The Same. The Presence Chamber. |
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Enter KING HENRY, GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and Attendants. |
K. Hen. Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury? |
Exe. Not here in presence. |
K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle. |
West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege? |
K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolv'd, |
Before we hear him, of some things of weight |
That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. |
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Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and the BISHOP OF ELY. |
Cant. God and his angels guard your sacred throne, |
And make you long become it! |
K. Hen. Sure, we thank you. |
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed, |
And justly and religiously unfold |
Why the law Salique that they have in France |
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim. |
And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, |
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, |
Or nicely charge your understanding soul |
With opening titles miscreate, whose right |
Suits not in native colours with the truth; |
For God doth know how many now in health |
Shall drop their blood in approbation |
Of what your reverence shall incite us to. |
Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, |
How you awake the sleeping sword of war: |
We charge you in the name of God, take heed; |
For never two such kingdoms did contend |
Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops |
Are every one a woe, a sore complaint, |
'Gainst him whose wrongs give edge unto the swords |
That make such waste in brief mortality. |
Under this conjuration speak, my lord, |
And we will hear, note, and believe in heart, |
That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd |
As pure as sin with baptism. |
Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers, |
That owe yourselves, your lives, and services |
To this imperial throne. There is no bar |
To make against your highness' claim to France |
But this, which they produce from Pharamond, |
In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant, |
No woman shall succeed in Salique land:' |
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze |
To be the realm of France, and Pharamond |
The founder of this law and female bar. |
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm |
That the land Salique is in Germany, |
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe; |
Where Charles the Great, having subdu'd the Saxons, |
There left behind and settled certain French; |
Who, holding in disdain the German women |
For some dishonest manners of their life, |
Establish'd then this law; to wit, no female |
Should be inheritrix in Salique land: |
Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, |
Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen. |
Then doth it well appear the Salique law |
Was not devised for the realm of France; |
Nor did the French possess the Salique land |
Until four hundred one-and-twenty years |
After defunction of King Pharamond, |
Idly suppos'd the founder of this law; |
Who died within the year of our redemption |
Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great |
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French |
Beyond the river Sala, in the year |
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, |
King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, |
Did, as heir general, being descended |
Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, |
Make claim and title to the crown of France. |
Hugh Capet also, who usurp'd the crown |
Of Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole heir male |
Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great, |
To find his title with some shows of truth,— |
Though in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,— |
Convey'd himself as heir to the Lady Lingare, |
Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son |
To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son |
Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth, |
Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, |
Could not keep quiet in his conscience, |
Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied |
That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, |
Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, |
Daughter to Charles the aforesaid Duke of Loraine: |
By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great |
Was re-united to the crown of France. |
So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, |
King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, |
King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear |
To hold in right and title of the female: |
So do the kings of France unto this day; |
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law |
To bar your highness claiming from the female; |
And rather choose to hide them in a net |
Than amply to imbar their crooked titles |
Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. |
K. Hen. May I with right and conscience make this claim? |
Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! |
For in the book of Numbers is it writ: |
'When the son dies, let the inheritance |
Descend unto the daughter.' Gracious lord, |
Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag; |
Look back into your mighty ancestors: |
Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, |
From whom you claim; invoke his war-like spirit, |
And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, |
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, |
Making defeat on the full power of France; |
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill |
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp |
Forage in blood of French nobility. |
O noble English! that could entertain |
With half their forces the full pride of France, |
And let another half stand laughing by, |
All out of work, and cold for action. |
Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, |
And with your puissant arm renew their feats: |
You are their heir, you sit upon their throne, |
The blood and courage that renowned them |
Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege |
Is in the very May-morn of his youth, |
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. |
Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth |
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, |
As did the former lions of your blood. |
West. They know your Grace hath cause and means and might; |
So hath your highness; never King of England |
Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects, |
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England |
And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France. |
Cant. O! let their bodies follow, my dear liege, |
With blood and sword and fire to win your right; |
In aid whereof we of the spiritualty |
Will raise your highness such a mighty sum |
As never did the clergy at one time |
Bring in to any of your ancestors. |
K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade the French, |
But lay down our proportions to defend |
Against the Scot, who will make road upon us |
With all advantages. |
Cant. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, |
Shall be a wall sufficient to defend |
Our inland from the pilfering borderers. |
K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, |
But fear the main intendment of the Scot, |
Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; |
For you shall read that my great-grandfather |
Never went with his forces into France |
But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom |
Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, |
With ample and brim fulness of his force, |
Galling the gleaned land with hot essays, |
Girding with grievous siege castles and towns; |
That England, being empty of defence, |
Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. |
Cant. She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege; |
For hear her but exampled by herself: |
When all her chivalry hath been in France |
And she a mourning widow of her nobles, |
She hath herself not only well defended, |
But taken and impounded as a stray |
The King of Scots; whom she did send to France, |
To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings, |
And make your chronicle as rich with praise |
As is the owse and bottom of the sea |
With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries. |
West. But there's a saying very old and true; |
If that you will France win, |
Then with Scotland first begin: |
For once the eagle England being in prey, |
To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot |
Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely eggs, |
Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, |
To tear and havoc more than she can eat. |
Exe. It follows then the cat must stay at home: |
Yet that is but a crush'd necessity; |
Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries |
And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. |
While that the armed hand doth fight abroad |
The advised head defends itself at home: |
For government, though high and low and lower, |
Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, |
Congreeing in a full and natural close, |
Like music. |
Cant. Therefore doth heaven divide |
The state of man in divers functions, |
Setting endeavour in continual motion; |
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, |
Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, |
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach |
The act of order to a peopled kingdom. |
They have a king and officers of sorts; |
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, |
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, |
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, |
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; |
Which pillage they with merry march bring home |
To the tent-royal of their emperor: |
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys |
The singing masons building roofs of gold, |
The civil citizens kneading up the honey, |
The poor mechanic porters crowding in |
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, |
The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, |
Delivering o'er to executors pale |
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, |
That many things, having full reference |
To one consent, may work contrariously; |
As many arrows, loosed several ways, |
Fly to one mark; as many ways meet in one town; |
As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea; |
As many lines close in the dial's centre; |
So may a thousand actions, once afoot, |
End in one purpose, and be all well borne |
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege. |
Divide your happy England into four; |
Whereof take you one quarter into France, |
And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. |
If we, with thrice such powers left at home, |
Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, |
Let us be worried and our nation lose |
The name of hardiness and policy. |
K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. [Exit an Attendant. |
Now are we well resolv'd; and by God's help, |
And yours, the noble sinews of our power, |
France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe |
Or break it all to pieces: or there we'll sit, |
Ruling in large and ample empery |
O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, |
Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, |
Tombless, with no remembrance over them: |
Either our history shall with full mouth |
Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, |
Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, |
Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph. |
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Enter Ambassadors of France. |
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure |
Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear |
Your greeting is from him, not from the king. |
First Amb. May't please your majesty to give us leave |
Freely to render what we have in charge; |
Or shall we sparingly show you far off |
The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy? |
K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king; |
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject |
As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons: |
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness |
Tell us the Dauphin's mind. |
First Amb. Thus then, in few. |
Your highness, lately sending into France, |
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right |
Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. |
In answer of which claim, the prince our master |
Says that you savour too much of your youth, |
And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France |
That can be with a nimble galliard won; |
You cannot revel into dukedoms there. |
He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, |
This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, |
Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim |
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks. |
K. Hen. What treasure, uncle? |
Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege. |
K. Hen. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us: |
His present and your pains we thank you for: |
When we have match'd our rackets to these balls, |
We will in France, by God's grace, play a set |
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard. |
Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler |
That all the courts of France will be disturb'd |
With chaces. And we understand him well, |
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, |
Not measuring what use we made of them. |
We never valu'd this poor seat of England; |
And therefore, living hence, did give ourself |
To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common |
That men are merriest when they are from home. |
But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, |
Be like a king and show my sail of greatness |
When I do rouse me in my throne of France: |
For that I have laid by my majesty |
And plodded like a man for working-days, |
But I will rise there with so full a glory |
That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, |
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. |
And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his |
Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul |
Shall stand sore-charged for the wasteful vengeance |
That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows |
Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands; |
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; |
And some are yet ungotten and unborn |
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn. |
But this lies all within the will of God, |
To whom I do appeal; and in whose name |
Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on, |
To venge me as I may and to put forth |
My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. |
So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin |
His jest will savour but of shallow wit |
When thousands weep more than did laugh at it. |
Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well. [Exeunt Ambassadors. |
Exe. This was a merry message. |
K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush at it. |
Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour |
That may give furtherance to our expedition; |
For we have now no thought in us but France, |
Save those to God, that run before our business. |
Therefore let our proportions for these wars |
Be soon collected, and all things thought upon |
That may with reasonable swiftness 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. Flourish. |
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