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About this text

  • Title: Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: James D. Mardock
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-409-7

    Copyright James D. Mardock. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: James D. Mardock
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)

    The Life of Henry the Fift. 75
    And other diuels that suggest by treasons,
    Do botch and bungle vp damnation,
    745With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht
    From glist'ring semblances of piety:
    But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp,
    Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
    Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
    750If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus,
    Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,
    He might returne to vastie Tartar backe,
    And tell the Legions, I can neuer win
    A soule so easie as that Englishmans.
    755Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected
    The sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull,
    Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned?
    Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family?
    Why so didst thou. Seeme they religious?
    760Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
    Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger,
    Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood,
    Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
    Not working with the eye, without the eare,
    765And but in purged iudgement trusting neither,
    Such and so finely boulted didst thou seeme:
    And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,
    To make thee full fraught man, and best indued
    With some suspition, I will weepe for thee.
    770For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is like
    Another fall of Man. Their faults are open,
    Arrest them to the answer of the Law,
    And God acquit them of their practises.
    Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of
    775Richard Earle of Cambridge.
    I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
    Lord Scroope of Marsham.
    I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
    Grey, Knight of Northumberland.
    780Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd,
    And I repent my fault more then my death,
    Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue,
    Although my body pay the price of it.
    Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not seduce,
    785Although I did admit it as a motiue,
    The sooner to effect what I intended:
    But God be thanked for preuention,
    Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce,
    Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee.
    790Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce
    At the discouery of most dangerous Treason,
    Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe,
    Preuented from a damned enterprize ;
    My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne.
    795King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence
    You haue conspir'd against Our Royall person,
    Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers,
    Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death:
    Wherein you would haue sold your King to slaughter,
    800His Princes, and his Peeres to seruitude,
    His Subiects to oppression, and contempt,
    And his whole Kingdome into desolation:
    Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge,
    But we our Kingdomes safety must so tender,
    805Whose ruine you sought, that to her Lawes
    We do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence,
    (Poore miserable wretches) to your death:
    The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue

    You patience to indure, and true Repentance
    810Of all your deare offences. Beare them hence. Exit.
    Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof
    Shall be to you as vs, like glorious.
    We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,
    Since God so graciously hath brought to light
    815This dangerous Treason, lurking in our way,
    To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now,
    But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our way.
    Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer
    Our Puissance into the hand of God,
    820Putting it straight in expedition.
    Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance,
    No King of England, if not King of France. Flourish.
    Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.
    Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring
    825thee to Staines.
    Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph,
    be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle
    thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must
    erne therefore.
    830Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,
    eyther in Heauen, or in Hell.
    Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs
    Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a
    finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome
    835Child: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n
    at the turning o'th'Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with
    the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fin-
    gers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was
    as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now
    840Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a
    cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now I,
    to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I
    hop'd there was no neede to trouble himselfe with any
    such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his
    845feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they
    were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and so
    vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone.
    Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack.
    Hostesse. I, that a did.
    850Bard. And of Women.
    Hostesse. Nay, that a did not.
    Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incar-
    Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Co-
    855lour he neuer lik'd.
    Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about
    Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women:
    but then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
    Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon
    Bardolphs Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning
    in Hell.
    Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:
    865that's all the Riches I got in his seruice.
    Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone from
    Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes:
    Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences
    870rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oathes
    are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-fast
    is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee
    thy Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yoke-
    fellowes in Armes, let vs to France, like Horse-