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 fine end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, even 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 o' 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.

Nym. They say he cried out of sack.

Host. Ay, that 'a did.

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.

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

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 movables:

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. Pist.

Bard.

And that's but unwholesome food, they say.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Farewell, hostess.

[Kissing her.

Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu. Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command. Farewell; adieu.

Pist.
Host.

[Exeunt.

Bed.

SCENE III.—Southampton.

A Council-chamber.

Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND.

Exe.

West.

'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors. They shall be apprehended by and by.

How smooth and even they do bear themselves!

As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,

Crownéd with faith and constant loyalty.

Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of.

Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours,— That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell

His sovereign's life to death and treachery!

Trumpets sound.

K. Hen.

Enter KING HENRY, CAMBRIDGE, Scroop,
GREY, Lords, and Attendants.

Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
My Lord of Cambridge,—my kind Lord of Masham,—
And you, my gentle knight,-give me your thoughts :
Think you not, that the powers we bear with us
Will cut their passage through the force of France,
Doing the execution and the act

For which we have in head assembled them?

Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.

K. Hen.

I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded

We carry not a heart with us from hence

That grows not in a fair consent with ours,

Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish

Success and conquest to attend on us.

Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd Than is your majesty there's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness

:

Under the sweet shade of your government.

Grey. True: those that were your father's enemies Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal.

K. Hen.

We therefore have great cause of thankfulness; And shall forget the office of our hand,

Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
According to their weight and worthiness.

Scroop. So service shall with steeléd sinews toil,
And labour shall refresh itself with hope,

To do your grace incessant services.

K. Hen. We judge no less.-Uncle of Exeter, Enlarge the man committed yesterday,

That rail'd against our person: we consider

It was excess of wine that set him on ;

And, on our more advice, we pardon him.

Scroop.

That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd, sovereign; lest example
Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful, my lord.
Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too.
Grey. You show great mercy, if you give him life,
After the taste of much correction.

K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch !

If little faults, proceeding on distemper,

Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appear before us?-We'll yet enlarge that man,

Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care
And tender preservation of our person,

Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes:
Who are the late commissioners ?

K. Hen. Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours:-
There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham ;—and, sir knight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours :—
Read them; and know, I know your worthiness.—
My Lord of Westmoreland, -and uncle Exeter,
We will aboard to-night.—Why, how now, gentlemen!
What see you in those papers, that you lose

So much complexion ?—Look ye, how they change!
Their cheeks are paper.—Why, what read you there,
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance ?

Cam.

I do confess my fault;

And do submit me to your highness' mercy.

Grey. Scroop. K. Hen.

The mercy that was quick in us but late,
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd:
You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,

As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.

See you, my princes and my noble peers,

These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here,—
You know how apt our love was to accord
To furnish him with all appertinents
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd,
And sworn unto the practices of France,
To kill us here in Hampton: to the which

This knight, no less for bounty bound to us

Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn.-But, O,
What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature!
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold,
Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use, -
May it be possible, that foreign hire

Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,
That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it.
Treason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
Working so grossly in a natural cause,
That admiration did not whoop at them:
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason and on murder:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
That wrought upon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence :
And other devils, that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation

With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
From glistering semblances of piety;

But he that tempted thee bade thee stand up,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.

If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus
Should with his lion-gait walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar back,
And tell the legions, "I can never win
A soul so easy as that Englishman's."
O, how hast thou with jealousy infected

The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learnéd ?
Why, so didst thou:
Why, so didst thou
Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet;
Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger;
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood;
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement;
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but in purgéd judgment trusting neither?
Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem :
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
To mark the full-fraught man and best indu'd
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like

come they of noble family?
seem they religious?