GOWER Why, here a comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
FLUELLEN ‘Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. —God pless you Ensign Pistol, you scurvy lousy knave, God pless you.
PISTOL
Ha, art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy lousy knave, at my desires and my requests and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek. Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. 26
PISTOL
Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
FLUELLEN There is one goat for you. (He strikes Pistol) Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?
PISTOL Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
FLUELLEN 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. (He strikes him) You called me yesterday ‘mountain-squire’, but I will make you today a ‘squire of low degree’. I pray you, fall to. If you can mock a leek you can eat a leek.
GOWER Enough, captain, you have astonished him.
FLUELLEN By Jesu, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days and four nights.—Bite, I pray you. It is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.
PISTOL Must I bite?
FLUELLEN Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities.
PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge—
⌈
Fluellen threatens him
⌉ I eat and eat—I swear—
FLUELLEN Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.
PISTOL
Quiet thy cudgel, thou dost see I eat.
FLUELLEN Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away. The skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at ’em, that is all.
PISTOL Good.
FLUELLEN Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
PISTOL Me, a groat?
FLUELLEN Yes, verity, and in truth you shall take it, or I have another leek in my pocket which you shall eat.
PISTOL
I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
FLUELLEN If I owe you anything, I will pay you in cudgels. You shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God b’wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate. Exit
PISTOL All hell shall stir for this.
GOWER 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 avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel. You find it otherwise. And henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well.
PISTOL
Doth Fortune play the hussy with me now?
News have I that my Nell is dead
I’th’ spital of a 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 cudgelled scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.
5.2
Enter at one door King Harry, the Dukes of Exeter and
⌈
Clarence
⌉
, the Earl of Warwick, and other lords; at another, King Charles the Sixth of France, Queen Isabel, the Duke of Burgundy, and other French, among them Princess Catherine and Alice
KING HARRY
Peace to this meeting, wherefor 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 Catherine;
And as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contrived,
We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy.
And princes French, and peers, health to you all.
KING CHARLES
Right joyous are we to behold your face.
Most worthy brother England, fairly met.
So are you, princes English, every one.
QUEEN ISABEL
So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes—
Your eyes which hitherto have 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.
KING HARRY
To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
QUEEN ISABEL
You English princes all, I do salute you.
BURGUNDY
My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great Kings of France and England. That I have
laboured
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 prevailed
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 chased,
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in it own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unprunèd dies; her hedges even-plashed
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair
Put forth disordered 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.
An all 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, diffused attire,
And everything 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.
KING HARRY
If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace
Whose want gives growth to th’imperfections
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands,
Whose tenors and particular effects
You have enscheduled briefly in your hands.
BURGUNDY
The King hath heard them, to the which as yet
There is no answer made.
KING HARRY Well then, the peace,
Which you before so urged, lies in his answer.
KING CHARLES
I have but with a cursitory eye
O’erglanced the articles. Pleaseth your grace
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will suddenly
Pass our accept and peremptory answer.
KING HARRY
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?
QUEEN
Our gracious brother, I will go with them.
Haply a woman’s voice may do some good
When articles too nicely urged be stood on.
KING HARRY
Yet leave our cousin Catherine here with us.
She is our capital demand, comprised
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
QUEEN
She hath good leave.
Exeunt all but King Harry, Catherine, and Alice
KING HARRY Fair Catherine, 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?
CATHERINE Your majesty shall mock at me. I cannot speak your England.
KING HARRY O fair Catherine, 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?
CATHERINE
Pardonnez-moi,
I cannot tell vat is ‘like me’.
KING HARRY An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
CATHERINE
(to Alice) Que dit-il?—que je suis semblable à les anges?
ALICE
Oui, vraiment
—
sauf votre grâce
—
ainsi dit-il.
KING HARRY I said so, dear Catherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.
CATHERINE
O bon Dieu! Les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
KING HARRY What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of deceits?
ALICE
Oui,
dat de tongeus of de mans is be full of deceits—dat is de Princess.
KING HARRY 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 farther than to say, ‘Do you in faith?’, I wear out my suit. Give me your answer, i’faith do, and so clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady?
CATHERINE
Sauf votre honneur
, me understand well.
KING HARRY 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 jackanapes, 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 canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: if thou canst love me for this, take me. If not, to say to thee that I shall die, is true—but for thy love, by the Lord, no. Yet I love thee, too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy, for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places. For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, they do always reason themselves out again. What! A speaker is but a prater, a rhyme is but a ballad; a good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a 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 sayst thou then to my love? Speak, my fair—and fairly, I pray thee.
CATHERINE Is it possible dat I sould love de ennemi of France?
KING HARRY 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.