justly hath discover’d,And I repent my fault more than my death,
Which I beseech your Highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.
CAMBRIDGE.
For me, the gold of France did not seduce,
Although I did admit it as a motive
The sooner to effect what I intended.
But God be thanked for prevention,
Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,
Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
GREY.
Never did faithful subject more rejoice
At the discovery of most dangerous treason
Than I do at this hour joy o’er myself,
Prevented from a damned enterprise.
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
KING HENRY.
God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
You have conspir’d against our royal person,
Join’d with an enemy proclaim’d, and from his coffers
Received the golden earnest of our death;
Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom into desolation.
Touching our person seek we no revenge;
But we our kingdom’s safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
Poor miserable wretches, to your death,
The taste whereof God of his mercy give
You patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.
[Exeunt Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, guarded.]
Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous treason lurking in our way
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now
But every rub is smoothed on our way.
Then forth, dear countrymen! Let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Cheerly to sea! The signs of war advance!
No king of England, if not king of France!
[Flourish.]
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III.
London. Before a tavern.
[Enter Pistol, Nym, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostess.]
HOSTESS.
Prithee, honey, sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.
PISTOL.
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.
BARDOLPH. Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is, either in heaven or in hell!
HOSTESS. Nay, sure, he’s not in hell. He’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. ‘A made a finer 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 hop’d 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; then I felt to his knees, [and they were as cold as any stone;] and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.
NYM.
They say he cried out of sack.
HOSTESS.
Ay, that ‘a did.
BARDOLPH.
And of women.
HOSTESS.
Nay, that ‘a did not.
BOY.
Yes, that ‘a did; and said they were devils incarnate.
HOSTESS.
‘A could never abide carnation; ‘twas a colour he never liked.
BOY.
‘A said once, the devil would have him about women.
HOSTESS. ‘A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talk’d of the whore of Babylon.
BOY. Do you not remember, ‘a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph’s nose, and ‘a said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire?
BARDOLPH. Well, the fuel is gone that maintain’d that fire. That’s all the riches I got in his service.
NYM.
Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton.
PISTOL.
Come, let’s away. My love, give me thy lips.
