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.
[Exeunt Conspirators, guarded.
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 smoothèd 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-London. Pistol's House in Eastcheap.

Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYм, BARDOLPH, and Boy. Host. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

Pist. 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.

Bard. Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven, or in hell!

Host. 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, e'en 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. Nym. They say, he cried out of sack. Host. Ay, that 'a did.

Bard. And of women.

Host. Nay, that 'a did not.

Boy. Yes, that 'a did; and said they were devils incarnate.

Host. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never liked.

Boy. 'A said once the devil would have him about women.

Host. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle

women but then he was rheumatic; and talked of the whore of Babylon.

Boy. Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose; and 'a said it was a black soul burning in hell?

Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service. Nym. Shall we shog? the king will be gone from Southampton.

Pist. 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 wafer

cakes,

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!

Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they

say.

Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march.
Bard. Farewell, hostess.

[Kissing her. Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu.

Pist. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I

thee command.

Host. Farewell; adieu.

[Exeunt

SCENE IV.-France. A room in the French King's Palace.

Enter the French KING, attended; the DAUPHIN, the DUKE OF BURGUNDY, the CONSTABLE, and others.

Fr. King. 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 Berry, and of Bretagne,
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,
And you, prince Dauphin, -with all swift dis-
patch,

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.

Dau.

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.

Con.
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 fore-spent
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.
Dau. 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;
Of which a weak and niggardly projection
Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth.

Fr. King. 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 captived, by the hand Of that black name, Edward black prince of Wales;

Whiles that his mountain sire,-on mountain standing,

Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,—