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twg_000000018400 | England then, Where neer from France arrivd more happy men. [_Exeunt._] ACT V Enter Chorus. CHORUS. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, That I may prompt them; and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit the excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018401 | 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-mouthd sea, Which like a mighty whiffler fore the King Seems to prepare his way. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018402 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018403 | trophy, signal, and ostent Quite from himself to God. But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens! The mayor and all his brethren in best sort, Like to the senators of th antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in; As, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018404 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018405 | French Invites the King of Englands stay at home, The Emperors coming in behalf of France, To order peace between them;and omit All the occurrences, whatever chancd, Till Harrys back-return again to France. There must we bring him; and myself have playd The interim, by remembring you tis past. Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance After your thoughts, straight | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018406 | back again to France. [_Exit._] SCENE I. France. The English camp. Enter Fluellen and Gower. GOWER. Nay, thats right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davys day is past. FLUELLEN. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I will tell you ass my friend, Captain Gower. The rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018407 | which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018408 | so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. Enter Pistol. GOWER. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. FLUELLEN. Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Anchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018409 | PISTOL. Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parcas fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. FLUELLEN. I peseech you heartily, scurfy, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018410 | affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. PISTOL. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. FLUELLEN. There is one goat for you. [_Strikes him._] Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it? PISTOL. Base Trojan, thou shalt die. FLUELLEN. You say very true, scald knave, when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018411 | Gods will is. I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals. Come, there is sauce for it. [_Strikes him._] You calld 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; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018412 | you have astonishd him. FLUELLEN. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb. PISTOL. Must I bite? FLUELLEN. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities. PISTOL. By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018413 | this leek, I will most horribly revenge. I eat and eat, I swear FLUELLEN. Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by. PISTOL. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat. FLUELLEN. Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you, throw none away; the skin | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018414 | is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at em; that is all. PISTOL. Good. FLUELLEN. Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate. PISTOL. Me a groat! FLUELLEN. Yes, verily and in truth you shall take it; or I have another leek in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018415 | 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 be wi you, and keep you, and heal your pate. [_Exit._] PISTOL. All hell shall stir for this. GOWER. Go, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018416 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018417 | 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 Doll is dead i the spital Of malady of France; And there my rendezvous | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018418 | is quite cut off. Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs Honour is cudgelld. Well, bawd Ill turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and there Ill steal; And patches will I get unto these cudgelld scars, And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. [_Exit._] SCENE II. France. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018419 | royal palace. Enter at one door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwick, Gloucester, Westmorland, Clarence, Huntingdon and other Lords. At another, Queen Isabel, the French King, the Princess Katharine, Alice, and other Ladies; the Duke of Burgundy and other French. KING HENRY. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met! Unto our brother France, and to our sister, Health and fair | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018420 | 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 contrivd, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018421 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018422 | 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 all, I do salute you. BURGUNDY. My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and England! That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018423 | I have labourd, 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 prevaild That, face to face and royal eye to eye, You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018424 | 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 chasd, And all her husbandry doth lie on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018425 | heaps, Corrupting in it own fertility. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleachd, Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, Put forth disorderd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018426 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018427 | 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, diffusd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018428 | 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 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 enscheduld briefly in your hands. BURGUNDY. The King hath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018429 | heard them; to the which as yet There is no answer made. KING HENRY. Well, then, the peace, Which you before so urgd, lies in his answer. FRENCH KING. I have but with a cursorary eye Oerglancd the articles. Pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more, with better heed To re-survey | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018430 | 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, Anything in or out of our demands, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018431 | And well 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 womans voice may do some good, When articles too nicely urgd be stood on. KING HENRY. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us: She is our capital demand, comprisd Within | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018432 | the fore-rank of our articles. QUEEN ISABEL. She hath good leave. [_Exeunt all except Henry, Katharine and Alice._] KING HENRY. Fair Katharine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a ladys ear And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? KATHARINE. Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your England. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018433 | KING HENRY. 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? KATHARINE. _Pardonnez-moi_, I cannot tell wat is like me. KING HENRY. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel. KATHARINE. _Que dit-il? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018434 | Que je suis semblable les anges?_ ALICE. _Oui, vraiment, sauf votre Grce, ainsi dit-il._ KING HENRY. I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to affirm it. KATHARINE. _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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018435 | de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits: dat is de Princess. KING HENRY. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018436 | 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? KATHARINE. _Sauf | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018437 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018438 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018439 | cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urgd, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018440 | 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 livst, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018441 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018442 | black beard will turn white; a curld 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018443 | 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. KATHARINE. Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France? KING HENRY. No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate; but, in loving | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018444 | 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. KATHARINE. I cannot tell wat is dat. KING HENRY. No, Kate? I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018445 | will tell thee in French; which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husbands 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 tes mienne._ It is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018446 | 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. KATHARINE. _Sauf votre honneur, le franais que vous parlez, il est meilleur que langlais lequel je parle._ KING HENRY. No, faith, ist not, Kate; but thy speaking of my tongue, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018447 | 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? KATHARINE. I cannot tell. KING HENRY. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? Ill ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your closet, youll question this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018448 | gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018449 | 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 sayst thou, my fair flower-de-luce? KATHARINE. I do not know dat. KING HENRY. No; tis hereafter to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018450 | know, but now to promise. Do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy; and for my English moiety, take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer you, _la plus belle Katherine du monde, mon trs cher et divin desse?_ KATHARINE. Your Majestee ave _fausse_ French enough to deceive de | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018451 | most _sage demoiselle_ dat is _en France_. KING HENRY. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew my fathers ambition! He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018452 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018453 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018454 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018455 | 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? KATHARINE. Dat is as it shall please _le roi mon pre_. KING HENRY. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018456 | Kate. KATHARINE. Den it sall also content me. KING HENRY. Upon that I kiss your hand, and call you my queen. KATHARINE. _Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en baisant la main duneNotre Seigneur!indigne serviteur. Excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon trs-puissant seigneur._ KING HENRY. Then I will kiss your lips, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018457 | Kate. KATHARINE. _Les dames et demoiselles pour tre baises devant leurs noces, il nest pas la coutume de France._ KING HENRY. Madame my interpreter, what says she? ALICE. Dat it is not be de fashion _pour les_ ladies of France,I cannot tell wat is _baiser en_ Anglish. KING HENRY. To kiss. ALICE. Your Majestee _entend_ bettre _que moi_. KING HENRY. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018458 | It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say? ALICE. _Oui, vraiment._ KING HENRY. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a countrys fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018459 | our places stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding. [_Kissing her._] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate; there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018460 | sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father. Enter the French Power and the English Lords. BURGUNDY. God save your Majesty! My royal cousin, teach you our princess English? KING HENRY. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is good English. BURGUNDY. Is she not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018461 | apt? KING HENRY. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in his true likeness. BURGUNDY. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018462 | 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 rosd over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018463 | my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign to. KING HENRY. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces. BURGUNDY. They are then excusd, my lord, when they see not what they do. KING HENRY. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking. BURGUNDY. I will wink on her to consent, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018464 | lord, if you will teach her to know my meaning; for maids, well summerd and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes; and then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on. KING HENRY. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and so I shall catch the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018465 | fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too. BURGUNDY. As love is, my lord, before it loves. KING HENRY. It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way. FRENCH KING. Yes, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018466 | lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turnd into a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls that no war hath entered. KING HENRY. Shall Kate be my wife? FRENCH KING. So please you. KING HENRY. I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her; so the maid that stood in the way | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018467 | for my wish shall show me the way to my will. FRENCH KING. We have consented to all terms of reason. KING HENRY. Ist so, my lords of England? WESTMORLAND. The king hath granted every article; His daughter first, and then in sequel all, According to their firm proposed natures. EXETER. Only he hath not yet subscribed this: where your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018468 | 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 trs-cher fils Henri, Roi dAngleterre, Hritier de France_; and thus in Latin, _Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, rex Angliae et haeres Franciae._ FRENCH KING. Nor this I have not, brother, so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018469 | denied But our request shall make me let it pass. KING HENRY. I pray you then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest; And thereupon give me your daughter. FRENCH KING. Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018470 | shores look pale With envy of each others happiness, May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword twixt England and fair France. LORDS. Amen! KING HENRY. Now, welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all, That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. [_Flourish._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018471 | QUEEN ISABEL. God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be there twixt your kingdoms such a spousal, That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the paction of these | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018472 | kingdoms, To make divorce of their incorporate league; That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other. God speak this Amen! ALL. Amen! KING HENRY. Prepare we for our marriage; on which day, My Lord of Burgundy, well take your oath, And all the peers, for surety of our leagues, Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018473 | me; And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be! [_Sennet. Exeunt._] EPILOGUE. Enter Chorus. CHORUS. Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath pursud the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. Fortune made | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018474 | his sword, By which the worlds best garden he achieved, And of it left his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crownd 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018475 | In your fair minds let this acceptance take. [_Exit._] THE FIRST PART OF HENRY THE SIXTH Contents ACT I Scene I. Westminster Abbey Scene II. France. Before Orleans Scene III. London. Before the Tower Scene IV. Orleans Scene V. Before Orleans Scene VI. Orleans ACT II SCENE I. Before Orleans SCENE II. Orleans. Within the town SCENE III. Auvergne. The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018476 | Countesss castle SCENE IV. London. The Temple Garden SCENE V. The Tower of London ACT III SCENE I. London. The Parliament House SCENE II. France. Before Rouen SCENE III. The plains near Rouen SCENE IV. Paris. The Palace ACT IV SCENE I. Paris. The Palace SCENE II. Before Bordeaux SCENE III. Plains in Gascony SCENE IV. Other plains in Gascony | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018477 | SCENE V. The English camp near Bordeaux SCENE VI. A field of battle SCENE VII. Another part of the field ACT V SCENE I. London. The Palace SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjou SCENE III. Before Angiers SCENE IV. Camp of the Duke of York in Anjou SCENE V. London. The royal palace Dramatis Person KING HENRY the Sixth DUKE | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018478 | OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and Protector DUKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and Regent of France DUKE OF EXETER, (Thomas Beaufort), great-uncle to the King BISHOP OF WINCHESTER (Henry Beaufort), great-uncle to the King, afterwards Cardinal DUKE OF SOMERSET (John Beaufort) RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard, late Earl of Cambridge, afterwards Duke of York EARL OF WARWICK | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018479 | EARL OF SALISBURY EARL OF SUFFOLK LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury JOHN TALBOT, his son Edmund MORTIMER, Earl of March SIR JOHN FASTOLF SIR WILLIAM LUCY SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE MAYOR of London WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower VERNON, of the White-Rose or York faction BASSET, of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction A LAWYER Mortimers JAILERS CHARLES, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018480 | Dauphin, and afterwards King of France REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples DUKE OF BURGUNDY DUKE OF ALENON BASTARD OF ORLEANS Governor of Paris MASTER GUNNER of Orleans and BOY, his son General of the French forces in Bordeaux A French Sergeant. A Porter An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018481 | married to King Henry COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of Arc Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants. Fiends appearing to Joan la Pucelle SCENE: Partly in England and partly in France ACT I SCENE I. Westminster Abbey. Dead March. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018482 | Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Somerset with Heralds, &c. BEDFORD. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018483 | bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henrys death: King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! England neer lost a king of so much worth. GLOUCESTER. England neer had a king until his time. Virtue he had, deserving to command; His brandishd sword did blind men with his beams; His arms spread wider than a dragons wings; His | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018484 | 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 neer lift up his hand but conquered. EXETER. We mourn in black; why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead and never shall revive. Upon a wooden coffin | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018485 | we attend, And Deaths 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 glorys overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, By magic verses have contrivd his end? WINCHESTER. He was a king blessd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018486 | of the King of kings; Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day So dreadful will not be as was his sight. The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought: The Churchs prayers made him so prosperous. GLOUCESTER. The Church! Where is it? Had not churchmen prayd, His thread of life had not so soon decayd. None do you like but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018487 | an effeminate prince, Whom like a school-boy you may overawe. WINCHESTER. Gloucester, whateer 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. GLOUCESTER. Name not religion, for thou lovst the flesh, And neer throughout the year to church thou gost, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018488 | Except it be to pray against thy foes. BEDFORD. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds in peace; Lets to the altar; heralds, wait on us. Instead of gold, well offer up our arms, Since arms avail not, now that Henrys dead. Posterity, await for wretched years, When at their mothers moist eyes babes shall suck, Our isle be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018489 | made a nourish 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 Caesar or bright Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. My honourable lords, health to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018490 | you all! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Rouen, Orleans, Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. BEDFORD. What sayst thou, man, before dead Henrys corse? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death. GLOUCESTER. Is Paris | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018491 | lost? Is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recalld to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. EXETER. How were they lost? What treachery was usd? MESSENGER. No treachery, but want of men and money. Amongst the soldiers this is muttered: That here you maintain several factions And whilst a field should be dispatchd and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018492 | 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 obtaind. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot. Croppd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; Of Englands coat one half | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018493 | is cut away. [_He exits._] EXETER. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth their flowing tides. BEDFORD. Me they concern; Regent I am of France. Give me my steeled coat. Ill fight for France. Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018494 | to them another Messenger. MESSENGER. 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 joind; Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The Duke of Alenon flieth to his side. [_He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018495 | exits._] EXETER. The Dauphin crowned king! All fly to him! O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? GLOUCESTER. We will not fly but to our enemies throats. Bedford, if thou be slack, Ill fight it out. BEDFORD. Gloucester, why doubtst thou of my forwardness? An army have I musterd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun. Enter another | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018496 | Messenger. MESSENGER. My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henrys hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. WINCHESTER. What! Wherein Talbot overcame, ist so? MESSENGER. O no, wherein Lord Talbot was oerthrown. The circumstance Ill tell you more at large. The tenth of August | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018497 | 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 pluckd out of hedges They pitched in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018498 | 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 everywhere, enragd he slew. The French exclaimd the devil was in arms; All the whole army stood | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000018499 | agazd on him. His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain, And rushd into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been seald up If Sir John Fastolf had not playd the coward. He, being in the vaward, placd behind With purpose to relieve and follow them, Cowardly fled, not having struck | 60 | gutenberg |
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