The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

PISTOL. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.

FLUELLEN. If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God bye you, and keep you, and heal your pate.

Exit

PISTOL. All hell shall stir for this.

GOWER. Go, go: you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel; you find it otherwise, and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well. Exit PISTOL. Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?

News have I that my Nell is dead i’ th’ spital Of malady of France;

And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.

Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs Honour is cudgell’d. Well, bawd I’ll turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.

To England will I steal, and there I’ll steal; And patches will I get unto these cudgell’d scars, And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. Exit

SCENE II.

France. The FRENCH KING’S palace

Enter at one door, KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and other LORDS; at another, the FRENCH KING, QUEEN ISABEL, the PRINCESS KATHERINE, ALICE, and other LADIES; the DUKE OF BURGUNDY, and his train

KING HENRY. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!

Unto our brother France, and to our sister, Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes To our most fair and princely cousin Katherine.

And, as a branch and member of this royalty, By whom this great assembly is contriv’d, We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy.

And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!

FRENCH KING. Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

So are you, princes English, every one.

QUEEN ISABEL. So happy be the issue, brother England, Of this good day and of this gracious meeting As we are now glad to behold your eyes-Your eyes, which hitherto have home in them, Against the French that met them in their bent, The fatal balls of murdering basilisks; The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, Have lost their quality; and that this day Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.

KING HENRY. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.

QUEEN ISABEL. You English princes an, I do salute you.

BURGUNDY. My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour’d With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, To bring your most imperial Majesties Unto this bar and royal interview,

Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.

Since then my office hath so far prevail’d That face to face and royal eye to eye You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand, before this royal view,

What rub or what impediment there is

Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?

Alas, she hath from France too long been chas’d!

And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, Corrupting in it own fertility.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach’d, Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, Put forth disorder’d twigs; her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery; The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective in their natures, grow to wildness; Even so our houses and ourselves and children Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, The sciences that should become our country; But grow, like savages-as soldiers will, That nothing do but meditate on blood-To swearing and stern looks, diffus’d attire, And everything that seems unnatural.

Which to reduce into our former favout You are assembled; and my speech entreats That I may know the let why gentle Peace Should not expel these inconveniences And bless us with her former qualities.

KING HENRY. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace Whose want gives growth to th’ imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full accord to all our just demands; Whose tenours and particular effects

You have, enschedul’d briefly, in your hands.

BURGUNDY. The King hath heard them; to the which as yet There is no answer made.

KING HENRY. Well then, the peace,

Which you before so urg’d, lies in his answer.

FRENCH KING. I have but with a cursorary eye O’erglanced the articles; pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more, with better heed To re-survey them, we will suddenly

Pass our accept and peremptory answer.

KING HENRY. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter, And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester, Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King; And take with you free power to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see advantageable for our dignity, Any thing in or out of our demands;

And we’ll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister, Go with the princes or stay here with us?

QUEEN ISABEL. Our gracious brother, I will go with them; Haply a woman’s voice may do some good, When articles too nicely urg’d be stood on.

KING HENRY. Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us; She is our capital demand, compris’d

Within the fore-rank of our articles.

QUEEN ISABEL. She hath good leave.

Exeunt all but the KING, KATHERINE, and ALICE

KING HENRY. Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady’s ear,

And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?

KATHERINE. Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your England.

KING HENRY. O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

KATHERINE. Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is like me.

KING HENRY. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.

KATHERINE. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les anges?

ALICE. Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.

KING HENRY. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.

KATHERINE. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.

KING HENRY. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are full of deceits?

ALICE. Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits-dat is de Princess.

KING HENRY. The Princess is the better English-woman. I’ faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou canst speak no better English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you.’ Then, if you urge me farther than to say ‘Do you in faith?’ I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; i’ faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady?

KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.

KING HENRY. Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me; for the one I have neither words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my cloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urg’d, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I shall die is true-but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou liv’st, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places; for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, they do always reason themselves out again.

What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl’d pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow. But a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon-for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly.

If thou would have such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what say’st thou, then, to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.

KATHERINE. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?

KING HENRY. No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate, but in loving me you should love the friend of France; for I love France so well that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine. And, Kate, when France is mine and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine.

KATHERINE. I cannot tell vat is dat.

KING HENRY. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband’s neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand sur le possession de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi-let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!- donc votre est France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much more French: I shall never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.

KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est meilleur que l’Anglais lequel je parle.

KING HENRY. No, faith, is’t not, Kate; but thy speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English-Canst thou love me?

KATHERINE. I cannot tell.

KING HENRY. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I’ll ask them.

Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your closet, you’ll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart. But, good Kate, mock