,
Broke be my sword , my arms torn and defac'd ,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world !
Stay , Whitmore ; for thy prisoner is a prince ,
The Duke of Suffolk , William de la Pole .
The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags !
Ay , but these rags are no part of the duke :
Jove sometimes went disguis'd , and why not I ?
But Jove was never slain , as thou shalt be .
Obscure and lowly swain , King Henry's blood ,
The honourable blood of Lancaster ,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom .
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup ?
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule ,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head ?
How often hast thou waited at my cup ,
Fed from my trencher , kneel'd down at the board ,
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret ?
Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall'n ;
Ay , and allay this thy abortive pride .
How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood 
And duly waited for my coming forth ?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf ,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue .
Speak , captain , shall I stab the forlorn swain ?
First let my words stab him , as he hath me .
Base slave , thy words are blunt , and so art thou .
Convey him hence , and on our longboat's side 
Strike off his head .
Thou dar'st not for thy own .
Yes , Pole .
Pool ! Sir Pool ! lord !
Ay , kennel , puddle , sink ; whose filth and dirt 
Troubles the silver spring where England drinks .
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth 
For swallowing the treasure of the realm :
Thy lips , that kiss'd the queen , shall sweep the ground ;
And thou , that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death ,
Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain ,
Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again :
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell ,
For daring to affy a mighty lord 
Unto the daughter of a worthless king ,
Having neither subject , wealth , nor diadem .
By devilish policy art thou grown great ,
And , like ambitious Sylla , overgorg'd 
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart .
By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France ,
The false revolting Normans thorough thee 
Disdain to call us lord , and Picardy 
Hath slain their governors , surpris'd our forts ,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home .
The princely Warwick , and the Nevils all ,
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain ,
As hating thee , are rising up in arms :
And now the house of York , thrust from the crown 
By shameful murder of a guiltless king ,
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny ,
Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours 
Advance our half-fac'd sun , striving to shine ,
Under the which is writ Invitis nubibus .
The commons here in Kent are up in arms ;
And to conclude , reproach and beggary 
Is crept into the palace of our king ,
And all by thee . Away ! convey him hence .
O ! that I were a god , to shoot forth thunder 
Upon these paltry , servile , abject drudges .
Small things make base men proud : this villain here ,
Being captain of a pinnace , threatens more 
Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate .
Drones suck not eagles' blood , but rob beehives .
It is impossible that I should die 
By such a lowly vassal as thyself .
Thy words move rage , and not remorse in me :
I go of message from the queen to France ;
I charge thee , waft me safely cross the Channel .
Walter !
Come , Suffolk , I must waft thee to thy death .
Gelidus timor occupat artus : 'tis thee I fear .
Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee .
What ! are ye daunted now ? now will ye stoop ?
My gracious lord , entreat him , speak him fair .
Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough ,
Us'd to command , untaught to plead for favour .
Far be it we should honour such as these 
With humble suit : no , rather let my head 
Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any 
Save to the God of heaven , and to my king ;
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole 
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom .
True nobility is exempt from fear :
More can I bear than you dare execute .
Hale him away , and let him talk no more .
Come , soldiers , show what cruelty ye can ,
That this my death may never be forgot .
Great men oft die by vile bezonians .
A Roman sworder and banditto slave 
Murder'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand 
Stabb'd Julius C sar ; savage islanders 
Pompey the Great ; and Suffolk dies by pirates .
And as for these whose ransom we have set ,
It is our pleasure one of them depart :
Therefore come you with us and let him go .
There let his head and lifeless body lie ,
Until the queen his mistress bury it .
O barbarous and bloody spectacle !
His body will I bear unto the king :
If he revenge it not , yet will his friends ;
So will the queen , that living held him dear .
Come , and get thee a sword , though made of a lath : they have been up these two days .
They have the more need to sleep now then .
I tell thee , Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth , and turn it , and set a new nap upon it .
So he had need , for 'tis threadbare . Well , I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up .
O miserable age ! Virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men .
The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons .
Nay , more ; the king's council are no good workmen .
True ; and yet it is said , 'Labour in thy vocation :' which is as much to say as , let the magistrates be labouring men ; and therefore should we be magistrates .
Thou hast hit it ; for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand .
I see them ! I see them ! There's Best's son , the tanner of Wingham ,
He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's-leather of .
And Dick the butcher ,
Then is sin struck down like an ox , and iniquity's throat cut like a calf .
And Smith the weaver ,
Argo , their thread of life is spun .
Come , come , let's fall in with them .
We John Cade , so termed of our supposed father ,
Or rather , of stealing a cade of herrings .
For our enemies shall fall before us , inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes ,Command silence .
Silence !
My father was a Mortimer .
He was an honest man , and a good bricklayer .
My mother a Plantagenet ,
I knew her well ; she was a midwife .
My wife descended of the Lacies ,
She was , indeed , a pedlar's daughter , and sold many laces .
But now of late , not able to travel with her furred pack , she washes bucks here at home .
Therefore am I of an honourable house .
Ay , by my faith , the field is honourable ; and there was he born , under a hedge ; for his father had never a house but the cage .
Valiant I am .
A' must needs , for beggary is valiant .
I am able to endure much .
No question of that , for I have seen him whipped three market-days together .
I fear neither sword nor fire .
He need not fear the sword , for his coat is of proof .
But methinks he should stand in fear of fire , being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep .
Be brave , then ; for your captain is brave , and vows reformation . There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny ; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small beer . All the realm shall be in common , and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass . And when I am king ,as king I will be ,
God save your majesty !
I thank you , good people : there shall be no money ; all shall eat and drink on my score , and I will apparel them all in one livery , that they may agree like brothers , and worship me their lord .
The first thing we do , let's kill all the lawyers .
Nay , that I mean to do . Is not this a lamentable thing , that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment ? that parchment , being scribbled o'er , should undo a man ? Some say the bee stings ; but I say , 'tis the bee's wax , for I did but seal once to a thing , and I was never mine own man since . How now ! who's there ?
The clerk of Chatham : he can write and read and cast accompt .
O monstrous !
We took him setting of boys' copies .
Here's a villain !
Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't .
Nay , then he is a conjurer .
Nay , he can make obligations , and write court-hand .
I am sorry for't : the man is a proper man , of mine honour ; unless I find him guilty , he shall not die . Come hither , sirrah , I must examine thee . What is thy name ?
Emmanuel .
They use to write it on the top of letters . 'Twill go hard with you .
Let me alone . Dost thou use to write thy name , or hast thou a mark to thyself , like an honest plain-dealing man ?
Sir , I thank God , I have been so well brought up , that I can write my name .
He hath confessed : away with him ! he's a villain and a traitor .
Away with him ! I say : hang him with his pen and ink-horn about his neck .
Where's our general ?
Here I am , thou particular fellow .
Fly , fly , fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by , with the king's forces .
Stand , villain , stand , or I'll fell thee down . He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself : he is but a knight , is a' ?
To equal him , I will make myself a knight presently .
Rise up Sir John Mortimer . [Rises .] Now have at him .
Rebellious hinds , the filth and scum of Kent ,
Mark'd for the gallows , lay your weapons down ;
Home to your cottages , forsake this groom :
The king is merciful , if you revolt .
But angry , wrathful , and inclin'd to blood ,
If you go forward : therefore yield , or die .
As for these silken-coated slaves , I pass not :
It is to you , good people , that I speak ,
O'er whom , in time to come I hope to reign ;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown .
Villain ! thy father was a plasterer ;
And thou thyself a shearman , art thou not ?
And Adam was a gardener .
And what of that ?
Marry , this : Edmund Mortimer , Earl of March ,
Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter , did he not ?
Ay , sir .
By her he had two children at one birth .
That's false .
Ay , there's the question ; but I say , 'tis true :
The elder of them , being put to nurse ,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ;
And , ignorant of his birth and parentage ,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age :
His son am I ; deny it if you can .
Nay , 'tis too true ; therefore he shall be king .
Sir , he made a chimney in my father's house , and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it ; therefore deny it not .
And will you credit this base drudge's words ,
That speaks he knows not what ?
Ay , marry , will we ; therefore get ye gone .
Jack Cade , the Duke of York hath taught you this .
He lies , for I invented it myself . Go to , sirrah ; tell the king from me , that , for his father's sake , Henry the Fifth , in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns , I am content he shall reign ; but I'll be protector over him .
And furthermore , we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling the dukedom of Maine .
And good reason ; for thereby is England mained , and fain to go with a staff , but that my puissance holds it up . Fellow kings , I tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth , and made it a eunuch ; and more than that , he can speak French ; and therefore he is a traitor .
O gross and miserable ignorance !
Nay , answer , if you can : the Frenchmen are our enemies ; go to then , I ask but this , can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor , or no ?
No , no ; and therefore we'll have his head .
Well , seeing gentle words will not prevail ,
Assail them with the army of the king .
Herald , away ; and throughout every town 
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ;
That those which fly before the battle ends 
May , even in their wives' and children's sight ,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors :
And you , that be the king's friends , follow me .
And you , that love the commons , follow me .
Now show yourselves men ; 'tis for liberty .
We will not leave one lord , one gentleman :
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon ,
For they are thrifty honest men , and such 
As would , but that they dare not take our parts .
They are all in order , and march toward us .
But then are we in order when we are most out of order . Come , march ! forward !
Where's Dick , the butcher of Ashford ?
Here , sir .
They fell before thee like sheep and oxen , and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house : therefore thus will I reward thee , the Lent shall be as long again as it is ; and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking one .
I desire no more .
And , to speak truth , thou deservest no less . This monument of the victory will I bear ;
and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels , till I do come to London , where we will have the Mayor's sword borne before us .
If we mean to thrive and do good , break open the gaols and let out the prisoners .
Fear not that , I warrant thee . Come ; let's march towards London .
Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind ,
And makes it fearful and degenerate ;
Think therefore on revenge , and cease to weep .
But who can cease to weep and look on this ?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast ;
But where's the body that I should embrace ?
What answer makes your Grace to the rebels' supplication ?
I'll send some holy bishop to entreat ;
For God forbid so many simple souls 
Should perish by the sword ! And I myself ,
Rather than bloody war shall cut them short ,
Will parley with Jack Cade their general .
But stay , I'll read it over once again .
Ah , barbarous villains ! hath this lovely face 
Rul'd like a wandering planet over me ,
And could it not enforce them to relent ,
That were unworthy to behold the same ?
Lord Say , Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head .
Ay , but I hope your highness shall have his .
How now , madam !
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death ?
I fear me , love , if that I had been dead ,
Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me .
No , my love ; I should not mourn , but die for thee .
How now ! what news ? why com'st thou in such haste ?
The rebels are in Southwark ; fly , my lord !
Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer ,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house ,
And calls your Grace usurper openly ,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster .
His army is a ragged multitude 
Of hinds and peasants , rude and merciless :
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death 
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed .
All scholars , lawyers , courtiers , gentlemen ,
They call false caterpillars , and intend their death .
O graceless men ! they know not what they do .
My gracious lord , retire to Killingworth ,
Until a power be rais'd to put them down .
Ah ! were the Duke of Suffolk now alive ,
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd .
Lord Say , the traitors hate thee ,
Therefore away with us to Killingworth .
So might your Grace's person be in danger .
The sight of me is odious in their eyes ;
And therefore in this city will I stay ,
And live alone as secret as I may .
Jack Cade hath gotten London bridge ;
The citizens fly and forsake their houses ;
The rascal people , thirsting after prey ,
Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear 
To spoil the city and your royal court .
Then linger not , my lord ; away ! take horse .
Come , Margaret ; God , our hope , will succour us .
My hope is gone , now Suffolk is deceas'd .
Farewell , my lord : trust not the Kentish rebels .
Trust nobody , for fear you be betray'd .
The trust I have is in mine innocence ,
And therefore am I bold and resolute .
How now ! is Jack Cade slain ?
No , my lord , nor likely to be slain ; for they have won the bridge , killing all those that withstand them . The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the Tower , to defend the city from the rebels .
Such aid as I can spare you shall command ;
But I am troubled here with them myself ;
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower .
But get you to Smithfield and gather head ,
And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe :
Fight for your king , your country , and your lives ;
And so , farewell , for I must hence again .
Now is Mortimer lord of this city . And here , sitting upon London-stone , I charge and command that , of the city's cost , the pissing-conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign . And now , henceforward , it shall be treason for any that calls me other than Lord Mortimer .
Jack Cade ! Jack Cade !
Knock him down there .
If this fellow be wise , he'll never call you Jack Cade more : I think he hath a very fair warning .
My lord , there's an army gathered together in Smithfield .
Come then , let's go fight with them . But first , go and set London-bridge on fire , and , if you can , burn down the Tower too . Come , let's away .
So , sirs :Now go some and pull down the Savoy ; others to the inns of court : down with them all .
I have a suit unto your lordship .
Be it a lordship , thou shalt have it for that word .
Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth .
Mass , 'twill be sore law then ; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear , and 'tis not whole yet .
Nay , John , it will be stinking law ; for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese .
I have thought upon it ; it shall be so . Away ! burn all the records of the realm : my mouth shall be the parliament of England .
Then we are like to have biting statutes , unless his teeth be pulled out .
And henceforward all things shall be in common .
My lord , a prize , a prize ! here's the Lord Say , which sold the towns in France ; he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens , and one shilling to the pound , the last subsidy .
Well , he shall be beheaded for it ten times . Ah ! thou say , thou serge , nay , thou buckram lord ; now art thou within pointblank of our jurisdiction regal . What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Monsieur Basimecu , the Dauphin of France ? Be it known unto thee by these presence , even the presence of Lord Mortimer , that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art . Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar-school ; and whereas , before , our fore-fathers had no other books but the score and the tally , thou hast caused printing to be used ; and , contrary to the king , his crown , and dignity , thou hast built a paper-mill . It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb , and such abominable words as no Christian car can endure to hear . Thou hast appointed justices of peace , to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer . Moreover , thou hast put them in prison ; and because they could not read , thou hast hanged them ; when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live . Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth , dost thou not ?
What of that ?
Marry , thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak , when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets .
And work in their shirt too ; as myself , for example , that am a butcher .
You men of Kent ,
What say you of Kent ?
Nothing but this : 'tis bona terra , mala gens .
Away with him ! away with him ! he speaks Latin .
Hear me but speak , and bear me where you will .
Kent , in the Commentaries C sar writ ,
Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle :
Sweet is the country , because full of riches ;
The people liberal , valiant , active , wealthy ;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity .
I sold not Maine , I lost not Normandy ;
Yet , to recover them , would lose my life .
Justice with favour have I always done ;
Prayers and tears have mov'd me , gifts could never .
When have I aught exacted at your hands ,
But to maintain the king , the realm , and you ?
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks ,
Because my book preferr'd me to the king ,
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God ,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven ,
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits ,
You cannot but forbear to murder me :
This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings 
For your behoof ,
Tut ! when struck'st thou one blow in the field ?
Great men have reaching hands : oft have I struck 
Those that I never saw , and struck them dead .
O monstrous coward ! what , to come behind folks !
These cheeks are pale for watching for your good .
Give him a box o' the ear , and that will make 'em red again .
Long sitting , to determine poor men's causes ,
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases .
Ye shall have a hempen caudle then , and the help of hatchet .
Why dost thou quiver , man ?.
The palsy , and not fear , provokes me .
Nay , he nods at us ; as who should say , I'll be even with you : I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole , or no . Take him away and behead him .
Tell me wherein have I offended most ?
Have I affected wealth , or honour ? speak .
Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold ?
Whom have I injur'd , that ye seek my death ?
These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding ,
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts .
O ! let me live .
I feel remorse in myself with his words ; but I'll bridle it : he shall die , an it be but for pleading so well for his life . Away with him ! he has a familiar under his tongue ; he speaks not o' God's name . Go , take him away , I say , and strike off his head presently ; and then break into his son-in-law's house , Sir James Cromer , and strike off his head , and bring them both upon two poles hither .
It shall be done .
Ah , countrymen ! if when you make your prayers ,
God should be so obdurate as yourselves ,
How would it fare with your departed souls ?
And therefore yet relent , and save my life .
Away with him ! and do as I command ye .
The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders , unless he pay me tribute ; there shall not a maid be married , but she shall pay to me her maidenhead , ere they have it ; men shall hold of me in capite ; and we charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell .
My lord , when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills ?
Marry , presently .
O ! brave !
But is not this braver ? Let them kiss one another , for they loved well when they were alive . Now part them again , lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France . Soldiers , defer the spoil of the city until night : for with these borne before us , instead of maces , will we ride through the streets ; and at every corner have them kiss . Away !
Up Fish Street ! down St . Magnus' corner ! kill and knock down ! throw them into Thames ! [A parley sounded , then a retreat .] What noise is this I hear ? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley , when I command them kill ?
Ay , here they be that dare and will disturb thee .
Know , Cade , we come ambassadors from the king 
Unto the commons whom thou hast misled ;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all 
That will forsake thee and go home in peace .
What say ye , countrymen ? will ye relent ,
And yield to mercy , whilst 'tis offer'd you ,
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths ?
Who loves the king , and will embrace his pardon ,
Fling up his cap , and say 'God save his majesty !' 
Who hateth him , and honours not his father ,
Henry the Fifth , that made all France to quake ,
Shake he his weapon at us , and pass by .
God save the king ! God save the king !
What ! Buckingham and Clifford , are ye so brave ? And you , base peasants , do ye believe him ? will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks ? Hath my sword therefore broke through London Gates , that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark ? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom ; but you are all recreants and dastards , and delight to live in slavery to the nobility . Let them break your backs with burdens , take your houses over your heads , ravish your wives and daughters before your faces : for me , I will make shift for one , and so , God's curse light upon you all !
We'll follow Cade , we'll follow Cade !
Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth ,
That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him ?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France ,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes ?
Alas ! he hath no home , no place to fly to ;
Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil ,
Unless by robbing of your friends and us .
Were't not a shame , that whilst you live at jar ,
The fearful French , whom you late vanquished ,
Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you ?
Methinks already in this civil broil 
I see them lording it in London streets ,
Crying Villiago ! unto all they meet .
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry ,
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy .
To France , to France ! and get what you have lost ;
Spare England , for it is your native coast .
Henry hath money , you are strong and manly ;
God on our side , doubt not of victory .
A Clifford ! a Clifford ! we'll follow the king and Clifford .
Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude ? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to a hundred mischiefs , and makes them leave me desolate . I see them lay their heads together to surprise me . My sword make way for me , for here is no staying . In despite of the devils and hell , have through the very middest of you ! and heavens and honour be witness , that no want of resolution in me , but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons , makes me betake me to my heels .
What , is he fled ? go some , and follow him ;
And he that brings his head unto the king 
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward .
Follow me , soldiers : we'll devise a mean 
To reconcile you all unto the king .
Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne ,
And could command no more content than I ?
No sooner was I crept out of my cradle 
But I was made a king at nine months old :
Was never subject long'd to be a king 
As I do long and wish to be a subject .
Health , and glad tidings , to your majesty !
Why , Buckingham , is the traitor Cade surpris'd ?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong ?
He's fled , my lord , and all his powers do yield ;
And humbly thus , with halters on their necks ,
Expect your highness' doom , of life , or death .
Then , heaven , set ope thy everlasting gates ,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise !
Soldiers , this day have you redeem'd your lives ,
And show'd how well you love your prince and country :
Continue still in this so good a mind ,
And Henry , though he be infortunate ,
Assure yourselves , will never be unkind :
And so , with thanks and pardon to you all ,
I do dismiss you to your several countries .
God save the king ! God save the king !
Please it your Grace to be advertised ,
The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland ;
And with a puissant and a mighty power 
Of Gallowglasses , and stout kerns ,
Is marching hitherward in proud array ;
And still proclaimeth , as he comes along ,
His arms are only to remove from thee 
The Duke of Somerset , whom he terms a traitor .
Thus stands my state , 'twixt Cade and York distress'd ;
Like to a ship , that , having scap'd a tempest ,
Is straight way calm'd , and boarded with a pirate .
But now is Cade driven back , his men dispers'd ;
And now is York in arms to second him .
I pray thee , Buckingham , go and meet him ,
And ask him what's the reason of these arms .
Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower ;
And , Somerset , we will commit thee thither ,
Until his army be dismiss'd from him .
My lord ,
I'll yield myself to prison willingly ,
Or unto death , to do my country good .
In any case , be not too rough in terms ;
For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language .
I will , my lord ; and doubt not so to deal 
As all things shall redound unto your good .
Come , wife , let's in , and learn to govern better ;
For yet may England curse my wretched reign .
Fie on ambition ! fie on myself , that have a sword , and yet am ready to famish ! These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out , for all the country is laid for me ; but now I am so hungry , that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years I could stay no longer . Wherefore , on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden , to see if I can eat grass , or pick a sallet another while , which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather . And I think this word 'sallet' was born to do me good : for many a time , but for a sallet , my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill ; and many a time , when I have been dry , and bravely marching , it hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in ; and now the word 'sallet' must serve me to feed on .
Lord ! who would live turmoiled in the court ,
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ?
This small inheritance my father left me 
Contenteth me , and worth a monarchy .
I seek not to wax great by others' waning ,
Or gather wealth I care not with what envy :
Sufficeth that I have maintains my state ,
And sends the poor well pleased from my gate .
Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray , for entering his fee-simple without leave . Ah , villain ! thou wilt betray me , and get a thousand crowns of the king by carrying my head to him ; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich , and swallow my sword like a great pin , ere thou and I part .
Why , rude companion , whatsoe'er thou be ,
I know thee not ; why then should I betray thee ?
Is't not enough to break into my garden ,
And like a thief to come to rob my grounds ,
Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner ,
But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ?
Brave thee ! ay , by the best blood that ever was broached , and beard thee too . Look on me well : I have eat no meat these five days ; yet , come thou and thy five men , and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail , I pray God I may never eat grass more .
Nay , it shall ne'er be said , while England stands ,
That Alexander Iden , an esquire of Kent ,
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man .
Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine ,
See if thou canst out-face me with thy looks :
Set limb to limb , and thou art far the lesser ;
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ;
Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon ;
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast ;
And if mine arm be heaved in the air 
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth .
As for more words , whose greatness answers words ,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears .
By my valour , the most complete champion that ever I heard ! Steel , if thou turn the edge , or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath , I beseech Jove on my knees , thou mayst be turned to hobnails .
O , I am slain ! Famine and no other hath slain me : let ten thousand devils come against me , and give me but the ten meals I have lost , and I'll defy them all . Wither , garden ; and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house , because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled .
Is't Cade that I have slain , that monstrous traitor ?
Sword , I will hallow thee for this thy deed ,
And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead :
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point ,
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat ,
To emblaze the honour that thy master got .
Iden , farewell ; and be proud of thy victory . Tell Kent from me , she hath lost her best man , and exhort all the world to be cowards ; for I , that never feared any , am vanquished by famine , not by valour .
How much thou wrong'st me , heaven be my judge .
Die , damned wretch , the curse of her that bare thee !
And as I thrust thy body in with my sword ,
So wish I I might thrust thy soul to hell .
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels 
Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave ,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head ;
Which I will bear in triumph to the king ,
Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon .
From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right ,
And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head :
Ring , bells , aloud ; burn , bonfires , clear and bright ,
To entertain great England's lawful king .
Ah sancta majestas , who would not buy thee dear ?
Let them obey that know not how to rule ;
This hand was made to handle nought but gold :
I cannot give due action to my words ,
Except a sword , or sceptre balance it .
A sceptre shall it have , have I-a soul ,
On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France .
Whom have we here ? Buckingham , to disturb me ?
The king hath sent him , sure : I must dissemble .
York , if thou meanest well , I greet thee well .
Humphrey of Buckingham , I accept thy greeting .
Art thou a messenger , or come of pleasure ?
A messenger from Henry , our dread hege ,
To know the reason of these arms in peace ;
Or why thou ,being a subject as I am ,
Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn ,
Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave ,
Or dare to bring thy force so near the court .
Scarce can I speak , my choler is so great :
O ! I could hew up rocks and fight with flint ,
I am so angry at these abject terms ;
And now , like Ajax Telamonius ,
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury .
I am far better born than is the king ,
More like a king , more kingly in my thoughts ;
But I must make fair weather yet awhile ,
Till Henry be more weak , and I more strong .
Buckingham , I prithee , pardon me ,
That I have given no answer all this while ;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy .
The cause why I have brought this army hither 
Is to remove proud Somerset from the king ,
Seditious to his Grace and to the state .
That is too much presumption on thy part :
But if thy arms be to no other end ,
The king hath yielded unto thy demand :
The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower .
Upon thine honour , is he a prisoner ?
Upon mine honour , he is a prisoner .
Then , Buckingham , I do dismiss my powers .
Soldiers , I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ;
Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field ,
You shall have pay , and everything you wish ,
And let my sov'reign , virtuous Henry ,
Command my eldest son , nay , all my sons ,
As pledges of my fealty and love ;
I'll send them all as willing as I live :
Lands , goods , horse , armour , anything I have 
Is his to use , so Somerset may die .
York , I commend this kind submission :
We twain will go into his highness' tent .
Buckingham , doth York intend no harm to us ,
That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm ?
In all submission and humility 
York doth present himself unto your highness .
Then what intend these forces thou dost bring ?
To heave the traitor Somerset from hence ,
And fight against that monstrous rebel , Cade ,
Who since I heard to be discomfited .
If one so rude and of so mean condition 
May pass into the presence of a king ,
Lo ! I present your Grace a traitor's head ,
The head of Cade , whom I in combat slew .
The head of Cade ! Great God , how just art thou !
O ! let me view his visage , being dead ,
That living wrought me such exceeding trouble .
Tell me , my friend , art thou the man that slew him ?
I was , an't like your majesty .
How art thou call'd , and what is thy degree ?
Alexander Iden , that's my name ;
A poor esquire of Kent , that loves his king .
So please it you , my lord , 'twere not amiss 
He were created knight for his good service .
Iden , kneel down .
Rise up a knight .
We give thee for reward a thousand marks ;
And will , that thou henceforth attend on us .
May Iden live to merit such a bounty ,
And never live but true unto his liege !
See ! Buckingham ! Somerset comes with the queen :
Go , bid her hide him quickly from the duke .
For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head ,
But boldly stand and front him to his face .
How now ! is Somerset at liberty ?
Then , York , unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts 
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart .
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ?
False king ! why hast thou broken faith with me ,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse ?
King did I call thee ? no , thou art not king ;
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes ,
Which dar'st not , no , nor canst not rule a traitor .
That head of thine doth not become a crown ;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff ,
And not to grace an awful princely sceptre .
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine ,
Whose smile and frown , like to Achilles' spear ,
Is able with the change to kill and cure .
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up ,
And with the same to act controlling laws .
Give place : by heaven , thou shalt rule no more 
O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler .
O monstrous traitor :I arrest thee , York ,
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown .
Obey , audacious traitor ; kneel for grace .
Wouldst have me kneel ? first let me ask of these 
If they can brook I bow a knee to man .
Sirrah , call in my sons to be my bail :
I know ere they will have me go to ward ,
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement .
Call hither Clifford ; bid him come amain ,
To say if that the bastard boys of York 
Shall be the surety for their traitor father .
O blood-bespotted Neapolitan ,
Outcast of Naples , England's bloody scourge !
The sons of York , thy betters in their birth ,
Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those 
That for my surety will refuse the boys !
See where they come : I'll warrant they'll make it good .
And here comes Clifford , to deny their bail .
Health and all happiness to my lord the king !
I thank thee , Clifford : say , what news with thee ?
Nay , do not fright us with an angry look :
We are thy sov'reign , Clifford , kneel again ;
For thy mistaking so , we pardon thee .
This is my king , York , I do not mistake ;
But thou mistak'st me much to think I do .
To Bedlam with him ! is the man grown mad ?
Ay , Clifford ; a bedlam and ambitious humour 
Makes him oppose himself against his king .
He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower ,
And chop away that factious pate of his .
He is arrested , but will not obey :
His sons , he says , shall give their words for him .
Will you not , sons ?
Ay , noble father , if our words will serve .
And if words will not , then our weapons shall .
Why , what a brood of traitors have we here !
Look in a glass , and call thy image so :
I am thy king , and thou a false-heart traitor .
Call hither to the stake my two brave bears ,
That with the very shaking of their chains 
They may astonish these fell-lurking curs :
Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me .
Are these thy bears ? we'll bait thy bears to death ,
And manacle the bear-ward in their chains ,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place .
Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur 
Run back and bite , because he was withheld ;
Who , being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw ,
Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs , and cried :
And such a piece of service will you do ,
If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick .
Hence , heap of wrath , foul indigested lump ,
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape !
Nay , we shall heat you thoroughly anon .
Take heed , lest by your heat you burn yourselves .
Why , Warwick , hath thy knee forgot to bow ?
Old Salisbury , shame to thy silver hair ,
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son !
What ! wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian ,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ?
O ! where is faith ? O , where is loyalty ?
If it be banish'd from the frosty head ,
Where shall it find a harbour in the earth ?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war ,
And shame thine honourable age with blood ?
Why art thou old , and want'st experience ?
Or wherefore dost abuse it , if thou hast it ?
For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me ,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age .
My lord , I have consider'd with myself 
The title of this most renowned duke ;
And in my conscience do repute his Grace 
The rightful heir to England's royal seat .
Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me ?
I have .
Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath ?
It is great sin to swear unto a sin ,
But greater sin to keep a sinful oath .
Who can be bound by any solemn vow 
To do a murderous deed , to rob a man ,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity ,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony ,
To wring the widow from her custom'd right ,
And have no other reason for this wrong 
But that he was bound by a solemn oath ?
A subtle traitor needs no sophister .
Call Buckingham , and bid him arm himself .
Call Buckingham , and all the friends thou hast ,
I am resolv'd for death , or dignity .
The first I warrant thee , if dreams prove true .
You were best to go to bed and dream again ,
To keep thee from the tempest of the field .
I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm 
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day ;
And that I'll write upon thy burgonet ,
Might I but know thee by thy household badge .
Now , by my father's badge , old Nevil's crest ,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff ,
This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet ,
As on a mountain-top the cedar shows ,
That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm ,
Even to affright thee with the view thereof .
And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear ,
And tread it underfoot with all contempt ,
Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear .
And so to arms , victorious father ,
To quell the rebels and their complices .
Fie ! charity ! for shame ! speak not in spite ,
For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night .
Foul stigmatic , that's more than thou canst tell .
If not in heaven , you'll surely sup in hell .
Clifford of Cumberland , 'tis Warwick calls :
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear ,
Now , when the angry trumpet sounds alarm ,
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air ,
Clifford , I say , come forth , and fight with me !
Proud northern lord , Clifford of Cumberland ,
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms .
How now , my noble lord ! what ! all afoot ?
The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed ;
But match to match I have encounter'd him ,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 
Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well .
Of one or both of us the time is come .
Hold , Warwick ! seek thee out some other chase ,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death .
Then , nobly , York ; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st .
As I intend , Clifford , to thrive to-day ,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd .
What seest thou in me , York ? why dost thou pause ?
With thy brave bearing should I be in love ,
But that thou art so fast mine enemy .
Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem ,
But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason .
So let it help me now against thy sword 
As I in justice and true right express it .
My soul and body on the action both !
A dreadful lay ! address thee instantly .
La fin couronne les  uvres .
Thus war hath given thee peace , for thou art still .
Peace with his soul , heaven , if it be thy will !
Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout :
Fear frames disorder , and disorder wounds 
Where it should guard . O war ! thou son of hell ,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister ,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part 
Hot coals of vengeance ! Let no soldier fly :
He that is truly dedicate to war 
Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself 
Hath not essentially , but by circumstance ,
The name of valour .
O ! let the vile world end ,
And the premised flames of the last day 
Knit heaven and earth together ;
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast ,
Particularities and petty sounds 
To cease !Wast thou ordain'd , dear father ,
To lose thy youth in peace , and to achieve 
The silver livery of advised age ,
And , in thy reverence and thy chair-days thus 
To die in ruffian battle ? Even at this sight 
My heart is turn'd to stone : and while 'tis mine 
It shall be stony . York not our old men spares :
No more will I their babes : tears virginal 
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ;
And beauty , that the tyrant oft reclaims ,
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax .
Henceforth I will not have to do with pity :
Meet I an infant of the house of York ,
Into as many gobbets will I cut it 
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did :
In cruelty will I seek out my fame .
Come , thou new ruin of old Clifford's house :
As did  neas old Anchises bear ,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ;
But then  neas bare a living load ,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine .
So , lie thou there ;
For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign ,
The Castle in Saint Alban's , Somerset 
Hath made the wizard famous in his death .
Sword , hold thy temper ; heart , be wrathful still :
Priests pray for enemies , but princes kill .
Away , my lord ! you are slow : for shame , away !
Can we outrun the heavens ? good Margaret , stay .
What are you made of ? you'll nor fight nor fly :
Now is it manhood , wisdom , and defence ,
To give the enemy way , and to secure us 
By what we can , which can no more but fly .
If you be ta'en , we then should see the bottom 
Of all our fortunes : but if we haply scape ,
As well we may , if not through your neglect ,
We shall to London get , where you are lov'd ,
And where this breach now in our fortunes made 
May readily be stopp'd .
But that my heart's on future mischief set ,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly ;
But fly you must : uncurable discomfit 
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts .
Away , for your relief ! and we will live 
To see their day and them our fortune give .
Away , my lord , away !
Of Salisbury , who can report of him ;
That winter lion , who in rage forgets 
Aged contusions and all brush of time ,
And , like a gallant in the brow of youth ,
Repairs him with occasion ? this happy day 
Is not itself , nor have we won one foot ,
If Salisbury be lost .
My noble father ,
Three times to-day I holp him to his horse ,
Three times bestrid him ; thrice I led him off ,
Persuaded him from any further act :
But still , where danger was , still there I met him ;
And like rich hangings in a homely house ,
So was his will in his old feeble body .
But , noble as he is , look where he comes .
Now , by my sword , well hast thou fought to-day ;
By the mass , so did we all . I thank you , Richard :
God knows how long it is I have to live ;
And it hath pleas'd him that three times to-day 
You have defended me from imminent death .
Well , lords , we have not got that which we have :
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled ,
Being opposites of such repairing nature .
I know our safety is to follow them ;
For , as I hear , the king is fled to London ,
To call a present court of parliament :
Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth :
What says Lord Warwick ? shall we after them ?
After them ! nay , before them , if we can .
Now , by my hand , lords , 'twas a glorious day :
Saint Alban's battle , won by famous York ,
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come .
Sound , drums and trumpets , and to London all :
And more such days as these to us befall !
THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI
I wonder how the king escap'd our hands .
While we pursu'd the horsemen of the north ,
He slily stole away and left his men :
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland ,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat ,
Cheer'd up the drooping army ; and himself ,
Lord Clifford , and Lord Stafford , all abreast ,
Charg'd our main battle's front , and breaking in 
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain .
Lord Stafford's father , Duke of Buckingham ,
Is either slain or wounded dangerously ;
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow :
That this is true , father , behold his blood .
And , brother , here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood ,
Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd .
Speak thou for me , and tell them what I did .
Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons .
But , is your Grace dead , my Lord of Somerset ?
Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt !
Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head .
And so do I . Victorious Prince of York ,
Before I see thee seated in that throne 
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps ,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close .
This is the palace of the fearful king ,
And this the regal seat : possess it , York ;
For this is thine , and not King Henry's heirs' .
Assist me , then , sweet Warwick , and I will ;
For hither we have broken in by force .
We'll all assist you ; he that flies shall die .
Thanks , gentle Norfolk . Stay by me , my lords ;
And , soldiers , stay and lodge by me this night .
And when the king comes , offer him no violence ,
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce .
The queen this day here holds her parliament ,
But little thinks we shall be of her council :
By words or blows here let us win our right .
Arm'd as we are , let's stay within this house .
The bloody parliament shall this be call'd ,
Unless Plantagenet , Duke of York , be king ,
And bashful Henry depos'd , whose cowardice 
Hath made us by-words to our enemies .
Then leave me not , my lords ; be resolute ;
I mean to take possession of my right .
Neither the king , nor he that loves him best ,
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster ,
Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells .
I'll plant Plantagenet , root him up who dares .
Resolve thee , Richard ; claim the English crown .
My lords , look where the sturdy rebel sits ,
Even in the chair of state ! belike he means 
Back'd by the power of Warwick , that false peer 
To aspire unto the crown and reign as king .
Earl of Northumberland , he slew thy father ,
And thine , Lord Clifford ; and you both have vow'd revenge 
On him , his sons , his favourites , and his friends .
If I be not , heavens be reveng'd on me !
The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel .
What ! shall we suffer this ? let's pluck him down :
My heart for anger burns ; I cannot brook it .
Be patient , gentle Earl of Westmoreland .
Patience is for poltroons , such as he :
He durst not sit there had your father liv'd .
My gracious lord , here in the parliament 
Let us assail the family of York .
Well hast thou spoken , cousin : be it so .
Ah ! know you not the city favours them ,
And they have troops of soldiers at their beck ?
But when the duke is slain they'll quickly fly .
Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart ,
To make a shambles of the parliament-house !
Cousin of Exeter , frowns , words , and threats ,
Shall be the war that Henry means to use .
Thou factious Duke of York , descend my throne ,
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet ;
I am thy sovereign .
I am thine .
For shame ! come down : he made thee Duke of York .
'Twas my inheritance , as the earldom was .
Thy father was a traitor to the crown .
Exeter , thou art a traitor to the crown 
In following this usurping Henry .
Whom should he follow but his natural king ?
True , Clifford ; and that's Richard , Duke of York .
And shall I stand , and thou sit in my throne ?
It must and shall be so : content thyself .
Be Duke of Lancaster : let him be king .
He is both king and Duke of Lancaster ;
And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain .
And Warwick shall disprove it . You forget 
That we are those which chas'd you from the field 
And slew your fathers , and with colours spread 
March'd through the city to the palace gates .
Yes , Warwick , I remember it to my grief ;
And , by his soul , thou and thy house shall rue it .
Plantagenet , of thee , and these thy sons ,
Thy kinsmen and thy friends , I'll have more lives 
Than drops of blood were in my father's veins .
Urge it no more ; lest that instead of words ,
I send thee , Warwick , such a messenger 
As shall revenge his death before I stir .
Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worthless threats .
Will you we show our title to the crown ?
If not , our swords shall plead it in the field .
What title hast thou , traitor , to the crown ?
Thy father was , as thou art , Duke of York ;
Thy grandfather , Roger Mortimer , Earl of March ;
I am the son of Henry the Fifth ,
Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop ,
And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces .
Talk not of France , sith thou hast lost it all .
The Lord Protector lost it , and not I :
When I was crown'd I was but nine months old .
You are old enough now , and yet , methinks , you lose .
Father , tear the crown from the usurper's head .
Sweet father , do so ; set it on your head .
Good brother , as thou lov'st and honour'st arms ,
Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus .
Sound drums and trumpets , and the king will fly .
Sons , peace !
Peace thou ! and give King Henry leave to speak .
Plantagenet shall speak first : hear him , lords ;
And be you silent and attentive too ,
For he that interrupts him shall not live .
Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne ,
Wherein my grandsire and my father sat ?
No : first shall war unpeople this my realm ;
Ay , and their colours , often borne in France ,
And now in England to our heart's great sorrow ,
Shall be my winding-sheet . Why faint you , lords ?
My title's good , and better far than his .
Prove it , Henry , and thou shalt be king .
Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown .
'Twas by rebellion against his king .
I know not what to say : my title's weak .
Tell me , may not a king adopt an heir ?
What then ?
An if he may , then am I lawful king ;
For Richard , in the view of many lords ,
Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth ,
Whose heir my father was , and I am his .
He rose against him , being his sovereign ,
And made him to resign his crown perforce .
Suppose , my lords , he did it unconstrain'd ,
Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown ?
No ; for he could not so resign his crown 
But that the next heir should succeed and reign .
Art thou against us , Duke of Exeter ?
His is the right , and therefore pardon me .
Why whisper you , my lords , and answer not ?
My conscience tells me he is lawful king .
All will revolt from me , and turn to him .
Plantagenet , for all the claim thou lay'st ,
Think not that Henry shall be so depos'd .
Depos'd he shall be in despite of all .
Thou art deceiv'd : 'tis not thy southern power ,
Of Essex , Norfolk , Suffolk , nor of Kent ,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud ,
Can set the duke up in despite of me .
King Henry , be thy title right or wrong ,
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence :
May that ground gape and swallow me alive ,
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father !
O Clifford , how thy words revive my heart !
Henry of Lancaster , resign thy crown .
What mutter you , or what conspire you , lords ?
Do right unto this princely Duke of York ,
Or I will fill the house with armed men ,
And o'er the chair of state , where now he sits ,
Write up his title with usurping blood .
My Lord of Warwick , hear me but one word :
Let me for this my life-time reign as king .
Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs ,
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st .
I am content : Richard Plantagenet ,
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease .
What wrong is this unto the prince your son !
What good is this to England and himself !
Base , fearful , and despairing Henry !
How hast thou injur'd both thyself and us !
I cannot stay to hear these articles .
Nor I .
Come , cousin , let us tell the queen these news .
Farewell , faint-hearted and degenerate king ,
In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides .
Be thou a prey unto the house of York ,
And die in bands for this unmanly deed !
In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome ,
Or live in peace abandon'd and despis'd !
Turn this way , Henry , and regard them not .
They seek revenge and therefore will not yield .
Ah ! Exeter .
Why should you sigh , my lord ?
Not for myself , Lord Warwick , but my son ,
Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit .
But be it as it may ; I here entail 
The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever ;
Conditionally , that here thou take an oath 
To cease this civil war , and , whilst I live ,
To honour me as thy king and sovereign ;
And neither by treason nor hostility 
To seek to put me down and reign thyself .
This oath I willingly take and will perform .
Long live King Henry ! Plantagenet , embrace him .
And long live thou and these thy forward sons !
Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd .
Accurs'd be he that seeks to make them foes !
Farewell , my gracious lord ; I'll to my castle .
And I'll keep London with my soldiers .
And I to Norfolk with my followers .
And I unto the sea from whence I came .
And I , with grief and sorrow , to the court .
Here comes the queen , whose looks bewray her anger :
I'll steal away .
Exeter , so will I .
Nay , go not from me ; I will follow thee .
Be patient , gentle queen , and I will stay .
Who can be patient in such extremes ?
Ah ! wretched man ; would I had died a maid ,
And never seen thee , never borne thee son ,
Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father .
Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ?
Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I ,
Or felt that pain which I did for him once ,
Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood ,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there ,
Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir ,
And disinherited thine only son .
Father , you cannot disinherit me :
If you be king , why should not I succeed ?
Pardon me , Margaret ; pardon me , sweet son ;
The Earl of Warwick , and the duke , enforc'd me .
Enforc'd thee ! art thou king , and wilt be forc'd ?
I shame to hear thee speak . Ah ! timorous wretch ;
Thou hast undone thyself , thy son , and me ;
And given unto the house of York such head 
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance .
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown ,
What is it but to make thy sepulchre ,
And creep into it far before thy time ?
Warwick is chancellor and the Lord of Calais ;
Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas ;
The duke is made protector of the realm ;
And yet shalt thou be safe ? such safety finds 
The trembling lamb environed with wolves .
Had I been there , which am a silly woman ,
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes 
Before I would have granted to that act ;
But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour :
And seeing thou dost , I here divorce myself ,
Both from thy table , Henry , and thy bed ,
Until that act of parliament be repeal'd 
Whereby my son is disinherited .
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours 
Will follow mine , if once they see them spread ;
And spread they shall be , to thy foul disgrace ,
And utter ruin of the house of York .
Thus do I leave thee . Come , son , let's away ;
Our army is ready ; come , we'll after them .
Stay , gentle Margaret , and hear me speak .
Thou hast spoke too much already : get thee gone .
Gentle son Edward , thou wilt stay with me ?
Ay , to be murder'd by his enemies .
When I return with victory from the field 
I'll see your Grace : till then , I'll follow her .
Come , son , away ; we may not linger thus .
Poor queen ! how love to me and to her son 
Hath made her break out into terms of rage .
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke ,
Whose haughty spirit , winged with desire ,
Will cost my crown , and like an empty eagle 
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son !
The loss of those three lords torments my heart :
I'll write unto them , and entreat them fair .
Come , cousin ; you shall be the messenger .
And I , I hope , shall reconcile them all .
Brother , though I be youngest , give me leave .
No , I can better play the orator .
But I have reasons strong and forcible .
Why , how now , sons and brother ! at a strife ?
What is your quarrel ? how began it first ?
No quarrel , but a slight contention .
About what ?
About that which concerns your Grace and us ;
The crown of England , father , which is yours .
Mine , boy ? not till King Henry be dead .
Your right depends not on his life or death .
Now you are heir , therefore enjoy it now :
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe ,
It will outrun you , father , in the end .
I took an oath that he should quietly reign .
But for a kingdom any oath may be broken :
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year .
No ; God forbid your Grace should be forsworn .
I shall be , if I claim by open war .
I'll prove the contrary , if you'll hear me speak .
Thou canst not , son ; it is impossible .
An oath is of no moment , being not took 
Before a true and lawful magistrate 
That hath authority over him that swears :
Henry had none , but did usurp the place ;
Then , seeing 'twas he that made you to depose ,
Your oath , my lord , is vain and frivolous .
Therefore , to arms ! And , father , do but think 
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ,
Within whose circuit is Elysium ,
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy .
Why do we linger thus ? I cannot rest 
Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd 
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart .
Richard , enough , I will be king , or die .
Brother , thou shalt to London presently ,
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise .
Thou , Richard , shalt unto the Duke of Norfolk ,
And tell him privily of our intent .
You , Edward , shall unto my Lord Cobham ,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise :
In them I trust ; for they are soldiers ,
Witty , courteous , liberal , full of spirit .
While you are thus employ'd , what resteth more ,
But that I seek occasion how to rise ,
And yet the king not privy to my drift ,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster ?
But , stay : what news ? why com'st thou in such post ?
The queen with all the northern earls and lords 
Intend here to besiege you in your castle .
She is hard by with twenty thousand men ,
And therefore fortify your hold , my lord .
Ay , with my sword . What ! think'st thou that we fear them ?
Edward and Richard , you shall stay with me ;
My brother Montague shall post to London :
Let noble Warwick , Cobham , and the rest ,
Whom we have left protectors of the king ,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves ,
And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths .
Brother , I go ; I'll win them , fear it not :
And thus most humbly I do take my leave .
Sir John , and Sir Hugh Mortimer , mine uncles !
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour ;
The army of the queen mean to besiege us .
She shall not need , we'll meet her in the field .
What ! with five thousand men ?
Ay , with five hundred , father , for a need :
A woman's general ; what should we fear ?
I hear their drums ; let's set our men in order ,
And issue forth and bid them battle straight .
Five men to twenty ! though the odds be great ,
I doubt not , uncle , of our victory .
Many a battle have I won in France ,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one :
Why should I not now have the like success ?
Ah , whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands ?
Ah ! tutor , look , where bloody Clifford comes !
Chaplain , away ! thy priesthood saves thy life .
As for the brat of this accursed duke ,
Whose father slew my father , he shall die .
And I , my lord , will bear him company .
Soldiers , away with him .
Ah ! Clifford , murder not this innocent child ,
Lest thou be hated both of God and man !
How now ! is he dead already ? Or is it fear 
That makes him close his eyes ? I'll open them .
So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch 
That trembles under his devouring paws ;
And so he walks , insulting o'er his prey ,
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder .
Ah ! gentle Clifford , kill me with thy sword ,
And not with such a cruel threatening look .
Sweet Clifford ! hear me speak before I die :
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath ;
Be thou reveng'd on men , and let me live .
In vain thou speak'st , poor boy ; my father's blood 
Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter .
Then let my father's blood open it again :
He is a man , and , Clifford , cope with him .
Had I thy brethren here , their lives and thine 
Were not revenge sufficient for me ;
No , if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves ,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains ,
It could not slake mine ire , nor ease my heart .
The sight of any of the house of York 
Is as a fury to torment my soul ;
And till I root out their accursed line ,
And leave not one alive , I live in hell .
Therefore 
O ! let me pray before I take my death .
To thee I pray ; sweet Clifford , pity me !
Such pity as my rapier's point affords .
I never did thee harm : why wilt thou slay me ?
Thy father hath .
But 'twas ere I was born .
Thou hast one son ; for his sake pity me ,
Lest in revenge thereof , sith God is just ,
He be as miserably slain as I .
Ah ! let me live in prison all my days ;
And when I give occasion of offence ,
Then let me die , for now thou hast no cause .
No cause !
Thy father slew my father ; therefore , die .
Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tu !
Plantagenet ! I come , Plantagenet !
And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade 
Shall rust upon my weapon , till thy blood ,
Congeal'd with this , do make me wipe off both .
The army of the queen hath got the field :
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ;
And all my followers to the eager foe 
Turn back and fly , like ships before the wind ,
Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves .
My sons , God knows what hath bechanced them :
But this I know , they have demean'd themselves 
Like men born to renown by life or death .
Three times did Richard make a lane to me ,
And thrice cried , 'Courage , father ! fight it out !' 
And full as oft came Edward to my side ,
With purple falchion , painted to the hilt 
In blood of those that had encounter'd him :
And when the hardiest warriors did retire ,
Richard cried , 'Charge ! and give no foot of ground !' 
And cried , 'A crown , or else a glorious tomb !
A sceptre , or an earthly sepulchre !' 
With this , we charg'd again ; but , out , alas !
We bodg'd again : as I have seen a swan 
With bootless labour swim against the tide ,
And spend her strength with over-matching waves .
Ah , hark ! the fatal followers do pursue ;
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury ;
And were I strong I would not shun their fury :
The sands are number'd that make up my life ;
Here must I stay , and here my life must end .
Come , bloody Clifford , rough Northumberland ,
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage :
I am your butt , and I abide your shot .
Yield to our mercy , proud Plantagenet .
Ay , to such mercy as his ruthless arm 
With downright payment show'd unto my father .
Now Ph thon hath tumbled from his car ,
And made an evening at the noontide prick .
My ashes , as the ph nix , may bring forth 
A bird that will revenge upon you all ;
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven ,
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with .
Why come you not ? what ! multitudes , and fear ?
So cowards fight when they can fly no further ;
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons ;
So desperate thieves , all hopeless of their lives ,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers .
O Clifford ! but bethink thee once again ,
And in thy thought o'er-run my former time ;
And , if thou canst for blushing , view this face ,
And bite thy tongue , that slanders him with cowardice 
Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this .
I will not bandy with thee word for word ,
But buckle with thee blows , twice two for one .
Hold , valiant Clifford ! for a thousand causes 
I would prolong awhile the traitor's life .
Wrath makes him deaf : speak thou , Northumberland .
Hold , Clifford ! do not honour him so much 
To prick thy finger , though to wound his heart .
What valour were it , when a cur doth grin ,
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth ,
When he might spurn him with his foot away ?
It is war's prize to take all vantages ,
And ten to one is no impeach of valour .
Ay , ay ; so strives the woodcock with the gin .
So doth the cony struggle in the net .
So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty ;
So true men yield , with robbers so o'er-matched .
What would your Grace have done unto him now ?
Brave warriors , Clifford and Northumberland ,
Come , make him stand upon this molehill here ,
That raught at mountains with outstretched arms ,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand .
What ! was it you that would be England's king ?
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament ,
And made a preachment of your high descent ?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now ?
The wanton Edward , and the lusty George ?
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy ,
Dicky your boy , that with his grumbling voice 
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ?
Or , with the rest , where is your darling Rutland ?
Look , York : I stain'd this napkin with the blood 
That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point 
Made issue from the bosom of the boy ;
And if thine eyes can water for his death ,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal .
Alas , poor York ! but that I hate thee deadly ,
I should lament thy miserable state .
I prithee grieve , to make me merry , York .
What ! hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails 
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ?
Why art thou patient , man ? thou shouldst be mad ;
And I , to make thee mad , do mock thee thus .
Stamp , rave , and fret , that I may sing and dance .
Thou wouldst be fee'd , I see , to make me sport :
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown .
A crown for York ! and , lords , bow low to him :
Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on .
Ay , marry , sir , now looks he like a king !
Ay , this is he that took King Henry's chair ;
And this is he was his adopted heir .
But how is it that great Plantagenet 
Is crown'd so soon , and broke his solemn oath ?
As I bethink me , you should not be king 
Till our King Henry had shook hands with death .
And will you pale your head in Henry's glory ,
And rob his temples of the diadem ,
Now in his life , against your holy oath ?
O ! 'tis a fault too-too unpardonable .
Off with the crown ; and , with the crown , his head ;
And , whilst we breathe , take time to do him dead .
That is my office , for my father's sake .
Nay , stay ; let's hear the orisons he makes .
She-wolf of France , but worse than wolves of France ,
Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth !
How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex 
To triumph , like an Amazonian trull ,
Upon their woes whom fortune captivates !
But that thy face is , visor-like , unchanging ,
Made impudent with use of evil deeds ,
I would assay , proud queen , to make thee blush :
To tell thee whence thou cam'st , of whom deriv'd ,
Were shame enough to shame thee , wert thou not shameless .
Thy father bears the type of King of Naples ,
Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem ;
Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman .
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ?
It needs not , nor it boots thee not , proud queen ,
Unless the adage must be verified ,
That beggars mounted run their horse to death .
'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ;
But , God he knows , thy share thereof is small :
'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd ;
The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at :
'Tis government that makes them seem divine ;
The want thereof makes thee abominable .
Thou art as opposite to every good 
As the Antipodes are unto us ,
Or as the south to the septentrion .
O tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide !
How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child ,
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal ,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ?
Women are soft , mild , pitiful , and flexible ;
Thou stern , obdurate , flinty , rough , remorseless .
Bidd'st thou me rage ? why , now thou hast thy wish :
Wouldst have me weep ? why , now thou hast thy will ;
For raging wind blows up incessant showers ,
And when the rage allays , the rain begins .
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ,
And every drop cries vengeance for his death ,
'Gainst thee , fell Clifford , and thee , false Frenchwoman .
Beshrew me , but his passion moves me so 
That hardly can I check my eyes from tears .
That face of his the hungry cannibals 
Would not have touch'd , would not have stain'd with blood ;
But you are more inhuman , more inexorable ,
O ! ten times more , than tigers of Hyrcania .
See , ruthless queen , a hapless father's tears :
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy ,
And I with tears do wash the blood away .
Keep thou the napkin , and go boast of this ;
And if thou tell'st the heavy story right ,
Upon my soul , the hearers will shed tears ;
Yea , even my foes will shed fast-falling tears ,
And say , 'Alas ! it was a piteous deed !' 
There , take the crown , and , with the crown my curse ,
And in thy need such comfort come to thee 
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand !
Hard-hearted Clifford , take me from the world ;
My soul to heaven , my blood upon your heads !
Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin ,
I should not for my life but weep with him ,
To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul .
What ! weeping-ripe , my Lord Northumberland ?
Think but upon the wrong he did us all ,
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears .
Here's for my oath ; here's for my father's death .
And here's to right our gentlehearted king .
Open thy gate of mercy , gracious God !
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee .
Off with his head , and set it on York gates ;
So York may overlook the town of York .
I wonder how our princely father 'scap'd ,
Or whether he be 'scap'd away or no 
From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit .
Had he been ta'en we should have heard the news ;
Had he been slain we should have heard the news ;
Or had he 'scap'd , methinks we should have heard 
The happy tidings of his good escape .
How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ?
I cannot joy until I be resolv'd 
Where our right valiant father is become .
I saw him in the battle range about ,
And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth .
Methought he bore him in the thickest troop 
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;
Or as a bear , encompass'd round with dogs ,
Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry ,
The rest stand all aloof and bark at him .
So far'd our father with his enemies ;
So fled his enemies my war-like father :
Methinks , 'tis prize enough to be his son .
See how the morning opes her golden gates ,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ;
How well resembles it the prime of youth ,
Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love .
Dazzle mine eyes , or do I see three suns ?
Three glorious suns , each one a perfect sun ;
Not separated with the racking clouds ,
But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky .
See , see ! they join , embrace , and seem to kiss ,
As if they vow'd some league inviolable :
Now are they but one lamp , one light , one sun .
In this the heaven figures some event .
'Tis wondrous strange , the like yet never heard of .
I think it cites us , brother , to the field ;
That we , the sons of brave Plantagenet ,
Each one already blazing by our meeds ,
Should notwithstanding join our lights together ,
And over-shine the earth , as this the world .
Whate'er it bodes , henceforward will I bear 
Upon my target three fair-shining suns .
Nay , bear three daughters : by your leave I speak it ,
You love the breeder better than the male .
But what art thou , whose heavy looks foretell 
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ?
Ah ! one that was a woeful looker-on ,
When as the noble Duke of York was slain ,
Your princely father , and my loving lord .
O ! speak no more , for I have heard too much .
Say how he died , for I will hear it all .
Environed he was with many foes ,
And stood against them , as the hope of Troy 
Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy .
But Hercules himself must yield to odds ;
And many strokes , though with a little axe ,
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak .
By many hands your father was subdu'd ;
But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm 
Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen ,
Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite ;
Laugh'd in his face ; and when with grief he wept ,
The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks ,
A napkin steeped in the harmless blood 
Of sweet young Rutland , by rough Clifford slain :
And after many scorns , many foul taunts ,
They took his head , and on the gates of York 
They set the same ; and there it doth remain ,
The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd .
Sweet Duke of York ! our prop to lean upon ,
Now thou art gone , we have no staff , no stay !
O Clifford ! boist'rous Clifford ! thou hast slain 
The flower of Europe for his chivalry ;
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him ,
For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee .
Now my soul's palace is become a prison :
Ah ! would she break from hence , that this my body 
Might in the ground be closed up in rest ,
For never henceforth shall I joy again ,
Never , O ! never , shall I see more joy .
I cannot weep , for all my body's moisture 
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart :
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden ;
For self-same wind , that I should speak withal 
Is kindling coals that fire all my breast ,
And burn me up with flames , that tears would quench .
To weep is to make less the depth of grief :
Tears then , for babes ; blows and revenge for me !
Richard , I bear thy name ; I'll venge thy death ,
Or die renowned by attempting it .
His name that valiant duke hath left with thee ;
His dukedom and his chair with me is left .
Nay , if thou be that princely eagle's bird ,
Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun :
For chair and dukedom , throne and kingdom say ;
Either that is thine , or else thou wert not his .
How now , fair lords ! What fare ? what news abroad ?
Great Lord of Warwick , if we should recount 
Our baleful news , and at each word's deliv'rance 
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told ,
The words would add more anguish than the wounds .
O valiant lord ! the Duke of York is slain .
O Warwick ! Warwick ! that Plantagenet 
Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption ,
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death .
Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears ,
And now , to add more measure to your woes ,
I come to tell you things sith then befallen .
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought ,
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp ,
Tidings , as swiftly as the posts could run ,
Were brought me of your loss and his depart .
I , then in London , keeper of the king ,
Muster'd my soldiers , gather'd flocks of friends ,
And very well appointed , as I thought ,
March'd towards Saint Alban's to intercept the queen ,
Bearing the king in my behalf along ;
For by my scouts I was advertised 
That she was coming with a full intent 
To dash our late decree in parliament ,
Touching King Henry's oath and your succession .
Short tale to make , we at Saint Alban's met ,
Our battles join'd , and both sides fiercely fought :
But whether 'twas the coldness of the king ,
Who look'd full gently on his war-like queen ,
That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen ;
Or whether 'twas report of her success ;
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour ,
Who thunders to his captives blood and death ,
I cannot judge : but , to conclude with truth ,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went ;
Our soldiers' like the night-owl's lazy flight ,
Or like a lazy thresher with a flail 
Fell gently down , as if they struck their friends .
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause ,
With promise of high pay , and great rewards :
But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight ,
And we in them no hope to win the day ;
So that we fled : the king unto the queen ;
Lord George your brother , Norfolk , and myself ,
In haste , post-haste , are come to join with you ;
For in the marches here we heard you were ,
Making another head to fight again .
Where is the Duke of Norfolk , gentle Warwick ?
And when came George from Burgundy to England ?
Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers ;
And for your brother , he was lately sent 
From your kind aunt , Duchess of Burgundy ,
With aid of soldiers to this needful war .
'Twas odds , belike , when valiant Warwick fled :
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit ,
But ne'er till now his scandal of retire .
Nor now my scandal , Richard , dost thou hear ;
For thou shalt know , this strong right hand of mine 
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head ,
And wring the awful sceptre from his fist ,
Were he as famous , and as bold in war 
As he is fam'd for mildness , peace , and prayer .
I know it well , Lord Warwick ; blame me not :
'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak .
But , in this troublous time what's to be done ?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel ,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns ,
Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads ?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foes 
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms ?
If for the last , say 'Ay ,' and to it , lords .
Why , therefore Warwick came to seek you out ;
And therefore comes my brother Montague .
Attend me , lords . The proud insulting queen ,
With Clifford and the haught Northumberland ,
And of their feather many more proud birds ,
Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax .
He swore consent to your succession ,
His oath enrolled in the parliament ;
And now to London all the crew are gone ,
To frustrate both his oath and what beside 
May make against the house of Lancaster .
Their power , I think , is thirty thousand strong :
Now , if the help of Norfolk and myself ,
With all the friends that thou , brave Earl of March ,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure ,
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand ,
Why , Via ! to London will we march amain ,
And once again bestride our foaming steeds ,
And once again cry , 'Charge upon our foes !' 
But never once again turn back and fly .
Ay , now methinks I hear great Warwick speak :
Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day ,
That cries 'Retire ,' if Warwick bid him stay .
Lord Warwick , on thy shoulder will I lean ;
And when thou fail'st as God forbid the hour !
Must Edward fall , which peril heaven forfend !
No longer Earl of March , but Duke of York :
The next degree is England's royal throne ;
For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd 
In every borough as we pass along ;
And he that throws not up his cap for joy 
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head .
King Edward , valiant Richard , Montague ,
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown ,
But sound the trumpets , and about our task .
Then , Clifford , were thy heart as hard as steel ,
As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds ,
I come to pierce it , or to give thee mine .
Then strike up , drums ! God , and Saint George for us !
How now ! what news ?
The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me ,
The queen is coming with a puissant host ;
And craves your company for speedy counsel .
Why then it sorts ; brave warriors , let's away .
Welcome , my lord , to this brave town of York .
Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy ,
That sought to be encompass'd with your crown :
Doth not the object cheer your heart , my lord ?
Ay , as the rocks cheer them that fear their wrack :
To see this sight , it irks my very soul .
Withhold revenge , dear God ! 'tis not my fault ,
Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow .
My gracious liege , this too much lenity 
And harmful pity must be laid aside .
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ?
Not to the beast that would usurp their den .
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick ?
Not his that spoils her young before her face .
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting ?
Not he that sets his foot upon her back .
The smallest worm will turn being trodden on ,
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood .
Ambitious York did level at thy crown ;
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows :
He , but a duke , would have his son a king ,
And raise his issue like a loving sire ;
Thou , being a king , bless'd with a goodly son ,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him ,
Which argu'd thee a most unloving father .
Unreasonable creatures feed their young ;
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes ,
Yet , in protection of their tender ones ,
Who hath not seen them , even with those wings 
Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight ,
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest ,
Offering their own lives in their young's defence ?
For shame , my liege ! make them your precedent .
Were it not pity that this goodly boy 
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault ,
And long hereafter say unto his child ,
'What my great grandfather and grandsire got ,
My careless father fondly gave away ?' 
Ah ! what a shame were this . Look on the boy ;
And let his manly face , which promiseth 
Successful fortune , steel thy melting heart 
To hold thine own and leave thine own with him .
Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator ,
Inferring arguments of mighty force .
But , Clifford , tell me , didst thou never hear 
That things ill got had ever bad success ?
And happy always was it for that son 
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ?
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;
And would my father had left me no more !
For all the rest is held at such a rate 
As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep 
Than in possession any jot of pleasure .
Ah ! cousin York , would thy best friends did know 
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here !
My lord , cheer up your spirits : our foes are nigh ,
And this soft courage makes your followers faint .
You promis'd knighthood to our forward son :
Unsheathe your sword , and dub him presently .
Edward , kneel down .
Edward Plantagenet , arise a knight ;
And learn this lesson , draw thy sword in right .
My gracious father , by your kingly leave ,
I'll draw it as apparent to the crown ,
And in that quarrel use it to the death .
Why , that is spoken like a toward prince .
Royal commanders , be in readiness :
For with a band of thirty thousand men 
Comes Warwick , backing of the Duke of York ;
And in the towns , as they do march along ,
Proclaims him king , and many fly to him :
Darraign your battle , for they are at hand .
I would your highness would depart the field :
The queen hath best success when you are absent .
Ay , good my lord , and leave us to our fortune .
Why , that's my fortune too ; therefore I'll stay .
Be it with resolution then to fight .
My royal father , cheer these noble lords ,
And hearten those that fight in your defence :
Unsheathe your sword , good father : cry , 'Saint George !' 
Now , perjur'd Henry , wilt thou kneel for grace ,
And set thy diadem upon my head ;
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?
Go , rate thy minions , proud insulting boy !
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms 
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king ?
I am his king , and he should bow his knee ;
I was adopted heir by his consent :
Since when , his oath is broke ; for , as I hear ,
You , that are king , though he do wear the crown ,
Have caus'd him , by new act of parliament ,
To blot out me , and put his own son in .
And reason too :
Who should succeed the father but the son ?
Are you there , butcher ? O ! I cannot speak .
Ay , crook-back ; here I stand to answer thee ,
Or any he the proudest of thy sort .
'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland , was it not ?
Ay , and old York , and yet not satisfied .
For God's sake , lords , give signal to the fight .
What sayst thou , Henry , wilt thou yield the crown ?
Why , how now , long-tongu'd Warwick ! dare you speak ?
When you and I met at Saint Alban's last ,
Your legs did better service than your hands .
Then 'twas my turn to fly , and now 'tis thine .
You said so much before , and yet you fled .
'Twas not your valour , Clifford , drove me thence .
No , nor your manhood that durst make you stay .
Northumberland , I hold thee reverently .
Break off the parley ; for scarce I can refrain 
The execution of my big-swoln heart 
Upon that Clifford , that cruel child-killer .
I slew thy father : call'st thou him a child ?
Ay , like a dastard and a treacherous coward ,
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ;
But ere sun-set I'll make thee curse the deed .
Have done with words , my lords , and hear me speak .
Defy them , then , or else hold close thy lips .
I prithee , give no limits to my tongue :
I am a king , and privileg'd to speak .
My liege , the wound that bred this meeting here 
Cannot be cur'd by words ; therefore be still .
Then , executioner , unsheathe thy sword .
By him that made us all , I am resolv'd 
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue .
Say , Henry , shall I have my right or no ?
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day ,
That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown .
If thou deny , their blood upon thy head ;
For York in justice puts his armour on .
If that be right which Warwick says is right ,
There is no wrong , but everything is right .
Whoever got thee , there thy mother stands ;
For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue .
But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam ,
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic ,
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided ,
As venom toads , or lizards' dreadful stings .
Iron of Naples hid with English gilt ,
Whose father bears the title of a king ,
As if a channel should be call'd the sea ,
Sham'st thou not , knowing whence thou art extraught ,
To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ?
A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns ,
To make this shameless callet know herself .
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou ,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus ;
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd 
By that false woman as this king by thee .
His father revell'd in the heart of France ,
And tam'd the king , and made the Dauphin stoop ;
And had he match'd according to his state ,
He might have kept that glory to this day ;
But when he took a beggar to his bed ,
And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day ,
Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him ,
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France ,
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home .
For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride ?
Hadst thou been meek our title still had slept ,
And we , in pity of the gentle king ,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age .
But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring ,
And that thy summer bred us no increase ,
We set the axe to thy usurping root ;
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves ,
Yet know thou , since we have begun to strike ,
We'll never leave , till we have hewn thee down ,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods .
And in this resolution I defy thee ;
Not willing any longer conference ,
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak .
Sound trumpets !let our bloody colours wave !
And either victory , or else a grave .
Stay , Edward .
No , wrangling woman , we'll no longer stay :
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day 
Forspent with toil , as runners with a race ,
I lay me down a little while to breathe ;
For strokes receiv'd , and many blows repaid ,
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength ,
And spite of spite needs must I rest a while .
Smile , gentle heaven ! or strike , ungentle death !
For this world frowns , and Edward's sun is clouded .
How now , my lord ! what hap ? what hope of good ?
Our hap is loss , our hope but sad despair ,
Our ranks are broke , and ruin follows us .
What counsel give you ? whither shall we fly ?
Bootless is flight , they follow us with wings ;
And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit .
Ah ! Warwick , why hast thou withdrawn thyself ?
Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk ,
Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance ;
And in the very pangs of death he cried ,
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far ,
'Warwick , revenge ! brother , revenge my death !' 
So , underneath the belly of their steeds ,
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood ,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost .
Then let the earth be drunken with our blood :
I'll kill my horse because I will not fly .
Why stand we like soft-hearted women here ,
Wailing our losses , whiles the foe doth rage ;
And look upon , as if the tragedy 
Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ?
Here on my knee I vow to God above ,
I'll never pause again , never stand still 
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine ,
Of fortune given me measure of revenge .
O Warwick ! I do bend my knee with thine ;
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine .
And , ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face ,
I throw my hands , mine eyes , my heart to thee ,
Thou setter up and plucker down of kings ,
Beseeching thee , if with thy will it stands 
That to my foes this body must be prey ,
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope ,
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul !
Now , lords , take leave until we meet again ,
Where'er it be , in heaven or in earth .
Brother , give me thy hand ; and , gentle Warwick ,
Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
I , that did never weep , now melt with woe 
That winter should cut off our spring-time so .
Away , away ! Once more , sweet lords , farewell .
Yet let us all together to our troops ,
And give them leave to fly that will not stay ,
And call them pillars that will stand to us ;
And if we thrive , promise them such rewards 
As victors wear at the Olympian games .
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ;
For yet is hope of life and victory .
Forslow no longer ; make we hence amain .
Now , Clifford , I have singled thee alone .
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York ,
And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge ,
Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall .
Now , Richard , I am with thee here alone .
This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ,
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland ;
And here's the heart that triumphs in their death 
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother ,
To execute the like upon thyself ;
And so , have at thee !
Nay , Warwick , single out some other chase ;
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death .
This battle fares like to the morning's war ,
When dying clouds contend with growing light ,
What time the shepherd , blowing of his nails ,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night .
Now sways it this way , like a mighty sea 
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind ;
Now sways it that way , like the self-same sea 
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind :
Sometime the flood prevails , and then the wind ;
Now one the better , then another best ;
Both tugging to be victors , breast to breast ,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquered :
So is the equal poise of this fell war .
Here on this molehill will I sit me down .
To whom God will , there be the victory !
For Margaret my queen , and Clifford too ,
Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both 
They prosper best of all when I am thence .
Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so ;
For what is in this world but grief and woe ?
O God ! methinks it were a happy life ,
To be no better than a homely swain ;
To sit upon a hill , as I do now ,
To carve out dials quaintly , point by point ,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run ,
How many make the hour full complete ;
How many hours bring about the day ;
How many days will finish up the year ;
How many years a mortal man may live .
When this is known , then to divide the times :
So many hours must I tend my flock ;
So many hours must I take my rest ;
So many hours must I contemplate ;
So many hours must I sport myself ;
So many days my ewes have been with young ;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean ;
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece :
So minutes , hours , days , months , and years ,
Pass'd over to the end they were created ,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave .
Ah ! what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely !
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds , looking on their silly sheep ,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
To kings , that fear their subjects' treachery ?
O , yes ! it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth .
And to conclude , the shepherd's homely curds ,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle ,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade ,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys ,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates ,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup ,
His body couched in a curious bed ,
When care , mistrust , and treason wait on him .
Ill blows the wind that profits nobody .
This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight ,
May be possessed with some store of crowns ;
And I , that haply take them from him now ,
May yet ere night yield both my life and them 
To some man else , as this dead man doth me .
Who's this ? O God ! it is my father's face ,
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd .
O heavy times , begetting such events !
From London by the king was I press'd forth ;
My father , being the Earl of Warwick's man ,
Came on the part of York , press'd by his master ;
And I , who at his hands receiv'd my life ,
Have by my hands of life bereaved him .
Pardon me , God , I knew not what I did !
And pardon , father , for I knew not thee !
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks ;
And no more words till they have flow'd their fill .
O piteous spectacle ! O bloody times !
Whiles lions war and battle for their dens ,
Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity .
Weep , wretched man , I'll aid thee tear for tear ;
And let our hearts and eyes , like civil war ,
Be blind with tears , and break o'ercharg'd with grief .
Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me ,
Give me thy gold , if thou hast any gold ,
For I have bought it with a hundred blows .
But let me see : is this our foeman's face ?
Ah ! no , no , no , it is mine only son .
Ah ! boy , if any life be left in thee ,
Throw up thine eye : see , see ! what showers arise ,
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart ,
Upon thy wounds , that kill mine eye and heart .
O ! pity , God , this miserable age .
What stratagems , how fell , how butcherly ,
Erroneous , mutinous , and unnatural ,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget !
O boy ! thy father gave thee life too soon ,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late .
Woe above woe ! grief more than common grief !
O ! that my death would stay these ruthful deeds .
O ! pity , pity ; gentle heaven , pity .
The red rose and the white are on his face ,
The fatal colours of our striving houses :
The one his purple blood right well resembles ;
The other his pale cheeks , methinks , presenteth :
Wither one rose , and let the other flourish !
If you contend , a thousand lives must wither .
How will my mother for a father's death 
Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied !
How will my wife for slaughter of my son 
Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied !
How will the country for these woeful chances 
Misthink the king and not be satisfied !
Was ever son so ru'd a father's death ?
Was ever father so bemoan'd a son ?
Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe ?
Much is your sorrow ; mine , ten times so much .
I'll bear thee hence , where I may weep my fill .
These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet ;
My heart , sweet boy , shall be thy sepulchre ,
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go :
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ;
And so obsequious will thy father be ,
E'en for the loss of thee , having no more ,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons .
I'll bear thee hence ; and let them fight that will ,
For I have murder'd where I should not kill .
Sad-hearted men ,' much overgone with care ,
Here sits a king more woeful than you are .
Fly , father , fly ! for all your friends are fled ,
And Warwick rages like a chafed bull .
Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit .
Mount you , my lord ; towards Berwick post amain .
Edward and Richard , like a brace of greyhounds 
Having the fearful flying hare in sight ,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath ,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands ,
Are at our backs ; and therefore hence amain .
Away ! for vengeance comes along with them .
Nay , stay not to expostulate ; make speed ,
Or else come after : I'll away before .
Nay , take me with thee , good sweet Exeter :
Not that I fear to stay , but love to go 
Whither the queen intends . Forward ! away !
Here burns my candle out ; ay , here it dies ,
Which , while it lasted , gave King Henry light .
O Lancaster ! I fear thy overthrow 
More than my body's parting with my soul .
My love and fear glu'd many friends to thee ;
And , now I fall , thy tough commixtures melt ,
Impairing Henry , strengthening misproud York :
The common people swarm like summer flies ;
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ?
O Ph bus ! hadst thou never given consent 
That Ph thon should check thy fiery steeds ,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth ;
And , Henry , hadst thou sway'd as kings should do ,
Or as thy father and his father did ,
Giving no ground unto the house of York ,
They never then had sprung like summer flies ;
I and ten thousand in this luckless realm 
Had left no mourning widows for our death ,
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace .
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air ?
And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity ?
Bootless are plaints , and cureless are my wounds ;
No way to fly , nor strength to hold out flight :
The foe is merciless , and will not pity ;
For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity .
The air hath got into my deadly wounds ,
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint .
Come , York and Richard , Warwick and the rest ;
I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms , split my breast .
Now breathe we , lords : good fortune bids us pause ,
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks .
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ,
That led calm Henry , though he were a king ,
As doth a sail , fill'd with a fretting gust ,
Command an argosy to stern the waves .
But think you , lords , that Clifford fled with them ?
No , 'tis impossible he should escape ;
For , though before his face I speak the words ,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave ;
And wheresoe'er he is , he's surely dead .
Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave ?
A deadly groan , like life and death's departing .
See who it is : and now the battle's ended ,
If friend or foe let him be gently us'd .
Revoke that doom of mercy , for 'tis Clifford ;
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch 
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth ,
But set his murd'ring knife unto the root 
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring ,
I mean our princely father , Duke of York .
From off the gates of York fetch down the head ,
Your father's head , which Clifford placed there ;
Instead whereof let this supply the room :
Measure for measure must be answered .
Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house ,
That nothing sung but death to us and ours :
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound ,
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak .
I think his understanding is bereft .
Speak , Clifford ; dost thou know who speaks to thee ?
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life ,
And he nor sees , nor hears us what we say .
O ! would he did ; and so perhaps he doth :
'Tis but his policy to counterfeit ,
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts 
Which in the time of death he gave our father .
If so thou think'st , vex him with eager words .
Clifford ! ask mercy and obtain no grace .
Clifford , repent in bootless penitence .
Clifford ! devise excuses for thy faults .
While we devise fell tortures for thy faults .
Thou didst love York , and I am son to York .
Thou pitiedst Rutland , I will pity thee .
Where's Captain Margaret , to fence you now ?
They mock thee , Clifford : swear as thou wast wont .
What ! not an oath ? nay , then the world goes hard 
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath .
I know by that he's dead ; and , by my soul ,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life ,
That I in all despite might rail at him ,
This hand should chop it off , and with the issuing blood 
Stifle the villain whose unstaunched thirst 
York and young Rutland could not satisfy .
Ay , but he's dead : off with the traitor's head ,
And rear it in the place your father's stands .
And now to London with triumphant march ,
There to be crowned England's royal king :
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France ,
And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen .
So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ;
And , having France thy friend , thou shalt not dread 
The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again ;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt ,
Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears .
First will I see the coronation ;
And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea ,
To effect this marriage , so it please my lord .
Even as thou wilt , sweet Warwick , let it be ;
For on thy shoulder do I build my seat ,
And never will I undertake the thing 
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting .
Richard , I will create thee Duke of Gloucester ;
And George , of Clarence ; Warwick , as ourself ,
Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best .
Let me be Duke of Clarence , George of Gloucester ,
For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous .
Tut ! that's a foolish observation :
Richard , be Duke of Gloucester . Now to London ,
To see these honours in possession .
Under this thick-grown hrake we'll shroud ourselves ;
For through this laund anon the deer will come ;
And in this covert will we make our stand ,
Culling the principal of all the deer .
I'll stay above the hill , so both may shoot .
That cannot be ; the noise of thy cross-bow 
Will scare the herd , and so my shoot is lost .
Here stand we both , and aim we at the best :
And , for the time shall not seem tedious ,
I'll tell thee what befell me on a day 
In this self place where now we mean to stand .
Here comes a man ; let's stay till he be past .
From Scotland am I stol'n , even of pure love ,
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight .
No , Harry , Harry , 'tis no land of thine ;
Thy place is fill'd , thy sceptre wrung from thee ,
Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed :
No bending knee will call thee C sar now ,
No humble suitors press to speak for right ,
No , not a man comes for redress of thee ;
For how can I help them , and not myself ?
Ay , here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee :
This is the quondam king ; let's seize upon him .
Let me embrace thee , sour adversity ,
For wise men say it is the wisest course .
Why linger we ? let us lay hands upon him .
Forbear awhile ; we'll hear a little more .
My queen and son are gone to France for aid ;
And , as I hear , the great commanding Warwick 
Is thither gone , to crave the French king's sister 
To wife for Edward . If this news be true ,
Poor queen and son , your labour is but lost ;
For Warwick is a subtle orator ,
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words .
By this account then Margaret may win him ,
For she's a woman to be pitied much :
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast ;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ;
The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn ;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse ,
To hear and see her plaints , her brinish tears .
Ay , but she's come to beg ; Warwick , to give :
She on his left side craving aid for Henry ;
He on his right asking a wife for Edward .
She weeps , and says her Henry is depos'd ;
He smiles , and says his Edward is install'd ;
That she , poor wretch , for grief can speak no more :
Whiles Warwick tells his title , smooths the wrong ,
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ,
And in conclusion wins the king from her ,
With promise of his sister , and what else ,
To strengthen and support King Edward's place .
O Margaret ! thus 'twill be ; and thou , poor soul ,
Art then forsaken , as thou went'st forlorn .
Say , what art thou , that talk'st of kings and queens ?
More than I seem , and less than I was born to :
A man at least , for less I should not be ;
And men may talk of kings , and why not I ?
Ay , but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king .
Why , so I am , in mind ; and that's enough .
But , if thou be a king , where is thy crown ?
My crown is in my heart , not on my head ;
Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones ,
Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content ;
A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy .
Well , if you be a king crown'd with content ,
Your crown content and you must be contented 
To go along with us ; for , as we think ,
You are the king King Edward hath depos'd ;
And we his subjects , sworn in all allegiance ,
Will apprehend you as his enemy .
But did you never swear , and break an oath ?
No , never such an oath ; nor will not now .
Where did you dwell when I was King of England ?
Here in this country , where we now remain .
I was anointed king at nine months old ;
My father and my grandfather were kings ,
And you were sworn true subjects unto me :
And tell me , then , have you not broke your oaths ?
For we were subjects but while you were king .
Why , am I dead ? do I not breathe a man ?
Ah ! simple men , you know not what you swear .
Look , as I blow this feather from my face ,
And as the air blows it to me again ,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow ,
And yielding to another when it blows ,
Commanded always by the greater gust ;
Such is the lightness of you common men .
But do not break your oaths ; for of that sin 
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty .
Go where you will , the king shall be commanded ;
And be you kings : command , and I'll obey .
We are true subjects to the king , King Edward .
So would you be again to Henry ,
If he were seated as King Edward is .
We charge you , in God's name , and in the king's ,
To go with us unto the officers .
In God's name , lead ; your king's name be obey'd :
And what God will , that let your king perform ;
And what he will , I humbly yield unto .
Brother of Gloucester , at Saint Alban's field 
This lady's husband , Sir John Grey , was slain ,
His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror :
Her suit is now , to repossess those lands ;
Which we in justice cannot well deny ,
Because in quarrel of the house of York 
The worthy gentleman did lose his life .
Your highness shall do well to grant her suit ;
It were dishonour to deny it her .
It were no less : but yet I'll make a pause .
Yea ; is it so ?
I see the lady hath a thing to grant 
Before the king will grant her humble suit .
He knows the game : how true he keeps the wind !
Silence !
Widow , we will consider of your suit ,
And come some other time to know our mind .
Right gracious lord , I cannot brook delay :
May it please your highness to resolve me now ,
And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me .
Ay , widow ? then I'll warrant you all your lands ,
An if what pleases him shall pleasure you ,
Fight closer , or , good faith , you'll catch a blow .
I fear her not , unless she chance to fall .
God forbid that ! for he'll take vantages .
How many children hast thou , widow ? tell me .
I think he means to beg a child of her .
Nay , whip me , then ; he'll rather give her two .
Three , my most gracious lord .
You shall have four , if you'll be rul'd by him .
'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands .
Be pitiful , dread lord , and grant it then .
Lords , give us leave : I'll try this widow's wit .
Ay , good leave have you ; for you will have leave ,
Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch .
Now , tell me , madam , do you love your children ?
Ay , full as dearly as I love myself .
And would you not do much to do them good ?
To do them good I would sustain some harm .
Then get your husband's lands , to do them good .
Therefore I came unto your majesty .
I'll tell you how these lands are to be got .
So shall you bind me to your highness' service .
What service wilt thou do me , if I give them ?
What you command , that rests in me to do .
But you will take exceptions to my boon .
No , gracious lord , except I cannot do it .
Ay , but thou canst do what I mean to ask .
Why , then I will do what your Grace commands .
He plies her hard ; and much rain wears the marble .
As red as fire ! nay , then her wax must melt .
Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear my task ?
An easy task : 'tis but to love a king .
That's soon perform'd , because I am a subject .
Why then , thy husband's lands I freely give thee .
I take my leave with many thousand thanks .
The match is made ; she seals it with a curtsy .
But stay thee ; 'tis the fruits of love I mean .
The fruits of love I mean , my loving liege .
Ay , but , I fear me , in another sense .
What love think'st thou I sue so much to get ?
My love till death , my humble thanks , my prayers :
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants .
No , by my troth , I did not mean such love .
Why , then you mean not as I thought you did .
But now you partly may perceive my mind .
My mind will never grant what I perceive 
Your highness aims at , if I aim aright .
To tell thee plain , I aim to lie with thee .
To tell you plain , I had rather lie in prison .
Why , then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands .
Why , then mine honesty shall be my dower ;
For by that loss I will not purchase them .
Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily .
Herein your highness wrongs both them and me .
But , mighty lord , this merry inclination 
Accords not with the sadness of my suit :
Please you dismiss me , either with 'ay ,' or 'no .' 
Ay , if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request ;
No , if thou dost say 'no' to my demand .
Then , no , my lord . My suit is at an end .
The widow likes him not , she knits her brows .
He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom .
Her looks do argue her replete with modesty ;
Her words do show her wit incomparable ;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty :
One way or other , she is for a king ;
And she shall be my love , or else my queen .
Say that King Edward take thee for his queen ?
'Tis better said than done , my gracious lord :
I am a subject fit to jest withal ,
But far unfit to be a sovereign .
Sweet widow , by my state I swear to thee ,
I speak no more than what my soul intends ;
And that is , to enjoy thee for my love .
And that is more than I will yield unto .
I know I am too mean to be your queen ,
And yet too good to be your concubine .
You cavil , widow : I did mean , my queen .
'Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you father .
No more than when my daughters call thee mother .
Thou art a widow , and thou hast some children ;
And , by God's mother , I , being but a bachelor ,
Have other some : why , 'tis a happy thing 
To be the father unto many sons .
Answer no more , for thou shalt be my queen .
The ghostly father now hath done his shrift .
When he was made a shriver , 'twas for shift .
Brothers , you muse what chat we two have had .
The widow likes it not , for she looks very sad .
You'd think it strange if I should marry her .
To whom , my lord ?
Why , Clarence , to myself .
That would be ten days' wonder at the least .
That's a day longer than a wonder lasts .
By so much is the wonder in extremes .
Well , jest on , brothers : I can tell you both 
Her suit is granted for her husband's lands .
My gracious lord , Henry your foe is taken ,
And brought as prisoner to your palace gate .
See that he be convey'd unto the Tower :
And go we , brothers , to the man that took him ,
To question of his apprehension .
Widow , go you along . Lords , use her honourably .
Ay , Edward will use women honourably .
Would he were wasted , marrow , bones , and all ,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring ,
To cross me from the golden time I look for !
And yet , between my soul's desire and me 
The lustful Edward's title buried ,
Is Clarence , Henry , and his son young Edward ,
And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies ,
To take their rooms , ere I can place myself :
A cold premeditation for my purpose !
Why then , I do but dream on sovereignty ;
Like one that stands upon a promontory ,
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread ,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ;
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence ,
Saying , he'll lade it dry to have his way :
So do I wish the crown , being so far off ,
And so I chide the means that keep me from it ,
And so I say I'll cut the causes off ,
Flattering me with impossibilities .
My eye's too quick , my heart o'erweens too much ,
Unless my hand and strength could equal them .
Well , say there is no kingdom then for Richard ;
What other pleasure can the world afford ?
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap ,
And deck my body in gay ornaments ,
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks .
O miserable thought ! and more unlikely 
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns .
Why , love forswore me in my mother's womb :
And , for I should not deal in her soft laws ,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe ,
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ;
To make an envious mountain on my back ,
Where sits deformity to mock my body ;
To shape my legs of an unequal size ;
To disproportion me in every part ,
Like to a chaos , or an unlick'd bear-whelp 
That carries no impression like the dam .
And am I then a man to be belov'd ?
O monstrous fault ! to harbour such a thought .
Then , since this earth affords no joy to me 
But to command , to check , to o'erbear such 
As are of better person than myself ,
I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown ;
And , whiles I live , to account this world but hell ,
Until my mis-shap'd trunk that bears this head 
Be round impaled with a glorious crown .
And yet I know not how to get the crown ,
For many lives stand between me and home :
And I , like one lost in a thorny wood ,
That rents the thorns and is rent with the thorns ,
Seeking a way and straying from the way ;
Not knowing how to find the open air ,
But toiling desperately to find it out ,
Torment myself to catch the English crown :
And from that torment I will free myself ,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe .
Why , I can smile , and murder while I smile ,
And cry , 'Content ,' to that which grieves my heart ,
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears ,
And frame my face to all occasions .
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ;
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk ;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor ,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could ,
And , like a Sinon , take another Troy .
I can add colours to the chameleon ,
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages ,
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school .
Can I do this , and cannot get a crown ?
Tut ! were it further off , I'll pluck it down .
Fair Queen of England , worthy Margaret ,
Sit down with us : it ill befits thy state 
And birth , that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit .
No , mighty King of France : now Margaret 
Must strike her sail , and learn a while to serve 
Where kings command . I was , I must confess ,
Great Albion's queen in former golden days ;
But now mischance hath trod my title down ,
And with dishonour laid me on the ground ,
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune ,
And to my humble seat conform myself .
Why , say , fair queen , whence springs this deep despair ?
From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears 
And stops my tongue , while heart is drown'd in cares .
Whate'er it be , be thou still like thyself ,
And sit thee by our side .
Yield not thy neck 
To fortune's yoke , but let thy dauntless mind 
Still ride in triumph over all mischance .
Be plain , Queen Margaret , and tell thy grief ;
It shall be eas'd , if France can yield relief .
Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts ,
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak .
Now , therefore , be it known to noble Lewis ,
That Henry , sole possessor of my love ,
Is of a king become a banish'd man ,
And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn ;
While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York 
Usurps the regal title and the seat 
Of England's true-anointed lawful king .
This is the cause that I , poor Margaret ,
With this my son , Prince Edward , Henry's heir ,
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ;
And if thou fail us , all our hope is done .
Scotland hath will to help , but cannot help ;
Our people and our peers are both misled ,
Our treasure seiz'd , our soldiers put to flight ,
And , as thou seest , ourselves in heavy plight .
Renowned queen , with patience calm the storm ,
While we bethink a means to break it off .
The more we stay , the stronger grows our foe .
The more I stay , the more I'll succour thee .
O ! but impatience waiteth on true sorrow :
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow .
What's he , approacheth boldly to our presence ?
Our Earl of Warwick , Edward's greatest friend .
Welcome , brave Warwick ! What brings thee to France ?
Ay , now begins a second storm to rise ;
For this is he that moves both wind and tide .
From worthy Edward , King of Albion ,
My lord and sovereign , and thy vowed friend ,
I come , in kindness and unfeigned love ,
First , to do greetings to thy royal person ;
And then to crave a league of amity ;
And lastly to confirm that amity 
With nuptial knot , if thou vouchsafe to grant 
That virtuous Lady Bona , thy fair sister ,
To England's king in lawful marriage .
If that go forward , Henry's hope is done .
And , gracious madam , in our king's behalf ,
I am commanded , with your leave and favour ,
Humbly to kiss your hand , and with my tongue 
To tell the passion of my sov'reign's heart ;
Where fame , late entering at his heedful ears ,
Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue .
King Lewis and Lady Bona , hear me speak ,
Before you answer Warwick . His demand 
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love ,
But from deceit bred by necessity ;
For how can tyrants safely govern home ,
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ?
To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice ,
That Henry liveth still ; but were he dead ,
Yet here Prince Edward stands , King Henry's son .
Look , therefore , Lewis , that by this league and marriage 
Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour ;
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile ,
Yet heavens are just , and time suppresseth wrongs .
Injurious Margaret !
And why not queen ?
Because thy father Henry did usurp ,
And thou no more art prince than she is queen .
Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt ,
Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ;
And , after John of Gaunt , Henry the Fourth ,
Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest ;
And , after that wise prince , Henry the Fifth ,
Who by his prowess conquered all France :
From these our Henry lineally descends .
Oxford , how haps it , in this smooth discourse ,
You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost 
All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten ?
Methinks these peers of France should smile at that .
But for the rest , you tell a pedigree 
Of threescore and two years ; a silly time 
To make prescription for a kingdom's worth .
Why , Warwick , canst thou speak against thy liege ,
Whom thou obeyedst thirty and six years ,
And not bewray thy treason with a blush ?
Can Oxford , that did ever fence the right ,
Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree ?
For shame ! leave Henry , and call Edward king .
Call him my king , by whose injurious doom 
My elder brother , the Lord Aubrey Vere ,
Was done to death ? and more than so , my father ,
Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years ,
When nature brought him to the door of death ?
No , Warwick , no ; while life upholds this arm ,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster .
And I the house of York .
Queen Margaret , Prince Edward , and Oxford ,
Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside ,
While I use further conference with Warwick .
Heaven grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not !
Now , Warwick , tell me , even upon thy conscience ,
Is Edward your true king ? for I were loath 
To link with him that were not lawful chosen .
Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour .
But is he gracious in the people's eye ?
The more that Henry was unfortunate .
Then further , all dissembling set aside ,
Tell me for truth the measure of his love 
Unto our sister Bona .
Such it seems 
As may beseem a monarch like himself .
Myself have often heard him say and swear 
That this his love was an eternal plant ,
Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground ,
The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun ,
Exempt from envy , but not from disdain ,
Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain .
Now , sister , let us hear your firm resolve .
Your grant , or your denial , shall be mine :
Yet I confess that often ere this day ,
When I have heard your king's desert recounted ,
Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire .
Then , Warwick , thus : our sister shall be Edward's ;
And now forthwith shall articles be drawn 
Touching the jointure that your king must make ,
Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd .
Draw near , Queen Margaret , and be a witness 
That Bona shall be wife to the English king .
To Edward , but not to the English king .
Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy device 
By this alliance to make void my suit :
Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend .
And still is friend to him and Margaret :
But if your title to the crown be weak ,
As may appear by Edward's good success ,
Then 'tis but reason that I be releas'd 
From giving aid which late I promised .
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand 
That your estate requires and mine can yield .
Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease ,
Where having nothing , nothing can he lose .
And as for you yourself , our quondam queen ,
You have a father able to maintain you ,
And better 'twere you troubled him than France .
Peace ! impudent and shameless Warwick , peace ;
Proud setter up and puller down of kings ;
I will not hence , till , with my talk and tears ,
Both full of truth , I make King Lewis behold 
Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love ;
For both of you are birds of self-same feather .
Warwick , this is some post to us or thee .
My lord ambassador , these letters are for you ,
Sent from your brother , Marquess Montague :
These from our king unto your majesty ;
And , madam , these for you ; from whom I know not .
I like it well that our fair queen and mistress 
Smiles at her news , while Warwick frowns at his .
Nay , mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled :
I hope all's for the best .
Warwick , what are thy news ? and yours , fair queen ?
Mine , such as fill my heart with unhop'd joys .
Mine , full of sorrow and heart's discontent .
What ! has your king married the Lady Grey ?
And now , to soothe your forgery and his ,
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience ?
Is this the alliance that he seeks with France ?
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner ?
I told your majesty as much before :
This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty .
King Lewis , I here protest , in sight of heaven ,
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss ,
That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's ;
No more my king , for he dishonours me ;
But most himself , if he could see his shame .
Did I forget that by the house of York 
My father came untimely to his death ?
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ?
Did I impale him with the regal crown ?
Did I put Henry from his native right ?
And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame ?
Shame on himself ! for my desert is honour :
And , to repair my honour , lost for him ,
I here renounce him and return to Henry .
My noble queen , let former grudges pass ,
And henceforth I am thy true servitor .
I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona ,
And replant Henry in his former state .
Warwick , these words have turn'd my hate to love ;
And I forgive and quite forget old faults ,
And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend .
So much his friend , ay , his unfeigned friend ,
That , if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
With some few bands of chosen soldiers ,
I'll undertake to land them on our coast ,
And force the tyrant from his seat by war .
'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him :
And as for Clarence , as my letters tell me ,
He's very likely now to fall from him ,
For matching more for wanton lust than honour ,
Or than for strength and safety of our country .
Dear brother , how shall Bona be reveng'd ,
But by thy help to this distressed queen ?
Renowned prince , how shall poor Henry live ,
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair ?
My quarrel and this English queen's are one .
And mine , fair Lady Bona , joins with yours .
And mine with hers , and thine and Margaret's .
Therefore , at last , I firmly am resolv'd 
You shall have aid .
Let me give humble thanks for all at once .
Then , England's messenger , return in post ,
And tell false Edward , thy supposed king ,
That Lewis of France is sending over masquers ,
To revel it with him and his new bride .
Thou seest what's past ; go fear thy king withal .
Tell him , in hope he'll prove a widower shortly ,
I'll wear the willow garland for his sake .
Tell him , my mourning weeds are laid aside ,
And I am ready to put armour on .
Tell him from me , that he hath done me wrong ,
And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long .
There's thy reward : be gone .
But , Warwick ,
Thou and Oxford , with five thousand men ,
Shall cross the seas , and bid false Edward battle ;
And , as occasion serves , this noble queen 
And prince shall follow with a fresh supply .
Yet ere thou go , but answer me one doubt :
What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty ?
This shall assure my constant loyalty :
That if our queen and this young prince agree ,
I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy 
To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands .
Yes , I agree , and thank you for your motion .
Son Edward , she is fair and virtuous ,
Therefore delay not , give thy hand to Warwick ;
And , with thy hand , thy faith irrevocable ,
That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine .
Yes , I accept her , for she well deserves it ;
And here , to pledge my vow , I give my hand .
Why stay we now ? These soldiers shall be levied ,
And thou , Lord Bourbon , our high admiral ,
Shall waft them over with our royal fleet .
I long till Edward fall by war's mischance ,
For mocking marriage with a dame of France .
I came from Edward as ambassador ,
But I return his sworn and mortal foe :
Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me ,
But dreadful war shall answer his demand .
Had he none else to make a stale but me ?
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow .
I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown ,
And I'll be chief to bring him down again :
Not that I pity Henry's misery ,
But seek revenge on Edward's mockery .
Now tell me , brother Clarence , what think you 
Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey ?
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ?
Alas ! you know , 'tis far from hence to France ;
How could he stay till Warwick made return ?
My lords , forbear this talk ; here comes the king .
And his well-chosen bride .
I mind to tell him plainly what I think .
Now , brother Clarence , how like you our choice ,
That you stand pensive , as half malcontent ?
As well as Lewis of France , or the Earl of Warwick ;
Which are so weak of courage and in judgment 
That they'll take no offence at our abuse .
Suppose they take offence without a cause ,
They are but Lewis and Warwick : I am Edward ,
Your king and Warwick's , and must have my will .
And you shall have your will , because our king :
Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well .
Yea , brother Richard , are you offended too ?
Not I :
No , God forbid , that I should wish them sever'd 
Whom God hath join'd together ; ay , and 'twere pity 
To sunder them that yoke so well together .
Setting your scorns and your mislike aside ,
Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey 
Should not become my wife and England's queen :
And you too , Somerset and Montague ,
Speak freely what you think .
Then this is mine opinion : that King Lewis 
Becomes your enemy for mocking him 
About the marriage of the Lady Bona .
And Warwick , doing what you gave in charge ,
Is now dishonoured by this new marriage .
What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd 
By such invention as I can devise ?
Yet to have join'd with France in such alliance 
Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth 
'Gainst foreign storms , than any home-bred marriage .
Why , knows not Montague , that of itself 
England is safe , if true within itself ?
Yes ; but the safer when 'tis back'd with France .
'Tis better using France than trusting France :
Let us be back'd with God and with the seas 
Which he hath given for fence impregnable ,
And with their helps only defend ourselves :
In them and in ourselves our safety lies .
For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves 
To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford .
Ay , what of that ? it was my will and grant ;
And for this once my will shall stand for law .
And yet methinks your Grace hath not done well ,
To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales 
Unto the brother of your loving bride :
She better would have fitted me or Clarence :
But in your bride you bury brotherhood .
Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir 
Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son ,
And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere .
Alas , poor Clarence , is it for a wife 
That thou art malcontent ? I will provide thee .
In choosing for yourself you show'd your judgment ,
Which being shallow , you shall give me leave 
To play the broker on mine own behalf ;
And to that end I shortly mind to leave you .
Leave me , or tarry , Edward will be king ,
And not be tied unto his brother's will .
My lords , before it pleas'd his majesty 
To raise my state to title of a queen ,
Do me but right , and you must all-confess 
That I was not ignoble of descent ;
And meaner than myself have had like fortune .
But as this title honours me and mine ,
So your dislikes , to whom I would be pleasing ,
Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow .
My love , forbear to fawn upon their frowns :
What danger or what sorrow can befall thee ,
So long as Edward is thy constant friend ,
And their true sovereign , whom they must obey ?
Nay , whom they shall obey , and love thee too ,
Unless they seek for hatred at my hands ;
Which if they do , yet will I keep thee safe ,
And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath .
I hear , yet say not much , but think the more .
Now , messenger , what letters or what news 
From France ?
My sovereign liege , no letters ; and few words ;
But such as I , without your special pardon ,
Dare not relate .
Go to , we pardon thee : therefore , in brief ,
Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them .
What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters ?
At my depart these were his very words :
'Go tell false Edward , thy supposed king ,
That Lewis of France is sending over masquers ,
To revel it with him and his new bride .' 
Is Lewis so brave ? belike he thinks me Henry .
But what said Lady Bona to my marriage ?
These were her words , utter'd with mild disdain :
'Tell him , in hope he'll prove a widower shortly ,
I'll wear the willow garland for his sake .' 
I blame not her , she could say little less ;
She had the wrong . But what said Henry's queen ?
For I have heard that she was there in place .
'Tell him ,' quoth she , 'my mourning weeds are done ,
And I am ready to put armour on .' 
Belike she minds to play the Amazon .
But what said Warwick to these injuries ?
He , more incens'd against your majesty 
Than all the rest , discharg'd me with these words :
'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong ,
And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long .' 
Ha ! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words ?
Well , I will arm me , being thus forewarn'd :
They shall have wars , and pay for their presumption .
But say , is Warwick friends with Margaret ?
Ay , gracious sovereign ; they are so link'd in friendship ,
That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter .
Belike the elder ; Clarence will have the younger .
Now , brother king , farewell , and sit you fast ,
For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter ;
That , though I want a kingdom , yet in marriage 
I may not prove inferior to yourself .
You , that love me and Warwick , follow me .
Not I .
My thoughts aim at a further matter ; I 
Stay not for love of Edward , but the crown .
Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick !
Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen ,
And haste is needful in this desperate case .
Pembroke and Stafford , you in our behalf 
Go levy men , and make prepare for war :
They are already , or quickly will be landed :
Myself in person will straight follow you ,
But ere I go , Hastings and Montague ,
Resolve my doubt . You twain , of all the rest ,
Are near to Warwick by blood , and by alliance :
Tell me if you love Warwick more than me ?
If it be so , then both depart to him ;
I rather wish you foes than hollow friends :
But if you mind to hold your true obedience ,
Give me assurance with some friendly vow 
That I may never have you in suspect .
So God help Montague as he proves true !
And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause !
Now , brother Richard , will you stand by us ?
Ay , in despite of all that shall withstand you .
Why , so ! then am I sure of victory .
Now therefore let us hence ; and lose no hour 
Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power .
Trust me , my lord , all hitherto goes well ;
The common people by numbers swarm to us .
But see where Somerset and Clarence come !
Speak suddenly , my lords , are we all friends ?
Fear not that , my lord .
Then , gentle Clarence , welcome unto Warwick ;
And welcome , Somerset : I hold it cowardice ,
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart 
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ;
Else might I think that Clarence , Edward's brother ,
Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings :
But welcome , sweet Clarence ; my daughter shall be thine .
And now what rests , but in night's coverture ,
Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd ,
His soldiers lurking in the towns about ,
And but attended by a simple guard ,
We may surprise and take him at our pleasure ?
Our scouts have found the adventure very easy .
That as Ulysses , and stout Diomede ,
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents ,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds ;
So we , well cover'd with the night's black mantle ,
At unawares may beat down Edward's guard ,
And seize himself ; I say not , slaughter him ,
For I intend but only to surprise him .
You , that will follow me to this attempt ,
Applaud the name of Henry with your leader .
Why , then , let's on our way in silent sort .
For Warwick and his friends , God and Saint George !
Come on , my masters , each man take his stand ;
The king , by this , is set him down to sleep .
What , will he not to bed ?
Why , no : for he hath made a solemn vow 
Never to lie and take his natural rest 
Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd .
To-morrow then belike shall be the day ,
If Warwick be so near as men report .
But say , I pray , what nobleman is that 
That with the king here resteth in his tent ?
'Tis the Lord Hastings , the king's chiefest friend .
O ! is it so ? But why commands the king 
That his chief followers lodge in towns about him ,
While he himself keeps in the cold field ?
'Tis the more honour , because the more dangerous .
Ay , but give me worship and quietness ;
I like it better than a dangerous honour .
If Warwick knew in what estate he stands ,
'Tis to be doubted he would waken him .
Unless our halberds did shut up his passage .
Ay ; wherefore else guard we his royal tent ,
But to defend his person from night-foes ?
This is his tent ; and see where stand his guard .
Courage , my masters ! honour now or never !
But follow me , and Edward shall be ours .
Who goes there ?
Stay , or thou diest .
What are they that fly there ?
Richard and Hastings : let them go ; here's the duke .
The duke ! Why , Warwick , when we parted last ,
Thou call'dst me king !
Ay , but the case is alter'd :
When you disgrac'd me in my embassade ,
Then I degraded you from being king ,
And come now to create you Duke of York .
Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom ,
That know not how to use ambassadors ,
Nor how to be contented with one wife ,
Nor how to use your brothers brotherly ,
Nor how to study for the people's welfare ,
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies ?
Yea , brother of Clarence , art thou here too ?
Nay , then , I see that Edward needs must down .
Yet , Warwick , in despite of all mischance ,
Of thee thyself , and all thy complices ,
Edward will always bear himself as king :
Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state ,
My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel .
Then , for his mind , be Edward England's king :
But Henry now shall wear the English crown ,
And be true king indeed , thou but the shadow .
My Lord of Somerset , at my request ,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd 
Unto my brother , Archbishop of York .
When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows ,
I'll follow you , and tell what answer 
Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him :
Now , for a while farewell , good Duke of York .
What fates impose , that men must needs abide ;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide .
What now remains , my lords , for us to do ,
But march to London with our soldiers ?
Ay , that's the first thing that we have to do ;
To free King Henry from imprisonment ,
And see him seated in the regal throne .
Madam , what makes you in this sudden change ?
Why , brother Rivers , are you yet to learn ,
What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward ?
What ! loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick ?
No , but the loss of his own royal person .
Then is my sovereign slain ?
Ay , almost slain , for he is taken prisoner ;
Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard 
Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares :
And , as I further have to understand ,
Is new committed to the Bishop of York ,
Fell Warwick's brother , and by that our foe .
These news , I must confess , are full of grief ;
Yet , gracious madam , bear it as you may :
Warwick may lose , that now hath won the day .
Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay .
And I the rather wean me from despair 
For love of Edward's offspring in my womb :
This is it that makes me bridle passion ,
And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross ;
Ay , ay , for this I draw in many a tear ,
And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs ,
Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown 
King Edward's fruit , true heir to the English crown .
But , madam , where is Warwick then become ?
I am inform'd that he comes towards London ,
To set the crown once more on Henry's head :
Guess thou the rest ; King Edward's friends must down .
But , to prevent the tyrant's violence ,
For trust not him that hath once broken faith ,
I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary ,
To save at least the heir of Edward's right :
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud .
Come , therefore ; let us fly while we may fly :
If Warwick take us we are sure to die .
Now , my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley ,
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither ,
Into this chiefest thicket of the park .
Thus stands the case . You know , our king , my brother ,
Is prisoner to the bishop here , at whose hands 
He hath good usage and great liberty ,
And often but attended with weak guard ,
Comes hunting this way to disport himself .
I have advertis'd him by secret means ,
That if about this hour he make this way ,
Under the colour of his usual game ,
He shall here find his friends , with horse and men 
To set him free from his captivity .
This way , my lord , for this way lies the game .
Nay , this way , man : see where the huntsmen stand .
Now , brother of Gloucester , Lord Hastings , and the rest ,
Stand you thus close , to steal the bishop's deer ?
Brother , the time and case requireth haste .
Your horse stands ready at the park corner .
But whither shall we then ?
To Lynn , my lord ; and ship from thence to Flanders .
Well guess'd , believe me ; for that was my meaning .
Stanley , I will requite thy forwardness .
But wherefore stay we ? 'tis no time to talk .
Huntsman , what sayst thou ? wilt thou go along ?
Better do so than tarry and be hang'd .
Come then , away ; let's ha' no more ado .
Bishop , farewell : shield thee from Warwick's frown ,
And pray that I may repossess the crown .
Master lieutenant , now that God and friends 
Have shaken Edward from the regal seat ,
And turn'd my captive state to liberty ,
My fear to hope , my sorrows unto joys ,
At our enlargement what are thy due fees ?
Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns ;
But if a humble prayer may prevail ,
I then crave pardon of your majesty .
For what , lieutenant ? for well using me ?
Nay , be thou sure , I'll well requite thy kindness ,
For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure ;
Ay , such a pleasure as encaged birds 
Conceive , when , after many moody thoughts 
At last by notes of household harmony 
They quite forget their loss of liberty .
But , Warwick , after God , thou set'st me free ,
And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee ;
He was the author , thou the instrument .
Therefore , that I may conquer Fortune's spite 
By living low , where Fortune cannot hurt me ,
And that the people of this blessed land 
May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars ,
Warwick , although my head still wear the crown ,
I here resign my government to thee ,
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds .
Your Grace hath still been fam'd for virtuous ;
And now may seem as wise as virtuous ,
By spying and avoiding Fortune's malice ;
For few men rightly temper with the stars :
Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace ,
For choosing me when Clarence is in place .
No , Warwick , thou art worthy of the sway ,
To whom the heavens , in thy nativity 
Adjudg'd an olive branch and laurel crown ,
As likely to be blest in peace , and war ;
And therefore I yield thee my free consent .
And I choose Clarence only for protector .
Warwick and Clarence , give me both your hands :
Now join your hands , and with your hands your hearts ,
That no dissension hinder government :
I make you both protectors of this land ,
While I myself will lead a private life ,
And in devotion spend my latter days ,
To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise .
What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will ?
That he consents , if Warwick yield consent ;
For on thy fortune I repose myself .
Why then , though loath , yet must I be content :
We'll yoke together , like a double shadow 
To Henry's body , and supply his place ;
I mean , in bearing weight of government ,
While he enjoys the honour and his ease .
And , Clarence , now then it is more than needful 
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor ,
And all his lands and goods be confiscate .
What else ? and that succession be determin'd .
Ay , therein Clarence shall not want his part .
But , with the first of all your chief affairs ,
Let me entreat , for I command no more ,
That Margaret your queen , and my son Edward ,
Be sent for , to return from France with speed :
For , till I see them here , by doubtful fear 
My joy of liberty is half eclips'd .
It shall be done , my sov'reign , with all speed .
My Lord of Somerset , what youth is that 
Of whom you seem to have so tender care ?
My liege , it is young Henry , Earl of Richmond .
Come hither , England's hope :
If secret powers 
Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts ,
This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss .
His looks are full of peaceful majesty ,
His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown ,
His hand to wield a sceptre , and himself 
Likely in time to bless a regal throne .
Make much of him , my lords ; for this is he 
Must help you more than you are hurt by me .
What news , my friend ?
That Edward is escaped from your brother ,
And fled , as he hears since , to Burgundy .
Unsavoury news ! but how made he escape ?
He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester ,
And the Lord Hastings , who attended him 
In secret ambush on the forest side ,
And from the bishop's huntsmen rescu'd him :
For hunting was his daily exercise .
My brother was too careless of his charge .
But let us hence , my sovereign , to provide 
A salve for any sore that may betide .
My lord , I like not of this flight of Edward's ;
For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help ,
And we shall have more wars before't be long .
As Henry's late presaging prophecy 
Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond ,
So doth my heart misgive me , in these conflicts 
What may befall him to his harm and ours :
Therefore , Lord Oxford , to prevent the worst ,
Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany ,
Till storms be past of civil enmity .
Ay , for if Edward repossess the crown ,
'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down .
It shall be so ; he shall to Brittany .
Come , therefore , let's about it speedily .
Now , brother Richard , Lord Hastings , and the rest ,
Yet thus far Fortune maketh us amends ,
And says , that once more I shall interchange 
My waned state for Henry's regal crown .
Well have we pass'd , and now repass'd the seas ,
And brought desired help from Burgundy :
What then remains , we being thus arriv'd 
From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York ,
But that we enter , as into our dukedom ?
The gates made fast ! Brother , I like not this ;
For many men that stumble at the threshold 
Are well foretold that danger lurks within .
Tush , man ! abodements must not now affright us .
By fair or foul means we must enter in ,
For hither will our friends repair to us .
My liege , I'll knock once more to summon them .
My lords , we were forewarned of your coming ,
And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ;
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry .
But , Master Mayor , if Henry be your king ,
Yet Edward , at the least , is Duke of York .
True , my good lord , I know you for no less .
Why , and I challenge nothing but my dukedom ,
As being well content with that alone .
But when the fox hath once got in his nose ,
He'll soon find means to make the body follow .
Why , Master Mayor , why stand you in a doubt ?
Open the gates ; we are King Henry's friends .
Ay , say you so ? the gates shall then be open'd .
A wise stout captain , and soon persuaded .
The good old man would fain that all were well ,
So 'twere not 'long of him ; but being enter'd ,
I doubt not , I , but we shall soon persuade 
Both him and all his brothers unto reason .
So , Master Mayor : these gates must not be shut 
But in the night , or in the time of war .
What ! fear not , man , but yield me up the keys ;
For Edward will defend the town and thee ,
And all those friends that deign to follow me .
Brother , this is Sir John Montgomery ,
Our trusty friend , unless I be deceiv'd .
Welcome , Sir John ! but why come you in arms ?
To help King Edward in his time of storm ,
As every loyal subject ought to do .
Thanks , good Montgomery ; but we now forget 
Our title to the crown , and only claim 
Our dukedom till God please to send the rest .
Then fare you well , for I will hence again :
I came to serve a king and not a duke .
Drummer , strike up , and let us march away .
Nay , stay , Sir John , awhile ; and we'll debate 
By what safe means the crown may be recover'd .
What talk you of debating ? in few words ,
If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king .
I'll leave you to your fortune , and be gone 
To keep them back that come to succour you .
Why shall we fight , if you pretend no title ?
Why , brother , wherefore stand you on nice points ?
When we grow stronger then we'll make our claim ;
Till then , 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning .
Away with scrupulous wit ! now arms must rule .
And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns .
Brother , we will proclaim you out of hand ;
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends .
Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my right ,
And Henry but usurps the diadem .
Ay , now my sov'reign speaketh like himself ;
And now will I be Edward's champion .
Sound , trumpet ! Edward shall be here proclaim'd ;
Come , fellow soldier , make thou proclamation .
Edward the Fourth , by the grace of God , King of England and France , and Lord of Ireland ,  &c .
And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right ,
By this I challenge him to single fight .
Long live Edward the Fourth !
Thanks , brave Montgomery ;and thanks unto you all :
If Fortune serve me , I'll requite this kindness .
Now , for this night , let's harbour here in York ;
And when the morning sun shall raise his car 
Above the border of this horizon ,
We'll forward towards Warwick , and his mates ;
For well I wot that Henry is no soldier .
Ah , froward Clarence , how evil it beseems thee 
To flatter Henry , and forsake thy brother !
Yet , as we may , we'll meet both thee and Warwick .
Come on , brave soldiers : doubt not of the day ;
And , that once gotten , doubt not of large pay .
What counsel , lords ? Edward from Belgia ,
With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders ,
Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas ,
And with his troops doth march amain to London ;
And many giddy people flock to him .
Let's levy men , and beat him back again .
A little fire is quickly trodden out ,
Which , being suffer'd , rivers cannot quench .
In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends ,
Not mutinous in peace , yet bold in war ;
Those will I muster up : and thou , son Clarence ,
Shalt stir up in Suffolk , Norfolk , and in Kent ,
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee :
Thou , brother Montague , in Buckingham ,
Northampton , and in Leicestershire , shalt find 
Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st :
And thou , brave Oxford , wondrous well belov'd 
In Oxfordshire , shalt muster up thy friends .
My sov'reign , with the loving citizens ,
Like to his island girt in with the ocean ,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs ,
Shall rest in London till we come to him .
Fair lords , take leave , and stand not to reply .
Farewell , my sovereign .
Farewell , my Hector , and my Troy's true hope .
In sign of truth , I kiss your highness' hand .
Well-minded Clarence , be thou fortunate !
Comfort , my lord ; and so , I take my leave .
And thus I seal my truth , and bid adieu .
Sweet Oxford , and my loving Montague ,
And all at once , once more a happy farewell .
Farewell , sweet lords : let's meet at Coventry .
Here at the palace will I rest awhile .
Cousin of Exeter , what thinks your lordship ?
Methinks the power that Edward hath in field 
Should not be able to encounter mine .
The doubt is that he will seduce the rest .
That's not my fear ; my meed hath got me fame :
I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands ,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds ,
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs ,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears ;
I have not been desirous of their wealth ;
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies ,
Nor forward of revenge , though they much err'd .
Then why should they love Edward more than me ?
No , Exeter , these graces challenge grace :
And , when the lion fawns upon the lamb ,
The lamb will never cease to follow him .
Hark , hark , my lord ! what shouts are these ?
Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry ! bear him hence :
And once again proclaim us King of England .
You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow :
Now stops thy spring ; my sea shall suck them dry ,
And swell so much the higher by their ebb .
Hence with him to the Tower ! let him not speak .
And , lords , towards Coventry bend we our course ,
Where peremptory Warwick now remains :
The sun shines hot ; and , if we use delay ,
Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay .
Away betimes , before his forces join ,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares :
Brave warriors , march amain towards Coventry .
Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford ?
How far hence is thy lord , mine honest fellow ?
By this at Dunsmore , marching hitherward .
How far off is our brother Montague ?
Where is the post that came from Montague ?
By this at Daintry , with a puissant troop .
Say , Somerville , what says my loving son ?
And , by thy guess , how nigh is Clarence now ?
At Southam I did leave him with his forces ,
And do expect him here some two hours hence .
Then Clarence is at hand , I hear his drum .
It is not his , my lord ; here Southam lies :
The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick .
Who should that be ? belike , unlook'd for friends .
They are at hand , and you shall quickly know .
Go , trumpet , to the walls , and sound a parle .
See how the surly Warwick mans the wall .
O , unbid spite ! is sportful Edward come ?
Where slept our scouts , or how are they seduc'd ,
That we could hear no news of his repair ?
Now , Warwick , wilt thou ope the city gates ,
Speak gentle words , and humbly bend thy knee ?
Call Edward king , and at his hands beg mercy ?
And he shall pardon thee these outrages .
Nay , rather , wilt thou draw thy forces hence ,
Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down ?
Call Warwick patron , and be penitent ;
And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York .
I thought , at least , he would have said the king ;
Or did he make the jest against his will ?
Is not a dukedom , sir , a goodly gift ?
Ay , by my faith , for a poor earl to give :
I'll do thee service for so good a gift .
'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother .
Why then 'tis mine , if but by Warwick's gift .
Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight :
And , weakling , Warwick takes his gift again ;
And Henry is my king , Warwick his subject .
But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner ;
And , gallant Warwick , do but answer this ,
What is the body , when the head is off ?
Alas ! that Warwick had no more forecast ,
But , whiles he thought to steal the single ten ,
The king was slily finger'd from the deck .
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace ,
And , ten to one , you'll meet him in the Tower .
'Tis even so : yet you are Warwick still .
Come , Warwick , take the time ; kneel down , kneel down :
Nay , when ? strike now , or else the iron cools .
I had rather chop this hand off at a blow ,
And with the other fling it at thy face ,
Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee .
Sail how thou canst , have wind and tide thy friend ;
This hand , fast wound about thy coal-black hair ,
Shall , whiles thy head is warm and new cut off ,
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood :
'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more .' 
O cheerful colours ! see where Oxford comes !
Oxford , Oxford , for Lancaster !
The gates are open , let us enter too .
So other foes may set upon our backs .
Stand we in good array ; for they no doubt 
Will issue out again and bid us battle :
If not , the city being but of small defence ,
We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same .
O ! welcome , Oxford ! for we want thy help .
Montague , Montague , for Lancaster !
Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason 
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear .
The harder match'd , the greater victory :
My mind presageth happy gain , and conquest .
Somerset , Somerset , for Lancaster !
Two of thy name , both Dukes of Somerset ,
Have sold their lives unto the house of York ;
And thou shalt be the third , if this sword hold .
And lo ! where George of Clarence sweeps along ,
Of force enough to bid his brother battle ;
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails 
More than the nature of a brother's love .
Come , Clarence , come ; thou wilt , if Warwick call .
Father of Warwick , know you what this means ?
Look here , I throw my infamy at thee :
I will not ruinate my father's house ,
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together ,
And set up Lancaster . Why , trow'st thou , Warwick ,
That Clarence is so harsh , so blunt , unnatural ,
To bend the fatal instruments of war 
Against his brother and his lawful king ?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :
To keep that oath were more impiety 
Than Jephthah's , when he sacrific'd his daughter .
I am so sorry for my trespass made 
That , to deserve well at my brother's hands ,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe ;
With resolution , wheresoe'er I meet thee 
As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad 
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me .
And so , proud-hearted Warwick , I defy thee ,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks .
Pardon me , Edward , I will make amends ;
And , Richard , do not frown upon my faults ,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant .
Now welcome more , and ten times more belov'd ,
Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate .
Welcome , good Clarence ; this is brother-like .
O passing traitor , perjur'd , and unjust !
What , Warwick , wilt thou leave the town , and fight ?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ?
Alas ! I am not coop'd here for defence :
I will away towards Barnet presently ,
And bid thee battle , Edward , if thou dar'st .
Yes , Warwick , Edward dares , and leads the way .
Lords , to the field ; Saint George and victory !
So , lie thou there : die thou , and die our fear ;
For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all .
Now Montague , sit fast ; I seek for thee ,
That Warwick's bones may keep thine company .
Ah ! who is nigh ? come to me , friend or foe ,
And tell me who is victor , York or Warwick ?
Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows ,
My blood , my want of strength , my sick heart shows ,
That I must yield my body to the earth ,
And , by my fall , the conquest to my foe .
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge ,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle ,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ,
Whose top branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree ,
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind .
These eyes , that now are dimm'd with death's black veil ,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun ,
To search the secret treasons of the world :
The wrinkles in my brows , now fill'd with blood ,
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ;
For who liv'd king , but I could dig his grave ?
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow ?
Lo ! now my glory smear'd in dust and blood ;
My parks , my walks , my manors that I had ,
Even now forsake me ; and , of all my lands 
Is nothing left me but my body's length .
Why , what is pomp , rule , reign , but earth and dust ?
And , live we how we can , yet die we must .
Ah ! Warwick , Warwick , wert thou as we are ,
We might recover all our loss again .
The queen from France hath brought a puissant power ;
Even now we heard the news . Ah ! couldst thou fly .
Why , then , I would not fly . Ah ! Montague ,
If thou be there , sweet brother , take my hand ,
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile .
Thou lov'st me not ; for , brother , if thou didst ,
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood 
That glues my lips and will not let me speak .
Come quickly , Montague , or I am dead .
Ah ! Warwick , Montague hath breath'd his last ;
And to the latest gasp , cried out for Warwick ,
And said , 'Commend me to my valiant brother .' 
And more he would have said ; and more he spoke ,
Which sounded like a clamour in a vault ,
That mought not be distinguish'd : but at last 
I well might hear , deliver'd with a groan ,
'O ! farewell , Warwick !' 
Sweet rest his soul ! Fly , lords , and save yourselves ;
For Warwick bids you all farewell , to meet in heaven .
Away , away , to meet the queen's great power .
Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course ,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory .
But in the midst of this bright-shining day ,
I spy a black , suspicious , threat'ning cloud ,
That will encounter with our glorious sun ,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed :
I mean , my lords , those powers that the queen 
Hath rais'd in Gallia , have arriv'd our coast ,
And , as we hear , march on to fight with us .
A little gale will soon disperse that cloud ,
And blow it to the source from whence it came :
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up ,
For every cloud engenders not a storm .
The queen is valu'd thirty thousand strong ,
And Somerset , with Oxford , fled to her :
If she have time to breathe , be well assur'd 
Her faction will be full as strong as ours .
We are advertis'd by our loving friends 
That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury .
We , having now the best at Barnet field ,
Will thither straight , for willingness rids way ;
And , as we march , our strength will be augmented 
In every county as we go along .
Strike up the drum ! cry 'Courage !' and away .
Great lords , wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss ,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms .
What though the mast be now blown over-board ,
The cable broke , the holding anchor lost ,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ?
Yet lives our pilot still : is't meet that he 
Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad 
With tearful eyes add water to the sea ,
And give more strength to that which hath too much ;
Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock ,
Which industry and courage might have sav'd ?
Ah ! what a shame ! ah , what a fault were this .
Say , Warwick was our anchor ; what of that ?
And Montague our top-mast ; what of him ?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles ; what of these ?
Why , is not Oxford here another anchor ?
And Somerset , another goodly mast ?
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings ?
And , though unskilful , why not Ned and I 
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge ?
We will not from the helm , to sit and weep ,
But keep our course , though the rough wind say no ,
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack .
As good to chide the waves as speak them fair .
And what is Edward but a ruthless sea ?
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit ?
And Richard but a ragged fatal rock ?
All those the enemies to our poor bark .
Say you can swim ; alas ! 'tis but a while :
Tread on the sand ; why , there you quickly sink :
Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you off ,
Or else you famish ; that's a threefold death .
This speak I , lords , to let you understand ,
In case some one of you would fly from us ,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers 
More than with ruthless waves , with sands and rocks .
Why , courage , then ! what cannot be avoided 
'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear .
Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit 
Should , if a coward heard her speak these words ,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity ,
And make him , naked , foil a man at arms .
I speak not this , as doubting any here ;
For did I but suspect a fearful man ,
He should have leave to go away betimes ,
Lest in our need he might infect another ,
And make him of like spirit to himself .
If any such be here , as God forbid !
Let him depart before we need his help .
Women and children of so high a courage ,
And warriors faint ! why , 'twere perpetual shame .
O brave young prince ! thy famous grandfather 
Doth live again in thee : long mayst thou live 
To bear his image and renew his glories !
And he , that will not fight for such a hope ,
Go home to bed , and , like the owl by day ,
If he arise , be mock'd and wonder'd at .
Thanks , gentle Somerset : sweet Oxford , thanks .
And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else .
Prepare you , lords , for Edward is at hand ,
Ready to fight ; therefore be resolute .
I thought no less : it is his policy 
To haste thus fast , to find us unprovided .
But he's deceiv'd ; we are in readiness .
This cheers my heart to see your forwardness .
Here pitch our battle ; hence we will not budge .
Brave followers , yonder stands the thorny wood ,
Which , by the heavens' assistance , and your strength ,
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night .
I need not add more fuel to your fire ,
For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out :
Give signal to the fight , and to it , lords .
Lords , knights , and gentlemen , what I should say 
My tears gainsay ; for every word I speak ,
Ye see , I drink the water of mine eyes .
Therefore , no more but this : Henry , your sovereign ,
Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd ,
His realm a slaughter house , his subjects slain ,
His statutes cancell'd , and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil .
You fight in justice : then , in God's name , lords ,
Be valiant , and give signal to the fight .
Now , here a period of tumultuous broils .
Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight :
For Somerset , off with his guilty head .
Go , bear them hence ; I will not hear them speak .
For my part , I'll not trouble thee with words .
Nor I , but stoop with patience to my fortune .
So part we sadly in this troublous world ,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem .
Is proclamation made , that who finds Edward 
Shall have a high reward , and he his life ?
It is : and lo , where youthful Edward comes .
Bring forth the gallant : let us hear him speak .
What ! can so young a thorn begin to prick ?
Edward , what satisfaction canst thou make ,
For bearing arms , for stirring up my subjects ,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to ?
Speak like a subject , proud ambitious York !
Suppose that I am now my father's mouth :
Resign thy chair , and where I stand kneel thou ,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee ,
Which , traitor , thou wouldst have me answer to .
Ah ! that thy father had been so resolv'd .
That you might still have worn the petticoat ,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster .
Let  sop fable in a winter's night ;
His currish riddles sort not with this place .
By heaven , brat , I'll plague you for that word .
Ay , thou wast born to be a plague to men .
For God's sake , take away this captive scold .
Nay , take away this scolding crookback rather .
Peace , wilful boy , or I will charm your tongue .
Untutor'd lad , thou art too malapert .
I know my duty ; you are all undutiful :
Lascivious Edward , and thou perjur'd George ,
And thou mis-shapen Dick , I tell ye all ,
I am your better , traitors as ye are ;
And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine .
Take that , the likeness of this railer here .
Sprawl'st thou ? take that , to end thy agony .
And there's for twitting me with perjury .
O , kill me too !
Marry , and shall .
Hold , Richard , hold ! for we have done too much .
Why should she live , to fill the world with words ?
What ! doth she swoon ? use means for her recovery .
Clarence , excuse me to the king , my brother ;
I'll hence to London on a serious matter :
Ere ye come there , be sure to hear some news .
What ? what ?
The Tower ! the Tower !
O Ned , sweet Ned ! speak to thy mother , boy !
Canst thou not speak ? O traitors ! murderers !
They that stabb'd C sar shed no blood at all ,
Did not offend , nor were not worthy blame ,
If this foul deed were by , to equal it :
He was a man ; this , in respect , a child ;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child .
What's worse than murderer , that I may name it ?
No , no , my heart will burst , an if I speak :
And I will speak , that so my heart may burst .
Butchers and villains ! bloody cannibals !
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd !
You have no children , butchers ! if you had ,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse :
But if you ever chance to have a child ,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off 
As , deathsmen , you have rid this sweet young prince !
Away with her ! go , bear her hence perforce .
Nay , never bear me hence , dispatch me here :
Here sheathe thy sword , I'll pardon thee my death .
What ! wilt thou not ? then , Clarence , do it thou .
By heaven , I will not do thee so much ease .
Good Clarence , do ; sweet Clarence , do thou do it .
Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it ?
Ay , but thou usest to forswear thyself :
'Twas sin before , but now 'tis charity .
What ! wilt thou not ? Where is that devil's butcher ,
Hard-favour'd Richard ? Richard , where art thou ?
Thou art not here : murder is thy alms-deed ;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back .
Away , I say ! I charge ye , bear her hence .
So come to you and yours , as to this prince !
Where's Richard gone ?
To London , all in post ; and , as I guess ,
To make a bloody supper in the Tower .
He's sudden if a thing comes in his head .
Now march we hence : discharge the common sort 
With pay and thanks , and let's away to London 
And see our gentle queen how well she fares ;
By this , I hope , she hath a son for me .
Good day , my lord . What ! at your book so hard ?
Ay , my good lord :my lord , I should say rather ;
'Tis sin to flatter , 'good' was little better :
'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike ,
And both preposterous ; therefore , not 'good lord .' 
Sirrah , leave us to ourselves : we must confer .
So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf ;
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece ,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife .
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act ?
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind ;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer .
The bird that hath been limed in a bush ,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush ;
And I , the hapless male to one sweet bird ,
Have now the fatal object in my eye 
Where my poor young was lim'd , was caught , and kill'd .
Why , what a peevish fool was that of Crete ,
That taught his son the office of a fowl !
And yet , for all his wings , the fool was drown'd .
I , D dalus ; my poor boy , Icarus ;
Thy father , Minos , that denied our course ;
The sun , that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy ,
Thy brother Edward , and thyself the sea ,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life .
Ah ! kill me with thy weapon , not with words .
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point 
Than can my ears that tragic history .
But wherefore dost thou come ? is't for my life ?
Think'st thou I am an executioner ?
A persecutor , I am sure , thou art :
If murd'ring innocents be executing ,
Why , then thou art an executioner .
Thy son I kill'd for his presumption .
Hadst thou been kill'd , when first thou didst presume ,
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine .
And thus I prophesy : that many a thousand ,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear ,
And many an old man's sigh , and many a widow's ,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye ,
Men for their sons' , wives for their husbands' ,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death ,
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born .
The owl shriek'd at thy birth , an evil sign ;
The night-crow cried , aboding luckless time ;
Dogs howl'd , and hideous tempest shook down trees !
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top ,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung .
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain ,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ;
To wit an indigest deformed lump ,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree .
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born ,
To signify thou cam'st to bite the world :
And , if the rest be true which I have heard ,
Thou cam'st 
I'll hear no more : die , prophet , in thy speech :
For this , amongst the rest , was I ordain'd .
Ay , and for much more slaughter after this .
O , God forgive my sins , and pardon thee !
What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted .
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death !
O ! may such purple tears be always shed 
From those that wish the downfall of our house .
If any spark of life be yet remaining ,
Down , down to hell ; and say I sent thee thither ,
I , that have neither pity , love , nor fear .
Indeed , 'tis true , that Henry told me of ;
For I have often heard my mother say 
I came into the world with my legs forward .
Had I not reason , think ye , to make haste ,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right ?
The midwife wonder'd , and the women cried 
'O ! Jesus bless us , he is born with teeth .' 
And so I was ; which plainly signified 
That I should snarl and bite and play the dog .
Then , since the heavens have shap'd my body so ,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it .
I have no brother , I am like no brother ;
And this word 'love ,' which greybeards call divine ,
Be resident in men like one another 
And not in me : I am myself alone .
Clarence , beware ; thou keep'st me from the light :
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee ;
For I will buzz abroad such prophecies 
That Edward shall be fearful of his life ;
And then , to purge his fear , I'll be thy death .
King Henry and the prince his son are gone :
Clarence , thy turn is next , and then the rest ,
Counting myself but bad till I be best .
I'll throw thy body in another room ,
And triumph , Henry , in thy day of doom .
Once more we sit in England's royal throne ,
Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies .
What valiant foemen like to autumn's corn ,
Have we mow'd down , in tops of all their pride !
Three Dukes of Somerset , threefold renown'd 
For hardy and undoubted champions ;
Two Cliffords , as the father and the son ;
And two Northumberlands : two braver men 
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound ;
With them , the two brave bears , Warwick and Montague ,
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion ,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd .
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat ,
And made our footstool of security .
Come hither , Bess , and let me kiss my boy .
Young Ned , for thee thine uncles and myself 
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night ;
Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat ,
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace ;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain .
I'll blast his harvest , if your head were laid ;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world .
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave ;
And heave it shall some weight , or break my back :
Work thou the way , and thou shalt execute .
Clarence and Gloucester , love my lovely queen ;
And kiss your princely nephew , brothers both .
The duty , that I owe unto your majesty ,
I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe .
Thanks , noble Clarence ; worthy brother , thanks .
And , that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st ,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit .
To say the truth , so Judas kiss'd his master ,
And cried 'all hail !' when as he meant all harm .
Now am I seated as my soul delights ,
Having my country's peace and brothers' loves .
What will your Grace have done with Margaret ?
Reignier , her father , to the King of France 
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem ,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom .
Away with her , and waft her hence to France .
And now what rests but that we spend the time 
With stately triumphs , mirthful comic shows ,
Such as befit the pleasure of the court ?
Sound , drums and trumpets ! farewell , sour annoy !
For here , I hope , begins our lasting joy .
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD II
Old John of Gaunt , time-honour'd Lancaster ,
Hast thou , according to thy oath and band ,
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son ,
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal ,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear ,
Against the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ?
I have , my liege .
Tell me , moreover , hast thou sounded him ,
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice ,
Or worthily , as a good subject should ,
On some known ground of treachery in him ?
As near as I could sift him on that argument ,
On some apparent danger seen in him 
Aim'd at your highness , no inveterate malice .
Then call them to our presence : face to face ,
And frowning brow to brow , ourselves will hear 
The accuser and the accused freely speak :
High-stomach'd are they both , and full of ire ,
In rage deaf as the sea , hasty as fire .
Many years of happy days befall 
My gracious sovereign , my most loving liege !
Each day still better other's happiness ;
Until the heavens , envying earth's good hap ,
Add an immortal title to your crown !
We thank you both : yet one but flatters us ,
As well appeareth by the cause you come ;
Namely , to appeal each other of high treason .
Cousin of Hereford , what dost thou object 
Against the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ?
First ,heaven be the record to my speech !
In the devotion of a subject's love ,
Tendering the precious safety of my prince ,
And free from other misbegotten hate ,
Come I appellant to this princely presence .
Now , Thomas Mowbray , do I turn to thee ,
And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak 
My body shall make good upon this earth ,
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven .
Thou art a traitor and a miscreant ;
Too good to be so and too bad to live ,
Since the more fair and crystal is the sky ,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly .
Once more , the more to aggravate the note ,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat ;
And wish , so please my sovereign , ere I move ,
What my tongue speaks , my right drawn sword may prove .
Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal :
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war ,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues ,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain ;
The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this :
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast 
As to be hush'd and nought at all to say .
First , the fair reverence of your highness curbs me 
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ;
Which else would post until it had return'd 
These terms of treason doubled down his throat .
Setting aside his high blood's royalty ,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege ,
I do defy him , and I spit at him ;
Call him a slanderous coward and a villain :
Which to maintain I would allow him odds ,
And meet him , were I tied to run afoot 
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps ,
Or any other ground inhabitable ,
Wherever Englishman durst set his foot .
Meantime let this defend my loyalty :
By all my hopes , most falsely doth he lie .
Pale trembling coward , there I throw my gage ,
Disclaiming here the kindred of the king ;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty ,
Which fear , not reverence , makes thee to except :
If guilty dread have left thee so much strength 
As to take up mine honour's pawn , then stoop :
By that , and all the rites of knighthood else ,
Will I make good against thee , arm to arm ,
What I have spoke , or thou canst worse devise .
I take it up ; and by that sword I swear ,
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder ,
I'll answer thee in any fair degree ,
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial :
And when I mount , alive may I not light ,
If I be traitor or unjustly fight !
What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge ?
It must be great that can inherit us 
So much as of a thought of ill in him .
Look , what I speak , my life shall prove it true ;
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles 
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments ,
Like a false traitor and injurious villain .
Besides I say and will in battle prove ,
Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge 
That ever was survey'd by English eye ,
That all the treasons for these eighteen years 
Complotted and contrived in this land ,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring .
Further I say and further will maintain 
Upon his bad life to make all this good ,
That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death ,
Suggest his soon believing adversaries ,
And consequently , like a traitor coward ,
Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood :
Which blood , like sacrificing Abel's , cries ,
Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth ,
To me for justice and rough chastisement ;
And , by the glorious worth of my descent ,
This arm shall do it , or this life be spent .
How high a pitch his resolution soars !
Thomas of Norfolk , what sayst thou to this ?
O ! let my sovereign turn away his face 
And bid his ears a little while be deaf ,
Till I have told this slander of his blood 
How God and good men hate so foul a liar .
Mowbray , impartial are our eyes and ears :
Were he my brother , nay , my kingdom's heir ,
As he is but my father's brother's son ,
Now , by my sceptre's awe I make a vow ,
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood 
Should nothing privilege him , nor partialize 
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul .
He is our subject , Mowbray ; so art thou :
Free speech and fearless I to thee allow .
Then , Bolingbroke , as low as to thy heart ,
Through the false passage of thy throat , thou liest .
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais 
Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers ;
The other part reserv'd I by consent ,
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt 
Upon remainder of a dear account ,
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen .
Now swallow down that lie . For Gloucester's death ,
I slew him not ; but to mine own disgrace 
Neglected my sworn duty in that case .
For you , my noble Lord of Lancaster ,
The honourable father to my foe ,
Once did I lay an ambush for your life ,
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul ;
But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament 
I did confess it , and exactly begg'd 
Your Grace's pardon , and I hope I had it .
This is my fault : as for the rest appeal'd ,
It issues from the rancour of a villain ,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor ;
Which in myself I boldly will defend ,
And interchangeably hurl down my gage 
Upon this overweening traitor's foot ,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman 
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom .
In haste whereof , most heartily I pray 
Your highness to assign our trial day .
Wrath-kindled gentlemen , be rul'd by me ;
Let's purge this choler without letting blood :
This we prescribe , though no physician ;
Deep malice makes too deep incision :
Forget , forgive ; conclude and be agreed ,
Our doctors say this is no month to bleed .
Good uncle , let this end where it begun ;
We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk , you your son .
To be a make-peace shall become my age :
Throw down , my son , the Duke of Norfolk's gage .
And , Norfolk , throw down his .
When , Harry , when ?
Obedience bids I should not bid again .
Norfolk , throw down , we bid ; there is no boot .
Myself I throw , dread sovereign , at thy foot .
My life thou shalt command , but not my shame :
The one my duty owes ; but my fair name ,
Despite of death that lives upon my grave ,
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have .
I am disgrac'd , impeach'd , and baffled here ,
Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear ,
The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood 
Which breath'd this poison .
Rage must be withstood :
Give me his gage : lions make leopards tame .
Yea , but not change his spots : take but my shame ,
And I resign my gage . My dear dear lord ,
The purest treasure mortal times afford 
Is spotless reputation ; that away ,
Men are but gilded loam or painted clay .
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 
Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast .
Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ;
Take honour from me , and my life is done :
Then , dear my liege , mine honour let me try ;
In that I live and for that will I die .
Cousin , throw down your gage : do you begin .
O ! God defend my soul from such deep sin .
Shall I seem crest fall'n in my father's sight ,
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height 
Before this out-dar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue 
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong ,
Or sound so base a parle , my teeth shall tear 
The slavish motive of recanting fear ,
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace ,
Where shame doth harbour , even in Mowbray's face .
We were not born to sue , but to command :
Which since we cannot do to make you friends ,
Be ready , as your lives shall answer it ,
At Coventry , upon Saint Lambert's day :
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
The swelling difference of your settled hate :
Since we cannot atone you , we shall see 
Justice design the victor's chivalry .
Marshal , command our officers-at-arms 
Be ready to direct these home alarms .
Alas ! the part I had in Woodstock's blood 
Doth more solicit me than your exclaims ,
To stir against the butchers of his life .
But since correction lieth in those hands 
Which made the fault that we cannot correct ,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven ;
Who , when they see the hours ripe on earth ,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads .
Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?
Edward's seven sons , whereof thyself art one ,
Were as seven vials of his sacred blood ,
Or seven fair branches springing from one root :
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course ,
Some of those branches by the Destinies cut ;
But Thomas , my dear lord , my life , my Gloucester ,
One vial full of Edward's sacred blood ,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root ,
Is crack'd , and all the precious liquor spilt ;
Is hack'd down , and his summer leaves all vaded ,
By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe .
Ah , Gaunt ! his blood was thine : that bed , that womb ,
That metal , that self-mould , that fashion'd thee 
Made him a man ; and though thou liv'st and breath'st ,
Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent 
In some large measure to thy father's death 
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die ,
Who was the model of thy father's life .
Call it not patience , Gaunt ; it is despair :
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd 
Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life ,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee :
That which in mean men we entitle patience 
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts .
What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life ,
The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death .
God's is the quarrel ; for God's substitute ,
His deputy anointed in his sight ,
Hath caus'd his death ; the which if wrongfully ,
Let heaven revenge , for I may never lift 
An angry arm against his minister .
Where then , alas ! may I complain myself ?
To God , the widow's champion and defence .
Why then , I will . Farewell , old Gaunt .
Thou go'st to Coventry , there to behold 
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight :
O ! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear ,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast .
Or if misfortune miss the first career ,
Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom 
That they may break his foaming courser's back ,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists ,
A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford !
Farewell , old Gaunt : thy sometimes brother's wife 
With her companion grief must end her life .
Sister , farewell ; I must to Coventry .
As much good stay with thee as go with me !
Yet one word more . Grief boundeth where it falls ,
Not with the empty hollowness , but weight :
I take my leave before I have begun ,
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done .
Commend me to my brother , Edmund York .
Lo ! this is all : nay , yet depart not so ;
Though this be all , do not so quickly go ;
I shall remember more . Bid him ah , what ?
With all good speed at Plashy visit me .
Alack ! and what shall good old York there see 
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls ,
Unpeopled offices , untrodden stones ?
And what hear there for welcome but my groans ?
Therefore commend me ; let him not come there ,
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where .
Desolate , desolate will I hence , and die :
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye .
My Lord Aumerle , is Harry Hereford arm'd ?
Yea , at all points , and longs to enter in .
The Duke of Norfolk , sprightfully and bold ,
Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet .
Why then , the champions are prepar'd , and stay 
For nothing but his majesty's approach .
Marshal , demand of yonder champion 
The cause of his arrival here in arms :
Ask him his name , and orderly proceed 
To swear him in the justice of his cause .
In God's name , and the king's , say who thou art ,
And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms ,
Against what man thou com'st , and what thy quarrel .
Speak truly , on thy knighthood and thine oath :
As so defend thee heaven and thy valour !
My name is Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk ,
Who hither come engaged by my oath ,
Which God defend a knight should violate !
Both to defend my loyalty and truth 
To God , my king , and his succeeding issue ,
Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me ;
And , by the grace of God and this mine arm ,
To prove him , in defending of myself ,
A traitor to my God , my king , and me :
And as I truly fight , defend me heaven !
Marshal , ask yonder knight in arms ,
Both who he is and why he cometh hither 
Thus plated in habiliments of war ;
And formally , according to our law ,
Depose him in the justice of his cause .
What is thy name ? and wherefore com'st thou hither ,
Before King Richard in his royal lists ?
Against whom comest thou ? and what's thy quarrel ?
Speak like a true knight , so defend thee heaven !
Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
Am I ; who ready here do stand in arms ,
To prove by God's grace and my body's valour ,
In lists , on Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk ,
That he's a traitor foul and dangerous ,
To God of heaven , King Richard , and to me :
And as I truly fight , defend me heaven !
On pain of death , no person be so bold 
Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists ,
Except the marshal and such officers 
Appointed to direct these fair designs .
Lord marshal , let me kiss my sovereign's hand ,
And bow my knee before his majesty :
For Mowbray and myself are like two men 
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave 
And loving farewell of our several friends .
The appellant in all duty greets your highness ,
And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave .
We will descend and fold him in our arms .
Cousin of Hereford , as thy cause is right ,
So be thy fortune in this royal fight !
Farewell , my blood ; which if to-day thou shed ,
Lament we may , but not revenge thee dead .
O ! let no noble eye profane a tear 
For me , if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear .
As confident as is the falcon's flight 
Against a bird , do I with Mowbray fight .
My loving lord , I take my leave of you ;
Of you , my noble cousin , Lord Aumerle ;
Not sick , although I have to do with death ,
But lusty , young , and cheerly drawing breath .
Lo ! as at English feasts , so I regreet 
The daintiest last , to make the end most sweet :
O thou , the earthly author of my blood ,
Whose youthful spirit , in me regenerate ,
Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up 
To reach at victory above my head ,
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers ,
And with thy blessings steel my lance's point ,
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat ,
And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt ,
Even in the lusty haviour of his son .
God in thy good cause make thee prosperous !
Be swift like lightning in the execution ;
And let thy blows , doubly redoubled ,
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque 
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy :
Rouse up thy youthful blood , be valiant and live .
Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive !
However God or fortune cast my lot ,
There lives or dies , true to King Richard's throne ,
A loyal , just , and upright gentleman .
Never did captive with a freer heart 
Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace 
His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement ,
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate 
This feast of battle with mine adversary .
Most mighty liege , and my companion peers ,
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years .
As gentle and as jocund as to jest ,
Go I to fight : truth has a quiet breast .
Farewell , my lord : securely I espy 
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye .
Order the trial , marshal , and begin .
Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
Receive thy lance ; and God defend the right !
Strong as a tower in hope , I cry 'amen .' 
Go bear this lance to Thomas , Duke of Norfolk .
Harry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
Stands here for God , his sovereign , and himself ,
On pain to be found false and recreant ,
To prove the Duke of Norfolk , Thomas Mowbray ,
A traitor to his God , his king , and him ;
And dares him to set forward to the fight .
Here standeth Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk ,
On pain to be found false and recreant ,
Both to defend himself and to approve 
Henry of Hereford , Lancaster , and Derby ,
To God , his sovereign , and to him , disloyal ;
Courageously and with a free desire ,
Attending but the signal to begin .
Sound , trumpets ; and set forward , combatants .
Stay , stay , the king hath thrown his warderdown .
Let them lay by their helmets and their spears ,
And both return back to their chairs again :
Withdraw with us ; and let the trumpets sound 
While we return these dukes what we decree .
Draw near ,
And list what with our council we have done .
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd 
With that dear blood which it hath fostered ;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect 
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords ;
And for we think the eagle-winged pride 
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts ,
With rival-hating envy , set on you 
To wake our peace , which in our country's cradle 
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep ;
Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums ,
With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray ,
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms ,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace 
And make us wade even in our kindred's blood :
Therefore , we banish you our territories :
You , cousin Hereford , upon pain of life ,
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields ,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions ,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment .
Your will be done : this must my comfort be ,
That sun that warms you here shall shine on me ;
And those his golden beams to you here lent 
Shall point on me and gild my banishment .
Norfolk , for thee remains a heavier doom ,
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce :
The sly slow hours shall not determinate 
The dateless limit of thy dear exile ;
The hopeless word of 'never to return' 
Breathe I against thee , upon pain of life .
A heavy sentence , my most sovereign liege ,
And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth :
A dearer merit , not so deep a maim 
As to be cast forth in the common air ,
Have I deserved at your highness' hands .
The language I have learn'd these forty years ,
My native English , now I must forego ;
And now my tongue's use is to me no more 
Than an unstringed viol or a harp ,
Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up ,
Or , being open , put into his hands 
That knows no touch to tune the harmony :
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue ,
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips ;
And dull , unfeeling , barren ignorance 
Is made my gaoler to attend on me .
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse ,
Too far in years to be a pupil now :
What is thy sentence then but speechless death ,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath ?
It boots thee not to be compassionate :
After our sentence plaining comes too late .
Then , thus I turn me from my country's light ,
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night .
Return again , and take an oath with thee .
Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ;
Swear by the duty that you owe to God 
Our part therein we banish with yourselves 
To keep the oath that we administer .
You never shall ,so help you truth and God !
Embrace each other's love in banishment ;
Nor never look upon each other's face ;
Nor never write , regreet , nor reconcile 
This low'ring tempest of your home-bred hate ;
Nor never by advised purpose meet 
To plot , contrive , or complot any ill 
'Gainst us , our state , our subjects , or our land .
I swear .
And I , to keep all this .
Norfolk , so far , as to mine enemy :
By this time , had the king permitted us ,
One of our souls had wander'd in the air ,
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh ,
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land :
Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm ;
Since thou hast far to go , bear not along 
The clogging burden of a guilty soul .
No , Bolingbroke : if ever I were traitor ,
My name be blotted from the book of life ,
And I from heaven banish'd as from hence !
But what thou art , God , thou , and I do know ;
And all too soon , I fear , the king shall rue .
Farewell , my liege . Now no way can I stray ;
Save back to England , all the world's my way .
Uncle , even in the glasses of thine eyes 
I see thy grieved heart : thy sad aspect 
Hath from the number of his banish'd years 
Pluck'd four away .
Six frozen winters spent ,
Return with welcome home from banishment .
How long a time lies in one little word !
Four lagging winters and four wanton springs 
End in a word : such is the breath of kings .
I thank my liege , that in regard of me 
He shortens four years of my son's exile ;
But little vantage shall I reap thereby :
For , ere the six years that he hath to spend 
Can change their moons and bring their times about ,
My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light 
Shall be extinct with age and endless night ;
My inch of taper will be burnt and done ,
And blindfold death not let me see my son .
Why , uncle , thou hast many years to live .
But not a minute , king , that thou canst give :
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow ,
And pluck nights from me , but not lend a morrow ;
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age .
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ;
Thy word is current with him for my death ,
But dead , thy kingdom cannot buy my breath .
Thy son is banish'd upon good advice ,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave :
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower ?
Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour .
You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather 
You would have bid me argue like a father .
O ! had it been a stranger , not my child ,
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild :
A partial slander sought I to avoid ,
And in the sentence my own life destroy'd .
Alas ! I look'd when some of you should say ,
I was too strict to make mine own away ;
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue 
Against my will to do myself this wrong .
Cousin , farewell ; and , uncle , bid him so :
Six years we banish him , and he shall go .
Cousin , farewell : what presence must not know ,
From where you do remain let paper show .
My lord , no leave take I ; for I will ride ,
As far as land will let me , by your side .
O ! to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words ,
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ?
I have too few to take my leave of you ,
When the tongue's office should be prodigal 
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart .
Thy grief is but thy absence for a time .
Joy absent , grief is present for that time .
What is six winters ? they are quickly gone .
To men in joy ; but grief makes one hour ten .
Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure .
My heart will sigh when I miscall it so ,
Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage .
The sullen passage of thy weary steps 
Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set 
The precious jewel of thy home return .
Nay , rather , every tedious stride I make 
Will but remember me what a deal of world 
I wander from the jewels that I love .
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood 
To foreign passages , and in the end ,
Having my freedom , boast of nothing else 
But that I was a journeyman to grief ?
All places that the eye of heaven visits 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens .
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
There is no virtue like necessity .
Think not the king did banish thee ,
But thou the king . Woe doth the heavier sit ,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne .
Go , say I sent thee forth to purchase honour ,
And not the king exil'd thee ; or suppose 
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air ,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime .
Look , what thy soul holds dear , imagine it 
To lie that way thou go'st , not whence thou com'st .
Suppose the singing birds musicians ,
The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd ,
The flowers fair ladies , and thy steps no more 
Than a delightful measure or a dance ;
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
The man that mocks at it and sets it light .
O ! who can hold a fire in his hand 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 
By bare imagination of a feast ?
Or wallow naked in December snow 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ?
O , no ! the apprehension of the good 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse :
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more 
Than when it bites , but lanceth not the sore .
Come , come , my son , I'll bring thee on thy way .
Had I thy youth and cause , I would not stay .
Then , England's ground , farewell ; sweet soil , adieu :
My mother , and my nurse , that bears me yet !
Where'er I wander , boast of this I can ,
Though banish'd , yet a true-born Englishman .
We did observe . Cousin Aumerle ,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way ?
I brought high Hereford , if you call him so ,
But to the next highway , and there I left him .
And say , what store of parting tears were shed ?
Faith , none for me ; except the northeast wind ,
Which then blew bitterly against our faces ,
Awak'd the sleeping rheum , and so by chance 
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear .
What said our cousin when you parted with him ?
'Farewell :' 
And , for my heart disdained that my tongue 
Should so profane the word , that taught me craft 
To counterfeit oppression of such grief 
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave .
Marry , would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours 
And added years to his short banishment ,
He should have had a volume of farewells ;
But , since it would not , he had none of me .
He is our cousin , cousin ; but 'tis doubt ,
When time shall call him home from banishment ,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends .
Ourself and Bushy , Bagot here and Green 
Observ'd his courtship to the common people ,
How he did seem to dive into their hearts 
With humble and familiar courtesy ,
What reverence he did throw away on slaves ,
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles 
And patient underbearing of his fortune ,
As 'twere to banish their affects with him .
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ;
A brace of draymen bid God speed him well ,
And had the tribute of his supple knee ,
With 'Thanks , my countrymen , my loving friends ;' 
As were our England in reversion his ,
And he our subjects' next degree in hope .
Well , he is gone ; and with him go these thoughts .
Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland ;
Expedient manage must be made , my liege ,
Ere further leisure yield them further means 
For their advantage and your highness' loss .
We will ourself in person to this war .
And , for our coffers with too great a court 
And liberal largess are grown somewhat light ,
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm ;
The revenue whereof shall furnish us 
For our affairs in hand . If that come short ,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters ;
Whereto , when they shall know what men are rich ,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold ,
And send them after to supply our wants ;
For we will make for Ireland presently .
Bushy , what news ?
Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick , my lord ,
Suddenly taken , and hath sent post-haste 
To entreat your majesty to visit him .
Where lies he ?
At Ely House .
Now , put it , God . in his physician's mind 
To help him to his grave immediately !
The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars .
Come , gentlemen , let's all go visit him :
Pray God we may make haste , and come too late .
Will the king come , that I may breathe my last 
In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth ?
Vex not yourself , nor strive not with your breath ;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear .
O ! but they say the tongues of dying men 
Enforce attention like deep harmony :
Where words are scarce , they are seldom spent in vain ,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain .
He that no more must say is listen'd more 
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose ;
More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before :
The setting sun , and music at the close ,
As the last taste of sweets , is sweetest last ,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past :
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear ,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear .
No ; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds ,
As praises of his state : then there are fond 
Lascivious metres , to whose venom sound 
The open ear of youth doth always listen :
Report of fashions in proud Italy ,
Whose manners still our tardy apish nation 
Limps after in base imitation .
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity ,
So it be new there's no respect how vile ,
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears ?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard ,
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard .
Direct not him whose way himself will choose :
'Tis breath thou lack'st , and that breath wilt thou lose .
Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd ,
And thus expiring do foretell of him :
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last ,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves ;
Small showers last long , but sudden storms are short ;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes ;
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder :
Light vanity , insatiate cormorant ,
Consuming means , soon preys upon itself .
This royal throne of kings , this scepter'd isle ,
This earth of majesty , this seat of Mars ,
This other Eden , demi-paradise ,
This fortress built by Nature for herself 
Against infection and the hand of war ,
This happy breed of men , this little world ,
This precious stone set in the silver sea ,
Which serves it in the office of a wall ,
Or as a moat defensive to a house ,
Against the envy of less happier lands ,
This blessed plot , this earth , this realm , this England ,
This nurse , this teeming womb of royal kings ,
Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth ,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home ,
For Christian service and true chivalry ,
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry 
Of the world's ransom , blessed Mary's Son :
This land of such dear souls , this dear , dear land ,
Dear for her reputation through the world ,
Is now leas'd out ,I die pronouncing it ,
Like to a tenement , or pelting farm :
England , bound in with the triumphant sea ,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
Of watery Neptune , is now bound in with shame ,
With inky blots , and rotten parchment bonds :
That England , that was wont to conquer others ,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself .
Ah ! would the scandal vanish with my life ,
How happy then were my ensuing death .
The king is come : deal mildly with his youth ;
For young hot colts , being rag'd , do rage the more .
How fares our noble uncle , Lancaster ?
What comfort , man ? How is't with aged Gaunt ?
O ! how that name befits my composition ;
Old Gaunt indeed , and gaunt in being old :
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast ;
And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt ?
For sleeping England long time have I watch'd ;
Watching breeds leanness , leanness is all gaunt .
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon 
Is my strict fast , I mean my children's looks ;
And therein fasting hast thou made me gaunt .
Gaunt am I for the grave , gaunt as a grave ,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones .
Can sick men play so nicely with their names ?
No ; misery makes sport to mock itself :
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me ,
I mock my name , great king , to flatter thee .
Should dying men flatter with those that live ?
No , no ; men living flatter those that die .
Thou , now a-dying , sayst thou flatter'st me .
O , no ! thou diest , though I the sicker be .
I am in health , I breathe , and see thee ill .
Now , he that made me knows I see thee ill ;
Ill in myself to see , and in thee seeing ill .
Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land 
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick :
And thou , too careless patient as thou art ,
Committ'st thy anointed body to the cure 
Of those physicians that first wounded thee :
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown ,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head ;
And yet , incaged in so small a verge ,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land .
O ! had thy grandsire , with a prophet's eye ,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons ,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame ,
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd ,
Which art possess'd now to depose thyself .
Why , cousin , wert thou regent of the world ,
It were a shame to let this land by lease ;
But for thy world enjoying but this land ,
Is it not more than shame to shame it so ?
Landlord of England art thou now , not king :
Thy state of law is bond-slave to the law ,
And thou a lunatic lean-witted fool ,
Presuming on an ague's privilege ,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition 
Make pale our cheek , chasing the royal blood 
With fury from his native residence .
Now , by my seat's right royal majesty ,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son ,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head 
Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders .
O ! spare me not , my brother Edward's son ,
For that I was his father Edward's son .
That blood already , like the pelican ,
Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly carous'd :
My brother Gloucester , plain well-meaning soul ,
Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls !
May be a precedent and witness good 
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood :
Join with the present sickness that I have ;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age ,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower .
Live in thy shame , but die not shame with thee !
These words hereafter thy tormentors be !
Convey me to my bed , then to my grave :
Love they to live that love and honour have .
And let them die that age and sullens have ;
For both hast thou , and both become the grave .
I do beseech your majesty , impute his words 
To wayward sickliness and age in him :
He loves you , on my life , and holds you dear 
As Harry , Duke of Hereford , were he here .
Right , you say true : as Hereford's love , so his ;
As theirs , so mine ; and all be as it is .
My liege , old Gaunt commends him to your majesty .
What says he ?
Nay , nothing ; all is said :
His tongue is now a stringless instrument ;
Words , life , and all , old Lancaster hath spent .
Be York the next that must be bankrupt so !
Though death be poor , it ends a mortal woe .
The ripest fruit first falls , and so doth he :
His time is spent ; our pilgrimage must be .
So much for that . Now for our Irish wars .
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns ,
Which live like venom where no venom else 
But only they have privilege to live .
And for these great affairs do ask some charge ,
Towards our assistance we do seize to us 
The plate , coin , revenues , and moveables ,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd .
How long shall I be patient ? Ah ! how long 
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong ?
Not Gloucester's death , nor Hereford's banishment ,
Not Gaunt's rebukes , nor England's private wrongs ,
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke 
About his marriage , nor my own disgrace ,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek ,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face .
I am the last of noble Edward's sons ,
Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first ;
In war was never lion rag'd more fierce ,
In peace was never gentle lamb more mild ,
Than was that young and princely gentleman .
His face thou hast , for even so look'd he ,
Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours ;
But when he frown'd , it was against the French ,
And not against his friends ; his noble hand 
Did win what he did spend , and spent not that 
Which his triumphant father's hand had won :
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood ,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin .
O , Richard ! York is too far gone with grief ,
Or else he never would compare between .
Why , uncle , what's the matter ?
O ! my liege .
Pardon me , if you please ; if not , I , pleas'd 
Not to be pardon'd , am content withal .
Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands 
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ?
Is not Gaunt dead , and doth not Hereford live ?
Was not Gaunt just , and is not Harry true ?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir ?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son ?
Take Hereford's rights away , and take from Time 
His charters and his customary rights ;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ;
Be not thyself ; for how art thou a king 
But by fair sequence and succession ?
Now , afore God ,God forbid I say true !
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights ,
Call in the letters-patent that he hath 
By his attorneys-general to sue 
His livery , and deny his offer'd homage ,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head ,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts ,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts 
Which honour and allegiance cannot think .
Think what you will : we seize into our hands 
His plate , his goods , his money , and his lands .
I'll not be by the while : my liege , farewell :
What will ensue hereof , there's none can tell ;
But by bad courses may be understood 
That their events can never fall out good .
Go , Bushy , to the Earl of Wiltshire straight :
Bid him repair to us to Ely House 
To see this business . To-morrow next 
We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time , I trow :
And we create , in absence of ourself ,
Our uncle York lord governor of England ;
For he is just , and always lov'd us well .
Come on , our queen : to-morrow must we part ;
Be merry , for our time of stay is short .
Well , lords , the Duke of Lancaster is dead .
And living too ; for now his son is duke .
Barely in title , not in revenue .
Richly in both , if justice had her right .
My heart is great ; but it must break with silence ,
Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue .
Nay , speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er speak more 
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm !
Tends that thou'dst speak to the Duke of Hereford ?
If it be so , out with it boldly , man ;
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him .
No good at all that I can do for him ,
Unless you call it good to pity him ,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony .
Now , afore God , 'tis shame such wrongs are borne 
In him , a royal prince , and many more 
Of noble blood in this declining land .
The king is not himself , but basely led 
By flatterers ; and what they will inform ,
Merely in hate , 'gainst any of us all ,
That will the king severely prosecute 
'Gainst us , our lives , our children , and our heirs .
The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes ,
And quite lost their hearts : the nobles hath he fin'd 
For ancient quarrels , and quite lost their hearts .
And daily new exactions are devis'd ;
As blanks , benevolences , and I wot not what :
But what , o' God's name , doth become of this ?
Wars have not wasted it , for warr'd he hath not ,
But basely yielded upon compromise 
That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows .
More hath he spent in peace than they in wars .
The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm .
The king's grown bankrupt , like a broken man .
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him .
He hath not money for these Irish wars ,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding ,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke .
His noble kinsman : most degenerate king !
But , lords , we hear this fearful tempest sing ,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm ;
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails ,
And yet we strike not , but securely perish .
We see the very wrack that we must suffer ;
And unavoided is the danger now ,
For suffering so the causes of our wrack .
Not so : even through the hollow eyes of death 
Ispy life peering ; but I dare not say 
How near the tidings of our comfort is .
Nay , let us share thy thoughts , as thou dost ours .
Be confident to speak , Northumberland :
We three are but thyself : and , speaking so ,
Thy words are but as thoughts ; therefore , be bold .
Then thus : I have from Port le Blanc , a bay 
In Brittany , receiv'd intelligence 
That Harry Duke of Hereford , Rainold Lord Cobham ,
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter ,
His brother , Archbishop late of Canterbury ,
Sir Thomas Erpingham , Sir John Ramston ,
Sir John Norbery , Sir Robert Waterton , and Francis Quoint ,
All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine ,
With eight tall ships , three thousand men of war ,
Are making hither with all due expedience ,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore .
Perhaps they had ere this , but that they stay 
The first departing of the king for Ireland .
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke ,
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing ,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown ,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt ,
And make high majesty look like itself ,
Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh ;
But if you faint , as fearing to do so ,
Stay and be secret , and myself will go .
To horse , to horse ! urge doubts to them that fear .
Hold out my horse , and I will first be there .
Madam , your majesty is too much sad :
You promis'd , when you parted with the king ,
To lay aside life-harming heaviness ,
And entertain a cheerful disposition .
To please the king I did ; to please myself 
I cannot do it ; yet I know no cause 
Why I should welcome such a guest as grief ,
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
As my sweet Richard : yet , again , methinks ,
Some unborn sorrow , ripe in fortune's womb ,
Is coming towards me , and my inward soul 
With nothing trembles ; at some thing it grieves 
More than with parting from my lord the king .
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows ,
Which show like grief itself , but are not so .
For sorrow's eye , glazed with blinding tears ,
Divides one thing entire to many objects ;
Like perspectives , which rightly gaz'd upon 
Show nothing but confusion ; ey'd awry 
Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty ,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure ,
Finds shapes of grief more than himself to wail ;
Which , look'd on as it is , is nought but shadows 
Of what it is not . Then , thrice-gracious queen ,
More than your lord's departure weep not : more's not seen ;
Or if it be , 'tis with false sorrow's eye ,
Which for things true weeps things imaginary .
It may be so ; but yet my inward soul 
Persuades me it is otherwise : howe'er it be ,
I cannot but be sad , so heavy sad ,
As , though in thinking on no thought I think ,
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink .
'Tis nothing but conceit , my gracious lady .
'Tis nothing less : conceit is still deriv'd 
From some forefather grief ; mine is not so ,
For nothing hath begot my something grief ;
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve :
'Tis in reversion that I do possess ;
But what it is , that is not yet known ; what 
I cannot name ; 'tis nameless woe , I wot .
God save your majesty ! and well met , gentlemen :
I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland .
Why hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope he is ,
For his designs crave haste , his haste good hope :
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd ?
That he , our hope , might have retir'd his power ,
And driven into despair an enemy's hope ,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land :
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself ,
And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd 
At Ravenspurgh .
Now God in heaven forbid !
Ah ! madam , 'tis too true : and that is worse ,
The Lord Northumberland , his son young Henry Percy ,
The Lords of Ross , Beaumond , and Willoughby ,
With all their powerful friends , are fled to him .
Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland 
And all the rest of the revolted faction traitors ?
We have : whereupon the Earl of Worcester 
Hath broke his staff , resign'd his stewardship ,
And all the household servants fled with him 
To Bolingbroke .
So , Green , thou art the midwife to my woe ,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir :
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ,
And I , a gasping new-deliver'd mother ,
Have woe to woe , sorrow to sorrow join'd .
Despair not , madam .
Who shall hinder me ?
I will despair , and be at enmity 
With cozening hope : he is a flatterer ,
A parasite , a keeper-back of death ,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life ,
Which false hope lingers in extremity .
Here comes the Duke of York .
With signs of war about his aged neck :
O ! full of careful business are his looks .
Uncle , for God's sake , speak comfortable words .
Should I do so , I should belie my thoughts :
Comfort's in heaven ; and we are on the earth ,
Where nothing lives but crosses , cares , and grief .
Your husband , he is gone to save far off ,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home :
Here am I left to underprop his land ,
Who , weak with age , cannot support myself .
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ;
Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him .
My lord , your son was gone before I came .
He was ? Why , so ! go all which way it will !
The nobles they are fled , the commons they are cold ,
And will , I fear , revolt on Hereford's side .
Sirrah , get thee to Plashy , to my sister Gloucester ;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound .
Hold , take my ring .
My lord , I had forgot to tell your lordship :
To-day , as I came by , I called there ;
But I shall grieve you to report the rest .
What is't , knave ?
An hour before I came the duchess died .
God for his mercy ! what a tide of woes 
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once !
I know not what to do : I would to God ,
So my untruth had not provok'd him to it ,
The king had cut off my head with my brother's .
What ! are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland ?
How shall we do for money for these wars ?
Come , sister ,cousin , I would say ,pray , pardon me .
Go , fellow , get thee home ; provide some carts 
And bring away the armour that is there .
Gentlemen , will you go muster men ? If I know 
How or which way to order these affairs 
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands ,
Never believe me . Both are my kinsmen :
The one is my sovereign , whom both my oath 
And duty bids defend ; the other again 
Is my kinsman , whom the king hath wrong'd ,
Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right .
Well , somewhat we must do . Come , cousin ,
I'll dispose of you . Gentlemen , go muster up your men ,
And meet me presently at Berkeley Castle .
I should to Plashy too :
But time will not permit . All is uneven ,
And every thing is left at six and seven .
The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland ,
But none returns . For us to levy power 
Proportionable to the enemy 
Is all unpossible .
Besides , our nearness to the king in love 
Is near the hate of those love not the king .
And that's the wavering commons ; for their love 
Lies in their purses , and whoso empties them ,
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate .
Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd .
If judgment lie in them , then so do we ,
Because we ever have been near the king .
Well , I'll for refuge straight to Bristol Castle ;
The Earl of Wiltshire is already there .
Thither will I with you ; for little office 
Will the hateful commons perform for us ,
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces .
Will you go along with us ?
No ; I will to Ireland to his majesty .
Farewell : if heart's presages be not vain ,
We three here part that ne'er shall meet again .
That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke .
Alas , poor duke ! the task he undertakes 
Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry :
Where one on his side fights , thousands will fly .
Farewell at once ; for once , for all , and ever .
Well , we may meet again .
I fear me , never .
How far is it , my lord , to Berkeley now ?
Believe me , noble lord ,
I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire :
These high wild hills and rough uneven ways 
Draw out our miles and make them wearisome ;
But yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar ,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable .
But I bethink me what a weary way 
From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found 
In Ross and Willoughby , wanting your company ,
Which , I protest , hath very much beguil'd 
The tediousness and process of my travel :
But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have 
The present benefit which I possess ;
And hope to joy is little less in joy 
Than hope enjoy'd : by this the weary lords 
Shall make their way seem short , as mine hath done 
By sight of what I have , your noble company .
Of much less value is my company 
Than your good words . But who comes here ?
It is my son , young Harry Percy ,
Sent from my brother Worcester , whencesoever .
Harry , how fares your uncle ?
I had thought , my lord , to have learn'd his health of you .
Why , is he not with the queen ?
No , my good lord ; he hath forsook the court ,
Broken his staff of office , and dispers'd 
The household of the king .
What was his reason ?
He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together .
Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor .
But he , my lord , is gone to Ravenspurgh ,
To offer service to the Duke of Hereford ,
And sent me over by Berkeley to discover 
What power the Duke of York had levied there ;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurgh .
Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford , boy ?
No , my good lord ; for that is not forgot 
Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge 
I never in my life did look on him .
Then learn to know him now : this is the duke .
My gracious lord , I tender you my service ,
Such as it is , being tender , raw , and young ,
Which elder days shall ripen and confirm 
To more approved service and desert .
I thank thee , gentle Percy ; and be sure 
I count myself in nothing else so happy 
As in a soul remembering my good friends ;
And as my fortune ripens with thy love ,
It shall be still thy true love's recompense :
My heart this covenant makes , my hand thus seals it .
How far is it to Berkeley ? and what stir 
Keeps good old York there with his men of war ?
There stands the castle , by yon tuft of trees ,
Mann'd with three hundred men , as I have heard ;
And in it are the Lords of York , Berkeley , and Seymour ;
None else of name and noble estimate .
Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby ,
Bloody with spurring , fiery-red with haste .
Welcome , my lords . I wot your love pursues 
A banish'd traitor ; all my treasury 
Is yet but unfelt thanks , which , more enrich'd ,
Shall be your love and labour's recompense .
Your presence makes us rich , most noble lord .
And far surmounts our labour to attain it .
Evermore thanks , the exchequer of the poor ;
Which , till my infant fortune comes to years ,
Stands for my bounty . But who comes here ?
It is my Lord of Berkeley , as I guess .
My lord of Hereford , my message is to you .
My lord , my answer is to Lancaster ;
And I am come to seek that name in England ;
And I must find that title in your tongue 
Before I make reply to aught you say .
Mistake me not , my lord ; 'tis not my meaning 
To raze one title of your honour out :
To you , my lord , I come , what lord you will ,
From the most gracious regent of this land ,
The Duke of York , to know what pricks you on 
To take advantage of the absent time 
And fright our native peace with self-born arms .
I shall not need transport my words by you :
Here comes his Grace in person .
My noble uncle !
Show me thy humble heart , and not thy knee ,
Whose duty is deceivable and false .
My gracious uncle 
Tut , tut !
Grace me no grace , nor uncle me no uncle :
I am no traitor's uncle ; and that word 'grace' 
In an ungracious mouth is but profane .
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs 
Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground ?
But then , more 'why ?' why have they dar'd to march 
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ,
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war 
And ostentation of despised arms ?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence ?
Why , foolish boy , the king is left behind ,
And in my loyal bosom lies his power .
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth 
As when brave Gaunt thy father , and myself ,
Rescu'd the Black Prince , that young Mars of men ,
From forth the ranks of many thousand French ,
O ! then , how quickly should this arm of mine ,
Now prisoner to the palsy , chastise thee 
And minister correction to thy fault !
My gracious uncle , let me know my fault :
On what condition stands it and wherein ?
Even in condition of the worst degree ,
In gross rebellion and detested treason :
Thou art a banish'd man , and here art come 
Before the expiration of thy time ,
In braving arms against thy sovereign .
As I was banish'd , I was banish'd Hereford ;
But as I come , I come for Lancaster .
And , noble uncle , I beseech your Grace 
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye :
You are my father , for methinks in you 
I see old Gaunt alive : O ! then , my father ,
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd 
A wandering vagabond ; my rights and royalties 
Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away 
To upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ?
If that my cousin king be King of England ,
It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster .
You have a son , Aumerle , my noble kinsman ;
Had you first died , and he been thus trod down ,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father ,
To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay .
I am denied to sue my livery here ,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave :
My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold ,
And these and all are all amiss employ'd .
What would you have me do ? I am a subject ,
And challenge law : attorneys are denied me ,
And therefore personally I lay my claim 
To my inheritance of free descent .
The noble duke hath been too much abus'd .
It stands your Grace upon to do him right .
Base men by his endowments are made great .
My lords of England , let me tell you this :
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs ,
And labour'd all I could to do him right ;
But in this kind to come , in braving arms ,
Be his own carver and cut out his way ,
To find out right with wrong , it may not be ;
And you that do abet him in this kind 
Cherish rebellion and are rebels all .
The noble duke hath sworn his coming is 
But for his own ; and for the right of that 
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ;
And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath !
Well , well , I see the issue of these arms :
I cannot mend it , I must needs confess ,
Because my power is weak and all ill left ;
But if I could , by him that gave me life ,
I would attach you all and make you stoop 
Unto the sovereign mercy of the king ;
But since I cannot , be it known to you 
I do remain as neuter . So , fare you well ;
Unless you please to enter in the castle 
And there repose you for this night .
An offer , uncle , that we will accept :
But we must win your Grace to go with us 
To Bristol Castle ; which they say is held 
By Bushy , Bagot , and their complices ,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth ,
Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away .
It may be I will go with you ; but yet I'll pause ;
For I am loath to break our country's laws .
Nor friends nor foes , to me welcome you are :
Things past redress are now with me past care .
My Lord of Salisbury , we have stay'd ten days ,
And hardly kept our countrymen together ,
And yet we hear no tidings from the king ;
Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell .
Stay yet another day , thou trusty Welshman :
The king reposeth all his confidence in thee .
'Tis thought the king is dead : we will not stay .
The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd 
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ,
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth 
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change ,
Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap ,
The one in fear to lose what they enjoy ,
The other to enjoy by rage and war :
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings .
Farewell : our countrymen are gone and fled ,
As well assur'd Richard their king is dead .
Ah , Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind 
I see thy glory like a shooting star 
Fall to the base earth from the firmament .
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west ,
Witnessing storms to come , woe , and unrest .
Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes ,
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes .
Bring forth these men .
Bushy and Green , I will not vex your souls 
Since presently your souls must part your bodies 
With too much urging your pernicious lives ,
For 'twere no charity ; yet , to wash your blood 
From off my hands , here in the view of men 
I will unfold some causes of your deaths .
You have misled a prince , a royal king ,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments ,
By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean :
You have in manner with your sinful hours 
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ,
Broke the possession of a royal bed ,
And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs .
Myself , a prince by fortune of my birth ,
Near to the king in blood , and near in love 
Till you did make him misinterpret me ,
Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries ,
And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds ,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment ;
Whilst you have fed upon my signories ,
Dispark'd my parks , and felled my forest woods ,
From mine own windows torn my household coat ,
Raz'd out my impress , leaving me no sign ,
Save men's opinions and my living blood ,
To show the world I am a gentleman .
This and much more , much more than twice all this ,
Condemns you to the death . See them deliver'd over 
To execution and the hand of death .
More welcome is the stroke of death to me 
Than Bolingbroke to England . Lords , farewell .
My comfort is , that heaven will take our souls 
And plague injustice with the pains of hell .
My Lord Northumberland , see them dispatch'd .
Uncle , you say the queen is at your house ;
For God's sake , fairly let her be entreated :
Tell her I send to her my kind commends ;
Take special care my greetings be deliver'd .
A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd 
With letters of your love to her at large .
Thanks , gentle uncle . Come , lords , away ,
To fight with Glendower and his complices :
Awhile to work , and after holiday .
Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand ?
Yea , my lord . How brooks your Grace the air ,
After your late tossing on the breaking seas ?
Needs must I like it well : I weep for joy 
To stand upon my kingdom once again .
Dear earth , I do salute thee with my hand ,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs :
As a long-parted mother with her child 
Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting ,
So , weeping , smiling , greet I thee , my earth ,
And do thee favour with my royal hands .
Feed not thy sovereign's foe , my gentle earth ,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his revenous sense ;
But let thy spiders , that suck up thy venom ,
And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way ,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet 
Which with usurping steps do trample thee .
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies ;
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower ,
Guard it , I pray thee , with a lurking adder 
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch 
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies .
Mock not my senseless conjuration , lords :
This earth shall have a feeling and these stones 
Prove armed soldiers , ere her native king 
Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms .
Fear not , my lord : that power that made you king 
Hath power to keep you king in spite of all .
The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd ,
And not neglected ; else , if heaven would ,
And we will not , heaven's offer we refuse ,
The proffer'd means of succour and redress .
He means , my lord , that we are too remiss ;
Whilst Bolingbroke , through our security ,
Grows strong and great in substance and in friends .
Discomfortable cousin ! know'st thou not 
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
Behind the globe , and lights the lower world ,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen ,
In murders and in outrage bloody here ;
But when , from under this terrestrial ball 
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines 
And darts his light through every guilty hole ,
Then murders , treasons , and detested sins ,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs ,
Stand bare and naked , trembling at themselves ?
So when this thief , this traitor , Bolingbroke ,
Who all this while hath revell'd in the night 
Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes ,
Shall see us rising in our throne , the east ,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face ,
Not able to endure the sight of day ,
But self-affrighted tremble at his sin .
Not all the water in the rough rude sea 
Can wash the balm from an anointed king ;
The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
The deputy elected by the Lord .
For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd 
To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown ,
God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay 
A glorious angel : then , if angels fight ,
Weak men must fall , for heaven still guards the right .
Welcome , my lord : how far off lies your power ?
Nor near nor further off , my gracious lord ,
Than this weak arm : discomfort guides my tongue 
And bids me speak of nothing but despair .
One day too late , I fear me , noble lord ,
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth .
O ! call back yesterday , bid time return ,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men :
To-day , to-day , unhappy day too late ,
O'erthrows thy joys , friends , fortune , and thy state ;
For all the Welshmen , hearing thou wert dead ,
Are gone to Bolingbroke , dispers'd , and fled .
Comfort , my liege ! why looks your Grace so pale ?
But now , the blood of twenty thousand men 
Did triumph in my face , and they are fled ;
And till so much blood thither come again 
Have I not reason to look pale and dead ?
All souls that will be safe , fly from my side ;
For time hath set a blot upon my pride .
Comfort , my liege ! remember who you are .
I had forgot myself . Am I not king ?
Awake , thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleepest .
Is not the king's name twenty thousand names ?
Arm , arm , my name ! a puny subject strikes 
At thy great glory . Look not to the ground ,
Ye favourites of a king : are we not high ?
High be our thoughts : I know my uncle York 
Hath power enough to serve our turn . But who comes here ?
More health and happiness betide my liege 
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him !
Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd :
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold .
Say , is my kingdom lost ? why , 'twas my care ;
And what loss is it to be rid of care ?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ?
Greater he shall not be : if he serve God 
We'll serve him too , and be his fellow so :
Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend ;
They break their faith to God as well as us :
Cry woe , destruction , ruin , loss , decay ;
The worst is death , and death will have his day .
Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd 
To bear the tidings of calamity .
Like an unseasonable stormy day 
Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores ,
As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears ,
So high above his limits swells the rage 
Of Bolingbroke , covering your fearful land 
With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel .
White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps 
Against thy majesty ; and boys , with women's voices ,
Strive to speak big , and clap their female joints 
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown ;
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows 
Of double-fatal yew against thy state ;
Yea , distaff-women manage rusty bills 
Against thy seat : both young and old rebel ,
And all goes worse than I have power to tell .
Too well , too well thou tell'st a tale so ill .
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ?
What is become of Bushy ? where is Green ?
That they have let the dangerous enemy 
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ?
If we prevail , their heads shall pay for it .
I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke .
Peace have they made with him , indeed , my lord .
O villains , vipers , damn'd without redemption !
Dogs , easily won to fawn on any man !
Snakes , in my heart-blood warm'd , that sting my heart !
Three Judases , each one thrice worse than Judas !
Would they make peace ? terrible hell make war 
Upon their spotted souls for this offence !
Sweet love , I see , changing his property ,
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate .
Again uncurse their souls ; their peace is made 
With heads and not with hands : those whom you curse 
Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound 
And lie full low , grav'd in the hollow ground .
Is Bushy , Green , and the Earl of Wiltshire dead ?
Yea , all of them at Bristol lost their heads .
Where is the duke my father with his power ?
No matter where . Of comfort no man speak :
Let's talk of graves , of worms , and epitaphs ;
Make dust our paper , and with rainy eyes 
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth ;
Let's choose executors and talk of wills :
And yet not so for what can we bequeath 
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ?
Our lands , our lives , and all are Bolingbroke's ,
And nothing can we call our own but death ,
And that small model of the barren earth 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones .
For God's sake , let us sit upon the ground 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings :
How some have been depos'd , some slain in war ,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ,
Some poison'd by their wives , some sleeping kill'd ;
All murder'd : for within the hollow crown 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king 
Keeps Death his court , and there the antick sits ,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp ;
Allowing him a breath , a little scene ,
To monarchize , be fear'd , and kill with looks ,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit 
As if this flesh which walls about our life 
Were brass impregnable ; and humour'd thus 
Comes at the last , and with a little pin 
Bores through his castle wall , and farewell king !
Cover your heads , and mock not flesh and blood 
With solemn reverence : throw away respect ,
Tradition , form , and ceremonious duty ,
For you have but mistook me all this while :
I live with bread like you , feel want ,
Taste grief , need friends : subjected thus ,
How can you say to me I am a king ?
My lord , wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes ,
But presently prevent the ways to wail .
To fear the foe , since fear oppresseth strength ,
Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe ,
And so your follies fight against yourself .
Fear and be slain ; no worse can come to fight :
And fight and die is death destroying death ;
Where fearing dying pays death servile breath .
My father hath a power ; inquire of him 
And learn to make a body of a limb .
Thou chid'st me well . Proud Boling broke , I come 
To change blows with thee for our day of doom .
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown ;
An easy task it is , to win our own .
Say , Scroop , where lies our uncle with his power ?
Speak sweetly , man , although thy looks be sour .
Men judge by the complexion of the sky 
The state and inclination of the day ;
So may you by my dull and heavy eye ,
My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say .
I play the torturer , by small and small 
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken .
Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke ,
And all your northern castles yielded up ,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms 
Upon his party .
Thou hast said enough .
Beshrew thee , cousin , which didst lead me forth 
Of that sweet way I was in to despair !
What say you now ? What comfort have we now ?
By heaven , I'll hate him everlastingly 
That bids me be of comfort any more .
Go to Flint Castle : there I'll pine away ;
A king , woe's slave , shall kingly woe obey .
That power I have , discharge ; and let them go 
To ear the land that hath some hope to grow ,
For I have none : let no man speak again 
To alter this , for counsel is but vain .
My liege , one word .
He does me double wrong ,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue .
Discharge my followers : let them hence away ,
From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day .
So that by this intelligence we learn 
The Welshmen are dispers'd and Salisbury 
Is gone to meet the king , who lately landed 
With some few private friends upon this coast .
The news is very fair and good , my lord :
Richard not far from hence hath hid his head .
It would beseem the Lord Northumberland 
To say , 'King Richard :' alack the heavy day 
When such a sacred king should hide his head !
Your Grace mistakes ; only to be brief 
Left I his title out .
The time hath been ,
Would you have been so brief with him , he would 
Have been so brief with you , to shorten you ,
For taking so the head , your whole head's length .
Mistake not , uncle , further than you should .
Take not , good cousin , further than you should ,
Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads .
I know it , uncle ; and oppose not myself 
Against their will . But who comes here ?
Welcome , Harry : what , will not this castle yield ?
The castle royally is mann'd , my lord ,
Against thy entrance .
Royally !
Why , it contains no king ?
Yes , my good lord ,
It doth contain a king : King Richard lies 
Within the limits of yon lime and stone ;
And with him are the Lord Aumerle , Lord Salisbury ,
Sir Stephen Scroop ; besides a clergyman 
Of holy reverence ; who , I cannot learn .
O ! belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle .
Noble lord ,
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle ,
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley 
Into his ruin'd ears , and thus deliver :
Henry Bolingbroke 
On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand ,
And sends allegiance and true faith of heart 
To his most royal person ; hither come 
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ,
Provided that my banishment repeal'd ,
And lands restor'd again be freely granted .
If not , I'll use the advantage of my power ,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood 
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen :
The which , how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke 
It is , such crimson tempest should bedrench 
The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land ,
My stooping duty tenderly shall show .
Go , signify as much , while here we march 
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain .
Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum ,
That from the castle's totter'd battlements 
Our fair appointments may be well perus'd .
Methinks King Richard and myself should meet 
With no less terror than the elements 
Of fire and water , when their thundering shock 
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven .
Be he the fire , I'll be the yielding water :
The rage be his , while on the earth I rain 
My waters ; on the earth , and not on him .
March on , and mark King Richard how he looks .
See , see , King Richard doth himself appear ,
As doth the blushing discontented sun 
From out the fiery portal of the east ,
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
To dim his glory and to stain the track 
Of his bright passage to the occident .
Yet looks he like a king : behold , his eye ,
As bright as is the eagle's , lightens forth 
Controlling majesty : alack , alack , for woe ,
That any harm should stain so fair a show !
We are amaz'd ; and thus long have we stood 
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee ,
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king :
And if we be , how dare thy joints forget 
To pay their awful duty to our presence ?
If we be not , show us the hand of God 
That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship ;
For well we know , no hand of blood and bone 
Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre ,
Unless he do profane , steal , or usurp .
And though you think that all , as you have done ,
Have torn their souls by turning them from us ,
And we are barren and bereft of friends ;
Yet know , my master , God omnipotent ,
Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf 
Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike 
Your children yet unborn and unbegot ,
That lift your vassal hands against my head 
And threat the glory of my precious crown .
Tell Bolingbroke ,for yond methinks he is ,
That every stride he makes upon my land 
Is dangerous treason : he is come to open 
The purple testament of bleeding war ;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace ,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons 
Shall ill become the flower of England's face ,
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
To scarlet indignation , and bedew 
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood .
The king of heaven forbid our lord the king 
Should so with civil and uncivil arms 
Be rush'd upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin ,
Harry Bolingbroke , doth humbly kiss thy hand ;
And by the honourable tomb he swears ,
That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones ,
And by the royalties of both your bloods ,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head ,
And by the buried hand of war-like Gaunt ,
And by the worth and honour of himself ,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said ,
His coming hither hath no further scope 
Than for his lineal royalties and to beg 
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees :
Which on thy royal party granted once ,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust ,
His barbed steeds to stables , and his heart 
To faithful service of your majesty .
This swears he , as he is a prince , is just ;
And , as I am a gentleman , I credit him .
Northumberland , say , thus the king returns :
His noble cousin is right welcome hither ;
And all the number of his fair demands 
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction :
With all the gracious utterance thou hast 
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends .
We do debase ourself , cousin , do we not ,
To look so poorly and to speak so fair ?
Shall we call back Northumberland and send 
Defiance to the traitor , and so die ?
No , good my lord ; let's fight with gentle words ,
Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords .
O God ! O God ! that e'er this tongue of mine ,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment 
On yond proud man , should take it off again 
With words of sooth . O ! that I were as great 
As is my grief , or lesser than my name ,
Or that I could forget what I have been ,
Or not remember what I must be now .
Swell'st thou , proud heart ? I'll give thee scope to beat ,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me .
Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke .
What must the king do now ? Must he submit ?
The king shall do it : must he be depos'd ?
The king shall be contented : must he lose 
The name of king ? o' God's name , let it go :
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads ,
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage ,
My gay apparel for an almsman's gown ,
My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood ,
My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff ,
My subjects for a pair of carved saints ,
And my large kingdom for a little grave ,
A little little grave , an obscure grave ;
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway ,
Some way of common trade , where subjects' feet 
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head ;
For on my heart they tread now whilst I live ;
And buried once , why not upon my head ?
Aumerle , thou weep'st , my tender-hearted cousin !
We'll make foul weather with despised tears ;
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn ,
And make a dearth in this revolting land .
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes ,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears ?
As thus ; to drop them still upon one place ,
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves 
Within the earth ; and , there inlaid : 'There lies 
Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes .' 
Would not this ill do well ? Well , well , I see 
I talk but idly and you laugh at me .
Most mighty prince , my Lord Northumberland ,
What says King Bolingbroke ? will his majesty 
Give Richard leave to live till Richard die ?
You make a leg , and Bolingbroke says ay .
My lord , in the base court he doth attend 
To speak with you ; may't please you to come down ?
Down , down , I come ; like glistering Phaethon ,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades .
In the base court ? Base court , where kings grow base ,
To come at traitors' calls and do them grace .
In the base court ? Come down ? Down , court ! down , king !
For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing .
What says his majesty ?
Sorrow and grief of heart 
Makes him speak fondly , like a frantic man :
Yet he is come .
Stand all apart ,
And show fair duty to his majesty .
My gracious lord ,
Fair cousin , you debase your princely knee 
To make the base earth proud with kissing it :
Me rather had my heart might feel your love 
Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy .
Up , cousin , up ; your heart is up , I know ,
Thus high at least , although your knee be low .
My gracious lord , I come but for mine own .
Your own is yours , and I am yours , and all .
So far be mine , my most redoubted lord ,
As my true service shall deserve your love .
Well you deserve : they well deserve to have 
That know the strong'st and surest way to get .
Uncle , give me your hand : nay , dry your eyes ;
Tears show their love , but want their remedies .
Cousin , I am too young to be your father ,
Though you are old enough to be my heir .
What you will have I'll give , and willing too ;
For do we must what force will have us do .
Set on towards London . Cousin , is it so ?
Yea , my good lord .
Then I must not say no .
What sport shall we devise here in this garden ,
To drive away the heavy thought of care ?
Madam , we'll play at bowls .
'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs ;
And that my fortune runs against the bias .
Madam , we'll dance .
My legs can keep no measure in delight 
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief :
Therefore , no dancing , girl ; some other sport .
Madam , we'll tell tales .
Of sorrow or of joy ?
Of either , madam .
Of neither , girl :
For if of joy , being altogether wanting ,
It doth remember me the more of sorrow ;
Or if of grief , being altogether had ,
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy :
For what I have I need not to repeat ,
And what I want it boots not to complain .
Madam , I'll sing .
'Tis well that thou hast cause ;
But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep .
I could weep , madam , would it do you good .
And I could sing would weeping do me good ,
And never borrow any tear of thee .
But stay , here come the gardeners :
Let's step into the shadow of these trees .
My wretchedness unto a row of pins ,
They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so 
Against a change : woe is forerun with woe .
Go , bind thou up yon dangling apricocks ,
Which , like unruly children , make their sire 
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight :
Give some supportance to the bending twigs .
Go thou , and like an executioner ,
Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays ,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth :
All must be even in our government .
You thus employ'd , I will go root away 
The noisome weeds , that without profit suck 
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers .
Why should we in the compass of a pale 
Keep law and form and due proportion ,
Showing , as in a model , our firm estate ,
When our sea-walled garden , the whole land ,
Is full of weeds , her fairest flowers chok'd up ,
Her fruit-trees all unprun'd , her hedges ruin'd ,
Her knots disorder'd , and her wholesome herbs 
Swarming with caterpillars ?
Hold thy peace :
He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring 
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf ;
The weeds that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter ,
That seem'd in eating him to hold him up ,
Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke ;
I mean the Earl of Wiltshire , Bushy , Green .
What ! are they dead ?
They are ; and Bolingbroke 
Hath seiz'd the wasteful king . O ! what pity is it 
That he hath not so trimm'd and dress'd his land 
As we this garden . We at time of year 
Do wound the bark , the skin of our fruit-trees ,
Lest , being over-proud with sap and blood ,
With too much riches it confound itself :
Had he done so to great and growing men ,
They might have liv'd to bear and he to taste 
Their fruits of duty : superfluous branches 
We lop away that bearing boughs may live :
Had he done so , himself had borne the crown ,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down .
What ! think you then the king shall be depos'd ?
Depress'd he is already , and depos'd 
'Tis doubt he will be : letters came last night 
To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's ,
That tell black tidings .
O ! I am press'd to death through want of speaking .
Thou , old Adam's likeness , set to dress this garden ,
How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ?
What Eve , what serpent , hath suggested thee 
To make a second fall of cursed man ?
Why dost thou say King Richard is depos'd ?
Dar'st thou , thou little better thing than earth ,
Divine his downfall ? Say , where , when , and how 
Cam'st thou by these ill tidings ? speak , thou wretch .
Pardon me , madam : little joy have I 
To breathe these news , yet what I say is true .
King Richard , he is in the mighty hold 
Of Bolingbroke ; their fortunes both are weigh'd :
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself ,
And some few vanities that make him light ;
But in the balance of great Bolingbroke ,
Besides himself , are all the English peers ,
And with that odds he weighs King Richard down .
Post you to London and you'll find it so ;
I speak no more than every one doth know .
Nimble mischance . that art so light of foot ,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me ,
And am I last that knows it ? O ! thou think'st 
To serve me last , that I may longest keep 
Thy sorrow in my breast . Come , ladies , go ,
To meet at London London's king in woe .
What ! was I born to this , that my sad look 
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ?
Gardener , for telling me these news of woe ,
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow .
Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse ,
I would my skill were subject to thy curse .
Here did she fall a tear ; here , in this place ,
I'll set a bank of rue , sour herb of grace ;
Rue , even for ruth , here shortly shall be seen ,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen .
Call forth Bagot .
Now , Bagot , freely speak thy mind ;
What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death ,
Who wrought it with the king , and who perform'd 
The bloody office of his timeless end .
Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle .
Cousin , stand forth , and look upon that man .
My Lord Aumerle , I know your daring tongue 
Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd .
In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted ,
I heard you say , 'Is not my arm of length ,
That reacheth from the restful English court 
As far as Calais , to my uncle's head ?' 
Amongst much other talk , that very time ,
I heard you say that you had rather refuse 
The offer of a hundred thousand crowns 
Than Bolingbroke's return to England ;
Adding withal , how blest this land would be 
In this your cousin's death .
Princes and noble lords ,
What answer shall I make to this base man ?
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars ,
On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
Either I must , or have mine honour soil'd 
With the attainder of his slanderous lips .
There is my gage , the manual seal of death ,
That marks thee out for hell : I say thou liest ,
And will maintain what thou hast said is false 
In thy heart-blood , though being all too base 
To stain the temper of my knightly sword .
Bagot , forbear ; thou shalt not take it up .
Excepting one , I would he were the best 
In all this presence that hath mov'd me so .
If that thy valour stand on sympathies ,
There is my gage , Aumerle , in gage to thine :
By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st ,
I heard thee say , and vauntingly thou spak'st it ,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death .
If thou deny'st it twenty times , thou liest ;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart ,
Where it was forged , with my rapier's point .
Thou dar'st not , coward , live to see that day .
Now , by my soul , I would it were this hour .
Fitzwater , thou art damn'd to hell for this .
Aumerle , thou liest ; his honour is as true 
In this appeal as thou art all unjust ;
And that thou art so , there I throw my gage ,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point 
Of mortal breathing : seize it if thou dar'st .
And if I do not may my hands rot off 
And never brandish more revengeful steel 
Over the glittering helmet of my foe !
I task the earth to the like , forsworn Aumerle ;
And spur thee on with full as many lies 
As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear 
From sun to sun : there is my honour's pawn ;
Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st .
Who sets me else ? by heaven , I'll throw at all :
I have a thousand spirits in one breast ,
To answer twenty thousand such as you .
My Lord Fitzwater , I do remember well 
The very time Aumerle and you did talk .
'Tis very true : you were in presence then ;
And you can witness with me this is true .
As false , by heaven , as heaven itself is true .
Surrey , thou best .
Dishonourable boy !
That he shall lie so heavy on my sword 
That it shall render vengeance and revenge ,
Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie 
In earth as quiet as thy father's skull .
In proof whereof , there is my honour's pawn :
Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st .
How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse !
If I dare eat , or drink , or breathe , or live ,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness ,
And spit upon him , whilst I say he lies ,
And lies , and lies : there is my bond of faith 
To tie thee to my strong correction .
As I intend to thrive in this new world ,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal :
Besides , I heard the banish'd Norfolk say 
That thou , Aumerle , didst send two of thy men 
To execute the noble duke at Calais .
Some honest Christian trust me with a gage .
That Norfolk lies , here do I throw down this ,
If he may be repeal'd to try his honour .
These differences shall all rest under gage 
Till Norfolk be repeal'd : repeal'd he shall be ,
And though mine enemy , restor'd again 
To all his lands and signories ; when he's return'd ,
Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial .
That honourable day shall ne'er be seen .
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought 
For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field ,
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross 
Against black pagans , Turks , and Saracens ;
And toil'd with works of war , retir'd himself 
To Italy ; and there at Venice gave 
His body to that pleasant country's earth ,
And his pure soul unto his captain Christ ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long .
Why , bishop , is Norfolk dead ?
As surely as I live , my lord .
Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom 
Of good old Abraham ! Lords appellants ,
Your differences shall all rest under gage 
Till we assign you to your days of trial .
Great Duke of Lancaster , I come to thee 
From plume-pluck'd Richard ; who with willing soul 
Adopts thee heir , and his high sceptre yields 
To the possession of thy royal hand .
Ascend his throne , descending now from him ;
And long live Henry , of that name the fourth !
In God's name , I'll ascend the regal throne .
Marry , God forbid !
Worst in this royal presence may I speak ,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth .
Would God that any in this noble presence 
Were enough noble to be upright judge 
Of noble Richard ! then , true noblesse would 
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong .
What subject can give sentence on his king ?
And who sits here that is not Richard's subject ?
Thieves are not judg'd but they are by to hear ,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them ;
And shall the figure of God's majesty ,
His captain , steward , deputy elect ,
Anointed , crowned , planted many years ,
Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath ,
And he himself not present ? O ! forfend it , God ,
That in a Christian climate souls refin'd 
Should show so heinous , black , obscene a deed .
I speak to subjects , and a subject speaks ,
Stirr'd up by God thus boldly for his king .
My Lord of Hereford here , whom you call king ,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king ;
And if you crown him , let me prophesy ,
The blood of English shall manure the ground 
And future ages groan for this foul act ;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels ,
And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars 
Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound ;
Disorder , horror , fear and mutiny 
Shall here inhabit , and this land be call'd 
The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls .
O ! if you rear this house against this house ,
It will the woefullest division prove 
That ever fell upon this cursed earth .
Prevent it , resist it , let it not be so ,
Lest child , child's children , cry against you 'woe !' 
Well have you argu'd , sir ; and , for your pains ,
Of capital treason we arrest you here .
My Lord of Westminster , be it your charge 
To keep him safely till his day of trial .
May it please you , lords , to grant the commons' suit ?
Fetch hither Richard , that in common view 
He may surrender ; so we shall proceed 
Without suspicion .
I will be his conduct .
Lords , you that here are under our arrest ,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer .
Little are we beholding to your love ,
And little look'd for at your helping hands .
Alack ! why am I sent for to a king 
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts 
Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd 
To insinuate , flatter , bow , and bend my limbs :
Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me 
To this submission . Yet I well remember 
The favours of these men : were they not mine ?
Did they not sometime cry , 'All haill' to me ?
So Judas did to Christ : but he , in twelve ,
Found truth in all but one ; I , in twelve thousand , none .
God save the king ! Will no man say , amen ?
Am I both priest and clerk ? well then , amen .
God save the king ! although I be not he ;
And yet , amen , if heaven do think him me .
To do what service am I sent for hither ?
To do that office of thine own good will 
Which tired majesty did make thee offer ,
The resignation of thy state and crown 
To Henry Bolingbroke .
Give me the crown . Here , cousin , seize the crown ;
Here cousin ,
On this side my hand and on that side thine .
Now is this golden crown like a deep well 
That owes two buckets filling one another ;
The emptier ever dancing in the air ,
The other down , unseen and full of water :
That bucket down and full of tears am I ,
Drinking my griefs , whilst you mount up on high .
I thought you had been willing to resign .
My crown , I am ; but still my griefs are mine .
You may my glories and my state depose ,
But not my griefs ; still am I king of those .
Part of your cares you give me with your crown .
Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down .
My care is loss of care , by old care done ;
Your care is gain of care , by new care won .
The cares I give I have , though given away ;
They tend the crown , yet still with me they stay .
Are you contented to resign the crown ?
Ay , no ; no , ay ; for I must nothing be ;
Therefore no no , for I resign to thee .
Now mark me how I will undo myself :
I give this heavy weight from off my head ,
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand ,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm ,
With mine own hands I give away my crown ,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state ,
With mine own breath release all duteous rites :
All pomp and majesty I do forswear ;
My manors , rents , revenues , I forego ;
My acts , decrees , and statutes I deny :
God pardon all oaths that are broke to me !
God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee !
Make me , that nothing have , with nothing griev'd ,
And thou with all pleas'd , that hast all achiev'd !
Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit ,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit !
God save King Henry , unking'd Richard says ,
And send him many years of sunshine days !
What more remains ?
No more , but that you read 
These accusations and these grievous crimes 
Committed by your person and your followers 
Against the state and profit of this land ;
That , by confessing them , the souls of men 
May deem that you are worthily depos'd .
Must I do so ? and must I ravel out 
My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland ,
If thy offences were upon record ,
Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop 
To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst ,
There shouldst thou find one heinous article ,
Containing the deposing of a king ,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath ,
Mark'd with a blot , damn'd in the book of heaven .
Nay , all of you that stand and look upon me ,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself ,
Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands ,
Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates 
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross ,
And water cannot wash away your sin .
My lord , dispatch ; read o'er these articles .
Mine eyes are full of tears , I cannot see :
And yet salt water blinds them not so much 
But they can see a sort of traitors here .
Nay , if I turn mine eyes upon myself ,
I find myself a traitor with the rest ;
For I have given here my soul's consent 
To undeck the pompous body of a king ;
Made glory base and sovereignty a slave ,
Proud majesty a subject , state a peasant ,
My lord ,
No lord of thine , thou haught insulting man ,
Nor no man's lord ; I have no name , no title ,
No , not that name was given me at the font ,
But 'tis usurp'd : alack the heavy day !
That I have worn so many winters out ,
And know not now what name to call myself .
O ! that I were a mockery king of snow ,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke ,
To melt myself away in water-drops .
Good king , great king ,and yet not greatly good ,
An if my word be sterling yet in England ,
Let it command a mirror hither straight ,
That it may show me what a face I have ,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty .
Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass .
Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come .
Fiend ! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell .
Urge it no more , my Lord Northumberland .
The commons will not then be satisfied .
They shall be satisfied : I'll read enough 
When I do see the very book indeed 
Where all my sins are writ , and that's myself .
Give me the glass , and therein will I read .
No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck 
So many blows upon this face of mine 
And made no deeper wounds ? O , flattering glass !
Like to my followers in prosperity ,
Thou dost beguile me . Was this face the face 
That every day under his household roof 
Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face 
That like the sun did make beholders wink ?
Was this the face that fac'd so many follies ,
And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke ?
A brittle glory shineth in this face :
As brittle as the glory is the face ;
For there it is , crack'd in a hundred shivers .
Mark , silent king , the moral of this sport ,
How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face .
The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd 
The shadow of your face .
Say that again .
The shadow of my sorrow ! Ha ! let's see :
'Tis very true , my grief lies all within ;
And these external manners of laments 
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief 
That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul ;
There lies the substance : and I thank thee , king ,
For thy great bounty , that not only giv'st 
Me cause to wail , but teachest me the way 
How to lament the cause . I'll beg one boon ,
And then be gone and trouble you no more .
Shall I obtain it ?
Name it , fair cousin .
'Fair cousin !' I am greater than a king ;
For when I was a king , my flatterers 
Were then but subjects ; being now a subject ,
I have a king here to my flatterer .
Being so great , I have no need to beg .
Yet ask .
And shall I have ?
You shall .
Then give me leave to go .
Whither ?
Whither you will , so I were from your sights .