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Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam Esquire ;
K. Henry. O God, thy arm was here!
Exe. 'Tis wonderful !
K. Henry. Come, go we in procession to the village: And be it death proclaimed through our host, To boast of this, or take that praise from God, Which is his only.
Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how many is kill'd? K. Henry. Yes, captain, but with this acknowledg
ment, That God fought for us.
Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.
K. Henry. Do we all holy rites; Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te deum: The dead with charity enclos'd in clay; And then to Calais : and to England then; Where ne'er from France ariry'd more happy men.
A C T V.
S CE N E
Enter ChOR US.
VOUCHS AF E, to those that have not read the
Be here presented. Now we bear the King
fo let him land,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride : ti Giving full trophy, fignal, and oftent,
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance After your thoughts, straight back again to France.
[Exit. S CE N E
The English Camp in France.
Enter Fluellen and Gower. Gower.
AY, that's right: but why wear you your
Leek to daypaft Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things; I will tell you as a friend, captain Gower ; the rascally, scauld, beggarly, lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol, 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 bids me eat пiy Leek. It was in a place where I could breed no contentions 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.
Enter Piftol. Gower. Why, here he comes swelling like a Turkeycock.
Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swelling, nor his Turkeycocks. God pleffe you, aunchient Pistol : you fcurvy Jowsy knave, God plelse you. Pist. Ha ! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base
Parca's fatal web?
Flu. I pescech you heartily, scurvy lowly knave, at my defires, and my requells and my petitions, to eat, look you, this lcek: because, look you, you do not love it; and your affe&tions, and your appetites, and your digellions, does not agree with it; I would defire you to eat it.
Pift. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats.
[Strikes him. Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it?
Pift. Base Trojan, thou shalt die. Flu. You say very true, scauld knave, when God's will is: 1 desire you to live in the mean time and eat your victuals; come, there is fauce for it-[Strikes him.) You call’d me yesterday Mountain-Squire, but I will make you to day a Squire of low degree. I pray you
if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.. Gower. Enough, captain ; you have astonish'd him.
Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate, four days and four nights. Pite, I pray you ; it is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.
Pift. Mult I bite?
Flu. Yes, out of doubt, and out of questions too, and ambiguities.
Pift. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge ; I eat and swearFlu. Eat, I pray you;
have some more fauce to your leek ? there is not enough leek to swear by.
Pift. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see, I eat.
Flu. Much good do you, scauld knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away, the skin is good for your proken coxcomb: when you take occalions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at 'em, that's
Flu. Ay, leeks is good; hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate:
Pift. Me a groat !
Flu. Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it; or I have anotherleek in my pocket, which you shall eat.
Pift. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy no thing of me but cudgels ; God pe wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate.
[Exit. Pift. All hell shall ftir for this. Gow. Go, go, you are acounterfeit cowardly knave: will you mock at an ancient tradition, began upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceas d valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have feen 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 'tis otherwise ; and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition: fare you well.
(Exit. Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I, that my Dol is dead 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 will I turn; And something lean to cut-purse of quick hand: To England will I steal, and there I'll steal; And patches will I get unto thefe scars, And swear, I got them in the Gallia Wars. [Exit.
SCENE III. The French Court at Trois in Champaigne. Enter at one door King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, War
wick, and other Lords; at another, the French King, Queen Isabel, Princess Catharine, the Duke of Burgundy, and other French.
EACE 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 consin Catharine ;
K. Henry. PEA