APPENDIX 
197 
Chor. The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet 
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning: 
Play with your fancies, and in them behold 
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing. 
III. Prol. 4. 
Mowing like grass 
Your fresh fair virgins and your flowering infants. 
III. iii. 13. 
Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, 
Let us not live in France; let us quit all 
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. 
III. v. 2 
Con. Can sodden water, 
A drench for sur-rein’d jades, their barley-broth, 
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat ? 
III. v. 18 
Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free, 
And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate: 
But Exeter hath given the doom of death 
For pax of little price. 
III. vi. 45 
Pist. The fig of Spain ! 
Flu. Very good. 
III. vi. 62. 
Orl. He’s of the colour of the nutmeg 
Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. 
III. vii. 20. 
Orl. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a 
Russian bear and have their heads crushed like rotten 
apples! 
III. vii. 153. 
Pist. Tell him, I’ll knock his leek about his pate 
Upon Saint Davy’s day. 
IV. i. 54. 
K. Hen. ... I think the king is but a man, as I am: the 
violet smells to him as it doth to me. 
IV. i. 104. 
Will. You pay him then. That’s a perilous shot out of 
an elder gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do 
against a monarch. 
IV. i. 210. 
