If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs? and yet that were but light payment,— to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so will 1. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Katharine of France: where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night: and so kneel down before you;--but, indeed, to pray for the queen. THE SCENE.-At the beginning of the play, lies in England; but afterwards wholly in France. Enter Chorus. O, for a muse of fire that would ascend, The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, 1 The circular theatre. Attest, in little place, a million; Suppose, within the girdle of these walls, Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray, Act First. SCENE I.-LONDON. AN ANTE-CHAMBER IN THE KING'S PALACE. Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Bishop of Ely. Cant. My lord, I'll tell you, that self bill is urg'd, Which, in the eleventh year of the last king's reign, Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, But that the scambling1 and unquiet time Did push it out of further question. Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? We lose the better half of our possession: For all the temporal lands which men devout Would they strip from us; being valued thus,— Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil, A hundred alms-houses, right well supplied; And to the coffers of the king beside, A thousand pounds by the year: Thus runs the bill. Cant. "Twould drink the cup and all. Ely. But what prevention? Cant. The king is full of grace and fair regard. Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not. 1 Uncertain. The breath no sooner left his father's body, And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him; To envelop and contain celestial spirits. With such a heady current, scouring faults; So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, Ely. You would desire the king were made a prelate : Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say,-it hath been all-in-all his study: Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, Which is a wonder, how his grace should glean it, His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow; Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity. Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle; And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality: And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation Cant. It must be so: for miracles are ceas'd; Ely. But, my good lord, Urg'd by the commons? Doth his majesty Cant. He seems indifferent, Or, rather, swaying more upon our part, 1 Listen to. 2 Increasing. 3 (Of the bill.) For I have made an offer to his majesty,— Ely. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord? Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms; Ely. What was the impediment that broke this off? Ely. Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. Ely. I'll wait upon you; and I long to hear it. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A ROOM OF STATE IN THE SAME. K. Hen. Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury? K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle. West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege? Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and 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. That you should fashion, wrest, or how your reading, With opening titles miscreate, whose right For heaven doth know, how many, now in health, Of what your reverence shall incite us to: |