ACT FIFTH.
2. SCENE II. France. A royal palace.
(continued)
KING HENRY.
I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to affirm it.
KATHARINE.
O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
KING HENRY.
What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of
deceits?
ALICE.
Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits: dat is de
Princess.
KING HENRY.
The Princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith, Kate, my
wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou canst
speak no better English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst
find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my
farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but
directly to say, "I love you"; then if you urge me farther than
to say, "Do you in faith?" I wear out my suit. Give me your
answer; i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say
you, lady?
KATHARINE.
Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.
KING HENRY.
Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your
sake, Kate, why you undid me; for the one, I have neither
words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in
measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a
lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour
on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I
should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my
love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a
butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God,
Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I
have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I
never use till urg'd, nor never break for urging. If thou canst
love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth
sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything
he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain
soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say
to thee that I shall die, is true; but for thy love, by the Lord,
no; yet I love thee too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a
fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do
thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places;
for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves
into ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again.
What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good
leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn
white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a
full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and
the moon; or rather the sun and not the moon; for it shines bright
and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have
such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier,
take a king. And what say'st thou then to my love? Speak, my fair,
and fairly, I pray thee.
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