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When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
Convey them with fafe conduct. Fare ye well.
[Exeunt Ambafadors.
Exe. This was a merry meffage.

K. Henry. We hope to make the fender blush at it:
Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy hour,
That may give furth'rance to our expedition;
For we have now no thoughts in us but France,
Save those to God, that run before our business.
Therefore let our proportions for these wars
Be foon collected, and all things thought upon,
That may with reasonable swiftnefs add
More feathers to our wings: for, God before,
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
Therefore let every man now task his thought,
That this fair action may on foot be brought. [Exeunt.

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Before Quickly's house in Eaft-cheap.

Enter Corporal Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolph.

Bard. Well met, Corporal Nym.

Nym. Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. Bard. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? Nym. For my part, I care not: I fay little; but when time fhall ferve, there fhall be. [fmiles]. But that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron; it is a fimple one; but what tho'? it will toaft cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's fword will; and there's an end.

Bard. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we'll be all three fworn brothers to France: let it be fo, good Corporal Nym.

Nym. 'Faith, I will live fo long as I may, that's the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may; that is my reft, that is the rendezvous of it.

Bard. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly; and certainly the did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.

Nym. I cannot tell, things must be as they may; men
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may fleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time; and fome fay, knives have edges i it must be as it mày; though patience be a tir'd dame, yet she will plod; there must be conclufions; well, I cannot tell,

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Bard. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife; good Corporal, be patient here. How now, mine hoft Pistol? Pift. Bafe tyke, call'ft thou me hoft? now by this hand, I fwear, I fcorn the term; nor fhall my Nell keep lodgers.

Quick. No, by my troth, not long: for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen, that live honeftly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-houfe ftraight. O welliday, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now we shall fee wilful adultery and murder committed.

Bard. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here.

Nym. Pifa!

Pift. Pifh for thee, ifland dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Ifland.

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Quick. Good Corporal Nym, fhew thy valour, and put up thy fword.

Nym. Will you fhog off? I would have you folus. Pift. Solus, egregious dog! O viper vile!

The folus in thy molt marvellous face,

The folus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,

And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; And, which is worfe, within thy nasty mouth. Dot I do retort the folus in thy bowels;

For I can take, and Piftol's cock is up,

And flashing fire will follow.

Nym. I am not Barbafon, you cannot conjure me: I have an humour to knock you indifferently well; if you grow foul with me, Piftol, I will fcour you with my rapier as I mày, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little in good terms as I may, and that's the humour of it.

Pift. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight! pare The

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Bard. Hear me, hear me, what I fay: he that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts as I am a foldier.

Pift. An oath of mickle might; and fury fhall abate, Give me thy fift, thy fore-foot to me give; Thy fpirits are most tall.

Nym. I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humour of it.

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Pift. Coupe à gorge, that is the word. I defy thee again.

O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spittle go,

And from the powd'ring tub of infamy

Fetch forth the lazar kite of Creffid's kind,
Doll Fear-fheet, fhe by name, and her eípoufe.

I have, and I will hold the quondam Quickly
For th only the; and pauca, there's enough; go to.

Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine hoft Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hoftefs: he is very fick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nose between his fheets, and do the office of a warming-pan: 'faith he's very ill. Bard. Away, you rogue. Quick. By my troth he'll yield the crow a pudding one of thefe days; the King has kill'd his heart. Good husband, come home prefently. [Exit Quickly.

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Bard. Come, thall I make you two friends? we must to France together: why the devil fhould we keep knives to cut one another's throats?

Pift. Let floods o'erfwell, and fiends for food howl on!

Nym. You'll pay me the eight fhillings I won of you at betting?

Pift Bafe is the flave that pays.

Nym. That now I will have, that's the humour of it.
Pit. As manhood fhall compound, pufh home.

Draws. Bard. By this fword, he that makes the firft thruft, I'll kill him; by this fword, I will.

Pift. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their courfe.

Bard. Corporal Nym, an' thou wilt be friends, be friends; an' thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too; pr'ythee put up.

Pift. A noble fhalt thou have and present pay;
And liquor likewife will I give to thee;

And friendship shall combine and brotherhood.
I'll live by Nym, and Nym fhall live by me.
Is not this juft? for I fhall futtler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nym. I fhall have my noble ?

Pift. In cafh most justly paid.

Nym. Well then, that's the humour of't,
Re-enter Quickly."

Quick. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John: ah, poor heart, he is fo fhak'd of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men come to him.

Nym. The King hath run bad humours on the Knight,

that's the even of it.

Pift. Nym, thou haft spoken the right, his heart is fracted and corroborate.

Nym. The King is a good King, but it must be as it may; he paffes fome humours and careers.

Pift. Let us condole the Knight; for, lambkins! we will live. [Exeunt,

АСТ II. SCENE I.

Chorus. No

Enter Chorus.

OW all the youth of England are on fire, And filken dalliance on the wardrobe lies: d Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought Reigns folely in the breast of every man. They fell the pafture now, to buy the horse; Following the mirror of all Christian kings, With winged heels, as English Mercuries. "For now fits Expectation in the air,

"And

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"And hides a fword from hilts unto the point
With crowns imperial; crowns and coronets,
Promis'd to Harry and his followers.
The French, advis'd by good intelligence
Of this moft dreadful preparation,
Shake in their fear; and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.

O England! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart;

What might't thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kind and natural!

But fee, thy fault France hath in thee found out;
A neft of hollow bofoms, which he fills

With treach'rous crowns; and three corrupted men,
One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the fecond,
Henry Lord Scroop of Mafham, and the third,
Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,
Have for the guilt of France (O guilt indeed!)
Confirm'd confpiracy with fearful France:
And by their hands, this grace of kings muft die,
If hell and treafon hold their promises,

Ere he take fhip for France. Then in Southampton
Linger your patience on, and well digeft

Th' abufe of diftance, while we farce a play.

The fum is paid, the traitors are agreed,

The King is fet from London, and the scene

Is now tranfported, gentles, to Southampton:
There is the play-house now, there muft you fit;
And thence to France fhall we convey you fafe,
And bring you back; charming the narrow feas
To give you gentle pafs: for if we may,
We'll not offend one ftomach with our play.
But, till the King come forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.

SCENE II.

Southampton.

Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Weftmorland.

[Exite

Bed. 'Fore God, his Grace is bold to trust these traiExe. They fhall be apprehended by and by. [tors. Weft. How fmooth and even they do bear themfelves, As if allegiance in their bofoms fat,

Crowned with faith and conftant loyalty!

Bed.

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