Come away, Ned and Tom!

Here, my lord.

Come away, my lads. Tell me, sirs, how much gold have you got?

Faith, my lord, I have got five hundred pound.

But tell me, Tom, how much hast thou got?

Faith, my lord, some four hundred pound.

Four hundred pounds? Bravely spoken, lads! But tell me, sirs, think you not that it was a villainous part of me to rob my father’s receivers?

Why no, my lord. It was but a trick of youth.

Faith, Ned, thou sayest true. But tell me, sirs, whereabouts are we?

My lord, we are now about a mile off London.

But, sirs, I marvel that Sir John Oldcastle comes not away. Zounds, see where he comes! Enter Jockey Sir John Oldcastle. How now, Jockey, what news with thee?

Faith, my lord, such news as passeth, for the town of Deptford is risen with hue and cry after your man which parted from us the last night and has set upon and hath robbed a poor carrier.

Zounds, the villain that was wont to spy out our booties?

Ay, my lord, even the very same.

Now, base-minded rascal, to rob a poor carrier! Well, it skills not. I’ll save the base villain’s life. Ay, I may. But tell me, Jockey, whereabouts be the receivers?

Faith, my lord, they are hard by, but the best is, we are a-horseback and they be afoot, so we may escape them.

Well, if the villains come, let me alone with them. But tell me, Jockey, how much got’st thou from the knaves? For I am sure I got something, for one of the villains so belammed me about the shoulders as I shall feel it this month.

Faith, my lord, I have got a hundred pound.

A hundred pound! Now, bravely spoken, Jockey. But come, sirs, lay all your money before me. They place their booty at his feet. Now, by heaven, here is a brave show! But, as I am true gentleman, I will have the half of this spent tonight. But, sirs, take up your bags. Here come the receivers. Let me alone.

Alas, good fellow, what shall we do? I dare never go home to the court, for I shall be hanged. But look, here is the young prince. What shall we do?

How now, you villains, what are you?

Aside to 2 Receiver Speak you to him.

Replying aside No, I pray, speak you to him.

Why, how now you rascals, why speak you not?

Forsooth we be—Aside to 2 Receiver pray speak you to him.

Zounds, villains, speak, or I’ll cut off your heads.

To Prince Henry Forsooth, he can tell the tale better than I.

Forsooth, we be your father’s receivers.

Are you my father’s receivers? Then I hope ye have brought me some money.

Money? Alas, sir, we be robbed.

Robbed? How many were there of them?

Marry, sir, there were four of them, and one of them had Sir John Oldcastle’s bay hobby and your black nag.

Gog’s wounds! To Jockey How like you this, Jockey? To the Receivers Blood, you villains! My father robbed of his money abroad, and we robbed in our stables. But tell me, how many were of them?

If it please you, there were four of them, and there was one about the bigness of you, but I am sure I so belammed him about the shoulders that he will feel it this month.

Gog’s wounds, you lammed them fairly—so that they have carried away your money! To Ned, Tom, and Jockey But come, sirs, what shall we do with the villains?

I beseech your grace, be good to us.

I pray you, my lord, forgive them this once.

Well, stand up and get you gone. And look that you speak not a word of it, for if there be, zounds, I’ll hang you and all your kin.

Now, sirs, how like you this? Was not this bravely done? For now the villains dare not speak a word of it, I have so feared them with words. Now, whither shall we go?

Why, my lord, you know our old hostess at Feversham?

Our hostess at Feversham? Blood, what shall we do there? We have a thousand pound about us, and we shall go to a petty alehouse? No, no. You know the old tavern in Eastcheap? There is good wine. Besides, there is a pretty wench that can talk well, for I delight as much in their tongues as any part about them.

We are ready to wait upon your grace.

Gog’s wounds! Wait? We will go all together. We are all fellows, I tell you, sirs. An the king my father were dead, we would be all kings. Therefore, come away.

Gog’s wounds, bravely spoken, Harry!

An’t please your majesty, here is my lord mayor and the sheriff of London to speak with your majesty.

Admit them to our presence. Enter the Mayor and the Sheriff. Now, my good lord mayor of London, the cause of my sending for you at this time is to tell you of a matter which I have learned of my council. Herein I understand that you have committed my son to prison without our leave and licence. What, although he be a rude youth and likely to give occasion, yet you might have considered that he is a prince, and my son, and not to be haled to prison by every subject.

May it please your majesty to give us leave to tell our tale?

Or else, God forbid, otherwise you might think me an unequal judge, having more affection to my son than to any rightful judgment.

Then I do not doubt but we shall rather deserve commendations at your majesty’s hands than any anger.

Go to, say on.

Then, if it please your majesty, this night betwixt two and three of the clock in the morning, my lord the young prince with a very disordered company came to the old tavern in Eastcheap, and whether it was that their music liked them not or whether they were overcome with wine, I know not, but they drew their swords, and into the street they went, and some took my lord the young prince’s part and some took the other, but betwixt them there was such a bloody fray for the space of half an hour that neither watchmen nor any other could stay them ’til my brother the sheriff of London and I were sent for, and at the last with much ado we stayed them, but it was long first, which was a great disquieting to all your loving subjects thereabouts. And then, my good lord, we knew not whether your grace had sent them to try us, whether we would do justice, or whether it were of their own voluntary will or not, we cannot tell. And therefore in such a case we knew not what to do, but for our own safeguard we sent him to ward, where he wanteth nothing that is fit for his grace and your majesty’s son. And thus most humbly beseeching your majesty to think of our answer.

Stand aside until we have further deliberated on your answer.

Ah, Harry, Harry, now thrice-accursed Harry, that hath gotten a son which with grief will end his father’s days. O my son, a prince thou art, ay, a prince indeed—and to deserve imprisonment! And well have they done, and like faithful subjects. To Exeter and Oxford Discharge them and let them go.

I beseech your grace, be good to my lord the young prince.

Nay, nay, ’tis no matter. Let him alone.

Perchance the mayor and the sheriff have been too precise in this matter.

No, they have done like faithful subjects. I will go myself to discharge them and let them go.

Jailor, bring the prisoner to the bar.

Hear you, my lord, I pray you bring the bar to the prisoner.

Hold thy hand up at the bar.

Here it is, my lord.

Clerk of the Office, read his indictment.

What is thy name?

My name was known before I came here and shall be when I am gone, I warrant you.

Ay, I think so, but we will know it better before thou go.

Zounds, an you do but send to the next jail, we are sure to know his name, for this is not the first prison he hath been in, I’ll warrant you.

What is thy name?

What need you to ask, an have it in writing?

Is not thy name Cutbert Cutter?

What the devil need you ask, an know it so well?

Why then, Cutbert Cutter, I indict thee by the name of Cutbert Cutter for robbing a poor carrier the twentieth day of May last past, in the fourteenth year of the reign of our sovereign lord King Henry the Fourth, for setting upon a poor carrier upon Gad’s Hill in Kent, and having beaten and wounded the said carrier, and taken his goods from him.

Oh, masters, stay there. Nay, let’s never belie the man, for he hath not beaten and wounded me also, but he hath beaten and wounded my pack and hath taken the great raze of ginger that bouncing Bess with the jolly buttocks should have had. That grieves me most.

Well, what sayest thou? Art thou guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty, my lord.

By whom wilt thou be tried?

By my lord the young prince or by myself, whether you will.

Come away, my lads. To Cutbert Cutter Gog’s wounds, ye villain, what make you here? I must go about my business myself, and you must stand loitering here?

Why, my lord, they have bound me and will not let me go.

Have they bound thee, villain? To Lord Chief Justice Why, how now, my lord?

I am glad to see your grace in good health.

Why, my lord, this is my man. ’Tis marvel you knew him not long before this. I tell you, he is a man of his hands.

Ay, Gog’s wounds, that I am. Try me who dare!

Your grace shall find small credit by acknowledging him to be your man.

Why, my lord, what hath he done?

An it please your majesty, he hath robbed a poor carrier.

Hear you, sir. Marry, it was one Derrick, Goodman Hobling’s man of Kent.

What, was’t you, button-breech?—Of my word, my lord, he did it but in jest.

Hear you, sir. Is it your man’s quality to rob folks in jest? In faith, he shall be hanged in earnest.

Well, my lord, what do you mean to do with my man?

An’t please your grace, the law must pass on him according to justice; then he must be executed.

Hear you, sir, I pray you. Is it your man’s quality to rob folks in jest? In faith, he shall be hanged in jest.

Well, my lord, what mean you to do with my man?

An’t please your grace, the law must pass on him according to justice; then he must be executed.

Why, then, belike you mean to hang my man?

I am sorry that it falls out so.

Why, my lord, I pray ye, who am I?

An’t please your grace, you are my lord the young prince, our king that shall be after the decease of our sovereign lord, King Henry the Fourth, whom God grant long to reign.

You say true, my lord. And you will hang my man?

An’t like your grace, I must needs do justice.

Tell me, my lord, shall I have my man?

I cannot, my lord.

But will you not let him go?

I am sorry that his case is so ill.

Tush, case me no casings. Shall I have my man?

I cannot, nor I may not, my lord.

Nay, and I shall not, say, and then I am answered!

No.

No? Then I will have him.

Gog’s wounds, my lord, shall I cut off his head?

No, I charge you, draw not your swords, but get you hence—provide a noise of musicians. Away, begone!

Well, my lord, I am content to take it at your hands.

Nay, an you be not, you shall have more.

Why, I pray you, my lord, who am I?

You? Who knows not you? Why, man, you are Lord Chief Justice of England.

Your grace hath said truth. Therefore in striking me in this place you greatly abuse me, and not me only but also your father, whose lively person here in this place I do represent. And therefore, to teach you what prerogatives mean, I commit you to the Fleet until we have spoken with your father.

Why, then, belike you mean to send me to the Fleet?

Ay indeed, and therefore carry him away.

Jailor, carry the prisoner to Newgate again until the next ’ssizes.

At your commandment, my lord, it shall be done.

Zounds, masters, here’s ado, when princes must go to prison! Why, John, didst ever see the like?

Oh, Derrick, trust me, I never saw the like.

Why, John, thou mayest see what princes be in choler. A judge a box on the ear! I’ll tell thee, John, O John, I would not have done it for twenty shillings.

No, nor I. There had been no way but one with us: we should have been hanged.

Faith, John, I’ll tell thee what. Thou shalt be my lord chief justice, and thou shalt sit in the chair, and I’ll be the young prince and hit thee a box on the ear, and then thou shalt say, to teach you what prerogatives mean, I commit you to the Fleet.

Come on, I’ll be your judge. But thou shalt not hit me hard?

No, no.

What hath he done?

Marry, he hath robbed Derrick.

Why, then, I cannot let him go.

I must needs have my man.

You shall not have him.

Shall I not have my man? Say No an you dare! How say you, shall I not have my man?

No, marry, shall you not.

Shall I not, John?

No, Derrick.

Why, then, take you that ’til more come. Derrick gives John a box on the ear Zounds, shall I not have him?

Well, I am content to take this at your hand, but, I pray you, who am I?

Who art thou? Zounds, dost not know thyself?

No.

Now away, simple fellow! Why man, thou art John the Cobbler.

No, I am my Lord Chief Justice of England.

Oh, John, mass, thou say’st true, thou art indeed.

Why, then, to teach you what prerogatives mean I commit you to the Fleet.

Well, I will go, but, i’faith, you grey-beard knave, I’ll course you. Exit and straight enters again. O John, come, come out of thy chair! Why, what a clown wert thou to let me hit thee a box on the ear, and now thou seest they will not take me to the Fleet! I think that thou art one of these workaday clowns.

But I marvel what will become of thee.

Faith, I’ll be no more a carrier.

What wilt thou do, then?

I’ll dwell with thee and be a cobbler.

With me? Alas, I am not able to keep thee. Why, thou wilt eat me out of doors.

O John, no John, I am none of these great slouching fellows that devour these great pieces of beef and brewis. Alas, a trifle serves me. A woodcock, a chicken, or a capon’s leg, or any such little thing serves me.

A capon! Why, man, I cannot get a capon once a year, except it be at Christmas at some other man’s house, for we cobblers be glad of a dish of roots.

Roots? Why, are you so good at rooting? Nay, cobbler, we’ll have you ringed.

But, Derrick,

A bots on you! An’t be but for your ale, I’ll dwell with you. Come, let’s away as fast as we can.

Come away, sirs. Gog’s wounds, Ned, didst thou not see what a box on the ear I took my Lord Chief Justice?

By Gog’s blood, it did me good to see it. It made his teeth jar in his head.

How now, Sir John Oldcastle. What news with you?

I am glad to see your grace at liberty. I was come, I, to visit you in prison.

To visit me! Didst thou not know that I am a prince’s son? Why, ’tis enough for me to look into a prison, though I come not in myself. But here’s such ado nowadays, here’s prisoning, here’s hanging, whipping, and the devil and all! But I tell you, sirs, when I am king we will have no such things. But, my lads, if the old king my father were dead, we would be all kings.

He is a good old man. God take him to His mercy the sooner.

But, Ned, so soon as I am king, the first thing I will do shall be to put my Lord Chief Justice out of office, and thou shalt be my lord chief justice of England.

Shall I be lord chief justice? By Gog’s wounds, I’ll be the bravest lord chief justice that ever was in England!

Then, Ned, I’ll turn all these prisons into fence schools, and I will endow thee with them, with lands to maintain them withal. Then I will have a bout with my Lord Chief Justice! Thou shalt hang none but pick-purses and horse-stealers, and such base-minded villains. But that fellow that will stand by the highway side courageously with his sword and buckler and take a purse, that fellow give him commendations; besides that, send him to me and I will give him an annual pension out of my exchequer to maintain him all the days of his life.

Nobly spoken, Harry! We shall never have a merry world ’til the old king be dead.

But whither are ye going now?

To the court, for I hear say my father lies very sick.

But I doubt he will not die.

Yet will I go thither, for the breath shall be no sooner out of his mouth but I will clap the crown on my head.

Will you go to the court with that cloak, so full of needles?

Cloak, eyelet-holes, needles, and all was of mine own devising, and therefore I will wear it.

I pray you, my lord, what may be the meaning thereof?

Why, man, ’tis a sign that I stand upon thorns ’til the crown be on my head.

Or that every needle might be a prick to their hearts that repine at your doings.

Thou say’st true, Jockey. But there’s some will say, the young prince will be a well-toward young man, and all this gear, that I had as lief they would break my head with a pot as to say any such thing. But we stand prating here too long. I must needs speak with my father; therefore come away.

What a rapping keep you at the king’s court gate?

Here’s one that must speak with the king.

The king is very sick, and none must speak with him.

No, you rascal? Do you not know me?

You are my lord the young prince.

Then go and tell my father that I must and will speak with him.

Shall I cut off his head?

No, no. Though I would help you in other places, yet I have nothing to do here. What, you are in my father’s court!

I will write him in my tables, for so soon as I am made lord chief justice, I will put him out of his office.

Gog’s wounds, sirs, the king comes. Let’s all stand aside.

And is it true, my lord, that my son is already sent to the Fleet? Now truly that man is more fitter to rule the realm than I, for by no means could I rule my son, and he by one word hath caused him to be ruled. O my son, my son, no sooner out of one prison but into another! I had thought, once, while I had lived to have seen this noble realm of England flourish by thee, my son, but now I see it goes to ruin and decay.

An please your grace, here is my lord your son, that cometh to speak with you. He sayeth he must and will speak with you.

Who, my son Harry?

Ay, an please your majesty.

I know wherefore he cometh, but look that none come with him.

A very disordered company, and such as make very ill rule in your majesty’s house.

Well, let him come, but look that none come with him.

An please your grace, my lord the king sends for you.

Come away, sirs. Let’s go all together.

An please your grace, none must go with you.

Why, I must needs have them with me. Otherwise I can do my father no countenance. Therefore, come away.

The king your father commands there should none come.

Well, sirs, then be gone, and provide me three noise of musicians.

Come, my son, come on in God’s name! I know wherefore thy coming is. O my son, my son, what cause hath ever been, that thou shouldst forsake me and follow this vile and reprobate company which abuseth youth so manifestly? O my son, thou knowest that these thy doings will end thy father’s days. He weeps. Ay, so, so, my son, thou fearest not to approach the presence of thy sick father in that disguised sort. I tell thee, my son, that there is never a needle in thy cloak but it is a prick to my heart, and never an eyelet-hole but it is a hole to my soul, and wherefore thou bringest that dagger in thy hand I know not but by conjecture.

Aside My conscience accuseth me. To Henry IV Most sovereign lord and well-beloved father, to answer first to the last point. That is, whereas you conjecture that this hand and this dagger shall be armed against your life, no, know, my beloved father, far be the thoughts of your son—son, said I? An unworthy son for so good a father—but far be the thoughts of any such pretended mischief, and I most humbly render it to your majesty’s hand. Prince Henry gives Henry IV the dagger. And live, my lord and sovereign, forever and with your dagger arm show like vengeance upon the body of that your son, I was about to say and dare not, ah woe is me!—therefore, that your wild slave. ’Tis not the crown that I come for, sweet father, because I am unworthy, and those vile and reprobate companions I abandon and utterly abolish their company forever. Pardon, sweet father, pardon: the least thing and most desired. And this ruffianly cloak I here tear from my back and sacrifice it to the devil, which is master of all mischief. Pardon me, sweet father, pardon me. Good my lord of Exeter, speak for me. Pardon me, pardon, good father. Not a word? Ah, he will not speak one word. Ah, Harry, now thrice unhappy Harry! But what shall I do? I will go take me into some solitary place and there lament my sinful life, and when I have done I will lay me down and die.

Call him again. Call my son again.

And doth my father call me again? Now, Harry, happy be the time that thy father calleth thee again.

Stand up, my son, and do not think thy father but at the request of thee, my son, I will pardon thee. And God bless thee and make thee his servant.

Thanks, good my lord, and no doubt but this day, even this day, I am born new again.

Come, my son and lords, take me by the hands.

Shouts to offstage Thou art a stinking whore, and a whoreson stinking whore! Dost think I’ll take it at thy hands?

Derrick, Derrick, Derrick! Hearest a? Do, Derrick, never while thou livest use that! Why, what will my neighbors say an thou go away so?

She’s a narrant whore, and I’ll have the law on you, John.

Why, what hath she done?

Marry, mark thou, John. I will prove it, that I will!

What wilt thou prove?

That she called me in to dinner—John, mark the tale well, John—and, when I was set, she brought me a dish of roots and a piece of barrel butter therein. And she is a very knave, and thou a drab if thou take her part.

Hearest a, Derrick, is this the matter? Nay, an it be no worse, we will go home again, and all shall be amended.

O John, hearest a, John, is all well?

Ay, all is well.

Then I’ll go home before and break all the glass windows.

Come, my lords, I see it boots me not to take any physic, for all the physicians in the world cannot cure me, no not one. But good my lords, remember my last will and testament concerning my son, for truly, my lords, I do not think but he will prove as valiant and victorious a king as ever reigned in England.

Let heaven and earth be witness between us, if we accomplish not thy will to the uttermost.

I give you most unfeigned thanks, good my lords. Draw the curtains and depart my chamber awhile and cause some music to rock me asleep.

Ah Harry, thrice-unhappy, that hath neglect so long from visiting of thy sick father. I will go. Nay, but why do I not go to the chamber of my sick father to comfort the melancholy soul of his body? His soul, said I? Here is his body indeed, but his soul is whereas it needs no body. Now thrice-accursed Harry, that hath offended thy father so much, and could not I crave pardon for all! O my dying father, cursed be the day wherein I was born, and accursed be the hour wherein I was begotten! But what shall I do? If weeping tears which come too late may suffice the negligence neglected to some, I will weep day and night until the fountain be dry with weeping.

Come easily, my lord, for waking of the king.

Now, my lords.

How doth your grace feel yourself?

Somewhat better after my sleep. But, good my lords, take off my crown, remove my chair a little back, and set me right.

An please your grace, the crown is taken away.

The crown taken away! Good my lord of Oxford, go see who hath done this deed. Exit Oxford No doubt ’tis some vile traitor that hath done it to deprive my son. They that would do it now would seek to scrape and scrawl for it after my death.

Here, an please your grace, is my lord the young prince with the crown.

Why, how now, my son? I had thought the last time I had you in schooling I had given you a lesson for all, and do you now begin again? Why tell me, my son, dost thou think the time so long that thou wouldst have it before the breath be out of my mouth?

Most sovereign lord and well-beloved father, I came into your chamber to comfort the melancholy soul of your body, and finding you at that time past all recovery and dead, to my thinking, God is my witness, and what should I do but with weeping tears lament the death of you, my father? And after that, seeing the crown, I took it. And tell me, my father, who might better take it than I after your death? But, seeing you live, I most humbly render it into your majesty’s hands, and the happiest man alive that my father live. And live, my lord and father, forever.

Stand up, my son. Thine answer hath sounded well in mine ears, for I must needs confess that I was in a very sound sleep and altogether unmindful of thy coming. But come near, my son, and let me put thee in possession whilst I live, that none deprive thee of it after my death.

Well may I take it at your majesty’s hands, but it shall never touch my head so long as my father lives.

God give thee joy, my son. God bless thee and make thee His servant and send thee a prosperous reign, for God knows, my son, how hardly I came by it and how hardly I have maintained it.

Howsoever you came by it, I know not, but now I have it from you, and from you I will keep it. And he that seeks to take the crown from my head, let him look that his armor be thicker than mine, or I will pierce him to the heart, were it harder than brass or bullion.

Nobly spoken, and like a king. Now trust me, my lords, I fear not but my son will be as warlike and victorious a prince as ever reigned in England.

His former life shows no less.

Well, my lords, I know not whether it be for sleep or drawing near of drowsy summer of death, but I am very much given to sleep. Therefore, good my lords and my son, draw the curtains, depart my chamber, and cause some music to rock me asleep.

Ah God, I am now much like to a bird which hath escaped out of the cage, for so soon as my Lord Chief Justice heard that the old king was dead, he was glad to let me go, for fear of my lord the young prince. But here comes some of his companions. I will see an I can get anything of them, for old acquaintance.

Gog’s wounds, the king is dead!

Dead! Then Gog’s blood, we shall be all kings!

Gog’s wounds, I shall be lord chief justice of England.

To Cutbert Cutter Why, how are you broken out of prison?

Gog’s wounds, how the villain stinks!

Why, what will become of thee now? Fie upon him, how the rascal stinks.

Marry, I will go and serve my master again.

Gog’s blood, dost think that he will have any such scabbed knave as thou art? What, man, he is a king now.

Hold thee, here’s a couple of angels for thee, and get thee gone, for the king will not be long before he come this way. And hereafter I will tell the king of thee.

Oh, how it did me good to see the king when he was crowned! Methought his seat was like the figure of heaven and his person like unto a god.

But who would have thought that the king would have changed his countenance so?

Did you not see with what grace he sent his embassage into France to tell the French king that Harry of England hath sent for the crown and Harry of England will have it?

But ’twas but a little to make the people believe that he was sorry for his father’s death.

Gog’s wounds, the king comes. Let’s all stand aside.

How do you, my lord?

How now, Harry? Tut, my lord, put away these dumps. You are a king, and all the realm is yours. What, man, do you not remember the old sayings? You know I must be lord chief justice of England. Trust me, my lord, methinks you are very much changed, and ’tis but with a little sorrowing to make folks believe the death of your father grieves you, and ’tis nothing so.

I prithee, Ned, mend thy manners and be more modester in thy terms, for my unfeigned grief is not to be ruled by thy flattering and dissembling talk. Thou say’st I am changed. So I am indeed, and so must thou be, and that quickly, or else I must cause thee to be changed.

Gog’s wounds! How like you this? Zounds, ’tis not so sweet as music.

I trust we have not offended your grace no way.

Ah, Tom, your former life grieves me and makes me to abandon and abolish your company forever, and therefore not upon pain of death to approach my presence by ten miles’ space. Then, if I hear well of you, it may be I will do somewhat for you; otherwise, look for no more favor at my hands than at any other man’s. And therefore be gone. We have other matters to talk on. Exeunt Knights Tom, Ned, and Jockey. Now, my good lord archbishop of Canterbury, what say you to our embassage into France?

Your right to the French crown of France came by your great-grandmother Isabel, wife to King Edward the Third and sister to Charles the French king. Now, if the French king deny it, as likely enough he will, then must you take your sword in hand and conquer the right. Let the usurped Frenchman know, although your predecessors have let it pass, you will not, for your countrymen are willing with purse and men to aid you. Then, my good lord, as it hath been always known that Scotland hath been in league with France by a sort of pensions which yearly come from thence, I think it therefore best to conquer Scotland, and then I think that you may go more easily into France. And this is all that I can say, my good lord.

I thank you, my good lord archbishop of Canterbury. What say you, my good lord of Oxford?

An please your majesty, I agree to my lord archbishop, saving in this: he that will Scotland win must first with France begin, according to the old saying. Therefore, my good lord, I think it best first to invade France, for in conquering Scotland you conquer but one; an conquer France and conquer both.

An please your majesty, my lord ambassador is come out of France.

Now trust me, my lord, he was the last man that we talked of. I am glad that he is come to resolve us of our answer. Commit him to our presence.

God save the life of my sovereign lord the king.

Now, my good lord the duke of York, what news from our brother the French king?

An please your majesty, I delivered him my embassage, whereof I took some deliberation. But for the answer, he hath sent my lord ambassador of Bruges, the duke of Burgundy, Monsieur le Cole, with two hundred and fifty horsemen, to bring the embassage.

Commit my lord archbishop of Bruges into our presence. Enter Archbishop of Bruges. Now, my lord archbishop of Bruges, we do learn by our lord ambassador that you have our message to do from our brother the French king. Here, my good lord, according to our accustomed order, we give you free liberty and licence to speak with good audience.

God save the mighty king of England. My lord and master, the most Christian king, Charles the Sixth, the great and mighty king of France, as a most noble and Christian king, not minding to shed innocent blood, is rather content to yield somewhat to your unreasonable demands, that if fifty thousand crowns a year with his daughter, the said Lady Katherine, in marriage, and some crowns which he may well spare, not hurting of his kingdom, he is content to yield so far to your unreasonable desire.

Why, then, belike your lord and master thinks to puff me up with fifty thousand crowns a year. No, tell thy lord and master that all the crowns in France shall not serve me, except the crown and kingdom itself—and perchance hereafter I will have his daughter.

An it please your majesty, my lord Prince Dauphin greets you well with this present.

What, a gilded tun? I pray you, my lord of York, look what is in it.

An please your grace, here is a carpet and a tun of tennis balls.

A tun of tennis balls? I pray you, good my lord archbishop, what might the meaning thereof be?

An it please you, my lord, a messenger, you know, ought to keep close his message, and specially an ambassador.

But I know that you may declare your message to a king. The law of arms allows no less.

My lord, hearing of your wildness before your father’s death, sent you this, my good lord, meaning that you are more fitter for a tennis court than a field and more fitter for a carpet than the camp.

My lord Prince Dauphin is very pleasant with me. But tell him that instead of balls of leather we will toss him balls of brass and iron, yea, such balls as never were tossed in France. The proudest tennis court shall rue it; ay, and thou, prince of Bruges, shall rue it. Therefore get thee hence and tell him thy message quickly, lest I be there before thee. Away, priest, be gone.

I beseech your grace to deliver me your safe conduct under your broad seal manual.

Priest of Bruges, know that the hand and seal of a king, and his word is all one, and instead of my hand and seal I will bring him my hand and sword. And tell thy lord and master that I, Harry of England, said it and I, Harry of England, will perform it. My lord of York, deliver him our safe conduct under our broad seal manual. Exeunt Archbishop of Bruges, and the Duke of York. Now, my lords, to arms, to arms, for I vow by heaven and earth that the proudest Frenchman in all France shall rue the time that ever these tennis balls were sent into England. To Exeter My lord, I will that there be provided a great navy of ships with all speed at Southampton, for there I mean to ship my men, for I would be there before him, if it were possible. Therefore come—but stay, I had almost forgot the chiefest thing of all, with chafing with this French ambassador. Call in my Lord Chief Justice of England.

Here is the king, my lord.

God preserve your majesty.

Why, how now, my lord, what is the matter?

I would it were unknown to your majesty.

Why, what ails you?

Your majesty knoweth my grief well.

Oh, my lord, you remember you sent me to the Fleet, did you not?

I trust your grace have forgotten that.

Ay, truly my lord, and for revengement I have chosen you to be my protector over my realm until it shall please God to give me speedy return out of France.

An if it please your majesty, I am far unworthy of so high a dignity.

Tut, my lord, you are not unworthy, because I think you worthy. For you that would not spare me, I think, will not spare another. It must needs be so, and, therefore, come, let us be gone and get our men in a readiness.

Come, come, there’s no remedy. Thou must needs serve the king.

Good Master Captain, let me go. I am not able to go so far.

I pray you, good Master Captain, be good to my husband.

Why, I am sure he is not too good to serve the king?

Alas, no, but a great deal too bad. Therefore I pray you let me go.

No, no, thou shalt go.

Oh, sir, I have a great many shoes at home to cobble.

I pray you let him go home again.

Tush, I care not. Thou shalt go.

Oh, wife, an you had been a loving wife to me, this had not been, for I have said many times that I would go away, and now I must go against my will.

How now! Ho, basillus manus, for an old codpiece! Master Captain, shall we away? Zounds, how now, John, what, a-crying? What make you and my dame there? To Wife I marvel whose head you will throw the stools at now we are gone.

I’ll tell you! Come, ye cloghead, what do you with my pot lid? Hear you, will you have it rapped about your pate?

Oh, good dame!Here he shakes her. An I had my dagger here, I would worry you all to pieces, that I would.

Would you so? I’ll try that.

Master Captain, will ye suffer her? Go to, dame! I will go back as far as I can, but, an you come again, I’ll clap the law on your back, that’s flat. I’ll tell you, Master Captain, what you shall do. Press her for a soldier. I warrant you, she will do as much good as her husband and I too. Enter the Thief Cutbert Cutter. Zounds, who comes yonder?

How now, good fellow. Dost thou want a master?

Ay, truly sir.

Hold thee, then. I press thee for a soldier to serve the king in France.

How now, Gads! What, dost know’s, thinkest?

Ay, I knew thee long ago.

Hear you, Master Captain?

What say’st thou?

I pray you let me go home again.

Why, what wouldst thou do at home?

Marry, I have brought two shirts with me, and I would carry one of them home again, for I am sure he’ll steal it from me, he is such a filching fellow.

I warrant thee he will not steal it from thee. Come, let’s away.

Come, Master Captain, let’s away. Come, follow me.

Come, wife, let’s part lovingly.

Farewell, good husband.

Fie, what a kissing and crying is here! To Wife Zounds, do ye think he will never come again? To John Why, John, come away! Dost think that we are so base-minded to die among Frenchmen? Zounds, we know not whether they will lay us in their church or no. Come, Master Captain, let’s away.

I cannot stay no longer, therefore come away.

Now, my lord high constable, what say you to our embassage into England?

An it please your majesty, I can say nothing until my lords ambassadors be come home, but yet methinks your grace hath done well to get your men in so good a readiness for fear of the worst.

Ay, my lord, we have some in a readiness, but if the king of England make against us we must have thrice so many more.

Tut, my lord, although the king of England be young and wild-headed, yet never think he will be so unwise to make battle against the mighty king of France.

Oh, my son, although the king of England be young and wild-headed, yet never think but he is ruled by his wise counselors.

God save the life of my sovereign lord the king.

Now, my good lord archbishop of Bruges, what news from our brother the English king?

An please your majesty, he is so far from your expectation that nothing will serve him but the crown and kingdom itself. Besides, he bade me haste quickly, lest he be there before me, and, so far as I hear, he hath kept promise, for they say he is already landed at Kidcocks in Normandy, upon the river of Seine, and laid his siege to the garrison town of Harfleur.

You have made great haste in the meantime, have you not?

I pray you, my lord, how did the king of England take my presents?

Truly, my lord, in very ill part. For these your balls of leather, he will toss you balls of brass and iron. Trust me, my lord, I was very afraid of him. He is such a haughty and high-minded prince, he is as fierce as a lion.

Tush, we will make him as tame as a lamb, I warrant you.

God save the mighty king of France.

Now, messenger, what news?

An it please your majesty, I come from your poor distressed town of Harfleur, which is so beset on every side, if your majesty do not send present aid the town will be yielded to the English king.

Come, my lords, come, shall we stand still ’til our country be spoiled under our noses? My lords, let the Normans, Brabants, Pickardies, and Danes be sent for with all speed. And you, my lord high constable, I make general over all my whole army, Monsieur le Cole, Master of the Bows, Signor Devens, and all the rest, at your appointment.

I trust your majesty will bestow some part of the battle on me. I hope not to present any otherwise than well.

I tell thee, my son, although I should get the victory, an thou lose thy life, I should think myself quite conquered and the Englishmen to have the victory.

Why, my lord and father, I would have the petty king of England to know that I dare encounter him in any ground of the world.

I know well, my son, but at this time I will have it thus. Therefore come away.

Come, my lords of England, no doubt this good luck of winning this town is a sign of an honorable victory to come. But, good my lord, go and speak to the captains with all speed to number the host of the Frenchmen, and by that means we may the better know how to appoint the battle.

An it please your majesty, there are many of your men sick and diseased, and many of them die for want of victuals.

And why did you not tell me of it before? If we cannot have it for money, we will have it by dint of sword. The laws of arms allow no less.

I beseech your grace to grant me a boon.

What is that, my good lord?

That your grace would give me the vanguard in the battle.

Trust me, my lord of Oxford, I cannot, for I have already given it to my uncle the duke of York. Yet I thank you for your good will. A trumpet sounds. How now, what is that?

I think it be some herald of arms.

King of England, my lord high constable and others of the noblemen of France sends me to defy thee as open enemy to God, our country, and us, and hereupon they presently bid thee battle.

Herald, tell them that I defy them as open enemies to God, my country, and me, and as wrongful usurpers of my right. And whereas thou say’st they presently bid me battle, tell them that I think they know how to please me. But, I pray thee, what place hath my lord Prince Dauphin here in battle?

An it please your grace, my lord and king his father will not let him come into the field.

Why, then, he doth me great injury. I thought that he and I should have played at tennis together. Therefore I have brought tennis balls for him, but other manner of ones than he sent me. And, herald, tell my lord Prince Dauphin that I have inured my hands with other kind of weapons than tennis balls ere this time o’ day and that he shall find it ere it be long. And so adieu, my friend, and tell my lord that I am ready when he will. Exit Herald. Come, my lords, I care not an I go to our captains, and I’ll see the number of the French army myself. Strike up the drum.

Come away, Jack Drummer, come away all, and me will tell you what me will do. Me will tro one chance on the dice, who shall have the king of England and his lords.

Come away, Jack Drummer, and tro your chance, and lay down your drum.

Oh, the brave apparel that the Englishmans hay broth over! I will tell you what me ha’ done, me ha’ provided a hundreth trunks, and all to put the fine ’parel of the Englishmans in.

What do thou mean by trunk, eh?

A shest, man, a hundred shests.

Awee, awee, awee. Me will tell you what, me ha’ put five shildren out of my house, and all too little to put the fine apparel of the Englishmans in.

Oh, the brave, the brave apparel that we shall have anon. But come, and you shall see what me will tro at the king’s Drummer and Fife. He throws dice. Ha, me ha’ no good luck! Tro you.

Faith, me will tro at the earl of Northumberland and my lord of Willoughby, with his great horse, snorting, farting - oh, brave horse!

Ha, by’r Lady you ha’ reasonable good luck. Now I will tro at the king himself. He throws dice. Ha, me have no good luck.

How now, what make you here, so far from the camp?

Shall me tell our captain what we have done here?

Awee, awee.

I will tell you what we have done. We have been troing our shance on the dice, but none can win the king.

I think so. Why, he is left behind for me, and I have set three or four chair-makers a-work to make a new disguised chair to set that womanly king of England in, that all the people may laugh and scoff at him.

O brave captain!

I am glad, and yet with a kind of pity, to see the poor king. Why, whoever saw a more flourishing army in France in one day than here is? Are not here all the peers of France? Are not here the Normans with their fiery handguns and slaunching curtle-axes? Are not here the Barbarians with their bard horses and launching spears? Are not here Pickards with their cross-bows and piercing darts? The Hainuyers with their cutting glaives and sharp carbuncles? Are not here the lance-knights of Burgundy? And on the other side, a sight of poor English scabs? Why, take an Englishman out of his warm bed and his stale drink but one month and, alas, what will become of him? But give the Frenchman a radish root and he will live with it all the days of his life.

Oh, the brave apparel that we shall have of the Englishmans!

Come, my lords and fellows of arms, what company is there of the Frenchmen?

An it please your majesty, our captains have numbered them, and, so near as they can judge, they are about threescore thousand horsemen and forty thousand footmen.

They threescore thousand, and we but two thousand. They forty thousand footmen, and we twelve thousand. They are a hundred thousand, and we fourteen thousand: ten to one. My lords and loving countrymen, though we be few and they many, fear not. Your quarrel is good, and God will defend you. Pluck up your hearts, for this day we shall either have a valiant victory or an honorable death. Now, my lords, I will that my uncle the duke of York have the vanguard in the battle. The earl of Derby, the earl of Oxford, the earl of Kent, the earl of Nottingham, the earl of Huntington, I will have beside the army, that they may come fresh upon them. And I myself with the duke of Bedford, the duke of Clarence, and the duke of Gloucester will be in the midst of the battle. Furthermore, I will that my lord of Willoughby and the earl of Northumberland with their troops of horsemen be continually running like wings on both sides of the army, my lord of Northumberland on the left wing. Then I will that every archer provide him a stake of a tree and sharp it at both ends and, at the first encounter of the horsemen, to pitch their stakes down into the ground before them, that they may gore themselves upon them, and then to recoil back and shoot wholly altogether and so discomfit them.

An it please your majesty, I will take that in charge, if your grace be therewith content.

With all my heart, my good lord of Oxford, and go and provide quickly.

I thank your highness.

Well, my lords, our battles are ordained, and the French making of bonfires and at their banquets. But let them look, for I mean to set upon them. The trumpet sounds. Soft, here comes some other French message.

King of England, my lord high constable and other of my lords, considering the poor estate of thee and thy poor countrymen, send me to know what thou wilt give for thy ransom. Perhaps thou mayst agree better cheap now than when thou art conquered.

Why, then belike your high constable sends to know what I will give for my ransom? Now, trust me, herald, not so much as a tun of tennis balls. No, not so much as one poor tennis ball. Rather shall my body lie dead in the field to feed crows than ever England shall pay one penny ransom for my body.

A kingly resolution.

No, herald, ’tis a kingly resolution and the resolution of a king. Here, take this for thy pains. Henry V gives the Herald coins. Exit Herald. But stay, my lords. What time is it?

Prime, my lord.

Then is it good time, no doubt, for all England prayeth for us. What, my lords, methinks you look cheerfully upon me? Why, then, with one voice and like true English hearts, with me throw up your caps and for England cry Saint George!—and God and Saint George help us!

Come, my lords, come. By this time our swords are almost drunk with French blood. But, my lords, which of you can tell me how many of our army be slain in the battle?

An it please your majesty, there are of the French army slain above ten thousand twenty-six hundred, whereof are princes and nobles bearing banners. Besides, all the nobility of France are taken prisoners. Of your majesty’s army are slain none but the good duke of York and not above five or six and twenty common soldiers.

For the good duke of York my uncle I am heartily sorry and greatly lament his misfortune, yet the honorable victory which the Lord hath given us doth make me much rejoice. But stay, here comes another French message.

God save the life of the most mighty conqueror, the honorable king of England.

Now, herald, methinks the world is changed with you now. What, I am sure it is a great disgrace for a herald to kneel to the king of England. What is thy message?

My lord and master, the conquered king of France, sends thee long health with hearty greeting.

Herald, his greetings are welcome, but I thank God for my health. Well, herald, say on.

He hath sent me to desire your majesty to give him leave to go into the field to view his poor countrymen, that they may all be honorably buried.

Why, herald, doth thy lord and master send to me to bury the dead? Let him bury them, in God’s name. But I pray thee, herald, where is my lord high constable and those that would have had my ransom?

An it please your majesty, he was slain in the battle.

Why, you may see, you will make yourselves sure before the victory be won. But, herald, what castle is this so near adjoining to our camp?

An it please your majesty, ’tis called the Castle of Agincourt.

Well then, my lords of England, for the more honor of our Englishmen, I will that this be forever called the Battle of Agincourt.

An it please your majesty, I have a further message to deliver to your majesty.

What is that, herald? Say on.

An it please your majesty, my lord and master craves to parley with your majesty.

With a good will, so some of my nobles view the place, for fear of treachery and treason.

Your grace needs not to doubt that.

Well, tell him then, I will come. Exit Herald. Now, my lords, I will go into the field myself to view my countrymen and to have them honorably buried, for the French king shall never surpass me in courtesy while I am Harry king of England. Come on, my lords.

Now, John Cobbler, didst thou see how the king did behave himself?

But, Robin, didst thou see what a policy the king had? To see how the Frenchmen were killed with the stakes of the trees!

Ay, John, there was a brave policy.

What are you, my masters?

Why, we be Englishmen.

Are you Englishmen? Then change your language, for the king’s tents are set afire, and all they that speak English will be killed.

What shall we do, Robin? Faith, I’ll shift, for I can speak broken French.

Faith, so can I. Let’s hear how thou canst speak.

Commodevales, Monsieur.

That’s well. Come, let’s be gone.

O good Mounser.

Come, come, you vigliacco.

Oh, I will, sir, I will.

Come quickly, you peasant.

I will, sir. What shall I give you?

Marry, thou shalt give me one, two, tre, four hundred crowns.

Nay, sir, I will give you more. I will give you as many crowns as will lie on your sword.

Wilt thou give me as many crowns as will lie on my sword?

Ay, marry will I. Ay, but you must lay down your sword, or else they will not lie on your sword.

Thou villain, darest thou look up?

O good Monsieur, comparteve. Monsieur, pardon me.

O you villain, now you lie at my mercy, dost thou remember since thou lammst me in thy short ell? O villain, now I will strike off thy head.

What, is he gone? Mass, I am glad of it, for if he had stayed I was afraid he would have stirred again, and then I should have been spilt. But I will away to kill more Frenchmen.

Now, my good brother of France, my coming into this land was not to shed blood but for the right of my country, which, if you can deny, I am content peaceably to leave my siege and to depart out of your land.

What is it you demand, my loving brother of England?

My secretary hath it written. To Secretary Read it.

Item, that immediately Henry of England be crowned king of France.

A very hard sentence, my good brother of England.

No more but right, my good brother of France.

Well, read on.

Item, that after the death of the said Henry, the crown remain to him and his heirs forever.

Why, then, you do not only mean to dispossess me but also my son.

Why, my good brother of France, you have had it long enough, and, as for Prince Dauphin, it skills not though he sit beside the saddle. Thus I have set it down, and thus it shall be.

You are very peremptory, my good brother of England.

And you as perverse, my good brother of France.

Why, then, belike all that I have here is yours.

Ay, even as far as the kingdom of France reaches.

Ay, for by this hot beginning we shall scarce bring it to a calm ending.

It is as you please. Here is my resolution.

Well, my brother of England, if you will give me a copy we will meet you again tomorrow.

With a good will, my good brother of France. Secretary, deliver him a copy. Exit King of France, and all their attendants. My lords of England, go before, and I will follow you.

Ah Harry, thrice-unhappy Harry! Hast thou now conquered the French king and begin’st a fresh supply with his daughter? But with what face canst thou seek to gain her love, which hath sought to win her father’s crown? Her father’s crown, said I? No, it is mine own. Ay, but I love her and must crave her. Nay, I love her and will have her. Enter Lady Katherine and her Ladies. But here she comes. How now, fair Lady Katherine of France, what news?

An it please your majesty, my father sent me to know if you will debate any of these unreasonable demands which you require.

Now trust me, Kate, I commend thy father’s wit greatly in this, for none in the world could sooner have made me debate it if it were possible. But tell me, sweet Kate, canst thou tell how to love?

I cannot hate, my good lord, therefore far unfit were it for me to love.

Tush, Kate. But tell me in plain terms, canst thou love the king of England? I cannot do as these countries do that spend half their time in wooing. Tush, wench, I am none such. But wilt thou go over to England?

I would to God that I had your majesty as fast in love as you have my father in wars. I would not vouchsafe so much as one look until you had debated all these unreasonable demands.

Tush, Kate, I know thou wouldst not use me so hardly. But tell me, canst thou love the king of England?

How should I love him that hath dealt so hardly with my father?

But I’ll deal as easily with thee as thy heart can imagine or tongue can require. How say’st thou? What will it be?

If I were of my own direction, I could give you answer. But seeing I stand at my father’s direction, I must first know his will.

But shall I have thy good will in the mean season?

Whereas I can put your grace in no assurance, I would be loath to put you in any despair.

Now before God, it is a sweet wench.

I may think myself the happiest in the world, that is beloved of the mighty king of England.

Well, Kate, are you at host with me? Sweet Kate, tell thy father from me that none in the world could sooner have persuaded me to it than thou, and so tell thy father from me.

God keep your majesty in good health.

Farewell, sweet Kate! In faith, it is a sweet wench, but, if I knew I could not have her father’s good will, I would so rouse the towers over his ears that I would make him be glad to bring her me upon his hands and knees.

How now? Zounds, it did me good to see how I did triumph over the Frenchmen.

Whoop, Derick! How dost thou?

What, John! Comedevales! Alive yet?

I promise thee, Derrick, I scaped hardly, for I was within half a mile when one was killed.

Were you so?

Ay, trust me, I had like been slain.

But once killed, why, it is nothing! I was four or five times slain.

Four or five times slain! Why, how couldst thou have been alive now?

Oh, John, never say so, for I was called the bloody soldier amongst them all.

Why, what didst thou?

Why, I will tell thee, John. Every day when I went into the field I would take a straw and thrust it into my nose and make my nose bleed, and then I would go into the field, and when the captain saw me he would say, Peace, a bloody soldier, and bid me stand aside, whereof I was glad. But mark the chance, John. I went and stood behind a tree—but mark then, John. I thought I had been safe, but on a sudden there steps to me a lusty tall Frenchman. Now he drew, and I drew. Now I lay here, and he lay there. Now I set this leg before, and turned this backward, and skipped quite over a hedge, and he saw me no more there that day. And was not this well done, John?

Mass, Derick, thou hast a witty head.

Ay, John, thou mayst see, if thou hadst taken my counsel—but what hast thou there? I think thou hast been robbing the Frenchmen.

Ay, faith, Derrick, I have gotten some reparel to carry home to my wife.

And I have got some shoes, for I’ll tell thee what I did. When they were dead, I would go take off all their shoes.

Ay, but Derrick, how shall we get home?

Nay, zounds, an they take thee they will hang thee. O John, never do so. If it be thy fortune to be hanged, be hanged in thy own language whatsoever thou dost.

Why, Derrick, the wars is done. We may go home now.

Ay, but you may not go before you ask the king leave. But I know a way to go home and ask the king no leave.

How is that, Derrick?

Why, John, thou knowest the duke of York’s funeral must be carried into England, dost thou not?

Ay, that I do.

Why, then, thou knowest we’ll go with it.

Ay, but Derrick, how shall we do for to meet them?

Zounds, if I make not shift to meet them, hang me. Sirrah, thou know’st that in every town there will be ringing and there will be cakes and drink. Now, I will go to the clerk and sexton and keep a-talking, and say, Oh, this fellow rings well, and thou shalt go and take a piece of cake. Then I’ll ring, and thou shalt say, Oh, this fellow keeps a good stint, and then I will go drink to thee all the way. But I marvel what my dame will say when we come home, because we have not a French word to cast at a dog by the way.

Why, what shall we do, Derrick?

Why, John, I’ll go before and call my dame whore, and thou shalt come after and set fire on the house. We may do it, John, for I’ll prove it, because we be soldiers.

Derrick, help me to carry my shoes and boots.

Now, my good brother of France, I hope by this time you have deliberated of your answer?

Ay, my well-beloved brother of England, we have viewed it over with our learned counsel but cannot find that you should be crowned king of France.

What, not king of France? Then nothing. I must be king. But, my loving brother of France, I can hardly forget the late injuries offered me when I came last to parley. The Frenchmen had better ha’ raked the bowels out of their fathers’ carcasses than to have fired my tents, and, if I knew thy son Prince Dauphin for one, I would so rouse him as he was never so roused.

I dare swear for my son’s innocency in this matter. But, if this please you, that immediately you be proclaimed and crowned Heir and Regent of France, not king, because I myself was once crowned king.

Heir and Regent of France. That is well, but that is not all that I must have.

The rest my secretary hath in writing.

Item, that Henry king of England be crowned Heir and Regent of France during the life of King Charles and, after his death, the crown, with all rights, to remain to King Henry of England and to his heirs forever.

Well, my good brother of France, there is one thing I must needs desire.

What is that, my good brother of England?

That all your nobles must be sworn to be true to me.

Whereas they have not stuck with greater matters, I know they will not stick with such a trifle. Begin you, my lord duke of Burgundy.

Come, my lord of Burgundy, take your oath upon my sword.

I, Philip duke of Burgundy, swear to Henry king of England to be true to him and to become his liege man, and that if I, Philip, hear of any foreign power coming to invade the said Henry or his heirs, then I the said Philip to send him word and aid him with all the power I can make. And thereunto I take my oath.

Come, Prince Dauphin, you must swear too.

Well, my brother of France, there is one thing more I must needs require of you.

Wherein is it that we may satisfy your majesty?

A trifle, my good brother of France. I mean to make your daughter queen of England, if she be willing and you therewith content. How say’st thou, Kate? Canst thou love the king of England?

How should I love thee, which is my father’s enemy?

Tut, stand not upon these points. ’Tis you must make us friends. I know, Kate, thou art not a little proud that I love thee. What, wench, the king of England?

Daughter, let nothing stand betwixt the king of England and thee. Agree to it.

Aside I had best whilst he is willing, lest when I would, he will not. I rest at your majesty’s command.

Welcome, sweet Kate. But, my brother of France, what say you to it?

With all my heart I like it. But when shall be your wedding day?

The first Sunday of the next month, God willing.