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THE 

BRITISH THEATRE; 



OR, 

A COLLECTION OF PLAYS, 

WHICH ARE ACTKO AT 

THE THEATRES ROYAL, 
DRURY LANE, CPVENT GARDEN, AND HAYMaRKET. 

PRINTED VKOXR THE AUTHORITY OF TBB MANAGERS 
FROM THE PROMPT BOOKS. 

WITH 

BIOGRAPHICAL A^fD CmiCAL REMARKS, 

BY MRS. INCH BALD. 

IN TWENTY-FIVE VOLUMES. 



VOL. 11. 

KliFG HENRY IV. FIRST PART. 

KINO HENRY IV. SECOND PART. 

MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

KING HENRY V. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



LONDON : 



PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, RBES, AND ORHK, 

PATERNOSTER ROW.' 

1808. 



WlttlAM fATAOB, PRINTIII^ 
BBDPORD Bumr. 



KING HENRY IV. 

THE FIRST PART; 



A HISTOBICAL PLAY, 



IN FITS ACTS 



Bt WILLIAM SHAKSj>EAR£. 

AS PKRPORMID AT TBI 

THEATRE ROYAL, CO VENT GARDEN. 

« * 

PAIVTEO VJfDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS 
FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. 

WITH REMARKS 

BY MRS. INCHBALD. 



LONDON : 



c » ' I 



faiNTED FOE LONGMAN, HURST, REES; AND OtLUM, 

PATERNOSTER ROW, 



IVILLIAM I AT ACE, PllINTia» 
LONDON. 






Vb'y70 



REMARKS. 



This is a play which all men admire, and whicd 
most women dislike. Many revohing expressions in 
die comic parts, much boisterous courage in some of 
the graver scenes, together with Falstaff's unwieldy 
person, offend every female auditor; and whilst a 
facetious Prince of Wales is employed in taking purses 
on the highway, a lady would rather see him stealing 
hearts at a ball^ though the event might produce more 
fatal consequences. 

The great Percys they confess, pays some attention 
to his wife, but still more to his horse : and, as the 
king was a rebel before he mounted the throne, and 
all women are naturally loyaU they shudder at a 
crowned head leagued with a traitor's hearts 

With all these plausible objections, infinite enter*^ 
tainment and instruction, may be received from this 
drama, even by the most delicate readers. They will 
observe the pen of a faithful historian^ as well as of fl 
great poet ; and they ought, surely, to be charmed with 
every character, as a complete copy of nature; ad- 
miring even the delinquency of them all, far beyond 
that false display of unsullied virtue, so easy for a 
bard to bestow upon the creatures of his fancy, when 

B 2 



i REMARKS. 

truth of description is sacrificed to brilliant impossi- 
bilities. 

The reader, who is too refined to laugh at the wit of 
Sir John, must yet enjoy Hotspur's picture of a cox- 
comb ; and receive high delight from those sentences 
of self-reproach, and purpose of amendment, which 
occasionally drop from the lips of the youthful and 
royal profligate. 

If the licentious faults of old fashioned dialogue 
should here too frequently offend the strictly nice, 
they must, at least, confer the tribute of their praises 
upon every soliloquy. It is impossible for puritan^sm 
not to be merry, when Falstaff is ever found talJcing 
to himself; or holding discourse over the honoured 
dead. It is nearly as im possible for stupidity to be 
insensible of the merit of those sentiments, delivered 
by the prince, over the same extended corse; or, to be 
unmoved by various other beauties, with which this 
work abounds. 

In order to form a proper judgment of the manners and 
conversations of the characters in this play, and, to par- 
take of their genuine spirit, the reader must keep in 
mind that the era, in which all those remarkable per- 
sonages lived, thought, spoke, and acted, has now been 
passed more than four hundred years. — The play be- 
gins with the news of Hotspur having defeated the 
Scots, under the Earl of Douglas, which battle was 
fought on the fourteenth of September, 1402 ; and it 
closes with the defeat and death of Hotspur, which 
happened on the twenty^-first of July, 1403 — thus com<f 
prising every event here introduced, within the tim^ qX 
ten months. 



REMARKS* 5 

It will be vain to endeavour to prevent many ten- 
der-hearted readers, who sigh over the horrors of a 
battle, from wishing^ that the prince's challenge to 
Hotspur had produced the single combat he desired; 
and that the victory of the day had been so de* 
cided. 

Such tender and compassionate persons should 
not suffer their estimation of honour thus to sink into 
an equality with the cowardly Falstatf's ; but they 
should call to mind — that, though it was, in ancient 
times, considered as a token of valour, for a prince at 
the head of an army, to challenge lo single contest 
the chief warrior on the opposite side ; yet, in mo- 
dem days, when a powerful monarch threw his gaunt- 
let down, to save the effusion of blood, this act of 
self-sacrifice was considered as a token of mere roaid'^ 
fiess^ 



ui 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 



HfiNBY IV. King of England 

Henry, Prince of Wales 

Prince John of Lancaster 

Earl of Westmoreland 

Archibald, Earl of Douglas 

Earl of Worcester 

Earl OF Northumberland 

Hotspur 

Sir Walter Blunt 

Sir Richard Vernon 

Sir John Falstaff 

Sheriff 

POINS 

Raby 

Travellers 

Gadshill 

Bardolph 

PETa 

First Carrier 

Second Carrier 

Francis 

Ostler 



Mr. Murray, 
Mr. C. Kembk. 
Mr, Curties, 
Mr. Waddy. 
Mr. Claremont. 
Mr. Cory, 
Mr, Creswell, 
Mr. Kemble. 
Mr. Chapman, 
Mr. Brunfon. 
Mr. Cooke^ 
Mr, Fields 
Mr, Farley, 
Mr, Klanertm 
Mr, Abbot. 
Mr. Lcwiss. 
Mr. Reeves. 
Mr. Powers, 
Mr. Wilde. 
Mr. Davenport. 
Mr, Atkins. 
Mr. Emery. 
Mr. Beverly, 
Mr. Knight. 
Mr. Truman 



Lady Percy 
Hostess 



Miss Waddy. 
Mrs, Davenport, 



G ENTLEMEK.*^ SoLDIERS. 



SCENE-^England. 



KING HENRY IV. 



THE FIRST PART. 



ACT THE FIRST. 

SCEN£ I. 

The Palace in London^ 
Flourish of Trumpets and Drums. 



King Henrt, Prince John of Lancaster, Earl 
OF Westmoreland, Sir Riciiard Vernon, 
Sir Walter Blunt, and other Gentlemen dis- 
cwered, 

K, Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant. 
No more the thirsty entrants of this soil 
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood ; 
No more shall trenching war channel her fields. 
Nor braise her flowrets with the armed hoofs 
Of hostile paces : 
Therefore, friends, 
As far as to the sepulchre of Chrisjt 



8 kiNO HENRY IT. [aCT !♦ 

Forthwith a power of English shall we levy^ 
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields. 
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, 
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd^ 
For our advantage, on the bitter cross* 
But this our purpose now is twelvemonth old, 
And bootless 'tis to tell you — :we will go: 
Therefore we meet not now. — ^Then let me hear 
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 
What yesternight our council, did decree, 
It! forwarding this dear expedience. 

IVest. My liege, this haste was hot in question^ 
And many limits of the charge set down 
But yesternight : when, all athwart, there came 
A post from Wales, laden with heavy news; 
Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, 
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
Against the irregular and wild Glendower, 
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, 
And a thousand of his people butchered. 

K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this 
broil 
Brake off our business for the Holy Land. 

West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious 
lord; 
For more uneven, and unwelcome news. 
Came from the north, and thus it did import. 
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, 
Young Ilarry Percy, and brave Archibald, 
That ever-valiant and approved Scot, 
At Holmcdon met. 

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour ; 
As by discharge of their artillery, 
And bhape of likelihood, the news was told ; 
For he, that brought them, in the very heat 
And pride of their contention, did take horse, 
Unci*rtain of the issue any way. 

K. Hen. Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend^ 



8CE2IB I.] TBE FIRST PART^ 9 

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 

And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news* 

The Earl of Douglas is discomfited 

On Holmedon s plains : of prisoners. Hotspur took 

Mordake, the Earl of Fife, and eldest son 

To beaten Douglas ; and the Earls 

Of Athol, Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 

And is not this an honourable spoil ? 

A jgallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not ? 

West, Ic is a conquest for a prince to boast of, 
K. Hen* Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'si 
me sin 
In envy that my Lord Northumberland 
Should be the father of so bless'd a son: 
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue ; 
Whilst I9 by looking on the praise of him, 
See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
Of my young Harry. Oh, that it could be prov'd, 
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
In cradle*clothes, our children, where they lay, 
And call'd mine — Percy, his — Plantagenet! 
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
But let him from my thoughts : — What think youj 

COSJ, 

Of this young Percy's pride ? the prisoners, 
Which he, in this adventure, bath surprised, 
To his own use h^ keeps ; and sends me word, 
I shall have nonel)ut Mordake, Earl of Fife. 

TVest. This is his uncle'« teaching, this is Worces* 
ter, 
Malevolent to you, in all aspects, 

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this ; 
And, for this cause, awhile, we must neglect 
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. . [Bisa, 

Cousin, on Wednesday next, our council we 
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords : 
3ut come yourself with speed to us again ; 



16 XING UEKRT IT. [aCT I 

For more is to be said, and to be done^ 
ThanyOutof anger, can be uttered. 

Flourish of Trumpets and Drums. — [£je«iil. 



SCENE 1I« 



jiin Apartment belonging to the Prince Of Walest. 

Enter Henrt, Prince of Wales, and Sir John 

Falstaff. 

FaL Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? 

P, Hen, Thou art so &t-witted, with drinking of 
old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper^ and 
sloeping upon benches after noon^ that thou hast for^ 
gotten to demand that truly, which thou wouldst 
truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the 
lime of the day ? Unless hours were cups of sack, and 
minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds; I 
«ee no reason, why thou shouldst be so superfluous to 
demand the time of the day. 

Fal, Indeed, you come near me now, Hal: for we^ 
that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars, and 
not by Phoebus, — he, that wand'ring knight so fair. 
And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,- — 
Rs, Heaven save thy grace, majesty, I should say ; for 
grace thou wilt have none, 

P. Hen. What! none? 

Fal. No, by my troth ; not so much as will serve 
to be prologue to an egg and butter, 

P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. 

Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, 
let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be 
called thieves of the day's beauty ; let us be — Diana^s 
foresters, gentlemen of the shade^ minions of the 



SCfiN B 1 1.] TH B II AST 9AftT. 1 1 

moon : And let men say, we be men of good govern- 
ment ; being, governed as the sea is, by our noble and 
chaste mistress, the moon; under whose countenance 
we— ^ — steal. 

P. HeH. Thou say'st well : and it holds well too: 
for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth 
ebb and flow like the sea ; being governed as the sea 
ifif by the moon. As, for proof, now : a pursa of 
gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and 
most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning ; got with 
•wearing — lay by; and spent with crying — bring in : 
BOW, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder ; and^ 
by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gal* 
lows. 

jpa/. By the lord, thou sa/st true, lad. And is 
not my hostess, of the tavern a most sweet wench? 

P. aen* As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the 
castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of 
durance ? 

Fal. How now, how now, mad wag ? what, in thy 
quips, and thy quidditiet ? what a plague have I to 
do with a buff jerkin i 

P. Hen» Why, what a plague have I to do with my 
hostess of the tavern ^ 

Pa/« Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning 
many a time ai^d oft* 

P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ? 

Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thpu hast paid all 
there. 

P. Hen, Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin 
would stretch ; and, where it would not, I have used 
my credit. 

Fal, Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here ap« 
parent that thou art heir apparent,^— But, I pr'ythee, 
sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England 
when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it 
is, with the rusly curb of old father antic, the law ? 
Do not thou, when tboi^ art king, hang a thief. 



1% XiVGr HEKRT IT. [aCT !• 

P. HeH. No ; thou shalt. 

JFa/. Shall I i O rare ! By the lord, Fll be a brare 
judge! 

P. Hen. Thou judgest false, already; I mean, thou 
shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become 
a rare hangman. 

FaL Well, Hal, well; and in some sort, it jumps 
with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I 
can tell you. 

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits ? 

FaL Yea, for obtaining of suits; whereof, the hang- 
man hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as me- 
lancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear. 

P. Hen, Or an old lion ; or a lover's lute. 

Fal, Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. 

P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the melan- 
choly of Moor Ditch ? 

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes ; and 
art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, — sweet 
young prince, — But, Hal, I pr ythee, trouble me no 
more with vanity. I would to Heaven thou and I 
knew where a commodity of good names were to be 
bought : An old lord of the council rated me the 
other day, in the street, about you, sir, but I marked 
him not : and yet he talked very wisely, but I regard- 
ed him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the 
street too< 

P. Hen. Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries out in 
the streets, and no man regards it. 

Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration; and art, in- 
deed^ able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much 
harm upon me, Hal, — Heaven forgive thee for it ! Be- 
fore I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing ; and now am 
I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one 
of the wicked. I must give ovei: this life, and I will 
give it over; by the lord, an I do not, I am a villain ! 
ril be damned for never a king's son in Christen- 
dom. . 



SCENE II.] THE FIRST PART. IS 

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to>morrow» 
Jack^ 

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one ; an I do 
not, call me villain, and baffle me. 

P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee ; 
from praying, to purse-taking. 

Fail. Why, Ha), 'tis my vocation, Hal ; 'tis no sin 
for a man to labour in his vocation. 

Enter Poiiis. 

P. Hen» Good morrow, Ned. 

Pains, Good morrow, sweet Hal. *What says 

Monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and 
Sugar? But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, 
by four o'clock, early at Gads Hill, — There are pil- 
grims going to Canterbury, with rich offerings, and 
traders riding to London with fat purs(*s : 1 have vi- 
sors for you all, you have horses for yourselves: 
Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester ; I have bespoke 
supper in Eastcheap: we may do it as secure as 
sleep ; if you will go, I will stuff your purses full of 
crowns: if you will not, tarry at home, and be 
hanged. 

Fal. Hear ye, X^dward ; if I tarry at home, and 
go not, rU hang you for going. 
Poms. You will, chops ? 
Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ? 
P. Hen. Who, I rob ? la thief ? not I, by my 
faith. 

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good 
fellowship in thee ; nor thou cam'st not of the blood 
royal, if thou dar'st not stand fur ten shillings. 

P. Hen. Well then, once in my days, 111 be a mad- 
cap. 

Fal. Why, that's well said. 
P. Hen. Well, come what will, Til tarry at home. 
Fal. By the lord; I'll be a traitor then, when thou 
art king. 

G 



14 KlVe HENRY IT. [aCT U 

P. Hen. I care not [Retires. 

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and 
me alone ; 1 will lay him down such reasons for this 
adventure, that he shall go. 

Fal, Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persua- 
sion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou 
tpeakest may move, and what he hears may be be- 
lieved, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) 
prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time 
want countenance. Farewell : you shall find me in 
Eastcheap. [Exit. 

P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring 1 farewell, 
All'hallown summer ! [Advances. 

Poins. Now nay good sweet honey lord, ride wiih 
us to-morrow ; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot 
manage alone. Falstaif, Bardolph, Peto, and Gads-i 
hill shall rob those men that we have already way* 
laid; yourself, and I, will not be there: and when 
they have the booty, if you and 1 do not rob them, 
cut this head from my shoulders. 

P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in set-*- 

ting forth ? 

Poins. Why, we will set forth before, or after them, 
and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at 
our pleasure to fail ; and then will they adventure 
upon the exploit themselves : which they shall have 
no sooner atchieved, but we'll set upon them. 

P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like, that they will know us, by 
our horses, by our habits, and by every other appoint- 
' ment, to be ourselves. 

Poins. Tut ! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie 
them in the wood ; our visois we will change, after we 
leave tht»m ; and I have cases of buckram for the 
nonce, to inmtisk our noted outward garments. 

P. Hen. But I doubt they will be too hard for us, 

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be 

as irut-bred cowards as ever turned back ; and for the 

third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll for- 



9C«(f£ II.] THE FI&ST PART. tM 

swear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the in*- 
comprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell 
us, when we meet at supper : how thirty, at least, he 
fought with ; what wards, what blows, what extre- 
mities he endured ; and, in the reproof of this, lies the 
jest. * 

P. Hen, Well, I'll go with thee ; provide us all 
things necessary, and meet me in Eastcheap. Fare- 
well. 
Poins, Farewell, my lord. [Exit* 

P. Hen, I know you all, and will awhile uphold 
The unyok'd humour of yoiir idleness: 
Yet herein will I imitate the sun ; 
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world. 
That, when he please again to be himself, 
Being wanted, he may be more wpnder'd at, 
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
Of vapours, thai did seem to strangle him. 
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, 
And pay the debt I never promised. 
By how much better than my word I am, 
By so much shall 1 falsify men's hopes; 
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, 
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault. 
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
ril so offend, to make offence a skill ; 
Bedeeming time, when men think least I will. [ExiU 



c t 



l6 KING II'ENaY IT. [aCT I. 



SCENE III. 



The Council Chamho'. 



Flourish of Trumpets and Drums. 



King Henry, Prince John, Earl of Westmore- 
land, £arl of Worcester, EaAl op North- 
umberland, Hotspur, Sir W. Blunt, Sir R. 
Vernon, oncto^Aer Gentlemen, discovered, 

K, Hen, My blood hath been too cold and tempe- 
rate, 
Unapt to stir at these indignities. 
And you have found me ; for, accordingly. 
You tread upon my patience ; but, be sure, 
I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition ; 
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down. 
And, therefore, lost that title of respect. 
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. 

IVor, Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves 
The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it; 
And that same greatness too, which our own hands 
Have holp to make so portly. 

North, My lord, 

K, Hen. Worcester, get thee gone ; for I do see 
Danger and disobedience in thine eye: 
O, sir, 

Your presence is too bold and peremptory ; 
And majesty might never yet endure 
The moody frontier of a servant brow. 
You have good leave to leave us : when we need 



SCB192 III.] THE FIRST PART. 17 

Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.- 



[Exit Worcester. 
You were about to speak. 

North. Yea, my good lord. 
Those prisoners, in your highness' name demanded. 
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
Were, as he says, nut with such strength deny'd, 
As is deliver'd to your majesty. 

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
But, 1 remember, when the fight was done^ 
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, 
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, . 
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, 
Fresh as a bridegroom : and his chin, new reap'd, 
Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home : 
He was perfumed like a milliner ; 
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
A pouncet-box, which, ever and anon, 
He gave his nose, and took't away again ; 
And still he smil'd, and talk'd ; 
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
He caird them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
To bring a slovenly, unhandsome, corse. 
Betwixt the wind and his nobiliiy. 
With many holiday and lady terms. 
He questioned me ; among the rest demanded 
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
To be so pestered with a popinjay. 
Out of my grief and my impatience, 
Answer'd, neglectingly, I know not what; 
He should, or he should not ; for he made me m&d, 
To see him 3hine so brisk, and smell so sweet. 
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman. 
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, — (tleaven save the 

mark !)— 
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parmacity, for an inward bruise ; 

c 3 * " ' 1 



IS KINO HENRY IV* [aCT I. 

And that it was great pity, so it was, 
That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed 
So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, 
He would himself have been a soldier. 
This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, 
I answered indirectly, as I said ; 
And, I beseech you, let not his report 
Come current for an accusation. 
Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 

Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord. 
Whatever Harry Percy then had said. 
To such a person, and in such a place. 
At such a time, with all the rest re-told, 
May reasonably die, and never rise 
To do him wrong, or any way impeach 
What then he said, so he unsay it now. 

K, Hen, Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners ; 
But with proviso, and exception, — 
That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight 
His.hrother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ; 
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd 
The lives of those, that he did lead to fight 
Against the great magician, damnM Glendower ; 
Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March 
Hath lately marry'd. Shall our coffers then 
Be empty'd, to redeem a traitor home ? 
Shall we buy treason ? and indent with fears 
When they have lost and forfeited themselves ? 
No, on the barren mountains let him starve ; 
For I shall never hold that man my friend, 
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost, 
To ransom home revolted Mortimer. 

Hot. Revolted Mortimer! 
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege. 
But by the chance of war : — To prove that true. 
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, 



SCENE III.] THE TIBST PART. 19 

Those moutHed wounds, which, valiantly, he took, 

When, on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, 

In single opposition, hand to hand, 

He did confound the best part of an bour 

In changing hardiment with great Glendower : 

Three times they breath'd, and three times did they 

drink. 
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, 
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, 
And bid ber crisp head in the hollow bank 
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 
Never did base and rotten policy 
Colour ber working with such deadly wounds ; 
Npr never could the noble Mortimer 
Receive so many, and all willingly : 
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 

K.Hen. [Bises.'\ Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou 
dost belie him;' 
He never did encounter with Glendower; 
I tell thee, 

He durst as well have met the devil alone, 
As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
Art not ashamed ? But, sirrah, henceforth 
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means. 
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
As will displease you. — My Lord Northumberland, 
We license your departure with your son :— 
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums, — Exeunt aU 
but Northumberland and Hotsfur. 

Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, 
I will npt send them : — I will after straight, 
And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart. 
Although I make a hazard of my bead. 

North, What, drunk with choler ? stay, and pause 
awhile. 
Here comes your uncle. 



20 KINO HENRY !▼• [a€T t. 

Enter Wobc£8T£R. 

Hot, speak of Mortimer ! 
Yes, 1 will speak of him ; and let my soul 
Want mercy, if I do not join with him : 
Yea, on his part, Til empty all these veins, 
And shed my dear blood, drop by drop, i' the dust^ 
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
As high i' the air as this unthankful king, 
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. 

North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew 
mad. 

JVor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone? 

Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners : 
And when I urg'd the ransom once again 
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale ; 
And on my face he turnM an eye of death, 
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 

fVor. I cannot blame him > was he not proclaim'd,; 
By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood ? 

North. He was ; I heard the proclamation : 
And then it was, when the unhappy king, 
{Whose wrongs in u« Heaven pardon !) did set forth 
Upon his Irish expedition; 
From whence he, intercepted, did return 
To be depos'd, and, shortly, murdered. 

Hot. But, soft, I pray you ; Did King Richard 
then 
Proclaim my brother, Edmund Mortimer, 
Heir to the crown ? 

North. He did: myself did hear it. 

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king. 
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd. 
But shall't, for shame, be spoken in these days, 
Or fill up chronicles in time to come, ' 
That men of your nobility, and power. 
Did 'gage them both in an unjust behalf, 
{As both of you, Heaven pardon it! have done,} 



SCENE llj.] THE FIRST PAIEIT. 21 

To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose. 
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke ? 
And shall it, in more shame« be further spoken^ 
That you are tool'd, discarded, and shook off. 
By him, for whom these shames ye underwent ? 
No ; yet time serves, wherein yt»u may redeem 
Your. banished honours, and restore yourselves 
Into the good thoughts of the world again: 
Revenge the jeering, and disdain'd contempt. 
Of this proud king ; who studies, day and night, 
To answer all the debt he owes to you, 
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths:-^ 
Therefore, 1 say, — 

Wor, Peace, cousin, say no more : 
And now I will unclasp a secret book. 
And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
ril read you matter deep and dangerous ; 
As full of peril, and adventurous spirit^ 
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud, 
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear* 

Hot, If he fall in, good night : — or sink, or swim :— 
Send danger from the east unto the west, 
So honour cross it from the north to south. 
And let them grapple; — Oh ! the blood more stirs, 
To rouse a lion, than to start a hare. 

North, Imagination of some great exploit 
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 

Hot. By Heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, , 
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ; 
Or dive into the bottom of the deep. 
Where fathom -line could never touch the ground, 
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; 
So he, that doth redeem her thtnce, might wear, 
Without corrival, all her dignities : — 
But out upon this half-iac'd fellowship ! 

Wor, He apprehends a world of figures here, 
But not the form of what he should attend. — 
Good cousin, give me audience for a while« 



1 1 

I 



2^ KI»G HENRY IV. [aCT I« 

Hot. I cry you mercy, 3 

Wor, Those same noble Scot8> 
That are your pmon(;rs, 

Hot. Ill keep them all; 
By Heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them ; 
No, if a Scot would save his soul> he shall not: 
ril keep them, by this hand. ; 

Wor. You start away, ^ 

And lend no ear unto my purposes.-— i 

Those prisoners you shall keep. ^^ 

Hot. Nay, 1 will ; that's flat : 
He said,4ie would not ransom Mortimer; 
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; 
But 1 will lind him when he lies asleep. 
And in his ear ru holla — Mortimer !-— Nay, 
rU have a starling sh^ll be taught to speak 
Nothing but Mortimer, and ^ive it him, 
To keep his anger still in motion. 

Wor, Farewt'll, kinsman 1 1 will talk to you, 
When you are better tempered to attend. 

North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool 
Art thou, to break into this woman's mood ; 
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own ! 

Hot, Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd 
with rods. 
Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear 

Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke ! 

In Richard's time, — What do you call the place? — 
A plague upon't! — it is in Glostershire; — 
'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept. 
His uncle York ; — where I first bow'd my knee 
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke ; — 
When you and he came back from ilavenspurg. 

North. At Berkley Castle. 

Hot. You say true ;— 
Why, what a candy deal of courtesy 
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me J 
Look, — " when his infant fortune came to age/'—* 



aC£NB III.] THE riBST PAET* 23 

Andy — *^ gentle Hany Percy," — ^and, " kind cou- 
sin," — 

* Oh, the devil take such coieneis ! Heaven forgive 

me! 

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. 

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again; 
We'll stay your leisure* . 

Hot. I have done, i'faith. 

War, Then once more to your Scottish prisonen. — 
Deliver them up without their ransom straight. 
And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
For powers in Scotland ; which, (for divers reasons. 
Which 1 shall send you written,) be assur'd, 
Will easily be granted. — You, my lord, — 
Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,— * 
Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd^ 
The archbishop 

Hot. Of York, is't not ? 

Wor. True; who bears hard 
His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. 
I speak not this in estimation. 
As what I think might be, but what I know 
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down ; 
And only stays but to behold the face 
Of that occasion that shall bring it on. 

Hot, I smell it; upon my life, it will do well. 

North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still lett'st 
slip. 

Hot, Why, it cannot chuse but be a noble plot: — 
And then the power of Scotland, and of York, 
To join with Mortimer, ha ? 

Wor. And so they shall. 

Hot, In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 

Wor, And 'tb no little reason bids us speed, 
To save our heads, by raising of a head ; 
For, bear ourselves as even as we can, 
The king will always think him in our debt ; 



24 KING HENRY IV. [aCT II. 

And think we think ourselves unsatisf/d. 
Till he hath found a time to pay us home. 
And see already, how he doth begin 
To make us strangers to his looks of love. 

Hot. He does, he does; we'll be revenged on him. 

Wor. Cousin, farewell : — no further go in this. 
Than I by letters shall direct your course. 

North. Farewell, good brother : we shall thrive, I 
trust. 

Hot. Uncle, adieu : — O, let the hours be short. 
Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our 
sport ! [Exeunt. 



i«*M.niMiM( 



ACT THE SECOND. 



SCENE I. 

An Inn Yard at Bochester. 

Enter a Carrier, with a Lantern in his Hand, 

1 Car, Heigho ! A n't be not four by the day, Til 
be haiig'd : Charles' wain is over the new chimney, 
and yet our horse not pack'd. What, Ostler ! 

Ost. [IVithinJ] Anon, anon. 

1 Car, 1 pr')tht'e, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a 
few flocks in thi* point; the poor jade is wrung in the 
iwithers out of all cess. 

Enter another Carrier. 

2 Car. Pease and beans arc as dank here as a dog. 



»CEN£ I.] THE FIRST FART. Z5 

and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots : 
this house is turn'd upside down, since Robin ostler 
d/d. 

1 Car. Poor fellow ! never jfoy'd since the price of 
oats rose ; it was the death of him. 

2 Car. I think, this be the most villanous house 
in all London road for fleas ; I am stung like a tench* 

1 Car. Like a tench ? by the mass, there is ne'er a 
king in Christendom could be better bit than I have 
been since the first cock. — What, Ostler ! come away, 
and be hang'd, come away. 

2 Car, I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes 
of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing Cross. 

1 Car. 'Odsbody ! the turkeys in my pannier are 
quite starved. — What, Ostler! — A plague on thee I 
bast thou never an eye in thy head ? canst not hear? 
An't were not as good a deed as drink, to break the 
pate of thee, I am a very villain. — Come, and be 
bang'd : — Hast no faith in thee ? 

Enter Gadshill. 

Gads. Good morrow, Carriers. What's o'clock ? 
1 Car. I think, it be two o'clock. 
Gads. 1 pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my 
gelding in the stable. 

1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye ; I know a trick worth 
two of that, i'faith. 

Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine. 

2 Car. Ay, when ? canst tell ? — Lend me thy lan- 
tern, quoth'a? — marry, I'll see thee hang'd first. 

Gads. Sirrah Carrier, what time do you mean to 
come to London ? , ^ 

2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I 
warrant thee. — Come, neighbour Mugges, we'll call 
up the gentlemen ; they'll along with company, for 
they have great charge. [Exeunt., 



^6 KIKO HSV&T IT. [act iU 



SCRNK !!• 



The Road by Gads HUl 

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Poins, 

disguised, 

Poins, Come, come, shelter ; I have removed Fal< 
staff's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. 
P. Hen. Stand close. [Poins retires a Utthm 

Enter Falstaff, disguised, 

FaL Poins ! Poins, and he hang'd ! Poins ! 

P. Hen, Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal; what a 
-brawling dost thou keep } 

FaL What, Poins ! Hal! 

P. Hen, He has walked up to the top of the hill ; 
ril ^o seek him. [Pretends to go and look for PoiNS. 

FaL I am accursed to rob in that thief's company : 
the rascal hath removed ray horse, and tied him I 
know not where. If 1 travel but four foot by the 
squire turther afoot, I shall break my wind« Well, I 
doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 
'scape hanging for killing that rogue. 1 have for* 
sworn his company hourly any time this two and 
twenty year, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's 
company. If the rascal have not given me medicines 
to make me love him, Til be hangfd ; it could not be 
else; I iiave drunk medicines. — Poini ! — Hal! — a 
plague up )n you both ! — Bardolph ! — Peto ! — .I'll 
starve ere I'll rob a foot further. A»*t wore not as 
good a deed as drink, to turn true man, and to leave 
thes^e rogues, 1 am the veriest varlet that ever chewed 



fC£VS II.] THE ri&ST FABT. ff 

With a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is 
three score and ten miles afoot with me ; and the 
stony-hearted villains know it well enough : a plague 
iipon% when thieves cannot be true to one another ! 
[They XLhistle.l Whew ! — A plague upon you all ! Give 
me my horse^ you rogues ; give me my horse, and be 
hang'd. 

P. Hen. Peace, ye fat guts ! lie down ; lay thine 
ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear 
the tread of travellers. 

Fal, Have you any levers to lift me up again, be- 
ing down ? 'Sblood, 111 not bear mine own flesh so 
far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exche- 
quer. What a plague mean ye, to colt me thus ? 

P. Hen, Thou licst, thou art not colted, thou art 
iincolted. . [He advances to Val^t aft, 

Fal. I pr'ythee, good Prince Hal, help me to my 
horse ; good king's son. 

P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler? 

Falf Go, hang thyself in thy own beir-appareni 
garters ! If I be ta'en, Fll peach for this. An I have 
not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, 
let a cup of sack be my poison ; when a jest is so 
forward, and afoot too ! — I hate it. 

Enter PoiKs, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto, 

duguised. 

Gads, Stand. 

Fal, So I do, against my will. 

Poins, Oh, 'tis our setter; I know his voice. What 
news? 

Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your visors; 
there's money of the king's coming down the hill, 'tit 
going to the king's exchequer. 

Fal. You lie, you rogue ; 'tis going to the king's ta- 
vern. 

d2 



128 KINO HENKT IV. [aCT II* 

9 

Gadn. There's enough to make us all. 

FaL To be hang'd. 

P. Hen. Sirs, you four shalf front them in the nar- 
row lane ; Ned Poins, and I, will walk lower : if they 
'«c»>e from your encounter, then they light on us« 

/a/. But how many be there of them ? 

Gads, Some eight, or ten. 

JPaZ. Zounds! will* they not rob us? 

P. Hen. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch ? 

Fal, Indeed, I am not John of Gauat, your grand- 
father ; but yet no coward, Hal. 

P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. 

Foim, Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the 
hedge ; when thou need'st him, there thou shall find 
him. Farewell, and stand fast. 

Fed. Now I cannot strike him, if I should be 
hang'd. 

P. Hen, Ned, where are our disguises ? > r>4 W 

Foins, Here, hard by ; stand close. S L ** '• 

[Exeunt the Prince anc? Po^ns* 

Fed, Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say 
I ; every man to his business. 

{They put on their Masks, and draw their Swords. 

Enter Four Travellers. 

Trav. Come, neighbour; the boy shall lead our 
horses down the hill : well walk afoot a while, and 
ease our legs. 

FaL ^c. Stand. 

Trav, Thieves ! — Murder ! — Help ! — 

[The Travellers run back again, followed by 
Bardolph, GadshIll, and Peto. 

Fal. Down with them ; cut the villains* throats; 
ah ! whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they 
bate us youth : down with them ; fleece them : — 
young men must live: you are grand-jurors, are ye? 
We'll jure you, 'jfaith. [Exit, 



SCENE II.] THE FIRST PART. 99 

Enter Hshrt, Prince of Wales, and Poins, m 

Buckram Suits, 

P. Hen» The thieves have bound the true men : 
KoWy could thou and I rob the thieves, and go mer- 
rily to London, it would be argument for a week, 
laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. 

PotJU. Stand close, I hear them coming. 

[They retire a Httle^ 

Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto, 

nith Bags 0/ Money, 

Fat, Come, my masters, let us share, and then to 
horse before day. [They sit dawn on the Ground.] An 
the prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, 
there's ho equity stirring : there's no more valour in 
that Poins, than in a wild-duck. 
P, Hen, Your money. 
Poins. Villains! 

[Js they are sharing^ the Prince cmd Poins 
set upon them. The Rest run away; and 
Falstaff, after a Blow or two, mns away 
too, leaving the Booty behind him, 
PmHen. Got with much ease. Now merrily ta 
horse; 
The thieves are scattered, and possess'd with fear 
So strongly, that they dare not meet each other; 
Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
Away, good Ned. FalstafF sweats to death. 
And lards the lean earth as he walks along : 
Were't not fur laughing, I should pity him. 
Poift^. How the rogue roar'd ! lExeunt* 



d3 



30 KIKO HENRY IV. [aCT II« 



SCENE III. 



Warkworth, 



A Room in the Castle. 

Enter Hotspur, reading a Letter, 

But, for mine own part, my lord, I could he well 
contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your 
house. — He could be contented, — why is he not, 
then ? In respect of the love he bears our house ! — ^he 
shows in tKis, he loves his own barn better than he 
loves our house. Let me see some more. The pur- 
pose you undertake is dangerous, — Why, that's certain; 
'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink ; but 
I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger^ 
we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose, you under- 
take, is dangerous; the friends, you have named, uncer^ 
tain ; the time itself unsorted ; and your whole plot too 
light, for the counterpoise of so great cat opposition,—^ 
Say you so ? say you so ? I say unto you again, you 
are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a 
lack-brain is this ! By the lord, our plot is a good 
plot, as ever was laid ; our friends true and constant : 
an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty- 
spirited rogue is this ! Why, my Lord of York com- 
mends the plot, and the general course of the action. 
By this hand, if 1 were now by this rascal, I could 
brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, 
my uncle, and myself ? Lord Edmund Mortimer, my 
Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, 
besides, the Douglas f Have I not all their letters. 



SCEKS III.] TBE VIR8T PART* Si 

to meet me Id arms by the ninth of the next month ? 
and are they not, some of them, set forward already? 
What a pagan rascal is this ! an infidel ! Ha ! yoa 
shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold 
heart, will he to the king, and lay open all oar pro- 
ceedings* Oh, I could divide myself, and go to buf- 
fets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with 
so honourable an action ! Hang him ! let him tell the 
king, we are prepared : I will set forward to-night. 

Enter Lady Percy. 

How BOW, Kate ? I must leave you within these two 
hours. 

Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus alone } 
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been 
A banish'd woman from my Harr/s bed ? 
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
And start so often, when thou sitt'st alone ? 
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd. 
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : 
l^peak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
Cry, " Courage!— To the field!" And thou hast talk'd 
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, 
Aiid all the 'currents of a heady fight. 
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
And I must know it, else he loves me not. 

Hot. What, ho !— 

Enter Raby. 

Is Gilliams with the packet gone ? 
Rob* He is, my lord, an hour i^* 
Hot, Hath Butler brought those horses from the 

sheriff? 
Rob, One horse, my lord, he brought even now. , 
Hot, What horse ? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not ? 
Hob. It is, my lord. 



52 kiKG BEiraY iv. [act it. 

Hot. That roan shall be my throne. — 
Well, I will back him straight. — O esperance /— 
Bid Butler lead him furth into the park. [Exit Rabt. 

Lady. But hear you, my lord. 

Hot. What say'st thou, my lady ? 

Lady, What is it carries you away ? 

Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse. 

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape ! 
A weazle hath not such a deal of spleen. 
As you are toss'd with# — In faith, 
I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. 
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir 
About h'tH title; and hath sent for you, 
To line his enterprise : but if you go 

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. 

Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me 
Directly to this question that I ask. 
In faith, Til break thy little finger, Harry, 
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 

Hot. Away, 
Away, you trifler. — Love! I love thee not, 
I care not for thee, Kate ; this is no world 
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips : 
We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns, 
And pass them current too. — Gods me, my horse!— ^ 
What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou hav6 
with me? 

Lady. Do you not love me? do you not indeed ? 
Well, do not, then ; for, since you love me not, 
I will not love myself. Do you not love me ? 
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no. 

Hot. Com.', wilt thou see me ride? 
And when 1 am o' horst'back, I will swear 
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; 
I must not have you henceforth question me 
Whiiher I go, nor reason whereabout: 
Whither I mu^^t, I must; and, to conclude, 
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 



SCBNE IT.] TBE FIRST FART. 53 

I know you wise ; but yet no further wise, 

Thau Harry Percy's wife : constant you are; 

But yet a woman : and for secrecy. 

No lady closer ; for I well believe. 

Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ; 

iVnd so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate, 

Lady. How I so far? 

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate: 
Whither I go, thither shall you go too ; 
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.: — 
Will this content you, Kate? 

Ladjf. It must, of force. [Exemi* 



SCENE IT. 



The Boaf^s Head Ta/oem^ in Eaitcheap. 



Enter Hekrt, Paince or Wales* 

P. Hen, Ned, pr'ythee come out of that fat room^ 
And lend me thy hand to laugh a little. 

Enter Poihs. 

Poins. Where hast been, Hal ? 

P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst 
three or four score hogsheads* I have sounded the 
very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn 
brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them by 
all their Christian names, as — Tom, Dick, and Francis* 
They take it already upon their salvation, that, 
though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king 
of courtesy ; and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, 
like Faistaff; but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a 



54 KING HEKRY XV. [aCT II« 

good boy,— by the lord so they call me, — and, when 
I am King of England, I shall command all the 
good lads in East cheap. To conclude, 1 am so good 
a proficient in one quarter of an hour^ that 1 can 
drink with any tinker in his own language, during my 
life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much ho^ 
nour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But^ 
sWeet Ned, — to sweeten which name of Ned, I give 
thee this {jenny worth of sugar, clapped even now into 
my hand by an under^skinker ; one that never spake 
other English in his life, than — *'' Eight shillings and 
sixpence,"— and " You are welcome;*' with this 
shrill addition, " Anon, anon, sir," — " Score a pint 
of bastard in the Half-moon,'* or so. But, Ned, to 
drive away the time till FalstafF come, I pr'ythee, do 
thou stand in some by-room^ while I question my 
puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar ; and 
do thou never leave calling — Francis, that his tale to 
me may be nothing but — anon. Step aside, and FU 
show thee a precedent, 

Poins. Francis ! [Exii PoiKS* 

P. Hen. Thou art perfect* 

P&itts, Francis ! 

Enter FhancIs. 

Frail, Anon, anon, sir. — Look down into the Pom« 
granate, Ralph. 

P. Hen. Come hither, .Francis. 

Fran. My lord. 

P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis } 

Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to— * 

Poins. Francis! 

Fran. Anon, anon, sic. 

P. Hen. Five years ! by'r-lady, a long lease for the 
clinking of pewter! But, Francis, dar'st thou be so 
valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and 
ihow it a fair pair of heels, and run from it f 



leSNB IV.] THE FIRST PAET* 95 

Fran, O lord, sir. 111 be sworn upon all the books 
in England, I could find in my hear t 

Ftms. Francis! 

Fran, Anon^ anon, sir. 

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis ? 

Fran, Let me see,^ — about Michaelmas next I shall 
be 

Potiu. Francis! 

Fran, Anon, sir.— -'Pray you, stay a little, my 
lord. 

P. Hen, Nay, but hark you, Francis : for the su- 
gar thou gav'st me, — ^'twas a pennyworth, was't not f 

Fran, O lord, sir, I would it had been two. 

P. Htn, I will give thee for it a thousand pound : 
ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. 

Foms, Francis 1 

Fran, Anon, anon. 

P. Hen. Anon, Francis ? — No, Francis : but to- 
morrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, in- 
deed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis — 

Fran, My lord ! 

P. Hen, Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crys^ 
tal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, cad- 
dis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,— 

Fran, O lord, sir, who do you mean ? 

P. Hen. Why, then, your brown bastard is your 
only drink : for look you, Francis, your white canvass 
doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to 
so much. 

Fran, What, sir ? 

Foin». Francis! 

P. Hen, Away, you rogue ; dost thou not Jiear 
Ihem call ? 

[Here they both call him; Francis stands 
amazed, not knowing which way logo. 

Enter Hostess, 
Host. What ! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a 



S6 KINO HENRY IT. [aCT II. 

calling ?— Look to the guests within. [Exit Francis.] 
My lord, old Sir John^ with half a dozen more, ar« 
at the door; shall I let them in? 

P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open th« 
door. [Exit Hostess.] Poins,— - 

Enter PoiNS. 

Poins. Anon, anon, sir. 

P. Hen, Sirrah ! Falstaif, and the rest of the thieves 
are at the door ; shall we be merry ? 

Poins, As merry as crickets, my lad. But barkye; 
what cunning match have you made with this jest 
of the drawer ? come, what's the issue ? 

P. Hen, I am now of all humours, that have 
showed themselves humours, since the old days of 
goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present 
twelve o'clock at midnight. — ^What's o'clock, Francis? 

Fran. [Within,] Anon, anon, sir. 

P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer 
words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! — 
His industry is— up stairs, and down stairs ; his elo- 
quence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of 
Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that 
kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots, at a break- 
fast, washes his hands, and says to his wife — ^^ Fie 
upon this quiet life ! — I want work." — " O my sweet 
Harry," says she, " how many hast thou killed to- 
day?" — " Give my roan horse a drench," says he; 
and answers, " Some fourteen," an hour after ; " a 
trifle, a tride !" I pr'ythee, call in Falstail'; Til play 
Percy, and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mor- 
timer, his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. — Call in 
ribs, call in tallow ! * - 

£nter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, Peto, 

and Francis. 

Poins, Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been } 
Ftfl, A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vea- 
4 



SCENE III.j THB FIRST PART* 37 

geance, too ! marry, and amen ! — Give me a cup of 
ssacky boy. — Ere I lead this life long, HI sew nether- 
stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague 
of all cowards ! — ^Give me a cup of sack, rogue. — Is 
there no virtue extant? [He drinks. 

P. Hen. Didst thou never 9ee Titan kiss a dish of 
butter — pitiful-hearted Titan! — that melted at the 
sweet tale of the sun ? if thou didst, then behold that 
compound. 

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too : there 
is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man : 
Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime 
in it: a villanous coward. — Go thy ways, old Jack ; 
die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be 
not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a 
shotten herring. There live not three good men un« 
hanged in England, and one of them is fat, and grows 
old: Heaven help the while! a bad world, I say!— 
A plague of all cowards,' I say still! 

P. Hen. How now, wool-sack ? what mutter you ? 
Fid. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of 
thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy' 
subjects before thee likie a flock of wild geese, Fll 

never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of 

Wales! 

P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man ! wtiat's 
the matter ? . 

Ffl/. Are you nofc a coward? — answer me to that; 
and Poins there? 

P. Hen. Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, 1*11 
stab thee. 

Tail. 1 call thee coward ! I'll see thee damned ere 
I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand 
pound 1 could run as fast as thou canst. You are 
straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who 
sees your back: call you that^ backing of your 
friends? A ptague upon such backing 1 give m# 



38 KING HENRY IV. [aGT If. 

thetn that will face me. — Give me a cup of sack : — 
I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day. 

P. Hen. O villain ! thy lips are scarce wipM sipce 
thou drunk'st last. 

Fal. AIVa one for that. A plague of all cowards, 
still say I ! [He drinka. 

P. Hen. What's the matter? 

Tal. What's the matter? here be four of us here 
have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. 

P. Hen, Where is it> Jack ? where is it ? 

Pa/. Where is it ? taken from us, it is : a hundred 
upon poor four of us. [Exit Francis. 

P. Hen. What, a hundred, man? 

Fat. I am a rogue, if I were not at half sword 
with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 
'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through 
the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut 
through and through : my sword hacked like a hand- 
saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a 
man : all would not do. A plague of all cowards ! 
Let them speak ; if they speak more or less than 
truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. 

P. Hen. Speak, sirs ; how was it ? 
. Gads, We four set upon some dozen, — 

FaL Sixteen, at least/ my lord. 

Gads. And bound them. 

Peto. No, no, they were not bound. 

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of 
them ; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. 

Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh 
men set upon us, — 

FaL And unbound the rest, and then canie in the 
other. 

P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all? 

Fal. All ! I know not what ye call all ; but if I 
fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish : 
if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old 
Jack, then am I no two-legged creature. 



SCEKE III.] THE 7IRST PART. 39 

Poins. Tray, Heaven, you have not murdered some 
of them. 

Fal, Nay, that's past praying for; I have pep* 
pered two of them : two, I am sure, I have pay'd ; 
two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, 
— if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse* 
Thou know'st my old ward ; here I lay, and thus I 
hore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at 
ine, 

P. Hen. What, four ! thou saidst but two, even 
now. 

FaL Four, Hal I I told thee four. 

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. 

Fed. These four came all afront, and mainly thrust 
at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their 
seven points in my target, thus. 

P. Hen, Seven ? why, there were but four, even 
now. 

Fal. In buckram? 

Poins. Ay, four in buckram suits. 

Ftd. Seven, by these hilts, or Fm a villain else. 

P. Hen. Pr ythee, let him alone j we shall have 
more, anon. 

Fid. Dost thou hear me, Hal ? 

P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too. Jack* 

Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. — These 
nine in buckram, that I told thee of, 

P. Hen, So, two more already! 

Fal, Their points being broken, 

Poins. Down fell their hose. 

FaL Began to give me ground ; but I followed me 
close, came in foot and hand, and, with a thought, 
seven of the eleven I pay'd, 

P. Hen. O monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown 
out of two I 

Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbe- 
gotten knaves,, in Kendal green, came at my back, 

£2 



4p KING HE17RY IV. [aCT II. 

and let drive at me; — for it was so dark, Hal, that 
thou couldst not see thy hand. 

P. Htn. These lies are like the father that begets 
them; gross &s a mountain, open, palpable. Why, 
thou clay- brained guts; thou knofty-paied fool; thou 
Vfhoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-keech, — 

Fal, What, art thou mad ? art thou mad? — Is not 
the truth the truth ? 

P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men 
in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not 
see thy hand ? come, tell us your reason ) What say'st 
thou 'to this? 

Poins. Come, your reason. Jack, your reason, 

Fal. What, upon compulsion : No ; were I at the 
strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not 
tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on com- 
pulsion ! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, 
I would give no man a reason on compulsion, I. 

P. Hen, ril be no longer guilty of this sin ; this 
sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse back- 
breaker, this huge hill of flesh, — 

Fal. Away, you starveling, you eel skin, you dry'd 
neat's tongue, you stock-fish — O, for breath to uiler 
what is like thee ! — you tailor's yard, you sheath, you 
bow-case, you. vile standing tuck-— • 

P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it 
again : and when thou hast tired thyself in base com- 
parisons, hear me speak but this. 

Poins. Mark, Jack. 

P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you 

bound them, and were masters of their wealth. 

Mark now, how plain a tale shall put you down. — 
Then did we two set on you four; and, with a word, 
out-faced you from your prize, and have it ; yea, and 
can show it you here in the house: — and, Falstaff, 
you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick 
dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and 



SCXVS III.] THE FIRST PAKT. 41 

roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art 
thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then 
say it was iu fight ! What trick, what device, what 
starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee 
from this open and apparent shame ? 

Poins, Come, let's hear, Jack, what trick hast thou 
now? 

Fal. By the lord, I knew ye, as well as he that 
made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters : was it for me 
to kill the heir apparent ? should I turn upon the true 
prince ? Why, thou know'st I am as valiant as Hcr> 
cules : but beware instinct ; the lion will not touch 
the true prince. Instinct is a great matter ; I was a 
coward on instinct. I shall think the better of my- 
self and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion, 
and thou for a true prince. But, by the lord, lads, I 
am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to the 
doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. — Gallants, 
lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fel- 
lowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? — 
Shall we have a play extempore ? 

P. Hen. Content; — and the argument shall be — 
thy running away. 

Fal. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lov'st me. ' 

Enter Hostess. 

Hott. My lord the prince, 

P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess ; what 
say^st thou to me? 

Hott* Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the 
court at door, would speak with you : he says, he 
comes from your father. 

P. Hen, Give him as much as will make him a 
royal man, and send him back again to my mother. 

Fai. What manner of man is he ? 

Host. An old man. 

FtU. What doth gravity out of his bed at mid- 
night ? — Shall I give him his answer ? 

£ 3 



42 KING HKK&Y IV. [aCT !!• 

P. Hen. Pry'thee do, Jack. 

Fal, Taithy and Til send him packing. 

[Eaeunt Falstaff and Hostess. 

P. Hen. Now, sirs; by 'r lady, you fought fair; 
so did you, Peto ; so did you, Bardolph ; you are 
lions, too — you ran away upon instinct — you will not 
touch the true prince ; no — he ! 

Bard. Taith, I ran when I saw others run. 

P. Hen. Tell me now, in earnest^ how came Fal- 
staif's sword so hacked ? 

Peto. Why, he hackM it with his dagger ; and said, 
he would swear truth out of England, but he woulcl 
make you believe it was done in fight ; and persuaded 
lis to the like. 

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass^ 
to make them bleed : and then to beslui>her our gar- 
ments with it, and swear it was the blood of true men. 
I did that I did not these seven years before — I 
blushed to hear his monstrous devices. 

P. Hen. O villain, thou stol'st a cup of sack 
eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, 
and ever since thou hast blushed extempore: thou 
hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st 
away : — What instinct hadst thou for it? 

Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors ? do you 
behold these exhalations ? 

P. Hen. I do. 

Bard. What think you they portend ? 

P. Hen. Hot livers, and cold purses. 

Bard. C holer, my lord, if rightly taken. 

P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter. 

Enter Falstaff. 

Here comes lean Jack — here comes bare- bone. How 
now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long is't 
ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thine own knee ? 

Fal. My own knee ? when I was about thy years, 
Hal, I was nut an cable's talon in the waist; I could 



BC£N£ III.] THE FIBST PART. 49 

have crept into an alderman's thumb ring: a plague 
of sighing and grief I it blows a man up like a blad- 
der. There's villanous ne^s abroad; here was Sir^ 
John Bracy from your father ; you must to the court' 
in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, 
Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon the bas- 
tinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the 
devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh 
hook, — what a plague call you him ? 

Fonts, O, Glendower. 

Fal. Owen, Owen ; the same ; — and his son-in- 
law, Moi timer; and old Northumberland; and that 
sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horse- 
back up a hill perpendicular. 

, P. Hen, He that rides at high speed, and with his 
pistol kills a sparrow flying. 

Fal. You have hit it. 

P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow. 

Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he 
will not run. 

P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to 
praise him so fur running! 

Fal. O* horseback, ye cuckoo ! but, afoot, he will 
not budge a foot. 

P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 

Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there 
too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue caps 
more; Worcester is stolen away by night; thy fa- 
ther's beard is turned white with the news ; you. may 
buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel. 

P. Hen. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot June^ 
and this civil bufffting hold, we shall buy maidens as 
they buy hobnails, by the hundreds. 

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou say'st true ; it is like, 
we shall have good trading that way. — But, tell me, 
Hal, art thou not horribly afcard ? thou being heir 
apparent, could the world pick thee out three such 
enemies again, as that fietid Douglas, that sj>in|: 



44 KINO HENRT IV. [aCT II. 

Percy y and that devil Glendower ? Art thou not hor- 
ribly afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill at it ? 

P. Hen. Not a whit, i' faith ; I lack some of thy 
instinct. 

Fal, Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, 
when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me, 
practise an answer. 

Enter Hostess. 

Hoit, O, my lord, my lord I 

la/. Heigh, heigh ! the devil rides upon a fiddle- 
stick : What's the matter? 

Host. The sherifif and all the watch are at the 
door : they are come to search the bouse : shall I let 
them in } 

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? never call a true piece 
of gold, a counterfeit: thou art essentially mad, with- 
out seeming so. 

P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without in- 
stinct. 

Fal. I deny your major : if you vnll deny the she- 
riff, so ; if not, let him enter: if I become not a cart 
as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up ! 
I hope, I shall as soon be strangled with a halter, as 
another. 

P. Hen. Call in the sheriff. [Exit Hostess.] Go, 
hide thee behind the arras ; — the rest walk up above. 
Now, my masters, for a true face and a good con- 
science. 

.Fal. Both which I have had : but their date is out, 
and therefore FU hide me. 

[Exeunt Falstaff, Bardolph, Gadshill, 
and Peto. 

Enter Sheriff, and Two Travellers. 

P. Hen. Now, master Sheriff; what's your will 
"with me ? • 



SCENE III.] THE FIRST PART. 45 

Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry 
liath followed certain men into this bouse. 

P. Hen, What men ? 

Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious 
lord ; a gross fat man. 

Trav, As fat as butter. 

P. Hen. SberilGf, I do engage my word to thee. 
That I will, by to-morrow dinner time. 
Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
For any thing he shall be charg'd withal : 
And so, let me entreat you, leave the house. 

Sher, I will, my lord : Here are two gentlemen 
Have, in this robbery, lost three hundred marks. 

P. Hen, It may be so : if he have robb'd these 
men, 
He shall be answerable ; and so, farewell. 

Sher. Good night, my noble lord. 

P.Hen, I think it is good morrow ; is it not? 

Sher, Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. 
[Exeunt Sheriff and Travellers. 

P. Hen, This oily rascal is known as well as PauFs: 
go, call him forth. 

Foins, Falstaff! Fast asleep behind the arras, 

and snorting like a horse. 

P. Hen, Hark, how hard he fetches breath ! search 
his pockets. [Poins goes out and searches his Fockets,^ 
What hast thou found ? 

Enter Poins. 

Foins, Nothing but papers, my lord. 

P. Hen, Let's see what they be : read then). 

Poins. Item, a capon j 2«. 2rf. 
Iteniy sauce, 4id. 
Item, sack, two gallons, 5s, 8d. 
Item, anchovies and sack after supper, 2f . 6d, . 
Item, bread, a halfpenny, 

P, Hen. O monstrous! but one halfpennyworth of 
bread to this intolerable deal of sack ! — What ther<» 



46 KtTUG HENRY IV. [aCT III. 

is else, keep clase; we'll read it at more advantage: 
there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the 
morning: we must all to the wars, and thy place 
shall be honourable. Til procure this fat rogue a 
charge of foot ; and, I know, his death will be a 
march of twelve score. The money shall be paid 
back again, with advantage. Be with me betimes in 
tbe morning ; and so good morrow, Poins. 
Poms, Good morrow, good my lord, lExeunt^ 



ACT THE THIRD. 



8CEKE I. 



The Presence Chamber* 



Kivo Hbkrt, Henrt Prince of Wales, Prikcb 
John, Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Walter 
HluNT, and other Gentlemen, dtsc&oered* 

K, Hen, Lords, give us leave ; the Prince of Walas 
and I 
Must have some private conference : but be near 
At hand'; for we shall presently have need of you, 

[Exeunt all but the Kino, and Prince of 
Wales. 
I know not whether Heaven will have it so. 
For some displeasing service I have done. 
That, in bis secret doom, out of my blood 



SCENE I.] THE FIRST PART. 47 

He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ; 
But thou dosty in thy passages of life, 
Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd 
For the hot vengeance and the rod of Heaven, 
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, 
Could such inordinate and low desires, 
Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
As thou art matched withal, and grafted to, 
Accompany the greatness of thy blood. 
And hold their level with thy princely heart ? 

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could 
Quit all offences with as clear excuse. 
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge 
Myself of many I am charg'd withal : 
Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd, 
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, 
Find pardon on my true submission. 

K, Hen» Heaven pardon thee! — Yet, let me won- 
der, Harry, 
At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost. 
Which by thy younger brother is suppiy'd ; 
And art almost an alien to the hearts 
Of all the court, and princes of my blood. 
Had I so lavish of my presence been. 
So common hackney'd in the eyes of men. 
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,. 
Had still kept loyal to possession ; 
And left me in reputeless banishment, 
A. fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 
By being seldom seen, 1 could not stir ; 
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at : 
That men would tell their children, " This is he I" ^ 
Others would say — " Where ? which is Bolingbrokc r" 
Not an eye 



48 KING HENRY IV. [aCT IH. 

But is a-weary of thy common sight. 
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more ; 
Which now doth what I would not have it do. 
Make blind itself with foolish tenderne&s. 

P. Hen, I shall, hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord. 
Be more myself. 

K, Hen. For all the world, 
As thou arc to this hour, was Richard then. 
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg ; 
And even as I was then, is Percy now. 
Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot. 
He hath more worthy interest to the state, 
Than thou, the shadow of succession. 
What never-dying honour hath he got 
Against renowned Douglas! 

Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathing clothes, 
This infant warrior, in his enterprises 
Discomfited great DouglaiS; ta'en him once. 
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him. 
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up, 
And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, 
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, 
Capitulate against us, and are up. 
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ? 
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes. 
Which art my nearest and dearest eneiny ? 
Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear. 
Base inclination, and the start of spleen, — 
To fight against me under Percy's pay. 
To dog his heels, and courtesy at his frowns, 
To show how much thou art degenerate. 

P. Hen, Do not think so, you shall not find it so : 
And Heaven forgive them that so much have sway'd 
Your majesty's good thouj^hts away from me I 
I will redeem all this on Percy's head. 
And, in the closing of hoitie glorious day. 
Be bold to tell you, that 1 am your son; 
6 



•CEKE X.] ' THE FIRST FART. 49 

And that shall be the day, \vhene'er it lights, 
That this same child of honour and renown, 
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet: 
For every honour sitting on his helm, 
'Would they were multitudes ! and on my head 
My shames redoubled ! for the time will come, 
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
His glorious deeds ibr my indignities. 
Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf: 
And 1 will call him to so strict account. 
That he shall render every glory up. 
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time. 
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
This, in the name of Heaven, 1 promise here : 
The whicb, if he bepleas'd I shall perform, 
I do beseech your majesty may salve 
The long grown wounds of my intemperance : 
If not, the end of life cancels all bands ; 
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths. 
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 

K. Hen, A hundred thousand rebels die in this: — 
Thou shah have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. 

Enter Sir Walter Blvkt. 

How now, good Blunt ? thy looks are full of speed. 

Blunt. So'is the business that I come to speak of. 
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word. 
That Douglte; and the English rebels, met, 
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury : 
A mighty and a fearful head they are. 
If promises be kept on every hand, 
As ever oif<&r^d foul play in a state. 

K. Hen. The Earl of Westmoreland sets forth to 
day ; 
With him my 80d> Lord John of Lancaster ; 

V 



50 KING HBNRY IV. [aCT III. 

For this advertisement is ^ve days old : — 

On Wednesday next, my Harry, you sball set 

Forward ; on Thursday, we ourselves will march : 

Our meeting is Bridgenorth : and, Harry, you 

Shall march through Glostershire. 

Our hands are full of business: let's away; 

Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exeunt* 



SCENE lU 



The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap. 



Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. 

Fal, Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since 
this last action ? do I not bate ? do I not dwindle f — 
Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's 
loose gown ; I am withered like an old apple-John. — 
Well, ril repent, and that suddenly, while I am in 
some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and 
then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have 
not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, 
I am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse. — ^The inside of a 
church! — Company, villanous company, hath been 
the spoil of me. 

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live 
long. 

Fal, Why, there is it: — come, sing me a song; 
make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gen- 
tleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore little; 
djced, not above seven times a week ; went to a. 6or- 
dello^ not above once in a quarter — of an hour ; paid 
money that; I borrowed, three or four times ; lived 



SCENE II.] THE FIEST FAftT. 51 

well, and in good compass : and now I live out of all 
order, out of all compass. 

Bard, Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you 
must needs be out of all compass; out of all reason- 
able compass. Sir John. 

Fal, Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my 
life : thou art our admiral — thou bear'st the lantern 
in the poop, — but 't is in the nose of thee ; thou art 
the knight of the burning lamp. 

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. 

Fal, No, rU be sworn ; I make as good use of it 
as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento 
mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, 
and Dives that livM in purple; for there he is in his 
robes, burning, burning. — When thou rann'st up Gads 
Hill in the night, to catch my horse, if I did not think 
thou hadst been an igmsfatuus; or a ball of wild -fire, 
there^s no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpe- 
tual triumph, an everlasting bonfire light! Thou 
hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, 
walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and 
tavern : but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would 
have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest 
cbandler^s in Europe. 1 have maintained that sala- 
mander of yours with fire, any time this two and 
thirty years; Heaven reward me for it! 

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your 
beUy! 

Fai. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be 
beart-bumed. 

Enter Hostess. 

How now, dame Partlet the hen ? have you infi[uired 
yet who picked my pocket? 

Host, Why, Sir John! what do you think, Sir 
John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? — 
I have searched, 1 have inquired, so has my husband, 

? 2 



52 KINO HENRY IV. [aCT III. 

man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant : the 
tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. 

FaL You lie, hostess : Bardolph was shav*d, and 
lost many a hair : and 111 be sworn my pocket was 
picked : go to, you are a woman, go. 

Host. Who 1 ? I defy thee : I was never called so 
in mine own house before. 

FaL Go to, I know you well enough. 

Host, No, Sir John ; you do not know me. Sir 
John : I know you, Sir John : you owe me money, 
Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me 
of it : 1 bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. 

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them 
away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters qf 
them. 

Host, Now, as I am a true woman, Holland of 
eight shillings an' ell. You owe money here besides, 
Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings ; and money 
lent you, four and twenty pounds. 

FaL He had his part of it ; let him pay. 

Host. Hef alas, he is poor ; he hath nothing. 

Fal. How ! poor? look upon his face,; what call 
you rich ? let them coin his nose, let them coin bis 
cheeks ; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you makf 
a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine 
inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost 
a seal ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark. 

Host. O, I have heard the prince tell him, I know 
not how oft, that the ring was copper. 

FaL How ! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup ; and 
if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if 
he would say so. 

Enter Hen ay, Prince of Wales, playing on hit 
Truncheon^ like a Fife; and Falstaff meets him. 

How now, lad ? is the wind in that door, i'faith 
Must we all march ? 



SCEVE II.] THE FIEST PAET. 53 

Bard, Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion* 
Ha9i» My lord, I ptay you, h^ me. 
P. Hen. What sa/st tboo, mistress Qaicldy ? How 
does thy husband ? I love him well, he is an honest 
man. 

Hast. Good my lord, hear me. 
Fal, Pr'ytbee, let her alone, and list to me* 
P. Hen. What sa/st thoo. Jack? 
Fai, The other night I fell asleep here behind the 
arras, and had my pocket picked : this house is turned 
bawdy-bo use, they pick pockets. 

P. Ben. What didst tbou lose. Jack ? 
Fal. Wilt tbou believe me, Hal ? three or four 
bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal-ring of my 
grandfather^s. 

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. 
Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said, I heard 
your grace say so : And, my lord, he speaks most 
vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is ; and 
said, he would cudgel you. 
P. HeH. What ? he did not ? 
Host. There's neither fiaitb, truth, nor womanhood 
in me else. 

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd 
prune ; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn 
fox ; and for womanhood, maid Marian may be the 
deputy's wife of the ward to thee> Go, you thing, go. 
Host. Say, what thing? what thing r 
Fal: What thing ? why, a thing to thank Heaven 
on. 

Host. I am no thing to thank Heaven on, I would 
thou shouldst know it ; I am an honest man's wife : 
and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave 
to call me so. 

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast 
to say otherwise. 

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou? 
Fal. What be»st ? why, an otter. 

F 3 



54 '^ KIKG HEKRT IVi. [aCT III- 

P. Hen. An otter, Sir John ^ why an otter ? 

Fal. Whyr she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man 
knows not where to have her. 

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou 
or any man kno^s where to have me, thou knave thou! 

P. Hai, Thou say'st true, Hostess; and he slanders 
thee most grossly. 

Host, So he doth yQu, my lord; and said this other 
day, you ought him a thousand pound. 

P. Hm, Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound } 

FaL A thousand pound, Hal ? a million : thy lov« 
is worth a million : thou ow'st me thy love. 

Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, 
he would cudgel you. 

Fid. Did I, Bardolph ? 

Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 

Fal. Yea ; if he said, my ling was copper. 

P. Hen, 1 say, 'tis copper : dar'st thou be as good 
83 thy word now? 

FaL Why, Hal, thou know'st as thou art but man^ 
1 dare; but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear 
the roaring of the lion's whelp. 

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion ? 

FaL The king himself is to be fear'd as the lion : 
dost thou think,' I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ^ 
nay, an if 1 do, \^t my girdle break ! 

P. Hen, Oh, if it should, how would thy guts fall 
about thy knees ! Charge an honest woman with pick- 
ing thy pockej ! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, im« 
boss'd rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket 
but tavern reckoningB, memorandums of bawdy houses, 
and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make 
the,e long winded ; if tby pocket were enriched with 
any other injuries but th^se, I slxh a villain. And yet 
you will stand to it, you will noit pocket up wrong : 
Art thou not ashamed ? 

FaL Dost thou hear, Hal? thou know'st, in tbfe 
^tale of innocenay, Adam fell; and wtat should poor 



SC£K£ II.] THE FI&ST PART. 55 

Jack Falstaff do, id the days of villany i Thou seest, 
I have more flesh than another man ; and, therefore, 
more frailty. — You confess, then, you picked my 
pocket ? 

P. Hen, It appears so, by the story. 

FaL Hostess, I forgive thee : Go, make ready break- 
fast : love thy husband, look to thy servants, and chc* 
rish thy guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any 
honest reason ; thou seest, I am pacify'd. — Still? — 
Nay, I pr'ythee, begone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, 
Hal, to the news at court : for the robbery, lad — How 
is that answered ? 

P. Hen. The money is paid back again. 
^ Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double 
labour. 

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and 
may do any thing. 

Ftd, Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou 
dost, and do it with unwashed hands too. 

Bard, Do, my lord. 

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of 
foot. 

Fal. I would it had been of horse ( Where shall I 
find one that can steal well ? O for a fine thief, of the 
age of two and twenty, or thereabouts !- 1 am heinously 
unprovided. Well, Heaven be thanked for these re- 
bels, they offend none but the virtuous i I laud them, 
I praise them. 

P. Hen. Bardolph, — 

Bard. My lord. 

P. Hen. Go, bear this letter to Lord John of Lan- 
caster, 
My brother John ; this to my Lord of Westmoreland, 

[Exit Bardolph. 

Jack, 

Meet me to-morrow in the Temple Hall, 

At two o*clock i'the afternoon : 

There shalt thou know thy charge ; and there receive 



S6 KIKG HBV&Y IV. [aCT !▼• 

Money, and order for their furniture. 

The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ; 

And either they or we must lower lie. 

[Exit the Prikce. 
Fal. Rare words! brave world !—— Hostess, my 
breakfast! come: — 
O9 1 could wish, this tavern were my drum ! [Exit. 



ACT THE FOURTH. 



SCENE K 

Hotspur's Can^^ near Shrewsbury, 
Flourish rf Trumpets and Drums, 

Enter Earl of Douglas^ Hotspur, Earl of 
Worcester, Gentlemen, and Soldiers. 

Hot, Well said, my noble Scot : If speaking truth. 
In this fine age, \yere not thought flattery. 
Such attribution should the Douglas have, . 
As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
Should go so general current through the world* 
By Heaven, I cannot flatter ; I defy 
The tongues of sooihers ; but a braver place 
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself. 
Nay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord. 

Dovg, Thou art the king of honour ; 



8C£N£ I.] TH£ FIRST PART. 57 

No roan so potent breathes upon the ground. 
But I will beard him. 
Hot. Do so, and 'tis well : — 

Enter Raby. 

What letters bast thou there ? 

Rab, These letters come from your father. 

Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not him- 
self? 

Rab* He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous 
sick. 

Hot, Sick ! how has he the leisure to be sick ? 
In such a justling time? Who leads his power ? 
Under whose government come they along i 

Rah. His letters bear his mind, not 1. 

Hot. His mind! 

Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed ? 

Rab. He did,*my lord, four days ere I set forth; 
And, at the time of my departure thence. 
He was much fear'd by his physicians. 

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been 
whole, 
Ere he by sickness had been visited ! 
His health was never better worth than now. 

Hoi. Sick now ! droop now ! this sickness doth in* 
feet 
The very life-blood of our enterprise ; 
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. — 
He writes me here, — that inward sickness, — 
And, that his friends by deputation, could not 
So soon be drawn ;-^ 
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement. 
That, with our small conjunction, we should on. 
To see how fortune is disposed to us : 
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now ; 
Because the king is certainly possessed 
Of ail our purposes. What say you to it ? 
fFor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us* 



58 KIKO H£NRT IV. [aCT IV. 

It will be thought 

By some, that know not why he is away^ 

That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike 

Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence; 

This absence of your father's, draws a curtain^ 

That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 

Before not dreamt of. 

Hot, You strain too fark 
I, rather, of his absence make |his use : — 
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion, 
A larger dare to our great enterprise, 
Than if the earl were here : for men must think^ 
If we, without his help, can make a head 
To push against the kingdom ; with his help, 
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. — 
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole, 

Doug. As heart can think : there is not such a 
word 
Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear. 

[A Trumpet sounds. 

Enter Sir Richard Vervov, and Thoo 
Gentlemen. 

Hot. My cousin Vernon ! welcome, by my soul ! 

Ver. 'Pray Heaven, my news be worth a welcome, 
lord ! 
The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong. 
Is marching hitherwards ; with him, Prince John. 

Hot. No harm : What more ? 

Ver. And further, I have learn'd, — 
The king himself in person is set forth, 
Or hitherwards intended speedily. 
With strong and mighty preparation. 

Hot, He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, 
The nimble-footed, mad- cap, Prince of Wales, 
And his comrades, that dafi^'d the world aside, 
And bid it pass f 



SCSI! £ I.] THE FimST PA AT* 69 

VtT. All furoish'dy all in arms. 
All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind 
Bated, like eagles having lately bath'd : 
G li t teri ng in golden coats^ like images ; 
As full of spirit as the month of May, 
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer? ' 
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
I saw young Harry,— ^ with his foeaver on. 
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd. 
Rise from the ground, like feather'd Mercury, 
And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
As if an angel dropt down from the clouds. 
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
And witch the world with noble horsemanship. 

Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun in 
March, 
This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come ; 
They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
And to the fire-e/d maid of smoky war. 
All hot and bleeding, will we. offer them ; 
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire. 
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh. 
And yet not ours : Come, let me take my horse. 
Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt. 
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales : 
Harry to Harry shall, — hot horse to horse — 
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse. — 
O, that Giendower were come ! 

Fer. There is more news : 
I ieam'd in Worcester, as I rode along. 
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 

DoHg* That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet 

Wor. Ay» by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. 

Hoi. What may the king's whole battle reach 
unto } 

Ver* To thirty thousand* 

UqU Forty let it be i 



60 KING HENRY !▼. [aCT IV. 

My father and Glendower being both away. 
The powers of us may serve so great a day, 
Corao, let us take a muster speedily : 
Doomsday is near J die all, die merrily. 

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.-^-Extunt, 



SC£NE II. 



The Road near Coventry, 



Enter Falstaff and Bahdolpii. 

FaL Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry ; fill 
me a bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march through ; 
we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. 

Bard, Wilt you give me money, Captain ? 

Fal. Lay out, lay out. 

Bard. This bottle makes an angel. 

Fal. An it do, take it for thy labour ; and if it 
make twenty, take them all ; Til answer the coinage. 
Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's ^id. 

Bard, I will. Captain : farewell. [Exit, 

Fal,, If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a 
souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press dam- 
nably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and 
fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press 
me none but good householders, yeoman's sons^ in* 
quire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been 
asked twice on the bans : such a com-modity of warm 
slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such 
as fear the report of a ca4iver, worse than a struck 
fowl, or a hurt wild-duck : I press me none but such 
toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no big- 
ger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their 
services ; and now my whole charge consists- of an- 



9CS1IK II.} T»K FIRST FART. Si 

cieats, corporals^ lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, 
slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth ; and 
such as, indeed, were never soldiers ; but discarded, 
unjust, servingmen, younger sons to younger brothers, 
revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers 
of a calm world, and a long peace ; and such have I 
to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out 
their services^ that you would think, 1 had a hundred 
and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine- 
keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow 
met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all 
the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No ey« 
bath seen such scarecrows. Til not march through 
Coventry with them, that^s flat: — Nay, and the viU 
lains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had 
gyves on ; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of 
prison. Them's but a shirt, and a half in all my <:om- 
pany ; and the half-shirt is two napkius> tacked toge- 
ther, and thrown over the shoulders, like a herald's 
coat without sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, 
stolen from my host of Saint Albans, or the red-nose 
inivkeeper, of Daventry. But thatia all one ; theylL 
find linen enough on every hedge. 

Enter Henry, Prince of Wales, and the Earl 

OF Westmoreland. 

P. Hen. How now, blown Jack ? bow now, quilt ? 

FaL What, Hal ? How now, mad wag ? what a 
devil dost thou in Warwickshire ? — My good L^rd of 
Westmoreland, I cry you mercy ! I thought, your ho- 
nour had already been at Shrewsbury. 

iVesi, Taith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I 
were there^ and you too ; hut my powers are thi^re 
already: The king. I can ttll you, looks for us ail; 
we must away all night. 

Fal. Tut, never fear me ; I am as vigilant, as a cat 
to steal cream. 

P. HoL I think, to steal cream, indeed ; for thy 



62 KING H£N&T lY. [aCT IV. 

theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me. 
Jack ; Whose fellows are these that come after f 

FaL Mine, Hal, mine. 

P. Hen, I did never see such pitiful rascals. 

FaL Tut, tut ; good enough to toss ; food for pow- 
der, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit as well as bet* 
ter : tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. 

West. Ay, but. Sir John, methinks, they are ex- 
ceeding poor and bare ; too beggarly. 

Fal. Taith, for their poverty, — I know not where 
they had that : and for their bareness, — I am sure, 
they never learned that of me. 

P. Hen, No, Til be sworn ; unless you call three 
fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste ; 
Percy is already in the field, 

Fal, What, is the king encamped f 

West. He is, Sir John ; I fear we shall stay too 
long. [Exeunt the Princs and Westmoreland. 

FaL Well, 
To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a 

feast, 
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exit. 



scene III. 

Another Part of Hotspur's Qamp. 

Flourish of Trumpets and Drums, 

Enter Hotspur, Earl of Worcester, Earl op 
Douglas, Sir RicuaAd Vernon, Gentlbmek,' 
Soldiers, and Standard Bearers. 

Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. 
War, It may not be. 
3 



6CEVS UI.] THE FIRST TAUT. 63 

Doug. You give him, then, advantage. 

Ver, Not a whit. 

Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ? 

Ver. So do we. 

Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. 

Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd ; stir not to-night. 

Ver. Do not, my lord. 

Dovg. You do not counsel well ; 
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart. 

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life, 
And I dare well maintain it with my life. 
If well*respected honour bid me on, 
I hold as little counsel with weak fear. 
As you, mj lord, or -any Scot that lives: — 
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle, 
Which of us fears. 

Doug. Yea, or to-night. 

Ver. Content. 

Hot. To-night, say I. 

Ver. Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much, 
Being men of such great leading as you are, 
That you foresee not what impediments 
Drag back our expedition: certain horse 
Of my cousin Vernon's, are not yet come up : 
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day; 
And now their pride and mettle is asleep. 
Their courage, with hard labour, tame and dull, 
That, not a horse is half the halif of himself. 

Hot. So are tl^ horses of the enemy 
In general, journey-bated, and brought low ; 
The better part of ours are full of rest. 

Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours : 
For Heaven's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. 

[Trufi^t sounds a Parley. 

Enter Sir Walter Blunt and Two Gentlemen. 

Blunt. I come with gracious ofiers from the king. 
If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. 

G 2 



64 KING HBITET IV. [aCT IV. 

Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt ; And ^vould to 
Heaven, 
You were of our determination ! 
Some of us love you well : and even those some 
Envy your great deservings, and good name; 
Because you are not of our quality, 
But stand against us, like an enemy. 

Blunt. And Heaven defend, but still I should stand 
so, 
So long as, out of limit, and true rule. 
Yon stand against anointed majesty ! 
But, to my charge. — The king hath sent to know 
The nature of your griefs; and whereupon 
You conjure from the breast of civil {leace 
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land 
Audacious cruelty : If that the king 
Have any way your good deserts forgot, — 
Which he confesses to be manifold, — 
He bids you name your griefs ; and, with all speedy 
You shall have your desires, with interest ; 
And pardon absolute for yourself, and these, 
Herein misled, by your suggestion. 

Hot. The king is kind ; and, well we know, Che 
king 
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
My father, and my uncle, and myself. 
Did give him that same royalty he wears : 
And, — when he was not six*and-twenty strongs 
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and* low, 
A poor, unminded, outlaw, sneaking home. 
My father gave him welcome to the shore : 
And, — when he heard him swear, and vow to Heaven, 
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, 
My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd. 
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. 
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm, 
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him, 
The more and less came in with cap and knee ; 



80£K£ III.] THE FIEST PART. 6S 

Met him in borougbs, cities, villages ; 
Laid gifts before him, profier'd him theit oaths, 
Gave him their heirs ; as pages folio w'd him. 
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes. 
He, presently, — as greatness knows itself, — 
Steps me a little higher than his vow. 
Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg ; 
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
Some certain edicts, and some straight decrees, 
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth : 
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
Over his country's wrongs ; and by this face, 
This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
The hearts of all that he did angle for. 

Blunt, I came not to hear this. 

Hot, Then to the point. 

In short time after, he depos'd the king ; 
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life; 
Andy in the neck of that, task'd the whole state : 
To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March 
(Who is, if every owner were well plac'd. 
Indeed his king), to be engaged in Wales, 
There without ransom, to lie forfeited : 
Disgraced me in my happy victories ; 
Sought to entrap me by intelligence ; 
Rated my uncle from the council-board ; 
In rage, dismissed my father from the court ; 
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong : 
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out 
This head of safety : and, withal, to pry 
Into bis title too, the which we find 
Too indirect for long continuance. 

Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king ? 

Hot, Not so. Sir Walter; we'll withdraw a while. 
Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd 
Some surety for a safe return again, 

G 3 



€6 KIHG HEVRY IV. [act V. 

And in the morning early shall my uncle 
Bring bim our purposes ; and so, farewell. 

Blunt. I would, you would accept of grace and 

love. 
Hot. Andy may be, so we shall. 
Blunt. 'Pray Heaven, you do! 

[Fhuriih of Tinmpets and Drums; 
[Exeunt Sir W. Blunt and Two QEKTLEHENy 
Hotspur, and his Friends, 



ACT THE FIFTH, 



SCENE !• 



King Henry's Tent. 
Flourish of Trumpets and Drums, 

King Henry, Henry, Prince of Wales, Prince 
John of Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, Sir 
John Falstaff, Gentlemen, and Soldiers, 
discovered. 

K, Hen, How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
Above yon husky hill! the day Ipoks pale 
At his distemperature. 

P. Hen. The southern wind 
Dolh play the trumpet to his purposes ; 



•CBirS I.] TBB FIMT 9AAt, 6f 

And, by his hollow whittling in the leaves^ 
Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. 

[A Trumpet smmdi a ttirUy. 

Enter Earl of Worcester, and Sir Richard 

Vernon. 

K.Hen. How now, my Lord of Worcester? 'tis 
not well, 
That you and I should meet upon such tenns 
As now we meet: You have deceiv'd our trust; 
And made us doff our easy robes of peace, 
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel : 
This is not well, my lord, this is not welU 
What say you to't? will you again unknit 
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ; 
And move in that obedient orb again 
Where you did give a fair and natural light, 
And be no more an exhal'd meteor, 
A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
Of broached mischief to the unborn times ? 

War, Hear me, my liege: 
For mine own part, I could be well content 
To entertain the lag-end of my life 
With quiet hours ; for, I do protest, 
I have not sought the day of this dislike. 

K, Hen. You have not sought it, sir ! how com€t 
it, then ? 

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way^ and he found it. 
- P. Hen, Peace, chewet, peace I 

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty, to turn ^your looks 
Of favour from myself, and all our house ; 
And yet I must remember you, my lord. 
We were the first and dearest of your^friends. 
For you, my staff of oflk^ did I break 
In Richard's time; and posted day and night 
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
When yet yon were, in place and in account^ 



68 KINO H£KRY lY* [aCT T« 

Nothing so strong and fortunate as I, 
It was myself, my brother, and his son. 
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare 
The dangers of the time : You swore to us, 
(And you did swear that oath at Doncaster) 
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state; 
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n rights 
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
To this we sware our aid. But, in short space, # 

It rain'd down fortune showering on your head; 
And such a flood of greatness fell on you, — 
What with our help, what with the absent king, — 
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
To gripe the general sway into your hand : 
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ; 
And, being fed by us, you us'd us so 
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
Useth the sparrow : did oppress our nest ; 
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk. 
That even our love durst not come near your sight. 
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing 
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly 
Out of your sight, and raise this present head : 
Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself; 
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance. 
And violation of all faith and troth 
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. 
K. Hen, These things, indeed, you have articu« 
la ted, 
Proclaim^ at market-crosses, read in churches ; 
To face the garment of rebellion 
With some fine colour, that may please the eye 
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents. 
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news • 
Of burly-burly innovation; 
And never yet did insurrection want 



«Ct»E I.] *HE F1R«T PA«T. S§ 

Such water-colours, to im|p4mit tiis cause; 
No moody beggan starving for a time 
Of pall-mall kavoc and confusion. 

P. Heu, In both our armies there is many a soul^ 
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter^ 
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew^ 
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
In praise of Henry Percy : By my hopes, — 
This present enterprise set off his head^-— 
i do not think, a braver gentleman^ 
More daring, or more bold, is now alive, 
To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
For my part, I may speak it to my shame^ 
I have a truant been to chivalry ; 
And so, I hear, he doth account me too : 

Yet this, before my fatber^s majesty, ^ 

I am content, that he shall take the odda 
Of his great name and estimation ; 
And will, to save the blood on either side, 
Try fortune with him in a single fight. 

K. Hen. Aad, Printe of Wales, so dare w6 venture 
thee; 
Albeit, consideration infinite 
Do make against it : — No, good Worcester, no, 
We love our people weU ; even those we love, 
That are misled upon your cousin's part : 
And, will they take the offer of our grace. 
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man 
Shall be my friend again, and Til be his : 
So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
What he will do: — But, if he will not yield, 
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, 
And they shall do their office. So, begone: 
We will not now be troubled w^th reply : 
We offer fair, take it advisedly. 

[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon* 

P. Heu. It will not be accepted, on my life : 



70 KIK& HENKT IV« [aCT T« 

The Douglas «Dd the Hotspur, both together^ 
Are confident against the world in arms. 

K, Hen, Hence, therefore, every leader to bis 
charge; 
For, on their answer, we will set on them : 
And Heaven befriend tis, as our cause is just ! 

[Exeunt the Kivd, Prince Johk, Sir W. 
Blunt, Gentlemen, and Soldiers. 

Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and 
bestride me, so ; 'tis a point of friendship. 

P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that 
friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 

Fal, I would it were bed time, Hal, and all wclL 

P. Hen» Why, thou owest Heaven a death. 

[Exit. 

Fal. Tis not due yet ; I would be loath to pay him 
before his day. What need I be so forward with him 
that calls not on roe? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour 
pricks me on. Yea, but hpw if honour prick me off 
when I come on ? How then ? Can honour set-to a 
•leg ? No. Or an arm i No. Or take away the grief of 
a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ^ 
No. What is honour ? A word. What is that word, 
honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He 
that d/d o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth 
he hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the 
dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? 
Detraction will not suffer it : therefore Til none of it: 
Honour is a mere scutcheon ; and so ends my cate- 
chism. [Exit. 



iCENE II.] THE FIRST FAKT. 71 



SCENE II. 



Hotspur's Camp. 



Enier Earl of Worcester and Sir Richard 

Verhon. 

fTor. O, no; my nephew must not know. Sir 
Richard, 
The liberal kind offer of the king. 

Var, Twere be»t, he did. 

Wor* Then are we all undone. 
It is not possible, it cannot be. 
The king should keep his word in loving us ; 
He will suspect us: still, and find a time 
To punish this offence in other &ults : 
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot, 
It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood ; 
And an adopted name of privilege, — 
A hair-brain'd Hbtspur, govern d by a spleen : — 
All his ofiences live upon my head, 
And on his father^s ; we did train him on ; 
And, his corruption being ta'en from us, 
We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
In any case, the offer of the king. 

Ver. Deliver what you will, — 111 say, 'tis so. 
Here comes your cousin. 

Enter Hotspur, Earl'ot Douglas, Gektlemek, 

SOLPIERS. 

Hot. My uncle is return'd ; — Deliver up 
My lord of Westmoreland. — Uncle, what news f 



72 KIKO HSNRY lY. [aCT T. 

JFor. The king will bid you battle presently. 

Doitg, Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland. 

Hot, Lord Douglas, then go you, and tell him so. 

Doug, Marry, and shall, and very wHlingly. 

[Exit. 

Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king. 

Hot. Did you beg any ? Heaven forbid ! 

Wor. I told him gently of our grievances, 
Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus, — 
By now forswearing tl at he is ibr&worn. 
He calls us, rebels, traitors; aqd will scourge 
With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
The Prince of Walefrstepp'd forth before the king. 
And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. 

Hot. Of 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads; 
And that no man might draw short breath to-day, 
But I, and Harry Monmouth ! Tell me, tell me^ 
How show'd his talking ? seem'd it in contempt ? 

Ver. No, by my soul ; I hever in my life 
Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly. 
Unless a brother should a brother dare 
To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
He gave you all the duties of a man ; 
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue ; 
Spoke your deservings like a chronicfe. 
Making you ever better than his praise : 
And, which became hlM like a prince indeed, 
He made a blushing^cital of himself; 
And chid his truant youth with such a gFace, 
As if he mastered there a double spirit. 
Of teaching, and of learning, instantly. 
There did he pause : But let me tell the world, — 
If he outlive the envy of this day, 
England did n^ver owe so sweet a hope. 
So much misconstrued in bis wantonness. 

Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured 
Upon his follies. 
But, be he as he will, yet once ere night 



SCEtf fi II.] THE FIEST PA&T* 7$ 

I will embrace bim with a soldier's arm, 
That he shall shrink under my courtesy. 

Enter Earl of Douglas, 

Doug. Arm, gentlemen, to arms ! for I have thrown 
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, 
And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it ; 
Which cannot chuse but bring him quickly on. 

Hot. Arm, arm with speed! — 
O, gentlemen, the time of life is short ; 
To spend that shortness basely, were too long, 
If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
An if we live, we live to tread on kings ; 
If die, brave death, when princes die with us! 

Enter Raby. 

Rob. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on apace. 

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, 
For I profess not talking; only this, — 
Let each man do his best : and here draw I 
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
With the best blood that ! can meet withal 
In the adventure of this perilous day. 
Sound all the lofty instruments of war. 
And by that music let us all embrace : 
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
A second time do such a courtesy. 

[The DrumSj Trumpets^ SfC. sound. They em» 
brace. 
Nuw, — Esperanzaf — Percy! — and set on. 

[Trumpets, DrumSy SfC. — Exeunt^ 



74 KIKO HENRY IV. [aCT V, 



SC£N£ III. 



The Field of Battle, near Shrewsbury. 



Alarkms, 



Enter Earl of Douglas and Sir Walter 

Blunt. 

Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
Thou Grossest me ? what honour dost thou seek 
Upon my head ? 

Doug, Know then, my name is Douglas ; 
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus, 
Because some tell me that thou art a king. 

Blunt. They tell thee true. 

Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought 
Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, King Harry, 
This sword hath ended him ; so shall it thee, 
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 

Blunt, I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot ; 
And thou shalt find a king, that will revenge 
Lord Stafford's death. 

[Alarums. — Theyjlght. — Blunt is slain. 

Enter Hotspur. 

Hot. O, Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon 

thus, i 
1 never had triumph'd upon a Scot ! 

Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies 

the king. 
Hot. Where? 
Doug. Here. 

4 



SCENS III.] THE FIRST PART. 7S 

Hot. This, Douglas? no> I know this face full 
well : 
A gallant kpight he was, his name was Blunt; 
Semblably furnished like the king himself. 
Up, and away ; 
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. 

[Alarums,-=-Exeu;nt Hotspur and Douglas. 

Otker AlarufM. 

Enter Falstaff. 

Fat. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, 
I fear the shot here ; here's no scoring, but upon the 
pate. — Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Bluni; — 
there's honour for you : Here's no vanity ! — I am as 
hot as molten lead, — Heaven keep lead out of me ! 
I need no more weight than mine own bowels. — I have 
led my raggamuffins where they are pepper'd : there's 
not three of my hundred and fifty left alive ; and they 
are fur the town's end, to beg during life. But who 
comes here ? 

Enter Henry, Prince of Wales, with his Suord 

broken, 

P. Hen, What, stand'st thou idle here ? lend me 
thy sword. 
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, 
Whose deaths are unreveng'd : lend me thy sword, 

FaL O, Hal, J pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe 
awhile. — Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms, 
as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have 
made him sure. 

P. Hen, He is, ind€ed; and living to kill thee. 
I pr'ythee, lend me thy sword. 

FaL Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou gett'st not 
my sword ; but take my pistol, if thou wilt, 

P. Hen. Give it mc : what, is it in the case? 

II 2 



78 KING HENRY IV. [aCT V. 

Death has not struck so fat a deer to-day ; 
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray : — 
ImbowellM will I see thee by and by ; 
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit. 

Falstaff, rising slowly, 

Fal, Imbowell'd I if thou imbowel me to-day, I'll 
give you leave to powder me, and eat roe too, to- 
morrow. 'Sbloody 'twas time to counterfeit, or that 
hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. 
Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: To die, is 
to be a counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a 
man, who hath not the life of a man r but to coun- 
terfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no 
counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life in- 
deed.. The better part of valour id — discretion; in 
the which better part, I have saved my life. I am 
afraid of this gunpowder, Percy, though he be dead : 
How if he should counterfeit too, and rise ? I am 
afraid, he would prove the better counterfeit. There- 
fore ril make him sure : yea, and Til swear I killed, 
him. Why may he not rise, as well as If Nothing 
confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. There- 
fore, sirrah — [Stabs Hotspue.] — with a new wound 
in your thigh, come you along with me. 

[Takes Hotspur on his Back. 

Enter Heney, Prii^ce of Wales, tmd Prince 
John of Lancaster. 

P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou 
flesh'd 
Thy maiden sword. 

P. John. Bui, soft ! whom have we here ? 
Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead? 
P. Hen. I did ; I saw him dead, breathless and 
bleeding 
On the ground. — 
Art thou alive? or is it fantasy 



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9CENB IV.] THE FIRST PART. 79 

That plays upon our eye-sight ? Pr'ythee, speak ; • 
We will not trust our eyes, without our ears : — 
Thou art not what thou seem'st. 

Fd. No, that's certain ; I am not a double man : 
but if I be not Jack Falstaif, then am I a Jack. 
There is Percy : [Throwing the Body dawn^ If your 
father will do me any honour, so ; if not, let him kill 
the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or 
duke, 1 can assure you. 

P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee 
dead. 

-Fa/. Didst thou? — Lord, lord, how this world is 
given to lying! — I grant you, I was down, and out of 
breath ; and so was he: but we rose both at an in- 
stant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. 
If I may be believed, so ; if not, let them, that should 
reward valour, bear the sin upon their own heads, 
ni take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in 
the thigh : if the man were alive, and would deny it, 
1 would make him eat a piece of my sword. 

P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I 
heard. 

P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brother John. — 
Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back : 
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
rU gild it with the happiest terms I have. 

[Trum'peis sound a Retreat. 
The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours. 
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field, 
To see what friends are living, who. are dead. 

[Exeunt Princes Henrt a$id John^« 

Fd, ril follow, as they say, for reward. He, that 
rewards me. Heaven reward him ! If I do grow great, 
rU grow less ; for Til purge, and leave sack, and 
live cleanly, as a nobleman should do. 

[Exity hearing of HoisvvvJi Body. 



so KIJIG HEM&Y IV. [act T. 



SCENE V. 



King Henry's Tent, 



Fiourish of Trumpets and Drums. 

King Henry, Henry, Prince of Wales, Prince 
John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, 
wiih Worcester, Vernon, and others^ Prisoners; 
Gentlemen, and Soldiers, discovered. 

K, Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. 
Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send grace, 
Pardon, and terms of love, to all of you ? 
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary? 

Wor. What I have done, my safety urg'd me to ; 
And I embrace this fortune patiently. 
Since not to be avoided it falls on me. 

K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon 
too; 
Other offenders we will pause upon. — 

[Exeunt Worcester, Vernon, and others^ 
guarded^ 
How go.es the field ? 

P. Hen. The gallant Scot, Lord Douglas, when he 
: saw 
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him. 
The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
Upon the foot of fear, — tied with the rest; 
And, falling from a bill, he was so bruis'd, 
That the pursuers took him. At my tent 
ThejDouglas is; and I bebcech your grace, 
I may dispose of him. 



SCENE v.] THE FIRST PART. SI 

K. Hen, With all my heart. 

P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you 
This honourable bounty shall belong : 
Go to the Douglas, jand deliver him 
Up to his pleasure, ransomeless and free: 
His valour, shown upon our crests to-day. 
Has taught us how to cherish such high deeds, 
Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 

K. Hen, Then this remains, — that we divide our 
power. — 
You, son John, and ray cousin Westmoreland, 
Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest 

speed. 
To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop, 
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms ; 
Myself, — and you, son Harry, — will towards Wales, 
To fight with Glendower, and the Earl of March. 
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, 
Meeting the check of such another day : 
And since this business so far fair is done. 
Let us not leave till all our own be won. 

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums. — Exeunt. 



THE END* 



KING HENRY IV. 

THE SECOND PART; 



A HISTORICAL PLAY, 



IN FIVB acts; 



Bt WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 



AS PBRFORMBD AT THE 



THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. 



rMMTeO VMBBR THE AOTHOEITT OF TUB MAHACr.RS 
F&OM THE PROMPT BOOK. 



WITH RetfARRS 



BY MRS. INCHBALD. 



LONDON: 

rAIHTEO V0& L01|<)MAN| HV^ST, REES, AND ORME^ 

PATBEMOSTSR ROW, 



•f ■ ^ T 



WILLIAM SAVAGR, PRINTKR, 
• LOMDON'. ' 



REMARKS. 



This Second Part of Henry the Fourth, like the 
First, has different effects, in producing pleasure or 
distaste, to different auditors. 

. Of the number of persons who form an audience^ 
lew can appreciate the merit of Shakspeare's plays, so 
as to be greatly movedy where neither love nor murder 
is the subject of the scene. To many spectators, all 
Falstaff 's humour is comprised in his unwieldy per- 
son ; nor do they cast their imaginations back to for- 
mer times, so as to feel and enjoy, as perfectly na- 
tural, those actual occurrences, and true touches of 
nature, with which the plot and dialogue of this 
drama, as well as its foregoing part, abound. 

The classical devotee, on the other hand, admires 
every incident he beholds, every line he hears, and 
perceives meaning in words, where, perhaps, none was 
intended, — that not an atom of Sbakspeare may be 
lost, but every sentence conduce to his amusement. 

To accommodate the first class of auditors and 
readers, this little preface is, of course, written; that, 
recalling to their memory some historical facts, previ- 
ous to either reading or seeing the play, may be tl^e 
means of exciting their attention to a dramatic trea- 
sure. 



4 REMARKS. 

The characters here delineated, it is to be remem- 
beredy lived four centuries ago, and the transactions 
exhibited took place within the space of nine years. 

The First Part of Henry the Fourth, having ended 
with the death of Hotspur, and defeat of the rebels, 
this following part commences at a period but little 
distant, and closes \ ith the death of Henry the 
Fourth, and the coronation of his son, the oocei de- 
praved Prince of Wales. 

After the three first acts have displayed the comic 
perM>n8 of the drama, with all the modes and man* 
ners of the years annexed to 1400; combining, with 
such persons and fashions, piinds, characters, and 
propensities, which belong to every age— the fourth 
act accurately describes the following remarkable 
event, taken from history. 

Holinshed, writing on the death of Henry the 
Fourth, says, '* During his last sickness, he caused 
his crown to be set on a pillow, on his bed's head, and 
suddenly, his pangs so sore troubled him, that he laie 
as though all his vital spirits had been from him de- 
parted. Such as were about him thinking verily be* 
had been departed, covered his face with a linen 
cloth. — ^Thc prince his son being hereof advertised, 
entered into the chamber, took away the crown.* — 
Here the poet concludes, and most awfully enforces 
the death-bed scene. 

In the last act, the conversation of Heniy the 
Fifth with the lord chief justice, is founded on the 
well-known occurrence which took place between 
him and Sir William Gascoij^ne, in the court of Kingfs 



REMARKS. , 5 

Bench, when Henry was Prince of Wales. Sir Wil- 
liam was supreme judge of that court, in the reign of 
Henry the Fourth : — " in which station he acquired 
the character of a learned, an upright, a wise, and 
intrepid man. But, above all his other virtues, he is 
memorable for his dignified courage, in having com- 
mitted the royal heir apparent to prison, for daring to 
insult him in his office/' 

The discarding of his vile companions, by the new- 
ly crowned king, as this act describes, is likewise, 
authenticated by history — and although such an inci- 
dent is, perhaps, the best moral which can be drawn 
from any part of the whole play, it is, nevertheless, 
«uch a one, as doe^ not come witl^ entire welcome to 
the breast of every spectator. 



h 3 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE, 



Henry IV. King of England 
Henry, Prince of Wales 
Prince Thomas 
Prince John 
Prince Humphrey 
Archbishop gf York 
Earl of Westmoreland 
Lord Mowbray 
Lord Hastings 
Lord Chief Justice 
Sir John Falstaff 

POINS 
GOWER 



Pages 

Justice Shallow 
Justice Silence 

Apparitors 

Fang 

Snare 

Bardolph 

Pistol 

Robin 

Davy 

Mouldy 

Shadow 

Wart 

Feeble 

bullcalf 

Mrs. Quickly 
Doi^L Tearsheet 






Mr. Kemble. 
Mr. C. Kemble, 
Mr. Ciaremont* 
Mr. Brunton. 
Mr. Menage. 
Mr. Cory. 
Mr. H. Siddons, 
Mr. Chapman. 
Mr. CresweU. 
Mr. Murray. 
Mr. Cooke. 
Mr, Farley. 
Mr. KUmerU 
Mr. Curties. 
Mr. Field. 
Mr. Munden^ 
Mr. Emery, 
Mr. Atkins. 
Mr. Lewiss. 
Mr. Piatt. 
Mr. Powers. 
Mr. Davenports 
Mr. Wilde, 
Master P. Benson* 
Mr, Beverly. 
Mr. Abbot. 
Mr. Wilkinson, 
Mr, Truman, 
Mr, Simmons. 
Mr, Harley, 

Mrs. Davenport, 
Mrs. Beverly. 



Gentlemen,— Guards.— Shallow's Servants* 



SCEJfE^Engknd. 



KING HENRY IV. 



THE SECOND PART. 



ACT THE FIRST. 



SCEMB J. 



A Street in London. 

Enttr SiE John Fa lata ff, and his ^aoh following 
ktm, with his Sword and Buckler, 

Fed, Sirrahy you giant, what says the doctor to my 
water ? 

Page, He said, sir, the water itself was a good 
healthy water : but, for the party that ow'd it, he 
might have more diseases than he knew for. 

Fal, Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : 
the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is 
not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter, 
more than 1 invent, or is invented on me: I am not 
only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other 
men. 1 do here walk before thee, like a sow that 
hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince 
put thee into my service for any other reason than to 
set me off, why, then I have no judgment. Thou 



8 KINO HENRY IV. [aCT I. 

whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my 
cap, than to wait at my heels. — What said Master 
Doramelton about the satin for my short cloak, and 
my slops f 

Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better 
assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his 
bond and yours ; he liked not the security. 

Fal. Let him be damn'd like the glutton ! may his 
tongue be hotter ! — A whoreson Achitophel ! a ras- 
cally, yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in 
hand, and then stand upon security ! — I had as lief 
they would put ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop 
it with security. I looked he should have sent roe 
two-and- twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, 
and he sends me security. — Well, he may sleep in se- 
curity ; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the 
lightness of his wife shines through it: and yet can- 
not he see, though he have his own lantern to light 
him. Where's Bardolph ? 

Page. He's gone into Smith field, to buy your wor- 
ship a horse. 

FcU, I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a 
horse in Smithfield. If I could get me but a wife in 
the stews, I were mann'd, hors'd, and wiv'd. 

Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that commit- 
ted the prince, for Striking him about Bardolph. 

Enter the Lord Chief Justice and Two A^ 

■ FARITORS. 

FaL Wait close, I will not see him. 

Ch. Just. What's he that goes there ? 

Jpp. FaUtafF, an't please your lordship. 

Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery? 
—Call him back again. 

Afyp* Sir John Falstaff ! 

FaL Boy, tell him, 1 am deaf. 
, Page. You must speak louder, my master is deaf.' 

Qh. Jusf. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any 



SCXKEI.] THE SSeOND PAAT. 9 

thing good. — Go, pluck him by the elbow ; I must 
speak with him. 

App. SirJohn^ 

Fal. What, a young knave, and beg ? Is there not 
wars I Is there not employment ? ^ 

Afp. You mistake me, sir* 

jpo/. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man \ 
•etting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I 
had lied in my throat, if I had said so. — Hence! 
a?aunt! 

App, Sir, my lord would speak with you. 

Ch. Just,, Sir John Falstafl^ a word with you* 

Fal. My good lord ! — Heaven give your lordship 
good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship 
abroad : I heard say, your lordship was sick : I hope 
your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, 
chough not clean past your youth, hath yet some 
smack of .age in you, some relish of the saltness of 
time ; and I most humbly beseech your lordship, to 
have a reverend care of your health. 

Ch. Jittt. Sir John, I sent for you before your ex- 
pedition to Shrewsbury. 

Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty 
is returned with some discomfort from Wales. 

Ck. Juit. I talk, not of his majesty :-*you would 
not come when I sent for you. 

Fal, And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen 
into this same whoreson apoplexy. 

Chm Just. Well, Heaven mend him ! — I pray,- let 
me speak with you. 

Fal. This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of le- 
thargy, an't please your lordship ; a kind of sleeping 
in the blood, a whoreson tingling. 
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it ? be it as it is. 
Fal. It hath its original from much grief; from 
study, and perturbation of the brain : I have read 
the cause of his effects in Galen ; it is a kind of deaf- 
ness. 



10 XING BENBT IV. [aCT U 

Ch. Just, I think, you are fallen into the disease ; 
for you hear not what I say to you. 

FaL Very well, my lord, very well. 
• Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters 
against you for your life, to come speak with me. 

FaL As I was then advised by my learned counsel 
in the laws of this land-service, 1 did not come. 

Ch, Just, Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in 
great infamy. 

FaL lie that buckles him in my belt, cannot live 
in less. 

Ch, Just. Your means are very slender, and your 
waste is great. 

FaL 1 would it were otherwise; I would my means 
were greater, and my waist slenderer. 

Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince. 

FaL The young prince has misled me : I am the 
fellow with the great belly, and he my dog. 

Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and 
down, like his ill angel. 

FaL My lord, you that are old, consider not the 
capacities of us that are young ; you do measure the 
heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls : 
and we, that are in the vaward of our youth, I must 
confess, are wags too. 

Ch. Just, Do you set down your name in the scroll 
-of youth, that are written down old with all the cha- 
racters of age? Have you not a moist eye? a diy 
hand ? a yellow che^k ? a white beard ? a decreasing 
leg ? an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken ? 
your wind short ? your chin double ? your wit single ? 
and every part about you blasted with antiquity ? 
and will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, ie^ 
Sir John \ 

Fal. My lord, I was bom about three of the clock 
in the afternoon, with a white head, and something 
a round belly. For my voice, — I have lost it with 
hollaing and singing of anthems* To approve my 



SCENE 1.] THE SECOND PA &T. 11 

youth further, I will not : the truth is, I am only old 
in judgment and understaudino; ; and he that will 
caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend 
me the money, and have at him. — For the box o' the 
ear that the prince gave you,^— he gave it liicea rude 
prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have 
checked him for it, and the young lion repents; 
marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk, 
and old sack. 

Ch. Just. Well, Heaven send the prince a better 
companion ! 

FaL Heaven send the companion a better prince ! 
I cannot rid my hands of him. 

Ck. Just., Well, the king bath severed you and 
Prince Harry : I hear, you are going with Lord John 
of Lancaster, against the Archbishop, and the Earl of 
Northumberland, 

Fed. Yeai — I thapk your pretty sweet wit for it ; — 
but look you pi*ay, all you that kiss my lady peace at 
home, that our armies join not in a hot day ; for, 
by the lord, I take but two shirts out with mc, and 
I. mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if it be a hot 
day, an I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would 
I might never spit white again. There is nut a dan- 
gerous action can peep out bis head, but I am thrust 
upon it : Well, I cannot last ever : But it was always 
yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a 
good thing, to make it too common. If you will 
needs say, I am an old man, you should give me 
rest. I would to Heaven, my name, were not so ter- 
rible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten 
to death with a rust, than to be scoured to death with 
perpetual motion. . 

Ch. Just. Well, be honesty be honest ; and Heaven 
bless your expedition 

Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand poun'd, 
to. fun^sh me forth ? 

Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penpy ; you are too 



/ 



12 KIKG HEfTBT IT. [ilCTI* 

impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well : Commend 
me to my cousin Westmoreland. 

[Exeunt the Chief Justice and Apparitors. 

Fal, If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. — A 
man can no more separate age and covetousness, than 
he can part young limbs and lechery • — Boy f-— 

Page» Sir? 

Fal. What money is in my purse ? 

Page. Seven groats and two pence. 

Fal. 1 can get no remedy against this consumption 
of the purse : borrowing only lingers and lingers it 
out, but the disease is incurable. — Go, bear this letter 
to my Lord of Lancaster ; this to the Prince ; this to 
the Earl of Westmoreland ; and this to old Mistress 
Ursula, — ^whom I have weekly sworn to marry, since 
J perceived the first white hair on my chin : — ^About 
it ; you know where to find me. [Exit Page.] A 
plague of this gout ! it plays the rogue with my great 
toe. It is no matter, if I do halt $ J have the wars 
for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more 
reasonable : A good wk will mftke use of any thing } 
1 will turn diseases to commodity. [Exii* 



BCENE II. 



The Archbishop of York's Palace^ in Yorkshire* . 

Tie Archbishop of York, Lord Hastings, Tho* 
MAS Mowbray (Earl Marshal)^ and two other 
Gentlemen discofoered, seated. 

They rise. 

* « 

^rM. Thus have you heard our cftuse, md known 
ourme^iisi 



SCENE II.] THE SECOND PART. 13 

And, my most noble friends, I pray you all^ 
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes. 

Hast, Our present musters gtovi upon the file 
To ^s^ and twenty thousand men of choice; 
And our supplies live largely in the hope 
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns 
With an incensed fire of injuries. 

Mam, The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth 
thus ; — 
Whether our present five and twenty thousand 
May hold up head without Northumberland. 

Hast, With him, we may. 

Mofw. Ay, marry, there's the point : — 
But if, without him, we be thought too feeble ? — 
My judgment is, we should not step too far. 
Till we had his assistance by the hand ; 
For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this. 
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise, 
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted. 

Arckb. Tis very true. Lord Marshal; for, indeed. 
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. 

Maw. It was, my lord ; who lin'd himself with 
hope, 
Eating the air on promise of supply. 
Flattering himself in project of a power. 
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts ; 
And so, with great imagination. 
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, 
And, winkingi leap'd into destruction. 

Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt, 
To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope. ' 

Mow. Yes, in this present quality of war. 
Indeed of instant action : A cause on foot 
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring 
We see the appearing buds ; which, to prove fi^uit, 
Hope gives not so much warranty as despair, 
That frosts will bite them. 



-14 KING HENRY JV. [aCTI. 

Hast. I think, we are a body strong enough, 
Even as we are, to equal with the king. 

Arehb. What! is the king but five and twenty 

thousand ? 
Hast, To us, no more; nay, not so much, my 
lord ; 
For his divisions, as the times do brawl, 
Are in three heads : one power against the French, 
And one against Glendower; perforce, a third 
Must take up us^ 

Archb. Who, is it like, should lead his forces hi- 
ther? 
Hast. Prince John of Lancaster, and Westmore- 
land; 
Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Mon- 
mouth : 
But who is substituted 'gainst the French, 
I have no certain notice. 

Archb, Let us on; 
And publish the occasion of our arms. 
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice. 

Their over-greedy love hath surfeited : 

'a habitation giddy and unsure 
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
O, thou fond many, with what loud applause 
Didst thou beat Heaven with blessing Bolingbrpke, 
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be^r— 
And, being now trimm'd in thine own desires. 
Thou, beastly feeder,. art so full of him, 
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up ! 
What trust is in these times? 
They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him 
die, : . • 

Are now become enamour'd on his grave : 
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head, 
When i through proud Londop, he came jsighing on,. 
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke, 



SCENS ill.] TIIE SECOITD PART. 15 

Cry'st now, " O earth, give us that king again, 
And'take thou this I" — O thoughts of men accurs'd ! 
Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, worst.^ 



9C£N£ III. 



A Street in London. 



Enter Hostess, Fang, an(/ Snare. 

Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action f 
Fang. It is entered. — Snare, we must aiTest Sir 
John Falstaff. 

Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, 
for he will stab. 

Fang. An I but fist him once ;-^an a' come but 
within my vice ;*-^ 

Host. I am undone by his going ; I warrant you, 
he's an infinite thing upon my score : — Good Master 
Fang, hold him sure : — ^good Master Snare, let him 
Qot 'scape. He comes continually to Pye Corner, 
(saving your manhoods), to buy a saddle ; and he's 
indited to dinner, to the Lubbar^s Head, in Lumbart 
Street, to Master Smooth's, the silkman : I pray ye, 
since my exion is entered, and my case so openly 
known to the world, let him be brought in to his an- 
swer. A hundred mark is a long loan for a poor lone 
woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne, and 
home; and have l)cen fubbed off, and fubbed off, 
from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be 
thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing ; 
unless a woman should be made an ass, and a beast, 
to bear every knave's wrong. — Yonder he comes ; and 
that arrant malmsey- nose, knave, Bardolph, with him. 

c 2 



1£- 



IG HENKT IV, 



Tact i, 



.•• . I 



.1% ■ 



I 



IS KING HENRT IV. [aCT I. 

Do your offices, do your offices, Master Fang, and 
Matter Snare ; do me, do me, do me your offices. 

Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, and the 

Page. 

Fal. How now ! whose mare's dead f what's the 
matter ? 

Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress 
Quickly. 

Fal. Away, varlets ! — Draw, Bardolph, cut me off 
the villain's head ; throw the quean in the channel. 

Host, Throw me in the channel ? — Murder, mar- 
der! O thou honey-suckle villain! wilt thou kill 
Heaven's officers, and the king's ? 

FaL Keep them oif, Bardolph. 

Fang, A rescue ! a rescue ; 

Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two. — ^Thou 
wo't, wo't thou ? thou wo't, wo't thou ? do, do, thou 
rogue ! do, thou hemp-seed ! 

FaL Away, you scullion ! you rampallian ! you 
fustilarian ! I'll tickle your catastrophe* 

Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and Two Afpa* 

RITORS. 

Ch. Just. What's the matter ? keep the peace here, 
ho! 

Host. Good my lord, be good to me, I beseech 
you. 

Ch. Just. How now, Sir John ? what are you brawl- 
ing here? 
Doth this become your place, your time, and busi-^ 

ness ? 
You should have been well on your way to York. — 
Stand from him, fellow ; Wherefore hang'st thou on 
him ? 
Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't please your 
grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is 
arrested at my suit. 
3 



r- 



Ifi . JUSG HEHRT IV. .JaCTI. 






•% V 






» ^ 



« • 



■'•'. . * ' 



SCl&KB III.] TH£ second PAftT. If 

Ch, Just. For what sum ? 

Host, It is more than for some, my lord ; it is for 
all, all I have ; be hath eaten me out of bouse and 
home ; be hath put all my substance into that fat 
belly of bis. 

Ch.Just, How comes this, Sir John? Fie! what 
man of good temper would endure this tempest of ex- 
clamation ? Are you not ashamed, to enforce a pooi* 
widow to so rough a course, to come by her own I 

Fal, What is the gross sum that 1 owe thee ? 

Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself, 
and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a 
parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin chamber, at 
the round table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wednesday, in 
Whitsun week, when the prince broke thy head for 
liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor ; thou 
didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, 
to marry me, and make me my lady, thy wife. Canst 
thou deny it ? Did not goodwife'Keech, the butcher's 
wife, come in then, and call me gossip Quickly? com- 
ing in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us, she 
had a good dish of prawns; whereby thou didst desire 
to eat some; whereby I told thee, they ^ere ill for a 
green wound. And didst thou not, when she was 
^one down stairs, desire me to be no more so fami- 
liarity with such poor people ; saying that ere long 
they should call me madam ? And didst thou not kiss 
me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee 
now to thy book oath ; deny it if thou canst. 

Fid, My lord, this is a poor mad soul ; and she 
says, up and down the town, that her eldest son is 
like you ; she hath been in good case, and, the truth 
is, poverty bath distracted her. But for these foolish 
officers, I beseech you, I may have redress against 
them. 

Ch. Just. Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted 
with your manner of wrenching the true cause the 
false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng 

G 3 



W KIKG HENRY IV. [aCT Ili 

FaL Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to 
dinner? 

Goo?. I must wait upon my good lord here: I thank 
you, good Sir John. 

^ Ch. Just, Sir John, you loiter here too long, being 
you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go. 

F<d. Will you sup with me, Master-Gower? 
■ Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these 
manners, Sir John? 

FaL Master Gower, if they become me not, he was 
a fool that taught them me. — This is the right fencing 
grace, my lord ; tap for tap, and so part fair. 

Ch. Just. Now the Lord lighten thee ! thou art a 
great fool. 

[Exeunt the Chief Justice, Gower, Two 
Apparitors, and Falstaef. 



ACT THE SECOND. 



scene u 



An Apartment of the Prince of Wales's, in London. 

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Poins. 

P. Hen. Trust, me, I am exceeding weary. 
Foins. Is it come-io that? I had thought, weari-' 
ness durst not have attached one of so high blood. 
P. Hen. Taith, it does me; though it discolours 



SCIXE I.] THK SECOND VAET. 21 

the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it* 
Doth it not show vilely in me, to desire small b^r ? 

Poms* Why, a prince should not be so loosely stu- 
died, as to remember so weak a composition* 

P. Hen. Belike then, my appetite was not princely 
got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor 
creature, small beer. 

Poms, How ill it follows, after you have laboured 
so hard, you should talk so idly ! Tell me, how many 
good young princes would do so, their fathers being so 
sick as yours at this time is? 

P. Hen, Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins ? 

Potfw. Yes ; and let it be an excellent good thing. 

P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no higher 
breeding than thine. 

Poms, Go to ; I stand the push of your one thing 
that you will tell. 

P. Hen. Marry, I tell thee, — it is not meet that I 
should be sad, now my father is sick ; albeit I could 
tell to thee, — {as to one it pleases me, for fault of a 
better, to call my friend,) I could be sad, and sad in* 
deed too. 

Poins, Very hardly, upon such a subject. 

P. Hen, By this hand, thou think'st me as far in the 
devil's book, as thou, and FalstafT, for obduracy and 
persistency : But, I tell thee, — my heart bleeds inward- 
ly, that my father is so sick ; and keeping such vile 
company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me 
all ostentation of sorrow. 

Poins, The reason ? 

P. Hen, What wouldst thou think of me, if I should 
weep? 

Poins, I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. 

P. Hen. It would be every man's thought : every 
man would think me an hypocrite indeed. — Well, let 
the end try the man. 

Poins, By the mass, here comes Bardolph. 

P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falsta£F: he had 



2^ -klNO HENRY IV. " [act II.' 

him from me christian ; and look, if tbe fat villain have 
not transformed him ape ! 

Enter Bardolpu, and Page. 

Bard, 'Save your grace ! 

P. Hen, And yours, most noble Bardolph ! — And 
how doth thy master, Bardolph ? 

Bard, Well, roy lord. He heard of your grace's 
coming to town; there's a letter for you. 

P. Hen, Delivered with good respect.-^ And how 
doth the martlemas, your master f 

Bard. In bodily health, sir. 

Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician: 
but that moves not him : though that be sick, it dies 
not. 

P. Hen, I do allow this wen to be as familiar with 
me as my dog : and he holds his place ; for, look you, 
how he writes. 

Poins, [Reads.] John Falstqff', Knight, — Every man 
must know that, as often as he has occasion to name 
himself. Even like those that are kin to the king.; for 
they ne^er prick their finger, but they say, " There's 
some of the king's blood spilt:" " How comes that I" 
says he, that takes upon him not to conceive: the an- 
swer is as ready as a borrower's cap ; " I am the 
king's poor cousin, sir." 

P. Hen, Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will 
fetch it from Japhei. But the letter : — 

Poins. Sir John Falsiaff, Knightj to the son of the 
kingf nearest his father, Harry, Prince of Wales, greet- 
ing. — Why, this is a certificate I 
P. Hen, Peace ! 

Poins. J will imitate the Itonourahle Roman in bre- 
vity: — he sure means brevity in breath ; short-winded. 
— / commend me to thee^ J commend thee, and I leave 
thee. Be not too familiar with Poins / for he misuses 
thy favours so much, that he sxoears, thou art to marry 
iis sister Nell. Repent- at idle times, as thou ma/st, and 



SCENE I.] THE SECOND PiiKT. 93 

SO farewell — Tkine, by yea and noy (which is as much as 
to say J as thou usest hm^J Jack Falstaffj with my f ami' 
liars; John^ with my brothers and sisters; and Sir 
John, with all Europe, 

My lordy Fll steep this letter in sack, and make him 
eat it. 

P. If e/i. That's to make him cat twenty of his 
words. .But do you nse me thus Ned? must I marry 
your sister ? 

Poins, May the wench have no worse fortune! but 
I never said so. 

P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with the time; 
and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds, and mock 
us. — Is your master here in London? 

Bard, Yea, my lord. 
^ P. ITen* Where sups he? 

Bard, At the old place, my lord ; in Eastcheap. 

P. Hen, What company? Sup any women with 
•him ? 

Page, None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, 
and mistress Doll Tearsheet. 

P. Hen, Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at sup- 

Poins. I am your shadow, my lord ; 111 follow you, 

P,Hen, Sirrah, you boy, — and Bardolph,-T-no 
word to your master, that I am yet come to town : 
There's for your silence. [Gives his Purse, 

. Bard. I have no tongue, sir. 

Page, And for mine, sir, — I will govern it. 
« P^ Hen, Fare ye' well; go, 

[Eiceunt Bakbolth. and Pagk, 
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in 
his true cok>urs, and not ourselves be seen? 

Poins, Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons, and 
wait upon him at his table, as drawers. 

P. Hen, From a prince to a prentice? a low trans- 
formation !■ that; shall be mine; foj^ in .every thing, 



24 Kino HEVRT IT. [aCT II. 

the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, 
Ned. [Exeunt the Prikce and Poins. 



SCEVB II. 



The Boards Head Tavern, in Eastcheap^ 

Hostess and Doll Tearsheet discaoered, seated* 

Host, V faith, sweet heart, methinks, now you are 
in an excellent good temperality ; your pulsidge beats 
as extraordinarily as heart would deure: and your 
colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose : But, 
i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries. How do 
you now f 

DoL Better than I was. Hem. 

Host, Why, that was well said; A good heart's 
worth gold. L0| here comes Sir John I 

Enter Falstaff, with a jug of sack. 

Fal. When Arthur first in court — Why, Hostess,—- 
and was a worthy Amg, — How now, mistress Doll } 

Host. Sick of a calm : yea, good sooth. 

Fal. So is all her sect; if they be once in a calm, 
they are sick. 

DoL You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort 
you give me ? 

Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you 
two never meet but you fall to some discord : you are 
both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two* dry toasts ; 
you cannot one bear with another's confirmities. 
What the good-year! one must bear, and that must 
be you : you are the weaker vessel, as they sav, the 
emptier vessel. (To Doll. 

Dot, Come^ 111 be friends with thee, Jack ; thou 



SCENE H.] THE SXCOKD ^ART. 25 

art going to die wars ; and whether I shall ever see 
thee agaio, or no, there is nobody cares. 

Enter Page. ^ 

Page. Sir, Ancient Pistors below, and yfbuld speak 
with you. 

Dol, Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not 
come hither : it is the foul-raouth'dst rogue in £og- 
laDd. 

Hott. If he swagger, let him not come here: no, 
by my faith; I must live amongst my neighbours; 
ril no swaggerers: I am in good name and fame 
with the very best : — Shut the door ; — there comes no 
swaggerers here: I have not liv!d all this while to 
have swaggering now ; — shut the door, 1 pray you. 
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hostess ? 
Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, Sir John ; there 
comes no swaggerers here. 
Fal. Dost to^u hear ? it is mine ancient. 
Host. Tilly (ally. Sir John, ne'er tell me ; your an- 
cient swaggerer comes not in my doo'rs. I was before 
Master Tisick, the deputy, t'other day: and, as he 
said to me, — ^it was no longer ago than Wednesday 
last, — « Neighbour Quickly, says he," — Master Dumb, 
our minister, was by then; — ^ Neighbour Quickly," 
says he, ^* receive those that are civil ;" for, said he, 
"you are in an ill name;" — now he said so, I can tell 
whereupon ; for, says he, ^* you are an honest woman, 
and well thought on ; therefore take heed what guests 
you receive : receive, says he, no swaggering compa* 
nions." — ^There comes none here;— you would bless 
you to hear what he said : — no. Til no swaggerers. 

Fal. He's no swaggerer, Hostess; a tame cheater, he; 

ou may stroke him as gently as a puppy-greyhound ; 

e'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers 

turn back in any show of resistance. — Call him up, 

boy. [Exit Page . 

Hott, Cheater, call you him f I will bar no honest 

D 



I 



25 . KING HENEY IT., [aCTU. 

roan my house, nor no cheater: But I do not love 
swaggering ; by my troth, I am the worse, when one 
says — swagger: feel, how I shake; look you, I war- 
rant you. 

Dol, So you do. Hostess. 

Host. Do 1 ? yea, in very truth, do I, an't were au 
aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers. 

Enter Pistol, BAaDOLPH, and Page. 

Pist, 'Save you, Sir John ! 

Fed. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I 
charge you with a cup of sack : do you discharge 
upon mine Hostess. 

Host, ril drink no more than will do me good, for 
no man's pleasure, I. 

Pist. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy ; I will charge 
you. 

DoL Charge me? 1 scorn you, scurvy companion^ 
What ! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen 
mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away ! I am meat 
for your master. v 

Pist. I know you. Mistress Dorothy. 

DoL Away, you cut-purse rascal 1 Away, you bot- 
tle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you !— 
Since when, I pray you, sir ? — 

Pist, I will murder your ruff for this. 

Fal. No more. Pistol ; 1 would not have you go off 
here : discharge yourself of our company. Pistol. 

Hosi^. No, good Captain Pistol ; not here, sweet 
.Captain. 

, DoL Captain ! thou abominable cheater, art thoi| 
not asham'd to be called — Captain? If Captains were 
of my mind, they woultf truncheon you out, for tak- 
ing their names upon you before you have earn'd 
them. You a Captain! for what? 

Bard, Pray thee, go down, good ancient. 

Pist. l'i\ see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damned 
lake, to the infer-nfil deep, with Erebus and tortures 

4 ■ 



SCXK£ M.] THE SECOND PARt. 27 

vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down! Do^^D, 
^ogs! down faitorsl Have we not Hiren here? 

Host, Good Captain, be quiet; it is very late; I 
beseek you now, aggravate your choler. 
' Pist. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall 

])ack-horses, 
And hollow'pamper'd jades of Asia, 
Which cannot go but thirty mile a day. 
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, 
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with 
King Ctrberus; and let the welkin roar. — 
Shall we fall foul for toys ? 

' Host, By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter 
vords. — I pray be quiet. 

Pist^ Feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis ; 
Come, give's some sack. 

— Si fortuna me lormcnta, sperato me contenta. — 
Fear we broad-sides ? no, let the fiend give fire : 
Give me some siack. 

Fal, Pistol, I would be quiet. 

Pist, Sweet Knight, 1 kiss thy neif: What! wc 
have seen the seven stars. 

Dot. Thrust him down stairs ; I cannot endure 
such a fustian rascal. 

Pist, Thrust him down stairs I know we not Gal- 
loway nags ? 

TaL Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat 
shilling : liay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he 
shall be nothing here. 

Bard, Cbme, get you down stairs. 

Pist. What ! shall we have incision ? shall we im- 
brew ? — Then death 

Eock me asleep, abridge my doleful days ! 
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds 
Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say ! 

[Draxcirtg his Sword, 

Fal, Give me my rapier, boy. 

Dol, Ipray thee. Jack, I pray thee, do ndt draw; 

d2 



528 KINO HENRY IV. [aCT II. 

Fal. Get you down stairs. 

[Falstaff, Bardolph, and Page, drixie 
PisroLOf^. 
Host. Here's a goodly tumult ! I'll forswear keep- 
ing house, afore I'll b« in these tirrits and frights. So; 
inurder, I warrant now. 

Enter Falstaff. 

Fal, A rascal ! to brave me ! 

DoL Ah, you sweet rogue, you ! — Thou art as va- 
lorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnoby 
and ten times better than the nine worthies. 

Fal, Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging 
slave ! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver. 

DoL When wilt thou leave fighting, and begin to 
patch up thine old body for heaven? 

EfUery behind^ Henry, Prince of WAL£s,aitd Poxns, 

disguised like Drawers. 

Fal. Peace, good Doll ! do not speak like a death's 
head ; do not bid me remember mine end. 

Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the Prince of? 

Fal, A good shallow young fellows he would have 
made a good pantler, he would have chipped bread 
well. 

DoL They say, Poins has a good wit. 

Fal, He a good wit? hang him, baboon! — his wit 
is as thick as Tewksbury mustard ; there is no more 
conceit in him than is in a mallet. 

DoL Why dotL-the prince love him so then ? 

Fal, Because their legs are both of a bigness ; and 
he plays at quoits well ; and drinks off candles' ends 
for flap-dragons; and jumps upon joint-stools; and 
swears with a good grace ; and such other gambol fa* 
culties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able 
body, for the which the prince admits him ; for the 
prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair 
will turn the scales between their avoirdupois* 



aCEHK II.] THE SECOND PA Rf, 29 

P. Hfn. Woiild not this nave of a wheel have his 
ear* cut off? * 

Poins. Let's beat him before his wench. 

P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath not his 
poll clawed like a parrot. 

Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. 

DoL Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most constant 
heart. 

FaL I am old, I am dd. 

Dol, I love thee belter than I love e'er a scurvy 
young boy of them all. 

FaL What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall re^ 
ceive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap to- 
morrow, — ^Thou'lt forget me, when I am gone. 

DoL By my troth, thoult set me a weeping, an 
thou say'st so: prove that ever I dress myself hand- 
some till thy return, — Well, hearken the end. 

Fat, Some sack, Francis. 

P. Hen, Polns. Anon, anon, sir. 

FaL Ha ! a bastard son of the king's? — and art not 
thou Poins, his brother ? 

P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what 
a life dost thou, lead? 

FaL A better than thou ; I am a gentleman, thou 
art a drawer. 

P. Hen. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you' 
oiit by the cars. [They throw offiheir Disguises. 

Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! wel- 
come to London. — Now Heaven bless that sweet face 
of thine! what, are you come from Wales ! 

• FaL Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, — 
by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art v\rel* 
come. [Leaning his hand vpon DolL 

DoL How you fat fool, I scorn you ! 

Poins, My lord, he will drive you out of your re- 
venge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not 
the heat. 

P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how 

d3 



30 KIVG HEKRT !▼• [aCT If. 

vilely did yoa speak of me even now, before this 
honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman ! 

Host. 'Blessing o' your good heart ! and so she is, 
by my troth. 

Jo/. Didst thou hear me? 

P. Hen, Yes; and you knew me, as you did when 
you ran away by Gads'Hili : you knew I was at your 
back ; and spoke it on purpose, to try my patience. 

Fal* No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou 
wast within bearing. 

P* Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful 
abuse ; and then I know how to handle you. 

Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse. 

P. Hen. No? to dispraise me; and call me 

pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what? 

Fal. No abuse, Hal. 

Poins. No abuse ? 

Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, 
none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the 
wicked might not fall in love with him : — in which 
doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a 
true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for 
it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; — no, boys, 
none. 

P. Hen, See now, whether pure fear, and entire 
cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous 
gentlewoman to close with us ? Is she of the wicked ? 
Is thine hostess here of the wicked ? 

Pom. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 

[J laud knocking wkhauU 

Fal. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the 
door there. Hostess. 

Enter Gower* 

P. Hen. Gower, how now ? what news ? 

Goto. The king your father is at Westminster: 
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts. 
Come from the north : and as I came along. 



»C£K£ II.] TJHl SACOVD MAT* 31 

I mety and ovenook, a dozen captains. 
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns. 
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. 

P. Hen, By Heaven^ Poins, I feel me much to 
blame, . 
So idly to profane the precious time ; 
When tempest of commotion, like the south 
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt, 
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. 
Give me my sword, and cloak : — Falstaff, good night, 
[Exeunt the Prince, Poins, and Gowek, 

Tal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, 
and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. 

[More knocking at the door toithout. 
More knocking at the door ? — How now ? what's thQ 
matter ? 

Enter Bardolph. 

Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently ; a 
dozen captains stay at door for you. 

[Exit BARBOLtH, 

fal. Farewell, Hostess; — farewell, Doll. — You see, 
my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after : 
the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is 
called on. Farewell, good wenches :-^If I be not 
sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. 

Dot. 1 cannot speak : — If my heart be not ready to 
burst, — Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself 

Ffl/, Farewell, farewell. [Exit Falstaff 

Bard, [Witlm^ .Mistress Tearsheet, 

Moft. What's the matter ? 

Bard, Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master* 

Ho8t, O run, Doll, run ; run^ good Doll. 

[Exeunt, 



52 K1»0 HEITBY IV. [aCT lit. 



ACT THE THIRD. 



SCENE I. 



Justice Shallow^s Seat in Gloster shire. 

Enter Shallow, meeting Silence. 

Shtd, Come on, come on, come on ; give me your 
hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by 
the rood ! And how doth my good cousin Silence? 

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 

Skal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? 
and your fairest daughter, and Jinine, my god-daughter 
Ellen? 

SiL Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. 

Shal, By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin 
William is become a good scholar : he is at Oxford 
still, is he not? 

Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost. 

Shal. He must then to the inns of court shortly : I 
was once of Clement's Inn ; where, I think, they will 
tfilk of mad Shallow yet. 

Sil. You were called — lusty Shallow, then^ cousin. 

Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing ; and I 
>vou)d have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. 
There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, 
^d Black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and 
Will Squele a Cotswold man, — ^you had not four such 
swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again : and 
I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas 
were; and had the best of them all at commandment. 



fiCEVJB I.] TH£ SECOKB P411T. 33 

Then was Jack Fal$taff, ^jiow Sir John, a boy; and 
page to Thomas Mowb/ay^ Duke of Norfolk. 

8iL This Sir John^ cousin, that comes hither anon 
about soldiers ? 

Shal. The same Sir John ; the very same. I saw 
him break Skogan's head at the court gate, when he 
was a crack, not thus high : and the very same day I 
did fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, be« 
hind Gray's Inn« O, the road days that I have spent ! 
and to see how many of my old acquaintance are 
dead ! 

Sil. We shall all follow, cousin* 

iShal. Certain, 'tis certain ; very sure : very sure : 
death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all shall 
die. How a good yoke of bullocks, at Stamford fair ? 

Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there. 

Skal^ Death is certain. — Is old Double of your 
town living yet ? 

SiL Des^, sir. 

Shai* Dead! — See, see!— *>he drew a good bow ;-*• 
And dead ! — he shot a fine shoot i — ^John of Gaunt 
lov'd him well, and betted much money on his head. 
Dead! — he would have clapp'd i' the clout at twelve 
score : and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen, 
and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a 
man's heart good to see.-^How a score of ewes now ? 

SiL Thereafter as they be : a score of good ewes 
may be worth ten pounds, 

Sikql. And is old Double dead ! 

Sii. Here come two of Sir John FalstaiTs men, as 
I think. 

Enter Davy, Bardolph and Pao£. 

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen : I beseech 
you, which is Justice Shallow ? 

SkaL I am Robert Shallow, sir ; a poor esquire of 
this county, and oi>e of the king's justices of the 
peace; what is your good pleasure with me? 



34 KIKG HENRY IV." [a^T III. 

Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you ; my 
captain, Sir John Palstaff: a tall gentleman, and a 
most gallant leader. 

ShaL Hv greets me well, sir; I knew him a good 
back-sword roan: how doth the good knight? may 1 
ask, how my lady his wife doth ? 

Bard, Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommo- 
dated, than with a wife. 

' SAaL It is well said, i' faith, sir; and it is well said 
indeed too. Better accommodated ! — it is good ; yea; 
indeed, is it : good phrases are surely, and ever were, 
very commendable. Accommodated ! — it comes of 
ttceommodo : very good ; a good phrase. 

Bard. Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase^ 
call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase: but 
I will maintain the word with my sword, to be a sol- 
dlier-Iike word, and a word of exceeding good com- 
mand. Accommodated, — that is, when a man is, ai 
they say, accommodated ; or when a man is, — being 
— whereby, — he may be thought to be accommo- 
dated ; which is an excellent thing. 

iShal. It is very just: — Look, here comes good Sir 
John.— — 

Enter Falstafp. 

Give me your good hand, give me your worship's 
good hand : by my troth, you look well, and bear 
your years very well : welcome, good Sir John. 

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master 
Robert Shallow ; — master Sure-card, as I think. 

Shal. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in 
commission with mc. 

Fal, Good master Silence, it well befits you should 
be of the peace. 

Sil. Your good worship is welcome. 

Fal, Fie! this is hot weather. — Gentlemen, have 
you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men ? 



SPI^NS I^] TH« SECOND PART. 35 

SJlii/. Marry^ have we, sir. \yillyousit? 
JW. Let me see them^ I beseech you. [Thry sit. 
Shed. Where's the roll? where's ihe roll? where* 
the roll ? — Let me see, let me s^e, let me see. So, so, 
so, so : Yea, marry, sir: — Ralph Mouldy ! — let them 
appear as I call ; — [Exit Davy.] iet them do so, let 
them do so. — Let me see ; — Where is Mouldy ? 

Enter Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and 
BuLLCALF, as thei/ are called. 

JdtmU Here, an't please you. 

Shal. What think you, Sir John ? a good limbed' 
fellow : young, strong, and of good friends. 

ilo/. Is thy name Mouldy } 

Moul, Yea, an't please you. 

FaL Tis the more time thou wert used. 

Shot* Ha ! ha ! ha ! most excellent, iTaith ! things 
that are mouldy, lack use : very singular good ! — 
Well, said, Sir John ; very well said. 

Ttd* Prick him. 

Moul. My old dame will be undone now, for one 
to do her husbandry, and her drudgery : you need not*, 
to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go 
out than L 

Shal. Peace, fellow, peace ; stand aside ; know you 
where you are ?-^For the other. Sir John : — lei me 
see ; — Simon Shadow ! 

Fal. Ay marry, let me have him to sit under : he's 
like to be a cold soldier. 

iS^a/. Where's. Shadow! 

Shad. Here, sir* 

Fal:- Shadow, whose son art thou ? 

Shadj, My mother's son, sir. » 

Fal. Thy mother's son ! like enough ; and thy fa- 
theifs shadow : so the son of the female is the shadow 
of the male : it is often so, indeed ; but not much of 
the father's substance. 

Shai. Do you like him. Sir John ? 



d6 KIl^O HEN AT IV* [act III. 

Fal. Shadow will serve for hummer,— ^rick' him; 
— for we have a number of shadows to fill up ibe 
muster-book. 

Skai. Thomas Wanl 

Fal. Where's he? 

Wart. Here, sir. 

Fal, Is thy name Wart f 

Wart. Yea, sir. 

Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart* 

Skal. Shall I prick him, Sir John ? 

F(d. It were superfluous ; for his apparel is built 
upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins: 
prick him no more. 

Shal. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — ^you can do it, sir; you can 
do it : I commend you well. — Francis Feeble ! 

Feeble. Here, sir. 

Fal. What trade art thou. Feeble I 

Feeble. A tailor, sir. 

Fal. Well said, tailor } well said, most forcible 
Feeble I Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove, 
or most magnanimous mouse. — Prick him, master 
Shallow. — Who is next? 

SM. Peter Bullcdf of the green ! 

FaL Yea, marry, let us see BuUcalf. 

Bull. Here, sir. 

Fal. Trust me, a likely fellow I — Come, prick me 
Bullcalf, till he roar again. 

BuU, O lord! — good my lord captain. — 

Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked? 

Bull. O lord, sir ! I am a diseased man. 

Fal. What disease hast thou ? 

Bull. A whoreson cold, sir ; a cough, sir ; which I 
caught with ringing in the king's afiairs, upon his co- 
ronation day, sir. 

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown ; 
we will have away thy cold ; and I will take such or- 
der, that thy friends shall ring for thee. — Is here all ? 
Shal. There is one more called than your number^ 



SCENBI.] THK SECOND PART* 37 

you must hftve but four kere, sir; — and so, I pt&y 
you, go hi ^«ith ait to dinner. [They rise^ 

Fal, Come^ I will go drink with you^ but I cannot 
tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good troth, 
Master Shallow. 

Skai. Oh, Sir John, do you remember since, we lay 
all night in the windmill, in St. George's Fields? 

FaL No more of that, good Master Shallow, no 
more of that. 

Shal, Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane 
Night work alive? 

JPa/. She lives, Master Shallow. 

Shed, She could never away with me. 

jFo/. Never, never: she would always say, she 
could not abide Master Shallow. 

Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. 
She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own 
well? 

jPoZ. Old, old. Master Shallow. 

ShaL Nay, she must be old : she cannot chuse but 
be old ; certain, she's old ; and had Robin Night- 
work by old Nightwork, before I came to Clement't 
Inn. 

SU, That's fifty-five years ago. 

Shal. fla, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that 
that this knight and I have seen! — Ha, Sir John, said 
I well? 

Fal. We have heard the chim^ at midnight^ Mas- 
ter Shallow. 

Sftal, That we liaive, that we bave, (hat we have ; 
in faith, Sir John, we have ; our watch-word was^ 
** Hem, boys T-— Come, let's to dinner ; come, let's to 
dinner : — O, the days that vre have seen !--*ComQ 
come. 

[Exeunt Shallow, Falstaff^ Su1£NC2) and 
PaOe. 

Butt. Good- Master Corporate Bardolph, stand mt 
friend ; And here is four Harry ten shillings in Pccncm 

B 



d9 KINO HEMBT IT. [aCT III; 

crowns for you. In very, truth, sir, I bad as lieve be 
banged, sir^ as go t and yet, for mine own part, sir, I 
do not care ; bi|t rather, because I am unwilling, 
and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with mj 
friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so 
much. 

Bard* Go to ; [Takes the Moneiji.] Stand aside. 
. M(n*l* And good Master Corporal Captain, for my 
old dame's sake, stand my friend : she has nobody 
to dp any thing about her, when I am gone ; and she 
is oldy atid cannot help herself: you shall have forty, 
sir. 

Bard. Go to ; [Takes the Money,] Stand aside. 

Feeble, 1 care not ; — a man can die but once ; — w« 
owe Heaven a death ; — Fll ne'er bear a base mind : — 
an't be my destiny, so ; — an't be not, so : no man^s 
too good to serve bis prince ^ and, let it go whiqh way 
it will, he, that dies this year, is quit for the next« 

Bard. Well said ; thouVt a good fellow. 

Feeble, 'Faith, Til bear no base mind. 

Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, tfwrf Page. 

Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have } 

ShaL Four, of which you please. 

Bard. Sir, a word with you : — I have three pouiidje. 
to free Mouldy and Bullcalf. 

Fal. Go to; well. 

Shnl. Come, Sir John, which four will you have ? 

FaU Do you chuse for me. 

Sbal. Marry, then, — Mouldy^ Bullcalf, Feeble, 
and Shadow. 

Fal. Mouldy, and Bullcalf! — For you, Mouldy, 
•tay at hpme still ; you are past service : — and, for 
your part, Bullcalf, — grow till you come unto it ; I 
will ^one of you. . 

^ Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong ; 
they are your likeliest meO| and I would have you 
served with the best* 



8CSNS I.] THl SECOl^D f A^t/ 39 

Fal, Will you tell roe, Master Shallow, how to 
tliuse a man ? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the 
stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man ? Give 
me the spirit. Master Shallow. — Here's Wart ; — you 
see what a ragged appearance it is : he shall charge 
you, and discharge you, with the motion of a pew- 
terer's hammer; come off, and on, swifter than he 
that gibbets on the brewer^s bucket. And this same 
half-faced fellow. Shadow, — give me this man ; he 
presents no mark to -the enemy ; the foe-man may 
with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife : 
And, for a retreat, — how swiftly will this Feeble, the 
tailor, run off! Oh, give me the spare men, and spare 
ihe the great ones. — Put me a caliver into Feeble's 
liand^ Bardolph. 

Bard, Hold, Feeble, traverse ; thus, thus, thus. 

FaL Come, manage me your caliver. So : — veiy 
well : — go to: — very good : — exceeding good. — Ob, 
give me always a little, lean, old, chopped, bald shot ! 
—Well said, Feeble. 

Shal. He is not his craftVmaster, he doth not do it 
right. I remember, at Mile-end Oreen, when I lay at 
Clement's Inn, (I was then Sir Dagonet, in Arthur's 
ehow,) there was a little quiver fellow, and 'a would 
manage you his piece thus : and 'a would about, and 
about, and come you in, and come you in : rah, tab, 
tah, would'asay ; beunce, would 'a say; and away 
agun would 'a go, and again would 'a come ; — I shall 
never see such a fellow. 

FaL These fellows will do well, Master Shallows- 
Heaven keep you, Master Silence ; I will not use 
many words with you : — Fare you well, gentlemen 
both : I thank you : I must a dozen mile lo-night.— * 
Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. 

Shal, Sir John, Heaven bless you, and -prosper your 
affairs, and send us peace! As you return, visit my 
house ; let our old acquaintance be renewed : perad-» 
Venture, I will with you to the court. 

H 2 



40 KiKG «Bir&T IV. [aOT III* 

T^L I would you would, Master Shallow. 
Shal. Go to ; I have spoke, at a wprd. Fare you 
well* 

[ExewU Shallow, Silekcx, Mpuldy, iad 

BULLCALF. 

jFa/. Fare you well, gentle gentlemep.-^Oo, Bar- 
dolph ; lead the men away. [Exeunt Bai^JEK>lp«, Re- 
cruits, (md Pagr.] I do see the ^bottom of. Justice 
Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are 
to this vice of lying I This same' starved justice hath 
done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his 
youth, and the feats he hath done about TurnbuU 
Street ; and every third word a lie, dujer paid to the 
hearer than the Turk's tribute* I do rem^nber him 
at Clement's Inn, like a man made, after supper, of a 
cheese-paring : when he was naked, he was for all the 
world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically 
carved upon it with a knife : he was so forlorn, that 
bis dimensions to any thick sight were invisible : he 
was the very genius of famine : — And now is this 
vice's dagger become a 'squire ; and talks as famili« 
arly of John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn bro- 
ther to him : and I'll be sworn he never saw him but 
OQoe, in the Tilt Yard ; and then he burst his head, 
for crowding among the marshall's men. I saw it ; 
and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name : for 
you might have trussed him, and all his apparel, into 
an eel-skin ; the case of a treble hautboy was a man- 
sion for him, a court : and now has he land and 
beeves. Well ; I will be acquainted with him, if I 
return : and it shall go hard, but I will make him a 
philosopher's stone to me : If the young dace be^ 
bait for the old pike, J see no reason, in the law of 
nature, but I may snap at him. Let tiooie shape, and 
there an end. [£^, 



$CtNB UJ] THS SieOlTD VAKT,- 4% 



•ClNl TI, 



J Forest in Yorkshire. 



t A March-^then a Parley. 

f,nter the Archbishop of York, Mowbray, 
Hastings, and ^tker Gentlemen, meeting 
Westmoreland, Gower, on^^ o^^er Gentl£« 

MSM. 

West, Health and fair greeting froip our general, 
The Prince^ Lord John of Lancaster. 

Archb. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, ia 
peace ; 
What doth concern your coming ? 

West. Then, my lord, 
Unto your grace do I in chief address 
The substance of my speech. If that rebelliou 
Came like itself, in base and abject routs, 
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage. 
And countenanc'd by boys, and beggary ; 
I say, if damn'd commotion so appeared. 
In his true, native, and most proper shape. 
You, reverend father, and these noble lords, 
Had not been here, to dress the ugly form 
Of base and bloody insurrection 
With your fair honours. You, Lord Archbishop, — 
Whose see is by a civil peace, maintained ; 
Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored { 
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself 
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace^. 
Into the hitrsh and boist'rous tongue of war { 

£3 



4t KIHO BBSTRT XV. [aCT til* 

Archb, I bave in equal balance jnstly weigb'd 
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we 

suffer. 
And find our griefii heavier than our offences. 
We bave the summary of all our griefs, 
When time shall serve, to show in articles, 
Which, long ere this, we offer'd to the king, 
And might by no suit gain our audience : 
When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our griefs. 
We are den/d access unto his person 
Even by those men, that most have done us wrong. 

We9t. When ever yet was your appeal deny'd i 
Wherein have you been galled by the king ? 
Here come I from our princely general, 
To know your griefs : to tell you from his grace. 
That he will give you audience : and wherein 
It shall appear that your demands are just. 
You shall enjoy them ; every thing set off. 
That might so much as think you enemies. 

Mawb. But he hath forc'd us to coropell this offer ; 
And it proceeds from policy, not love. 

West. Mowbray, you over-ween, to take it so ; 
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear. 
For, lo ! within a ken, our army lies ; 
Upon mine honour, all too confident 
To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
Our battle is more full of names than yours. 
Our men more perfect in the use of arms, 
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ; 
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good : — 
Say you not then, our offer is compell'd. 

Mcnsb, Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley. 
West. That argues but the shame of your offence^ 
Hast. Hath the Prince John a full commission, 
In very ample virtue of his father, 
To hear and absolutely to determine 
Of what conditions we shall stand upon ? 
Weit* That is intended in the general's name: 



SCXKZ II.] THS SECOVD PAET. 4$ 

I muse, you make so sligkt a qoMtion. 
^rchb. Then take, my Lord of Westmorelandy this 
schedule ; 
For this contains our general grievances :•— 
Each several article herein redress'd; 
All members of our cause, both here and hence. 
That are insinew'd to this action. 
Acquitted by a true substantial form; 
And present execution of our wills 
To us, and to our purposes, consigned ; 
We come within our awful banks again. 
And knit our powers to the arm of peace. 
JVest. This will I show the general. Please you^ 
lords, 
In sight of both our battles we may meet : 
And either end in peace, — which Heaven so frame l-« 
Or to the place of difference call the swords, 
Which must decide it. 
Archb. My lord, we will do so. 

[Trumpets sound.-^^-^ Exeunt Westmo&elakd, 
Gow£R, and other Gektlemen. 
Mowh, There is a thing within my bosom, tells me^ 
That no conditions of our peace can stand. 
Hast. Fear you not that : if we can make o\\t 
peace 
Upon such large terms, and so absolute, 
As our conditions shall consist upon. 
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountainv 

Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such, 
That every slight and false-derived cause. 
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, 
Shall to the king, taste of this action ! 
That were our royal faiths martyrs in love. 
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind. 
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, 
And good from bad find no partition. 
Archb. No, no, my lord ; Note this, — the king {§ 
- weary 



44 KIKG HEKRT !▼• (aCT III, 

Of dainty and such picking grievances 2 
His foes are so enrooted with his friends, 
That, plucking to unfix an enemy, 
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend. 

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods 
On late offenders, that he now doth lack 
The very instruments of chastisement : 
So that his power, like to a fangless lion^ 
May offer, but not hold. 

Archh, TTis very true ; — 
And therefore be assur'd, my good Lord Marshal^ 
If we do now make our atonement well, 
Qur peace will, like a broken limb united, 
Grow stronger for the breaking. 

Mowb. Be it so. 

[Trumpets 9ound a Farley. "] 
Here is retum'd my Lord of Westmoreland. 

Enter Westmoreland. 

West, The prince is here at hand : Pleascth youy 
lordship, 
f o meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies ? 
Archb. Before, and greet his grace : — my lord, w« 
come. 
\Tlourish of Trumpets (ind Drums. — Exeuni 
Westmoreland, the Archbishop, 
Mowbray, Hastings, one/ MefrPm^(/& 






S.e£N£ III.] THE J5ECOKD PART* 41 



SCENE III. 



Another Pari of the Forest. 

Trumpets sound a Parley » 

Enter on one Side, the Archbishop, Mowbrat, 
Hastings, and Other Gentlemen i^^rom the 
other Side, Prince John of Lancaster, West- 
moreland, GowER, Gentlemen, and Guards. 

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cou- 
sin Mowbray: — 
Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop; 
And so to you, Lord Hastings, — and to all. — 
My Lord of York, it better show'd with you, 
When that your flock, assembled by the bell, 
Encircled you to hear with reverence 
Your exposition on the holy text ; 
Than now to see you here, an iron man. 
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, 
Turning the word to sword, and life to death. 

Archb, My Lord of Lancaster, I sent your grace 
The parcels and particulars of our grief; 
The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the 

court ; 
Whereon this Hydra son of war is bom : 
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep, 
With graiiit of our most just and right desires. 

Mowb, If not, we ready are to try our fortunes 
To the last man. 

West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them di- 
rectly, 
How far forth you do like their articles ? 



4^ SIKG HBKRY IV. [aCT III. 

P. John, I like them all , and do allow them well; 
And swear here by the honour of my blood. 
My father's purposes have been mistook ; 
And some about him have too lavishly 
Wrested his meaning, and authority.— 
My lordy these griefe shall be with speed redressM. 

fVest, If this may please you. 
Discharge your powers unto their several counties, 
As we will ours: and here, between the armies, 
Let us embrace ; 

That all their eyes may bear those tokens home, 
Of our restored love and amity. 

Archb. I take your princely word for these re^- 
dresses. 

P. Jchfi, I give it you, and will maintain my word. 

Hast, Go, gentlemen, deliver to the army 
This news of peace ; let them have pay, and part : 
I know,it will well please them. [£j:ettff^GENTLEMBK. 

West. I have bestowM great pains to breed this 
peace. 
My Lord Archbishop: but my love to you 
Shall show itself more openly hereafter. 

Archb, I do not doubt you. 

[Tloumh of Trumpets and Drtms.'] 

P. John. The word of peace is render'd ; hark^ 
their drums ! 

Mom. This had been cheerful, after victory. 

Arehh. A peace is of the nature of a conquest \ 
For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, 
And neither par ty^ loser. 

P. John. Go, my lord, 
And let our army be discharged too. 

[Exit W£STMORELANn« 

And, good my lord, so please you, let our traii^s 
March by us ; that we may peruse the men 
We should h^ve cop'd withal. 



IC£H£ III.] THE SECOND PAAT. 47 

Archb, Goy good Lord Hastings, 
Andy ere they be dismis:i'd^ let them march by. 

[Exit Hastings. 

Enter Westmokelamd. 

P. John. Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army 

still f 
West, The leaders, having charge from you t9 
stand, 
Will not go off until they hear you speak. 
P. John. They know thtir duties. 

Enter Hastings. 

East. My lord, our army is dispeiVd already : 
Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses 
East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, 
Each hurries towards his home, and sporting place. 
West. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings ; for tha 
which 
Ido arrest thee, traitor, of high treason : — 
And you. Lord Archbishop, — and you, Lord Mow- 
bray, — 
Qf capital treason I attach you both. 

[The Guards surroundy and disarm thtm. 
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable i 
Archb* Will you thus break your faith i 
P. John. I pawn'd thee none ; 
1 promised you redress of these same grievances, 
Whereof you did complain ; which, by mine honour, 
I will perform with a most christian care. 
But, for you, rebels, — look to taste the due 
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. 
Some guard thes^ traitors to the block of death ; 
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. 
[Flourish qf Trumpets and Drums. — Exeunt the 
Archbishop, Mowbray, and HastinoSi 
guarded bt/ GoYi^K,Gs,iiTLKU^^y and Soi^- 
Disas*. 



4S KlKa HENRY IV. [aCT III. 

Enter Falstaff. 

P. John. Naw, Falstaff, where have you 4>een all 
this while ? 
When every thing is ended, then you come: — 
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, 
One time or other break some gallows' back. 

Fal, I would be sorry, my lord, but it should' be 
thus: I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was 
the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, 
an arrow, or a bullet ? I have speeded hither with the 
very extremest inch of possibility ; and travel-tainted 
as 1 am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, tak- 
en Sir John Coleviie, of the dale, a roost furious 
knight, and valorous enemy : But what of that, he 
saw me, and yielded ; that I may justly say with the 

hook-nos'd fellow of Rome, 1 came, saw, and 

overcame. 

P. John, It was more of his courtesy than your de- 
serving. — 
And now despatch we toward the court, my lords ; 
I hear, the king my father is sore sick : 
Our news shall go before us to his majesty, — 
Which, cousin, you shall bear, — to comfort him ; 
And we with sober speed will follow you. 

[Exewit Westmoreland, and Geittlemek. 

Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give mo leave to go 
through Glostershire : and, when you come to court, 
stand, my good lord, 'pray, in your good report. 

P. John. Fdre you well, Falstaff: I, in my condi- 
tion. 
Shall better speak of you than you deserve. 

[Flourish rf Trumpets and Drums. — Exeunt Prikck 
John, Gentlemen, and Guards. 

Fal. I would, you had but the wit; 'twere belter 
than your dukedom. — Good faith, this same young 
sober-blooded boy doth not love me ; nor a man can- 
not make him laugh ;— but that's no marvel, he drinks 



8CEK£ III.] THE SECOITO PABT. 49 

no wine. There's never any of these demure boys 
come to any proof : for thin drink doth so overcool 
their blood, and making many hsh meals, that they 
fall into a kind of male green-sickness ; and then, 
when they marry, they get wenches : they are gene- 
rally fools and cowards; — which some of os should 
be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack 
hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into 
the brain ; dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and 
crudy vapours which environ it : makes it apprehen- 
sive, quick, forgettive, full of nimble, dry, and delec- 
table shapes ; which delivered o'er to the voice, (the 
tongue,) which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. 
The second property of your excellent sherris is, — the 
warming of the blood ; which, before cold and set- 
tled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge 
of pusilanimity and cowardice : but the sherris warms 
it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts 
extreme.- It illumineth the face : which, as a beacon, 
gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, 
man, to arm : and then the vital commoners, and in- 
land petty spirits, muster me all to their captain, the 
heart ; who, great and puffed up with this retinue, 
doth any deed of courage; and this valour comes of 
sherris : so that skill in the weapon is nothing, with- 
out sack ; for that sets it a-work : and learning, a 
mere hoard of gold kept by a devil : till sack com- 
mences it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes 
it, that Prince Harry is valiant : for the cold blood 
he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like 
lean, steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and 
tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and 
good store of fertile sherris ; that he is become very 
hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first 
human principle I would teach them, should be, — 
to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves 
to sack. 



50 KINO HEiraT IT. [act 1V« 

Enter Bardolph. 

How now, Bardolph ? 

Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone. 

FtU. Let them go. Fll through Glostershire ; and 
there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire : I 
have him already tempering between my finger and 
my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come 
away. lExemii^ 



ACT THE FOURTH. 



SCENE I. 



The King's Apartments.^ 

King Hknky, and Two Pages in waitings discovered. 

K. Hen* Who of you wait ? 

1 Page, We are here, my gracious liege. 

K. Hen. Come nearer. — Is ray son of Gloster, Hum* 
phrey. 
Yet gone to rest ? 

2 tage. Not yet, my liege ; even now 

He parted hence, with prayers for your recovery, 
K, Hen. Seek him, and bring him to us. 
2 Page. We shall, my liege. [Exeunt Pages. 

K. Hen. How many thousand of my poorest sub- 
jects 
Arc at this hour asleep ! — Sleep, gentle sleep. 
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 



iCZVB X.] tHE SBCOKD PAKT. 51 

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down^ 

And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, 

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 

Under the canopies of costly state. 

And luH'd with sounds of sweetest melody f 

Oh, thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, 

In loathsome beds,—- and leav'st the kingly couch, 

A watch-case, or a common larum-bell i 

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 

Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 

In cradle of the rude imperious surge, -^ 

And in the visitation of the winds, 

Who take the ruffian billows by the top. 

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 

With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, 

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes, — 

Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose 

To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,— r 

And^ in the calmest, and most stillest night. 

With all appliances and means to boot. 

Deny it to a king ? — ^Then, happy, low, lie down : 

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 

Enter Prince Humphrey or Gloster, Princs 
Thomas of Clarence, the Lord Chief Jubtice,, 
and the Pages. 

P. Humph. What would your grace ? 
K, Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster. 
Where is the pnnce your brother ? 

P. Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my lord, at 

Windsor. " 
K. Hen. And how accompanied } 
P. Humph. I do not know, my lord. 
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, 

with him ? 

r 2 



52 K1V& BEKRY IV« [aCT IT, 

P. Btmq>h. Koy my good lord ; he is in presence 
here. 

P. Thorn, What would my lord and father ? < 

jr. ifeft. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of 
Clarence. 
How chance, thou art not with the prince thy bro- 
ther ? 
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas ; 
Thou hast a better phice in his affectioQ, 
Than all thy brothers : cherish it, my boy : 
And noble offices thou may's! effect 
Of media tion, after I am dead. 
Between his greatness and thy other brethren • 
Therefore, omit him not; blunt not hb love; 
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace. 
By seeming cold, or careless of his will : 
For be is gracious, if he be observ'd ; 
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity : 
Yet, notwithstanding, being inceiis'd, he's flint; 
As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
As flaws cpngealed in the spring of day. 
His temper, therefore, must be well observed i-^ 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth : 
But, being moody, give him line and scope; 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
Confound themselves with working. Learn this, 

Thomas, 
And thou shah prove a shelter to thy friends ; 
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ; 
That the united vessel of their blood, 
Mingled with venom of suggestion, 
(As force perforce, the age will pour it in,) 
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder. 

P. Thorn. I shall observe him with all caie and 
love. 



/. 



SC£KE I.] THE SECOND PART. 53 

K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, 
Thomas ? 

P. Thorn, He is not there to day; he dines in Lon« 
don. 

K. Hen. And how accompanied ? 

P. Thorn, With Poins, and other his continual fol- 
lowers. 

K, Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds 2 
And he, the noble image of my youth, 
is overspread with them : Therefore my grief 
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death ; 
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape^ 
In forms imaginary, the unguided days, 
And rotten times, that you shall look upon 
When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 

Ch. Just, My gracious lord, you look beyond him 
quite : — 
The prince but studies his companions. 
Like a strange tongue : wherein, to gain the language^ 
Tis needful, that the most immodest word 
Be look'd upon and learn'd ; which once attain'd^ 
Comes to no further use, 

But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms^ 
The prince will, in the perfectness of time, 
Cast off his followers : and their memory 
Shall as a pattern or a measure live, 
By which his grace must mete the lives of others ; 
Turning past evils to advantages. 

K. Hen. Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her 
comb 
In the dead carrion* — 

Enter Eael ojt Westmoreland, with Letters. 

Who's here? — Westmoreland f 

West, Health to my sovereign ! and new happiness 
Added to that which I am to deliver ! 
IMnce John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand: 
^Jowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, 

f3 



54 JCING HI^KRT !▼• [aCT IV. 

Are1)rought to the correction of your law; 
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd, 
B^t peace puts forth her olive every where. 
The manner how this action hath boen borne. 
Here, at more leisure, may your highness read ; 
With every course, in his particular. 

K. Hen, O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird^ 
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
The lifting up of day. — 
And wherefore should these good news make me 

sick? 
Will fortune never come with both hands full? 
I should rejoice now at this happy news ; 
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy :>« 
P me ! come near me; now 1 am much ill. 

[Sinks down. 
P. Humph, Comfort, your majesty ! 
P. Thorn. O my royal father ! 
Ch, Just. Be patient, princes ; you do know these 
fits 
Are with his highness very ordinary. 
Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well. 
P. Thorn. No, no ; he cannot long hold out these 

pangs. 
Ch. Just. Speak lower, princes, for the king reco- 
vers. 
Km Hen. I pray you, bear me to my couch, my 
sons. — [They support the King to his Comch. 
Softly, pray.— p" 

Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends ; 
Unless some dull and favourable hand 
Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 

West. Call for the music in the other room. 

[Exeunt Pages. 
Km Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 

[Westmoreland puts the Crown on the Pilhw. 
P. Thorn. His eye is hollow, and be changes much* 
Ch..Just., L^ss noise, less noise. [Mum mthout^ 



8CISE I.] THE 9BC01iD PAHT. 5S 

Enter Henby Prince of Wales. 

P. Hen. Who saw my brother Clarence? 

P. Tkom. I am here, brother. 

P. Hen. How doth the king ? 

P. Humph. Exceeding ill. 

P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet ? 
Tell it him. 

P. Humph. He altered much upon the hearing it. 

West. Not so much noise, my lords : — sweet prince, 
speak low ; 
The king your father is disposed to sleep. 

P. Thiym, Let us withdraw into the other room. 

West. Wiirt please your grace to go along with us ? 

P. Hen. No ; i will sit and watch here by the 
king. — [Exeunt alt but the Prince. 

Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, 
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ? 
polish'd perturbation ; golden care ! 
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night!— sleep with it now! 
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound, 
Snores oUt the watch of night. O majesty 1 
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day. 
That scalds with safety. — By his gates of breath 
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not: 
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
Perforce must move. — My gracious lord! my fa- 
ther ! — 
This sleep is sound, indeed ; this is a sleep, 
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd 
So many English kings. Thy due, from roe, 
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood. 
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plentieously : 
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown ; 



66 KlVfC HEKET IT. [aCT IT. 

Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, 
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, — 

[PtUting it on his Head. 
Which Heaven shall guard: And put the world's 

whole strength 
Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
This lineal honour from me : This from thee 
Will 1 to mine leave, as 'tis left to roe. 

[Exit the Fnnee. 
K. Hen. Westmoreland ! Gloster ! Clarence ! 

Enter ParNCB Thomas, Prince Humphrey, Earl 
OF Westmoreland,. an£{ Pages. 

P. Thorn. Doth the king call ? 

P. Humph. What would your majesty ? How fares 

your grace ? 
K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my 

lords ? 
P. Thorn. We left the prince my brother here, my 
liege, 
Who undertook to sit and watch by you. 
K. Hen. The Prince of Wales ? Where is he ? lei 
. me see him : 
He is not here. 

West. This door is open ; he is gone this way. 
■ P« Humph* He came not through the chamber 
where we stay M. 
K. Hen. Where is the crown ? who took it from 

my pillow ? 
West. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it 

here. 
K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence : — go, seek 
him out. 
Is he so hasty, that he dothsuppose 

My sleep my death ? 

Find him, my Lord of Westmoreland : chide him hi- 
ther. [Exit Westmoreland* 
This part of bis coDJoins with my disease, 

3 



5CSNS T.] THE SECOHD PAET. 57 

And helps to end me. — See, soos, what things you 

are \ 
For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
Have broke their sleeps with thought, their brains 

with care. 
Their bones with industry ; 
For this they have engrossed and pil'd up 
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold : 
For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises ; 
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower 
The virtuous sweets. 
Our thighs with wax, our mouths with honey, 

pack'd. 
We bring it to the hive ; and, like the bees. 
Are murder'd for our pains. 

Enter Eael of Westmoeeland* 

Now where is he that will not stay so long 
Till his. friend sickness hath determined me? 

West, My lord, i found the prince in the next 
room. 
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ; 
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow. 
That tyranny, which never quaff 'd but blood. 
Would 9 by beholding him, have wash'd his knife 
With gentle eye-drops. 

Enter Henet Peince of Wales. 

He is coming hither. 
K, Hen. But wherefore did he take away tha 
crown ?— .■ 
Lo, where he comes. — Come hither to me, Harry : 
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone, 

[Exeunt all but the King and the Prince^ 
P. Hen, I never thought to hear you speak again. 
K, Hen, Thy wish was father, Harry, to that 
thought. 



5S ICING HEJTRY IV. [aCT IV. 

I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 

Dost thou 80 hunger for mine empty chair. 

That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honoun 

Before thy hour be ripe ? 

Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself; 

And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear. 

That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 

Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ; 

For now a time is come to mock at form : 

Harry the fifth is crown'd : — Up, vanity ! 

Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence f 

And to the English court assemble now, 

From every region, apes of idleness ! 

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scuni : 

Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance^ 

Revel the night ; rob, murder, and commit 

The dldest sins the newest kind of ways ? 

Be happy, he will trouble you no more : 

England shall give him office, honour, might; 

For the fifth Harry from curb'd license pfuckt 

The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 

Shall fiesh his tooth in every innocent. 

Oh, my poor kingdom, 

Oh, thou wilt be a wilderness again ! 

Thou foolish youth ! 

Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. 

Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity 

Is held from falling with so weak a wind, 

That it will quickly drop : my day is dim. 

Thou hast stol'n that, ^hich, after some few houn, 

Were thine without offence ; and, at my death, 

Thou hast seal'd up my expectation : 

Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not. 

And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it. 

' P. Hen, Oh, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, 

[Kncelmg* 
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke, 
£re ^ou with grief had spoke, and I had heard 



SCENE I.] THE SKCOND ^AaT. 69 

The course of it so far. There is your crown ; 

And He, that wears the crown immortally, 

Long guard it yours ! 

Heaven witness with me, when I here came in, 

And found no course of breath within your majesty. 

How cold it struck my heart ! if 1 do feign. 

Oh, let me in my present wildness die ; 

And never live to show the incredulous world 

The noble change that I have purposed ! 

Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 

(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 

I spake unto this crown, as having sense. 

And thus upbraided it. *' The care on thee depend^ 

ing, 
Hath fed upon the body o\ my father. 
And eat thy bearer up/' Thus, my most royal liege^ 
Accusing it, I put it on my head ; 
To try with it, — as with an enemy, 
That had before my face murder'd my father,—^ 
The quarrel of a true inheritor : 
But,' if it did infect my blood with joy. 
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, — 
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
Did, with the least aifection of a welcome, 
Give entertainment to the might of it, — 
Let Heaven for ever keep it from my head ! 
And make me as the poorest vassal is, 
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it ! 

K, Hen. O my son, 
Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, 
That thou might'st win the more thy father's love, 
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. — 
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ; 
And hear, I think, tlie very latest counsel 
That ever 1 shall breathe. — 

[The Prince sits by the King. 
Heaven knows my son, 
By what by-paths, aad indirect crook'd ways, 



Go KING HENRT IT. [aCT ir. 

I met this crown ; and I myself know well. 

How troublesome it sat upon my head : 

To thee it shall descend with better quiet, 

Better opinion, better confirmation ; 

For all the soil of the achievement goes 

With me into the earth. It seem'd in me. 

But as an honour snatched with boisterous hand ; 

And I had many living, to upbraid 

My gain of it by their assistances ; 

Which daily grew to quarrel, and to blood shed : 

All these bold fears, 

Thou seest, with peril I have answered : — 

Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, 

Thou art not firm enough, since griefii are green ; 

Therefore, my Harry, 

Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds 

With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne out, 

May waste the memory of the former days. — 

More would I, but my lungs are wasted so. 

That strength of speech is utterly deny'd me. 

How I -came by the crown, O Heaven, forgive ! 

And grant it may with thee in true peace live ! 

P. Hen, My gracious liege, 
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ; 
Then plain, and right, must my possession be : 
Which I, with more than with a common pain, 
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 

Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Prince Hum- 
phrey, Prince Thomas, Earl of Westmore- 
land, and Pages* 

K. Hen, Look, look, here comes my John of Lan- 
caster ! 

P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my 
royal father ! 

K. Hen, Thou bring'st me happiness, and peace, son 
John; 
But health, alack, with youthful wmgs is down 



SCENE I.] THE SECOND PAET. 01 

From this bare, withered trunk : upon thy sight. 

My worldly business makes a period. 

Where is my Lord of Westmoreland ? 
P. Hen. My Lord of Westmoreland, — 
K, Hen. Doth any name particular belong 

Unto the lodging where I first did swoon ? 
West, Tis caird Jerusalem, my noble lord* 
K. Hen. Laud be to Heaven ! — even there my lif« 
must end. 

It hath been prophesy'd to me many years, 

I shoidd not die but in Jerusalem ; 

Which vainly I suppos'd, the Holy Land — 

But, bear me to that chamber; there Til lie; > 

la that Jerusalem shall Harry die. 

[MuMtc vnthout^-^Extunt. 



ACT THE FllfTH. 



SCENE I, 



The Orchard at Shallow's Stat^ in Ghittnhire. 

Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph, and V age* 

Shtd, By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away to- 
night What, Davy, I say ! 

FaL You must excuse me, Master Robert Shal- 
low. 

Shal, I will not excuse you ; you shall not be ex* 
cused ; excuses shall not be admitted i. there is no 



6t XIMO HEKBT IV. £aCT T. 

Excuse shall serve ! you shall not be excused. — Why, 
Davy ! 

Enter Davy. 

Dacy. Here, sir. 

Shtil, Davy, Davy, Davy, — let me see, Davy ; let 
me see : — yea, marry, William cook ; bid him come 
bither. — Sir John, you shall not be excused. 

Davy, Marry, sir, thus ; those precepts cannot be 
served : and, again, sir, — Shall we sow the headland 
with wheat f 

ShaL With red wheat, Davy. But for William 
cook ; Are there no young pigeons ? 

Davy. Yes, sir. Here is now the. smith s note, 

for shoeing, and plough-irons. 

ShaL Let it be cast, and paid : — Sir John,^you shall 
not be excused. — Some pigeons, Davy ; a couple of 
short-legg'd hens ; a joint of mutton ; and any pretty 
little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. 

Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir ? 

Shal. Yes, Davy. I will use him well ; a friend 
i' the court is better than a penny in purse. 

Davy» I beseech you, sir, to countenance William 
Visor, of Woncot, against Clement Perkes, of the 
Hill. 

ShaL There are many complaints, Davy, against 
that Visor ; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my 
knowledge. 

Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a knave, 
sir; but yet. Heaven forbid, sir, but a knave should 
have some countenance at his friend's request. An 
honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a 
knave is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, 
these eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice in a 
quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I 
have but a very little credit with your worship. The 
knave is mine honest friend, sir ; therefore, 1 beseech 
your worsbipi let him be countenanced. 



SCENE i.j THE SECOND PART* 65 

Shal. Go to ; I say, he shall have no wioag. Loolc 
about, Davy. [Exit Davy.] Where are you, Sir 
John ? Come, off with your boots. — Give me your 
hand. Master Bardolph. 

Bard, I am glad to see your worship. 

Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master 
Bardolph : — and welcome, my tall fellow. [To the 
Page.] — Come, Sir John. 

Fal, I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. 
Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt Shallow, 
Bardolph, and Page.] If I were sawed into quan* 
titles, I should make four dozen of such bearded her* 
mit's staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful 
thing, to see thp semblable coherence of his men's spi- 
rits and his : They, by observing him, do bear them-* 
selves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with 
them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man : their 
spirits are so married in conjunction with the parti ci-* 
pation of society, that they flock together in consent^ 
like so many wild-geese. It is certain, that either 
wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, is caught, as men 
take diseases, one of another: therefore, let men take 
heed of their company. I will devise matter enough 
cut of this Shallow, to keep Prince Harry in conti-* 
nuai laughter. Oh, it is much that a lie, with a slight 
oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do with a fely 
low that never had the ache in his shoulders ! Oh, you 
shall see him laugh, till his face be lik^ a wet cloak, 
ill laid up. 

Shal. [fVithin.] Sir John! 

Fal, I come. Master Shallow ; I come, Mastev 
Shallow. 

Enter Four Servaiyts, with TableSy Cups^ Wine^ Ale^ 
SfC, Shallow, Silence, Bardolph, Page, and 
Davt. 

§hal. Nay, Sir John, an you will stay in my qv^ 

g2 



64 &XVO HEVET XT. ' [aCT V. 

chard, liere are seats : — we will eat a last yeat^s pip- 
pin of my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and 
ao forth ; — come, cousin Silence. 

FaL You have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich* 

Shal, Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars 
all. Sir John: — marry, good air. — Spread, Davy, 
spread, Davy: well said, Davy. 

Fal» This Davy serves you for good uses; he is 
your serving«man, and your husband-man. 

Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good 
varlet, Sir John. — By the mass, I have drunk too 

much sack to-day : a good varlet* Now sit down : 

How sit down : come, cousin. 

[They sit^ the Servants waiting. 

• St/. Ah, sirrah ! quoth-a, — we shaA — [<Ssni.gtn^« 

Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer. 
And praise Heaven for the merry year ; 
Whenjlesh is cheap, and females dear^ 
And lusty lads roam here and there, 

So merrily, 

And ever among so merrily , ^c. 

FaL There's a merry heart I — Good Master Si- 
lence, 
111 give you a health for that anon. 

* Shal. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. 
Davy. Sweet sir, sit; — [Bardolph anci Page n'^ 

at another Table.] I'll be with you anon : — most sweet 
sir, sit. — Master Page, good Master Page, sit. [Exit. 
Shal. Be merry, Master Bardolph ;— and my little 
soldier there, be merry. 

Sil. [Singing.] Be merry, be merry, my wife^s as all; 
For women are shrews, both short and tall; 
*Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all. 

And welcome merry shrove^ide* 
Be merry, be merry, fyc. 



SCBNE I.] THE SECOND PART. . 6$ 

Fal. I did not think, Master Silence had been a 
man of this mettle. 

Sil» VVho I ? I have been merry twice and once, 
ere now. 

Enter Davy, xvith a Dish of Apples. 

Vwoy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you. 

[Setting them before Bardolph^ 
Shal. Davy, — 

Dceoy. Your worship ? — HI be with you straightr— 
A cup of wine, sir ? 

Sil. [Singing.] A cup ofwine^ that's brisk andjine. 
And drink unto the lemon mine : — 
And a merry heart lives long-a, 

FaL Well said, Master Silence. 
Sil. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet 
of the night. 
Fal. Health and long life to you, Master Silence I 

SU. [Singing.] FiU the cup, and let it came; 
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. 

Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : Welcome, my 
little tiny thief: [To the Page.] and welcome, in- 
deed, too. — ril drink to Master Bardolph, and to all 
the cavaleros about London. 

Dofoy. I hope to see London once ere I die. 

Bard. An I might see you there, Davy, — 

Shal. You'll crack a quart together. Ha ! will you 
not. Master Bardolph ? 

Bard. Yes, sir, in a pottle pot. 

Shot, I thank thee : — The knave will stick by thee, 
I can assure thee that : he will not out ; he is true 
bred. 

Bard. And Til stick by him, sir. 

ShaL Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: 

«3 



66 KINO HENRT IT. [aCT T« 

be merry, [(he knoclcs at the Door.] Look xvho's at 
the gate there : Ho! who knocks? [Exit Davy, 

Fd. Why, now you have done me right. 

[To SiLEKCB, fiho has drunk a Bumper. 

Sil, [Singing.] Do me ri^ht, and dub me knight^ 

Sammgo. 

Is't not so ? 

FaU Tis so. 

SiL Is't so? Why, then say, an old man can do 
somewhat. 

Enter Davy. 

Davy. An it please your worship, there's one Pistol 
come from the court with news. 

Fal* From the court? [They rise ^ Let him come 
in. — [Exit Davy. 

Enter Pistol and Davy. 

How now. Pistol ? 

Fist, Heaven save you, Sir John ! 

Fal. What wind blew you hither. Pistol ? 

Fist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. 
— Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest 
men in the realm. 

Sil. By 'r lady, I think 'a be; but goodman Puff of 
Barson. 

Fist. Puff? 
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base ! — 
Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend, 
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee ; 
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys. 
And golden times, and happy news of price. 

Fal. I prythee now, deliver them like a man of 
this world. 

Fist. I speak of Africa, and golden joys. 



SCZVB I.] TH£ SBCOKD PART. tif 

FaL Oy base Assyrian knight, what is thy news i 
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. 

SiL [Singing.] And Robin Hood^ Scarlet , and 
John, — 

Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ? 
And shall good news be baffied ? 
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. 

Shal, Honest gentleman, I know not your breed- 
ing. 

Fist, Why, then, lament therefore. 

ShaL Give me pardon, sir, — If, sir, you come with 
news from the court, I take it, there is but two ways ; 
either to utter them, or to conceal them. 1 am, sir, 
under the king, in some authority. 

Fist. Under which king, Bezonian ? speak, or die. 

Shal, Under King Harry. 

Fist. Harry the Fourth ? or Fifth ? 

ShaL Harry the Fourth. 

Fist. Fourth in thy teeth !— 
Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; 
Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth : 
When Pistol lies, do this ; and fig me, like 
The bragging Spaniard. 

Fed, What ! is the old king dead ? 

Fist. As nail in door : the things I speak are just. 

FaL Away, Bardolph ; saddle my horse. — Master 
Robert Shallow, chuse what office thou wilt in the 
land, 'tis thine, — Pistol, I will double-charge thee 
with dignities. 

Bard. O, joyful day ! — I would not take a knight- 
hood for my fortune. 

Fist, What ? I do bring good news ? 

Fal. Carry Master Silence to bed. [Davy and the 
Servants remoue the Tables, SfC. and carry Silence 
away^ Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what 
thou wilt, I am fortune's steward. Get on thy boots; 



6s KIKG HENRT IV. [aCT V. 

we'll ride all night :-rO, sweet Pistol ! — Away, Bar: 
dolph. [Exit Bardolfh.] Come, Pistol, utter more 
to me ; and, withal, devise something to do thyself 
good. — Boot, booty Master Shallow; I know, the 
young king is sick for me. Let us take any man's 
horses ; the laws of England are at my commandment. 
Happy are they which have been my friends; and 
woe to my Lord Chief Justice ! {ExemU. 



9CEN1E 1|. 



The Palace. 

Enter the £arx< of Westmoreland, meeting the 

Lord Chief Justice. 

West. How now, my Lord Chief Justice; whither 

away ? 
CL Just^ I would, his majesty had call'd me with 
him. 
The service that I truly did his life, 
Hath left me open to all injuries. 

fFest. Indeed, I think, the young king loves you 

not. 
Ch. Just. I know, he doth not; and do arm myr 
self. 
To welcome the condition of the time; 
Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. 

West. Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry :— 
Oh, that the living Harry had the temper 
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen ! 
How many nobles then should hold their places. 
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort ! 



SCENE II.] THE SECOND PA&T. 69 

Enter Pbince John^ Prince Humphrey, and 

Prince Thomas. 

P. John^ Good morrow^ cousin Westmoreland. 
P. Humph. Oh, good my lord, you have lost a 

friend, indeed. 
P. John. Though no man be assured what grace to 
find, 
You stand in coldest expectation : 
I am the sorrier : Vould, 'twere otherwise. 
• P. Thorn. Well, you must now speak Sir John Fal- 

X staff fair; 
Which swims against your stream of quality. 

Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in ho- 
nour, 
Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ; 
And never shall you see, that 1 will beg 
A ragged and forestalled remission : — 
If truth and upright innocency fail me, 
rU to the king, my master, that is dead, 
And tell him who hath sent me after him. 
JVest. Here comes the king. 

[Exit the Lord Chief Justice. 

Enter King Henry the Fifth. 

P. John. Good morrow ; and Heaven save your 
majesty ! 

K. Hen. This new and gorgeous garment, majestyi 
Sits not so easy on me as you think. 
Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear; 
This is the English, not the Turkish court ; 
Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds. 
But Harry, Harry : — ^Yet be sad, good brothers, 
For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you ; 
Sorrow so royally in you appears, 
That I will deeply put the fashion on, 
And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad : 
But entertain no more of it, good brothers, 



70 KING HENRY IT. [aCT T. 

Than a joint burden laid upon us all ; 
For me, by Heaven, I bid you be assur'd, 
ril be your father and your brother too ! 
Let me but bear your love, Fll bear your cares. 
Yet weep, that Harry's dead; and so will I : 
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears. 
By number, into hours of happiness. 

P. John. We hope no other from your majesty. 

K, Hen. Come, let's to council, brothers; where 
you soon 
Shall have an earnest of my true intents. [Exetmf^ 



SCENE III. 



J public Place near Westminster Abbey ^ 



Enter Falstaitf, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolbh, 

and Page. 

FaL Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow ; I 
will make the king do . ypu grace : I will leer upon 
him, as 'a comes by; and do but mark the. counte- 
nance that he will give me. 

Fist. Heaven bless thy lungs, good knight ! 

FaL Come here. Pistol ; stand behind me. — Oh, if 
I had had. time to have made new liveries, I would 
have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of 
you. [To Shallow.] But 'tis no matter; this poor 
show doth better : this doth infer the zeal I had tg 
see him ; — 

ShaL It doth so. 

< 

FaL It shows my earnestness of aflfectioni-^. 
^ist. It dpth so. 



4CENE1II.] THE SECOND FART. 71 

\ 

Tal. My devotion ; — 

8hd. It doth, it doth, it doth* 

Id, As it were, to ride day and night ; and not to 
deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to 
jhift me ;— 

Shed, It is most certain. 

Fd. But to stand stained with travel, and sweat** 
ing with desire to see him : thinking of nothing else ; 
putting all affairs else in oblivion ; as if there were 
nothing else to be done, but to see him. — ^Tis all in 
all, and all in every part. 

Shd, 'Tis so^ indeed. 

Flourish of Trumpets and Drums* 

Enter the King, the Princes, the Earl op West- 
moreland, the Lord CHiEf Justice, Gower, 
and others of the King's Train, 

FaL Heaven save thy grace, King Hal ! my royal 

Pist, The Heavens thee guard and keep, most royal 
imp of fame ! » 

JFal. Heaven save thee, my sweet boy ! 

K, Hen. My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vaia 
man. 

Ch, Just. Have you your wits ? know you what 'tig 
you speak ? 

Fed. My King ! my Jove ! I speak to thee my heart ! 

K". Hen. I know thee not, old man : ^Fall to thy 
prayers: 
How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester ! 
I have long dream*d of such a kind of man, 
So surfeit-sweird, so old, and so profane ; 
But, being awake, I do despise my dream.— -~ 
Reply not to me with a full-bom jest ; 
Presume not, that I am the thing I was : 
For Heaven doth know, so shall the world pcrceivfty 
That I have turn'd away my former self: 



72 KINO HENRY IV, [aCT V. 

When thou dost hear I am as 1 have been, 

Approach me ; and thou shalt be as thou wast^ 

The tutor and the feeder of my riots : 

Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, — 

As I have done the rest of my misleaders, — 

Not to come near our person by ten miles. 

For competence of life I will allow you ; 

That lack of means enforce you not to evil : 

And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, 

We will, — according to your strength, and qualities, — 

Give you advancement. — Be it your charge, my lord, 

To see perform'd the tenor of our word. — 

[The King retires with his Train* 

FaL Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound. 

ShaL Ay, marry, Sir John ; which I beseech you to 
let me have home with me. 

FaL That can hardly be. Master Shallow. Do not 
you grieve at this ; I shall be sent for in private to 
him : look you, he must seem thus to the world. Fear 
not your advancement ; I will be the man yet, that 
shall make you great. 

Shal. I cannot perceive how ; unless you give me 
your doublet, and stuff me out with straw. I beseech 
you, good Sir John, l^t me have five hundred of my 
thousand. 

FaL Sir, I will be as good as my word : this that 
you heard, was but a colour. 

ShaL A colour, I fear, that you will die in, Sir 
John. 

FaL Fear no colours; go with me to dinner. — 
Come, ancient Pistol; — come, Bardolph: — I shall 
be sent for soon at night. 

[Exeunt Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bar- 
dolph, and Page. 

Ch. Just. 1 like this fair proceeding of the king's: 
Yet still I fear, 'twill bring no grace to me. 

P. Johni You have, indeed, my lord, great cause 
to doubt. ^ * 



SCENE III.] THE SECOND PART. _ 73 

K. Hen, Still all look strangely on me ; — and you 
most ; [To the Chief Justice. 

You are, I think, assur'd I love you not. 

Ch. JusU I am assured, if I be measur-d rightly. 
Your majesty has no just cause to hate me. 

k.Hen. No? 
How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
So great indignities you laid upon me ? 
What ! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison, 
The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy ! 
May this be washed in Lethe, and forgotten ? 

Ch. Just, I then did use the person of your far- 
ther; 
The image of his power lay then in me : 
And, in the administration of his law, 
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth. 
Your highness pleased to forget my place, 
The majesty and power of law and justice^ 
The image of the king whom I presented. 
And struck me in my very seat of judgment ; 
Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
I gave bold way to my authority, 
And did commit you. 

Question your royal thoughts, make the case^ours ; 
Be now the fatl^er, and propose a son : 
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd. 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely islighted, 
Behold yourself so by a son disdaih'd ; 
And then imagine me taking your part. 
And, in your power, so silencing your son ; 
After this cold considerance, sentence me ; 
And, as you are a king, speak in your state, — 
What I have done, that misbecame my place, 
My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 
K, Hen. You are right, Justice, and you weigh 
this well; 
^Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword ; 
And I do wiskyour honours may increas«t 

H 



74 KIKO HEURT IT. [aCTT. 

Till you do live to see a son of mine 

Offend yon, and obey you, as I did. 

You did comntkit me: 

For which, I do commit into yonr hand 

The unstained sword that you have us'd to bear ; 

With this remembrance, — That you use the same 

With the like bold, ju^, antd impartial spirit, 

As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand ; 

You shall be as a father to my youth : 

My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear ; 

And I will stoop and humble my intents 

To your well-practis'd wise ifirections.— — 

Now call we our high court of parliament : 

And let us chuse such limbs of noble counsel, 

That the great body c^ our^tate may go 

In equal rank with Che best*goVerr/d nation ; 

That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 

As things acquainted and familiar to us ; — 

In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. 

[To dfe Ufkv Chief Justice. 
Our coronation done, we will Itccite, 
As I before remembered, all oufr^tli'^ : 
And (Heaven consigning to my ^dodiMents,) 
No prince; nor peer, shall blive juH t^tiie to say, — 
Heaven shorten Harry's happy lih t>ne day. 

JFAwrti A if Trumpets *md Drum. 

[Exmnt 



THE ENP. 



TH£ 

MERCHANT OF VENICE; 

A COMEDY, 
IN FIVE acts; 

* 

Br WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 



AS PERfORMED AT THE 



THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. 

PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OP TBE MANAGERS 
FROM THE PROMPT BODE. 



WITH REMARKS 



BY MRS. INCHBALD. 



LONDON : 

VaiNlSD FOR LOMGHAN, HUEST, REE9; AMD OAME, 

PAT ERV OSIER ROW. 



Writ f All SA^iiG€> PifUTWl, 



ftJiMAItKS, 



. t~ A ••« ■». 



TTfT 



Novels, plays, and songs, are named by the ivellr 
IcnowD commentators on gb|i)p|p^rc| tt| the origin o{ 
the fable ^nd incidents pf t)ii? pU^^ But the ** ^9- 
jpaphi^ Prapoi^ticV' fyrpi^^ef the fdjpwiuj e^** 
tfact : 

^* The story is built oq fk ^^ fftct, yfh}c\i happea- 
c4 in .so.i^e part of |talyy-T-with this difference in- 
deed, that ^e iQtendud pri^^Hy W^* w)Jy ©» ibe sidf 
of the phrisfi^i?, (hj? jey feeing Jhp ynhftppy delinquent, 
lirho fell beneath bi^ rigid and |)arh{^'q^s tesent^i^nt. 
Popular prejudice, however, vindic^t^ Q^j author ift 
the alteration he h^ mad^ ; iwd the del|(Jbtful mfin- 
i}er jp which he ba^ availed himself c^ ^ g^Q^^} 
fbaracter of tjie jews, the ?p^y i}i^i}tfi99^^c^ of f?t4p|| 
he l^as enrichpd hjs Sljyloplf wjth, «iake« QU>jre ^ha^^ 
i^mepds for his deviating froflf^ f| mff^<^f ftStf wWsh 
hi? w^ i>y ap means obliged to iidhe^:^ tP**^ 

from whatever ground |]^k9p^ie pjiok )ii» Wt^ 
Tjjils fpr this drama, he h^^ papst de?^tfrQHi4y »9^;ft!l^ 

and cemente4 them tq fori|) f^e ei^oel^eint wh9i<^« 

Probability is, indeed, qoptiiMi^Jly yi9lftt^ m ** Th* 
itferch^nt of Venice ;" b^t so jt ^jipu^d eye^ be ^^ 
plays, or not a$ a|l-r-on? improbf^ble ippid^nt oi^j^ 
tM&oog ^ traip of natural occurrenceji, reyoj^ts ^xi ^Jl^ 
dience ; but w^erp fill i$ alike extravaga^.ty cpmpMi- 

Riliar, 



4 AEMA&KS. 

Boldness of design, strength of character, excel- 
lence of dialogue, with prepossession in favour of the 
renowned author of this work^ shield every fault from 
observation, or from producing an ill effect by its in- 
trusion. 

' ' Refinement is honourable to our nation ; and the 
delicacy of the English stage at present is the best 
characteristic of that elegant propriety, with which 
the public shrink from all savage indecorum of prin- 
ciples or manners, however excited by passions, or by 
'debased sentiments. Yet, with due respect for re- 
ilined notions, they would indisputably, in Shakspeare's 
days, have limited and impaired his mighty, genius. 

The knife to cut — the scales to weigh — and what f . 
part of an enemy's body ! 

It is worthy a moment's time to figure, in imagina- 
tion, hoT^ a London audience would receive such a 
scene, as the most admire4 one in this comedy, were 
it now brought on the stage for the first tiftie. It is 
to be feared that the company in the side boxes would 
faint, or withdraw ; the galleries be in a tumult of 
hissing ; whilst the pit would soberly declare — " that 
though there was great merit in the author's writing, 
such things covld not be tolerated in action.^' 

Macklin was the soul, which, infused into Shylock, 
fifst animated this favourite drama — no fiend-like 
malice, no outrageous cruelty, no diabolical joy in 
human misery, seemed too excessive for the nature of 
mankind, when he depicted those extraordinary crimes. 
Iii^heart of Representing this character, his person, fea*^ 
tures, deportment, and tones of voice, appeared sO inar« 



tificial, ihey were so mwh Uke thcve of ynniificted 
man, that his mind seemed human too ; and all vn* 
interesting prodigy was dpxie aw4y« 

Prafiatip authors of fQj:^^er tinpes ^aY($ geDi^ally 
encoun^d the disobef^iex^Qe and treacl^eiy pf chi^l- 
dren to their parents, Shakspeare, in his <' l^r,^*" 
has most honourably supported ^ father's cause, and 
therefore ought not to receive indiscnminate reproach 
along with his coi^temporary poets, or immediate suc- 
cessors ; yet of his gentle Jfessica may he said — she 
prov^ \n her 4^sposition a strong reaembl^ce U> tl\Q 
wicked Shy lock, or,- though she had desQfMj ^^ 
pever voi^ld have robbed him. ^ 

Tl|e ^ Jew of yenicey*^ by Lord Laiidsdomrni is ai^ 
alteration of thi^ play, and w^ acted in 170), l^Q 
IM>bie au^l^pr i|iade some emendations in tli^ w<)rk|^ 
but havi|ig made the Jew a comic character; as such 
he caused more laughter than detestation, which 
wholly destroyed the moral designed by the original 

author^ 

One o( th^ pl^Mantries in the '^ Jew of Y^moe'- it» 
whtie^ %l a fe^, Shylock being plapNi at a s^>anite 
tf^bloy ip consequence of his separate faith, driaks to, 
his money, as his only friend. ■ 

Dr. Jol\nsoi^ hf^ said, of Shakspeare's ^< Meroban^ 
ofVcRice/'T- 

^ The style ia even and easy, with few pecaKMri^ 
ties of <|iction, or anom^ies of ^Qnstruction. Th^ 
coaiic part raij^ lai^ghter, and the serious fixes ex-» 
pectation. The probability of either the one or the 
otfier stoiy cannot be maintained. ^Ike union of tw# 

39 



&\ REMARKS. 

actions in o|!le event, is iri this drama eminently- 
happy. 

" Dryden was much pleased with his own address 
in, connecting the two plots in his " Spanish Friar ;" 
which yet, I believe, the critic will find excelled by 
this play." 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



The Duke 

Bassavio 

Gratiavo 

Lorenzo 

Salanio 

Salarino 

Antonio 

Shylock 

Tubal 

Cjobbo 

Launcelot 

Balthazar 

Leonardo 

Stephano 

PlETRO 

Gaoler 

Portia 

Nerissa 

Jessica 



Mr. Davenport, 
Mr, C. Kemble, 
Mr. Farley^ 
Mr. Taylor. 
Mr. Treby. 
Mr. Ciaremont. 
Mr, Pope. 
Mr. Cooke. 
Mr. Atkins, 
Mr. Emery. 
Mr. Munden. 
Mr. Jefferies, 
Mr. Abbot. 
Mr. L, Bologna, 
Mr, Field. 
Mr. Piatt. 

Miss Smith. 
Miss Waddy, 
Mrs, Smith, 



Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court 
of Justice, and Musicians. 

SQENE — Partly at Venice^ and partly at Belmont^ the. 
Seat of' Portia , on the Continent, 



THE 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



ACT THE FIRST, 



SCENE I. 

« 

A» Street in Venice, 

Enter Salarino, Antonio, and Salanio. 

Jnt, In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; 
It wearies me ; you say, it wearies you : 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

^nd such a >yant-wit sadness makes of me. 
That I have much ado to know myself. ] ' 

Sal, Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 
There, where your argosies with portly fail, . 
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, 
Do over-peer the petty traffickers, 
That curt'sy to them, do them rey'rence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

Sala^ Believe me^ sir, had I such venture forth 
The better part of my affections would 
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 



S TB£ MBKCRAUT Of TEKICK, [aCT I. 

Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; 
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads; 
And every object, that might make me fear 
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
Would make me sad. 

Sal. My wind, cooling my broth, 
Would blow me to an ague, when I though^ 
What bann a wind too g^e^t i^f^ht do ^l ^13^. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run^ 
But I should think of shallows, and of flats 3 
And see my wealthy Andrew docked in sand. 
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs, 
To kins her burial. 
Shall I have the thougl^t 
To think on this: and shall I lack the thought, 
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad I 
But, tell not me; I knpw, A^to,nio 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 

Jttt Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it. 
My ventures are nat in one bottutn trusted, 
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
t)pon the fortune of this present year : 
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad« 

Sola. Why, then, you are in love. 

Ant. Fie, fie ! 

Sola. Not in love neither? Then lefs say, you are 
sad, 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you to lau^, and leap, and say you are meny^ 
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, 
Nature hath (ram*d strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes. 
And laugh, like parrots, at a bagpiper ; 
And other of such vinegar aspect. 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of snil^. 
Though Nestnr swear ^e jest be Ifiughable. ' 

Sal, Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kins^ 
man, 



SC£N£ I.] THE M£ECHAKT OF YBKICE. $ 

Gfatiano, and Lorenzo ; -Fare you well; - 
We leave you now with better company. 

Sola. I would have staid till I had madeyoju merry, 
If worthier friends had not prevented me. 

Ant Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on you, 
And you embrace the occasion to depart. 

Enter Bassanio, Gratiako, and Lorenzo. 

SqIg. Good morrow, my good lords. 

Bass, Good signiors both,, when shall we laugh i 
say, when? [To Sala. and Sol. 

You grow exceeding strange ; must it be so ? 

Sal. We^U make our leisures to attend, on yours. 

\Exeunt Sol. ontf Sala. 

Lin", My Lprd Bassanio, since you have found 
Antoiiio, 
We two will leave you ; but, at dinner time, . 
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
' Bass. 1 will not fail you. 

Gra, You look not well, Signior Antonio; , 
You have too much respect upon the world : , 
They lose it, that do buy. it with much care. 
Believe me, you are marvellously chang*d. 

Ant, I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage, where every man must play a part, 
And mine a sad one. ! 

Gra, Let me play the £30! : 
With mirth and laughter let old wrjnkles come ; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine, ., 

Than my heart cool with, mortifying groans. . 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster } 
Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, — .. 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;— ^ 
There aire a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 



10 THS XXACHAVT OF VZyZOS* [aCT I, 

And do a wilful stilneu en^rtain, 

With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 

Of wisdom, sravityy profoi^nd conceit^ 

As who should say, ^ I am Sir Oracle, 

And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark !^ 

O, my Antonio, I do know of these. 

That therefore only are reputed wise, 

For saying nothing; who, I. am veiy sure, 

If they should fpeak, would almost diMnn thgi^ fan, 

Which, hearing thein, would call their brothers fopls« 

ni tell thee more of this another time ; 

but fish not, with this melancholy bait. 

For this fooFs gudgeon, this opinion.— 

Come, ffood Lorenzo x—^Fare ye well, a wliile; 

111 end mv exhortation after dinner. 

Lor, Well, we will leave you then til\ dioper time: 
I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
Tor Gratiano never lets vp,e speak, 

Gra. Well, keep me company but twq years more, 
Thou dialt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 

Ani. Farewell : HI grow a tinker for this gear. 

Chra, llianks, i'faith ^ for silence is only compiend^ 
able 
|n a neafs tongue dxy*d, and a maid not vendible, 

[£m<ii/ G||a. atid ho^^^x, 

JhU. Is that any thing now ? 

^ms. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of npthii)^ 
more than any man in all Venice : his reasons are as 
tWo grains of vrheat hid in two Whels of chi^d*; you 
shall seek all day ere you fin<^ them ; and, when you 
have them, t^ey are sot worth the search. 

Ant. Well V^Ii me liow, what lady is this lame. 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
That you tp-dfiy prpmis'd to tell me of ? 

Basi. "Tts not unknown tp yoU| AntoniOi 
How much I have disabled mine estate. 
By something showing a more swelling port 
llan my feint m«ns wonld ^ cootmuanee : 



SCSKE I;] THE HEKCBANT OF vtNICB. 1 1 

Nor dol DOW make rnoaa io he «ibiidflf(l 
From such a noble rate ; but my cliief care 
Is, to come fiurly off from tbe great debts, 
M^erein my time, something too prbdigal. 
Hath left me gag'd : to you, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money, and in love; 
And from your love I have a warranty 
To unburden all my plots, and piirppsds. 
How to get deaf of all the debts I ow6. 

Jai. I pray you, good iBassanio, let tne know it ; 
And, it it stand, as yoii yourself still do^ 
Within the eye of honour, be assiii'd. 
My purse, my person, my extremes^ means^ 
Lie all unlocK^ to your occasions. 

Bass, In my school days, w&en 1 had lost one ^lafr. 
I shot his fellow of the self-same ffi^t 
The selfsame way, with more advised waich. 
To find the other forth; and, bv adventuring both, 
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proo^ 
Because tvhat follows ii pure inhocehce. 
I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth. 
That which I owe is lost: but, if you please 
To shoot another arrow tb«t self way 
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
As I will watch the aim, or to find both. 
Or bring your latter haaard back again, 
And duuikfiilly rest' debtor for the fifgt* 

Jni. You know me well ; and herein «pend but 
time. 
To wind about niy love wiA ciieun^tance; 
And, out of doubt, yoq do me now more wrong, 
In making question of my uttermost. 
Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do. 
That in your knowledge may iy me be done, 
And I am pressM unto it : therefore^ sp^ak. 

Bass. In Belmont js a lady richly left. 
And she is ^r and fairer thai? that word, 



13 THE MERCHANT'OF VENICE. [aCT I. 

Of wondrous virtues ; sometimes from her eyes 

I did receive fair speechless messages; ^ 

Her name is Portia; nothing undervalu'd 

To Cato*s daughter, Brutus' Portia. 

Nor is the wide world ignorant pf her worth ; 

For the four winds blow in from every coast 

Renowned suitors. 

O, my Antonio, had I but the means 

To hold a rival place with one of them, 

I have a mind presages me such thrift, 

That I should questionless be fortunate. 

Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; 
Nor have I money, nor commodity 
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth, 
Try what my credit can in Venice do ; 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
Where money is; and I no question inake, 
To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt. 



SCENE ti. 



Poutia's Jiimse at Bdmout* 



Enter Portia ieiiJ14£bissa. 

For. By my troth,^ Nerissa, my littl^ body is 
aweary of this great world. 

Ner. You would be, sweet nladam, if yottr miseries 
were in the same abundance as your good fortunes 
are : and yet> for aught I see, they are as sick that 
surfeit with too much, as they that starve with no- 
thiiig : it is no mean happiness, therefore^ to be seated 



SOEl^E II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 13 

in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, 
but competency lives longer. 

Pot. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

Ncr, They would be better, if well followed. 

"Por, If to do wete as easy as to know what were 
good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor meu^s 
cottages priiices' palaces. It is a good divine, that 
follows his own instructions : I can easier teach twenty 
what wei'e good to be done, than be one of the twenty 
to follow mme own teaching. But this reasoning is not 
in the fashion to chuse me a husband : — O me, the 
word chuse! I may neither chuse whom I would, nor 
refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daugh- 
ter curb^ by the will of a dead father: — Is it not 
hard, Nerissa, that I cannot chuse one, nor refuse 
none ? . 

JVcr. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy 
m^n, at their death, have good inspirations; there-' 
fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three 
chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chuses* 
his meaning, chuses you,) will, no doubt, never be 
chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly • 
love. But what warmth is there in your affection to- 
wards any of these princely suitors ^at are already 
come? 

Por, I r pray thee, over-name them; and as thou 
nam'st them, I will describe them; and, according to 
my description, level at my affection. 

Ner, First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Por, Ay, that's a Colt, indeed, for he doth nothing 
but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appro- 
priation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him 
himself: I am much afraid, my lady, his mother, 
played false with a smith. 

Ntr. Then, there is the County Palatine. 

Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should 
say, " An' if you will not have me, chuse :" he hears 

c 



H ^Wi Jlt|lC»4:Kr Of VJBiriCl&^ [Aet I-; 

meny tales» and amilea not : I fear, he will prove tbe 
creeping philosopher, when hegrow» old, being »o fuU 
of unmannerly ttdness in his youth. I had rath«r b^ 
aaanied to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, 
tbui to either of these. Heaven defend me from 

tese two ! 

iVer. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur 
Xis Boh ? 

Por. Heaven made him, and therefore let him pasa 
for a nuuu In trnth^ I know it h a sin to be a 
mocker; but he! why, he hath a horse better thaa 
mt Neapolitan's > a better bad habit of frowning than 
the Count I^alatine : he is every man in no man : if a 
throstle siso, he fatk straight a capering ;. he will 
fence with his own shadow : if I should marry him, I 
riiould marry twenty husbands : if he would despise 
me, I would forgive him > for, if he love me to macf^ 
ness, I shall never requite him* 

Net, How like you the young German, the Dake 
of Saxony's nephew f 

tor* Very vilely in the momii^ when he is sobers 
and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk : 
when he isbes^ he is a little wone than a majd ; and 
when he is worst, he is a little better than a beast : 
an the worst fall thrat ever fell, I hope, I shall make 
shift to go without him. 

Ner* If he should oier to chase, and chuse the 
right casket, you should refuse to perform your fik- 
ther's will, if you should refuse to accept him. 

For. Therefore, fpr fear of the worst, .1 pray thee, 
set a deep glass oi Rhenish wine on the Contrary cas- 
ket; for if the devil be within, and that temptation 
without, I know he will chuse it. I will do any thing, 
Kerissa, ere I wil> be married to a spunge. 

Ner, You need not fear, lady, tlie having any of • 
these lords; they have acquainted me with their de- 
tomanatipns^: whi9h if, indeed, to retmm to d^eis 



CCXNB II.] rut, HSftCUAVT 4»r TsirtaB. tS 

jhome, and to trouble you with no more snit ; unless 
you njay be won by some ojther sort than your Other's 
imposition, depending on the caskets* 

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die ai 
jchaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner 
of my fathei^s will: I am glad ^is parcel of wooers 
are so very reasonable ; for there is not one among them 
but I dote on his very absence, and I pray Heaven 
grant them a &ir dfspaiture. 

Ner. Do not you remember, lady, in your father's 
jdme, a Veneti^, a scholar, and a soldier, that came 
hither in company of the Marquis of Montferratf 

Por. Yes^ yes^ it was Bassanio ; as I think, so h« 
Was called. 

JVer. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever 
my foolisli eyes looked tipoQ, was the best deserving a 
fair lady. 

Por. I remember him well ; and I remember hini 
"Worthy of thy pr9is^» 

Enter Balthaj^ai^, 

Por. H6w9ow! what news f 

BaL The four strangers seek for you^ maddm, t6 
take their leave : and there is a forerumier com^ froii^ 
fit fifth, the Prince of Morocco ; who brings word, the 
prince, his master, wiil be here fio^nighU 

Por. If I Could bid the fifth welcome wilik s6 gooA 
heart as I can bid the other four fiirewell^ I should b^ 
glad of his approach. C6me, Neri88a.-^Sirrah, ^ 
before. — Whiles we shut the gate ^^^ cm wooer, an^ 
pther k^ackiatthedoor. [Ejimnt* 



c% 



l6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. [aCT I, 



SQENE III. 



A Street in Venice. 



Enter Shylock and Bassanio, 

Shy. Three thousand ducats,— well. 

Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shy. For three months, — well. 

Bass, For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall 
be bound. 

Shy. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 

Bass. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure me ? 
Shall I know your answer f 

Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, ' and 
Antonio bound. 

Bass: Your answer to that. 

Shy. Antonio is a good man. 

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the cpn- 
trary ? 

Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no ; — my meaning, in saying 
he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that 
he is sufficient : yet his means are in supposition : he 
hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the In- 
dies ; I understand, moreover, upon the Rial to, he 
bath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, — and 
other ventures he hath squandered abroad : but 
ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land 
rats, and water rats, water thieves, and land thieves ; 
I mean pirates ; and then, there is the peril of wa- 
ters, winds, and rocks: the man is, notwithstand- 
ing, sufficient: — three thousand ducats; — I think, I 
may take his bond. 



I 



fiCBKE III J * ifttB he^cAait^ Of tsi^rcc. iT 

Biass. Be Adstucdy you inay. 
5^y. 1 will be assured, I may ; and, that I may b« 
assured, I will bethink itie : May I speak with An* 
tonio? 
Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
Sky. Yes, to smell potk ; to eat of the habitation 
which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil 
into: 1 will buy with vou, sell with you, talk with 
you, walk with you, and so following ; but I will 
not eat with you, drink with you, ndr pray with 
on. — MThat neWd on the RidtD? — ^Who is he comet 
ere? 

Bau. This is siffnioT Antmiio. 

Sky* [Aiide,] Hoir like $, fawning puhlican he 
looks ! 
I hate him, for he if a chrisdan : 
But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
He lends out money gratis, and brinra down 
The rate of usance hete with us in \^nice ; 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient gfudge I bear him. 
He bates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 
Even there where mc^rchants most do Congregate, 
On me, my bar^ins, and itiy well-won thrift, 
Whi6h he calls interest : Cursed be my tribe. 
If I forgive him ! 

Bas$. Shylockydoyotihcarr 

Sfy. I am debating on my present stoi6; 
And, by the near guesa of my memory^ 
I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand duCats : What of that ? 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe. 
Will furnish me r=— But soft : How many monliif 
Do you desire 7 — Rest vou fair, good signior ; 
Your worship im t&t Mst man 10 our moutfiB^ 



18 THE M£aCHANT OF VENICE. [aCT I. 

Ant. Shylocky albeit I neither lend nor borrow, 
By taking, nor by giving of excess, 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
ril break a custom : — Is he yet possessed, 
How much you would ? 

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Ant. And tor three months. 

Shy. I had forgot, — three months, you told me so. 
Well then, your bond ; and, let me see, — Bui hear 

you; 
Me thought you said, you neither lend nor borrow, 
Upon advantage. 

Ant, I do never use it 

Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep, — 
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was 
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,) 
The third possessor; ay, he was the third. 

Ant. And what of him ? did he take interest ? 

Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say, 
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromis'd. 
That all the eanlings that were streakM and py'd 
Should fall as Jacob's hire, 
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands. 
And, in the doing of the deed of kind. 
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; 
Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest ; 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
But sway'd, and fashioned, by the hand of Heaven ; 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams? 

Shy. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast. 

Ant^ Mark you this, Bassanio, 
The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 



SCENE III.] THE ME&CUANT OF VElTICE. Ij} 

An holy soul, producing holy witness. 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
A goodly apple, rotten at the heart: 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 

Shy, Three thousand ducats, — ^'Tis a good round 
sum. 
Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate. 

Ant. Well, Shy lock, shall we be beholden to you ?. 

Sky, Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
On the Rialto you have rated me 
About my monies, and my usances : 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug; 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe ; 
You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
Go to then ; you come to me, and you say, 
Shylock, we. would have monies ; you say so ; 
You, that' did void your rheum upon my beard. 
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 
Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. 
What should I say to you ? Should I not say. 
Hath a dog money ? is it possible, 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, 
Say this, — 

Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
You spurn'd me such a day; another time 
You caird me— dog; and, for these courtesies, 
rU lend you thus much monies. 

Ant, I am as like to call thee so again. 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; (for when did friendship take 
A breed for barren metal of his friend ?) 
But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 



to TBiS MBUCHAVT OF TEinCBt [4CT t« 

Who, if he brisak, thou ma/st with better ftce 
Exact the penalty, 

5Ay. Why, look ybu, bow yoti storm ! 
I would be fiiends with you, and have your lave, 
Forget the shames that yon have stained me with. 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my monies, and youll not hear me : 
l^is is kind I offer. 

Ant, This were kindness. 

Shy, This kindness will J show t-^^ 
Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport, 
If you repay me not on sach a day, 
In such a pWe, such sum, or sums, as are 
ExpressM in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated for an equal pound 
Of your fair ilesb, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

AfU, Content^ in faith ; Til seal to such ^ bond, * 
And say, there is much kindness in the Jew, 

Bass^ You shall not seal to such a bond for me, 
I'd rather dwell in my necessity, 

Ani. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it ; 
Within these two months, that's a month before 
This bond expires, I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of thu bond, 

<SA)f. O fiither Abrahiimy what these christians 
are; 
Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect 
The thoughts of others 1-^'Pray you, tell me this ; 
If he shoi^d bvsak his day, what should I gain 
By the exaction of the ibneiture ? 
A pound of man's fltth, taken from a bHui^ 
Is not so estimable, profitable neitber. 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or eoats. I say. 
To buy his fkvour, I extend this friendship : 
If he will take k, so ; if not, adieu ; 
And, for my love, Ipray yon, wrong itt» Mf. 



SCENE III.] THB MERCHAHT OF^YENICE. 21 

Ant, Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 

Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; 
Give him direction for this m^rry bond, 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 
See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently 
I will be with you. 

Ant, Hie thee, gentle Jew, — [Exit. Shylock. 
This Hebrew will turn christian; he grows kind. 

Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind. 

Ant. Come on; .in this there can be no dismay, 
My ships come home a month before the day. 

[Eoreviff. 



ACT THE SECOND. 



SCENE I. 



A Street in Venice^ before Shtlock*s House. 

Enter Launcelot Gobbo. 

Laun.. Certainly, my conscience will serve me to 
run from the Jew my master: This fiend is at mine 
elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launce- 
lot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good 
Launcelot Gobbo, U9e y out legs, take the start, run 
away : My conscience says, — ^no ; take heed, honest 
Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as afore- 
said,* honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run ; scorn ,.^ 



2i tm% iffEftenAiTT or v£nie%» [act u. 

rminuM with Ay iie<il9;^Well» the most courageous 
fiend IM^ me fmck ; via/ says Ithe fiend ; away ; says 
the fiend ; for the Helens ; rouse up^ a brave mind, 
aayt the fiend, and rvn. WeU^ my conactenoe^ haagi- 
ing about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to 
me^— my honest friead L#uneelo$, beii^ an honest 
inan's son, — or rather an honest woman^ sun ; for, 
ilkked, my lather did something smack, something 
srow to, he had a kind of Caste ^ — ^well, ray conscience 
saySf-^-I^Mincdkot, budge not ; budge, says the fiend ; 
bu4g0 not, says my conseien^ : Conscience, say I, 
you poaMei well : fiend, say I, yon 0ounsel well : to 
te tilled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew 
my master, wqio. Heaven bless the mark! is a kind of 
devil ; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be 
ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the 
devil himself; Certainly, the Jew is the very devil 
incarnation I and, in my conscience, my conscience 
is but a kipd of hard conscience, to opr to counsel 
me to stay with the Jew : The fiend gives the more 
friendly counsel ; I will run ; fiend, n^y heels are 91 
your pomlbandment,! will run* 

Enter old Gobbo, vfkh a Basketf 

Gob, ^Master, yoting man, yon, I pray you, which 
is the way to piaster Jew's } 

Limn, lAside.'] O Heavens, tliis is my true-begotten 
Jfather ! who, beix^ niore than sand-bUnd, high-gravel 
Miod, I^Qws m» 4)0t;— I wijH try ^xioclusiotis witl^ 

Qqb, U$M&t yimm geotkin#n» I psay yoii» wKfch 
IS the wa,y to maft^ »^ewV? 

Z^owa. Torn up on your right baoid, at the ncsdt 
(umingi but, at the neiLt fuming of all, on your left; 
marry, at the very next turmog, turn of no handt 
bvt tufu down indirectly to tl|e U^'s boui^ 



nCMBM U] tUM XB&C^AHT OP tB9ri«|i 35 

Go^ TwiU he a hard way to lut. Can you tell 
me whether one Launcelot^ thait dwelb with hiniy. 
dwell with him, or no ? 

' Lautu Talk you of yoiu^ mwfetr Launcelotf 
(AsideJ^ Mark me now ; now will I nam the waten : 
— talk you of young master Launcdot f 

Qolf* No master, Mr, but a poor bmo» aoa ; hi» fa* 
ther, though I say it, ia an honest exceecking poor 
man^ and. Heaven be tfaaakfed^ weU to live* 

Lmm. Well» let his father be wimt he wtll^ we taUi., 
of young master Launcelot. 

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastec^p* 

Laun* ErgOf master Launcelot; — ^talk not of master 
launceioty father ; for the young gentleman (accords 
ing to fates and destiniesi and such odd sayings, the 
sisters three, and such branches of learning^ is, indeed^ 
deceased j or, as you would say^ in plain terms, gOMi 
to heaven. 

Gvb* Marry, Heaven forbid I the boy was the vefy- 
staff of my age, my very ]Mrop« 

Laun* Do I look like a cudgel, or a hofel^st, s 
staffs or a prop ? — Do you know me^ Esther ^ 

Gob, Alack the day, I know you not, young g/m^ 
tleman : buVl pray^ou^ tell me is my boy (Heaiven 
rest his soul !) alive, or dead ? 

Laun, Do you not know mev father ? 

Crok. Alacky sir, I am sand bthid, I know you not. 

Ltmn> Nay, indeed^; if you iuul your eyes, you 
might fail of the knoM^k^ me : it is a wise father,: 
that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will teil 
you news of your son. [Folk urn his Knges."} Give 
me your blessing : truth will come to light; murder 
cannot be hid. long, a man's soi^iuay ^ but, in the end, 
truth will out. 

Gob, Pray you, sir, stand up; I am suvr, yonare 
DOt Launcelot, my boy. 

Lam» Pray you, let's have ik> more feoling about 
it, but give me your blessing I am Launcelot, your 



24 ME MERCHANT OF VENICE. [aCT tt. 

boy that was^ your son that is, your child that shall 
be. 

Gob. I caunot think, you are my son. 

Laun» I know not what 1 shall think of that : bat 
I am Launcelot, the Jew's man ^ and^ I am sure, 
Margery, your wife, is my mother. 

Gob, Her name is Margery, indeed : Til be sworn, 
if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and 
blood. Lord worshipped might he be ! what a beard 
hast thou got ! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, 
than Dobbin my thill horse has on his tail. 

Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail 
grows backward ; I am sure he had more hair on his 
tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him. 

G()b» Lord, how thou art changed ! How dost thou 
and thy master agree ? J have brought him a pre- 
sent. 

Laun^ Give him a present ! give him a halter : I 
am famished in his service ; you may tell every finger 
I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are 
come; give me your present to one master Bassanio, 
who, indeed, gives rare new liveries ; If 1 serve not 
him, I will nin as far as Heaven has any ground. — 
O rare fortune ! here comes the man ; — to him, fa- 
ther ; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 

Enter Bassanio and Stephano ynth Leonardo. 

Bass, You may do so ; — See these letters delivered ; 
put the liveries to making*; and desire Gratiano to 
come anon to my lodging. [Exit Stephaito. 

Larni, To him, father. 

Gobi Heaven bless your worship ! 

Bass. Gramercy ; Wouldst thou aught with me ? 

Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, 

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man ; 
that would, sir, as my father shall specify , ■ 

Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 
say, to serv( 
1 



9CEKB I^] Tftt lltaCliAKT OF VSVICX. SS 

Laun, Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 
Jew ; and I have a desire, as my father shall specify — 

Gfob, His master and he (saving your worship's re- 
verence,) are scarce cater-cousins. 

Laun. To be brief,- the very truth is, that the Jew" 
having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, 
being I hope an old man, shall fnitify unto you. — 7-^ 

Gfob* I have here a dish of doves, that I would 
bestow upon your worship; and my suit is.—- — 

Laun, In very brief, the suit is impertinent to my* 
self, as your worship shall know by this honest old 
man ; and, though 1 say it, though old man, yet, poor 
man, my father. 
• Bau, One speak for both ; — ^What would you ? , 

Laun, Serve you, sir. 

Gob, This is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

Bass, I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy suit: 
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day. 
And h'a^ preferred thee; if it be preferment. 
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
Tthe follower lof so poor a gentleman. 

Laun, The old proverb is very well parted between 
my roaster Shylock and you, sir ; you have the grace 
of Heaven, sir,' and he hath enough. 

Bass. Thou spealfst it well : Go, father, with thy 
son: — 
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
My lodging out : — Give* him a livery 

[To Leona&do. 
More guarded than his fellows' : see it dont. 

Lmm, Father, in : — I cannot get a service, no ; — I 

have ne'er a tonguerin my head! Well, [Looking on 

kis Palm.] if any man in Italy have a fairer table, 
which. 'doth 'offer to swear upon a book, — I shall biave 
good fortune: Go to, here's a simple line of life! here's, 
a small trifle of wives : alas, fifteen- wives is nothing ; 
eleven widows, and nine maids, is a simple coming in 
fpr one man: and then, to 'scape drowning thrice; 

11 



tS twft mmmMAHtr of ifwftnaiu [jxt ir: 

•od to be In |feril df liqr Ufe witii te edge^ofa feMfcer* 
bed I'-^bere arc litfiple ^MMon ! Well* if fdrtvne be n 
woaao, abe's • gfiod wMW for iMi gear^^FaAer, 
cornel 111 take n^ leave of tin Jew m the twt&kiin^ 
of an eyei (Jmaaf LAuircalor omC 0£i Ck^aBo. 

Bam. I pny tlMe^ good Leonaido^ tiHiik on Msft 
Tbeae thia^i being bong^ aaKi orderly beno^d, 
Setum In baste, for I do fowt toniiglbt 
My bctiesltem'd acqUaatance ; bio Aee^ ga*^ 

6ra. Where » your master? 

Xi€itM« Yonder, sif, be walbi^ IKjA LtOKisariio. 

Gra, Signior BasMunor-^i-^ 

Bau* Gratianol 

€hra. I haye a sdt io yott« 

Bass4 You haTB obtained it* 

GrtL Yott must not deny me ; I must go ^tb yovl 
to Belmont« 

Bass. Why then you mast :— *But hear tbee, Orft^ 
tisDo; 
Thou an too wiidy too rude, and bold of yfoioty^ 
Parts, that become thee happily enough, 
And in such eyes as ours appear not foults ; 
But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
Something too liberal ; — pray die^ take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of iMdaily 
Thy skipping jspirrt ; lest, through thy wild behmviovr, 
I be misconstrued io the pkrae X go Sol 
And lose my hopes. 

Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear mo: 
If I do not put on a sobei^ habit. 
Talk .with respect, and swear but now alid tbe«^ 
Wear prayer-books in my pooket, look demuhkfi 
Nay more, while grace is sayings hood miAa >ef$m ' 
Thus with my hat,atid sigb^ and say. 
Use all the obsestanoe of civility^ 
3 



KIK^Idl-] TUB W9IMR4VT M TXiriCC^ ^ 

lite one well studied in a sad ostfoit 

To please his gnmdaw, newer trust torn nioM*^ 

^WM. Well, weekall see ycmrttearing. 

6ra. Nay, but I bar40Hpg|it; jrou«)iallliot§igsipe 
By what we do lo*m||^. 

Bttii. li^, Ihfit weie pi^ ; 
I woiild entreat you mther to put an 
yiHir ))pl4e8l suit of mirtfaf for we have friends 
That purpose merriment : £^|it fare you well, 
I haive soioe business* 

Qr0. Apd I roust to Lorenzo, and the rest ; 
Smt w^ will visit you at suppor-time. 

IPxeimi Bassaitio tmd OaATiAna, 



n< 



Enter JT^tt^V^At aii<f 1<avx^sx^7» 

Jetf I am sorry, thou wi)t leave roy futber flO } 
€kaf bmtse n Ml, aad thou, a meny devil^ 
IKdst rob it of some taste of tedio^usness : 
Silt isreitbee well ; tiiere is a ducat for thf«, 
And, Laqncelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
lorenjKn, who is tby new pa^ter^s gmest i 
Give bim this letter ; do it secretly, 
And so &rewell; | would not have my father 
tea ine tsdk with l^ee. 

Jmmk Adieu ^—tears etibibit my tongue. — 

Mast baaimfel Pagan, — most sweet Jew ! if a Chri^* 

tian did not play the knave, and get thee, I am much 

^tsoeivedN^but, adieu! these foolish drops dp some« 

wbal drown my manly spirit ; adieu ! 

[Exit Laukck3M)T» 

,9 i 



23 TUB MERCHANT OF V£NK!E. [aCT II. 

Jeff. Farewell, good LAuncelot — 
Alack, what heinous sin is it jn me. 
To be ashamM to be my father's. child! 
But though I am a daugiiter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners : O Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife; 
Become a christian, and thy loving wife. 

[Exit Jessica. 



SCENE III. 



A Street in Venice. 



Enter Salariko, Salakio, Gratia no, and 

Lorenzo. 

Lor, Nay, we shall slink away in supper time ; 
Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
All in an hour. 

Gra, We have not made.good preparation. 

SaL We have not spoke ^s yet of torch-bearers.. 

Sola, Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered ; . 
And better, in my mind, not undertook. 

Lor. Tis now but four o'clock ; we have two houis 
To furnish us: — . . 

Enter Launce lot, and goes to . Lo aen zo. 

» ^ 

Friend Launcelot,. what's the news? 

Laun^ An it shall please you to break up this» it 
shall seem to signify. [Crives Lorenzo d Letter. 

Lor, I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; . 
And whiter, than the paper it writ on. 
Is the fair hand that writ. 

Gra, Love news, in faith. 

iMun, By your leave sir. 



Lor. WhMMr fjoaH thou^ 

Xotiii. M«rn|r, siri ^ fatd my old master the lew to 
sop to*flilgbt with my new master the Chnstian. 

Lor. HeM heie, |i|ke this :^»-<tell genfk Jessiita, 
I will noi fiul her;*-Speak it pijivately, ga.-r 

[£m Lavn«uot, 
GeBttcmmi, 

Wffl you fti^Mkce you ifor 4lii8 mftfik to-n^l f 
I am provided of a toveh helper. 

Sal. Ay, marry, I'll begone about it straight, 

Saia. And so will 1. 

Lor^ Meet me aad GratianOi 
At Gratiana** lodging some hour henee* 

Sula, Tn i^dod we do so; 

[Ejpmmt SAI.AB1W0 and Salaitio, 

Gra. Was not that tetter from fiiir Jessica } 

Lor. I must aeeds tell thee all : she hath directed^ 
How I shall take her inm her ftither's house ; 
What gpld and jewels she is furnish'd with. — 
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 
It will foe for his gentle daughtei's sake ; 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot» 
Unless she do it under this excuse, 
7h«c she is issue to a faithless Jew, 
Come, go with me; peruse this, as thou goest : 
Vair Jessicn shall be my torch-bearer. [Extwtt. 



Sktloci^'s Bou9e. 

Smrz^ocK MtfMf, and La vkcslot, dtfcovfrec^.— Sht« 
Juocx's Hat and Cane on the IhbU. 

^. Well, IhaiA ahalt see, thy eyea shall be thy 

U 3 



30 , THE M^ECHAHT OF TENICS. [ACTIf. 

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
What Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandize^ 
As thou hast done with me ;-^What, Jessica !•— 
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out — 
Why, Jessica, I say ! 

Laua, Why, Jessica I 

Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee ca.ll. 

La«fi. Your worship was wont to tell me, ^ that I 
could do nothing without bidding. . 

HMtr Jessica. 

Je*. Call you ? What is your will ? 

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; 
There are my keys: — But wherefore should J gO? 
I am not bid for love ; ihey flatter me : 
But yet rU go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal christian. — ^Jessica, my girl. 
Look to my house: — I am right loath to go^ 
There is some ill a brewing towards my rest. 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master, 
doth expect your reproach. 

Shy, So do I his. 

Imuu. And they have conspired together, — I will 
not say, you shall see a mask ; but if yoa do, then 
it was not for nothing that my nose fell. a. bleeding on. 
Black Noonday last, at six o'clock i'the morning, fall- 
ing out that year on Ash Wednesday was four year 
in the afternoon. 

Shy. What! are there ma3ks?.Hear you me, Jes- 
sica: 
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum. 
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, 
Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street. 
To gaze on christian fools with varnishM faces : 
But stop my house's ears, I mean, my casements; ', . 
Let' not the sound of shallow foppery enter. 



SCBVE IT.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 61 

My sober boose. — By Jacob's staff, I swear, 

I have DO mind of feasting forth to-night : v 

But I will go. — Go you before me, sirrah ; 

Say, I will come. [Goes for his Hat and Cane.1 

Laim, I will go before, sir. — 
Mistress, look out at the window, for all this ; 
There will come a Christian by, 
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun. 

SMf, What says that fool of Hagar^s offspring, ha ? 

[Coming forward, 

Jcs. His words were, farewell mistress ; nothing 
else. 

Shy. The patch is kind enough ; but a huge feeder. 
Snail slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild cat ; drones hive not with me ; 
Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 
His borrowed purse. — Well, Jessica, go in ; 
Perhaps I will return immediately ; 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you ; 
'' Fast bind, fast find ;" 
A proverb never. stale in thrifty mind.. 

[Exit Shtlock 

Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. 

SONG — JESSICA. 

HastCy Lorenzo, haste awatf, 

To my longmg arms repair^ 
With imp€ttience I shall die; 

Come, and ease thy Jesses care ; 
Let me then^ in wanton play. 
Sigh and gaze my soul away, 

[Exit J»»siCA. 



il Street in Fenke, b^ore Shtlocil's ffouse, 

Enter Salakio, GaATiAirpi o^ $4|.f mxot mfskedL 

Gra, TbU is the pent^hftwe^ m^ V W* Lww»«> 
Pesir^d us to ^ake stand. 

SaL pis bpur is atqioat past* 

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hot^r, 
ForloveQ ever run before ^b^ <;tQck. 

Sola. Oten tijivqs fi^si^y^mMk' pif^O^^ fly 
To seal love's bonds pew X^^^t tfum tbejr fUPe woul^ 
To keep obliged fi^itb U4y{6r6^te4 ! 

Gra. That evai bol4s : wbQ i^^lb ffop n jbaa^ 
With that keefi ap{it^ti(e ibn^ he sit^ down } 
Where is the horse^tluitt 4q^ Wtfie%4 again 
tf is tedious me^^ief witb lbe i4«^t^ fire 
That he did pace them first ? a^ tbwgl» tbsl ftrt »» 
Are with more spisiti «)^if^ 4iMtmu»y<U 

Saia. Here Cornell (^n^^i^QIPfe of thi»b#QMiaiw 
jtor. Sweet friends, your patience foi my long^ 
abode; 

Not I, but my affaire have made you wait: 

When you shall pk«|a t^ p)»y lh« Ibf e^mlw wives^ 

I'll watch as Ions for you ih^^ih^ 

Here dwells my mthar Jk^w- 

j% ^^JHM #00 long my hridt denkt ; 
Apace the wasting nmimtrjlk* : 
J^or yei ^Aexaairy Uatts Ifear^ 
Nor storms nor nifhiskail keep me ker€^ 



SCE^NE V«] T|IE MERCHAl^T OF VEITICE. 93 

What may for strength with steel con^re f 
O, love has fetters stronger far ! 
By holts of steel are limbs confined; 
But cruet love enchains the mind. 

No longer then perplex thy breast^ 
When thoughts torment^ thejirst are best; 
*Tis mad to gOj 'tis death to stay^ 
Away^ my Jessy ^ haste away 

Jessica at the Window. 

Jes. Who are you ? tell me for more certainty. 
Albeit ni swear that I do know your tongue. 

Lor, Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed ; 
For whom love I^o much } and now who knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 

Lor, Heaven, and my thoaghts, are witness that 
thou art. 

Jes. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pain&. 

Lor. «But come at once ; 
For the close night doth play the run-aw;ay. * 
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast. 

Jess, I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With sohie more ducats, and be with you straight. 

[Exit Jessica from the Window* 

Gra. Now; by my hood, a gentile and no jew, 

Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily ; 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
And trueshe is, as she hath proved herself: 
And therefore,. like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

Enter Jessica. 

Mfhat,^ art thou come f — On, gentlemen, away ; ^ 
Our masking mates by this time for us stay. 

. ^ [Exeunt: 



M rw ii^i^PMAKT QF v»vi«f* Ia^ f^^ 



iM;T TH£ TS(&P» 



fplNjp L 



4Str€etm 



&/, Wfcy niM, I n»w BisMinip wuksTMili 
Witk him IS 6n^ti»fi9 §pofi aIoj^i 
And in their ship, I wifiu?. l^mnpf h W^ 

Saf^, fb^ riMin 4ew with autgries^'d c)ie {K|k% 
Who went with lum Co tetrch Betsfu^^ ^p. 

^. Qeca)pa^ loo toAe^di^lbipwi^un^^ sail f 
9ut there the Duke was ^vep ^o nnjfflJtfWVJ^ 
That tn a gpi»4p)# wiwb ^isfo togpt^ 
Loren2o and bU t^nprQUS Je«si^ ; 
Besides, Aotomo pertif/d tfee j&u]Ke| 
Thejr were jf^t with 9#Mf^uo In ^ sbjip* 

$^ I Aever be&r4 • p^ssbp so confus'd. 
So strange, p^t^igpol»» ^fki 9Q Twa^lri 
As the dog J^w did uti^f ip tJ^e streets ; 
*^ My daughter l-^r-p ipy i^c»t^\'r^ my dajm^ter! 
Fled with a o)^^tm WO my <:bpsti4ii Qi^tt^imf 
Justice ! thp liLW ! my 4HP«ts, md pxy dj^glmir r 
Let goo4 Aj^mo Ifipk ^ \$tfi9% \^ 4ay, 
Or he sht^ll pfiy ^r t)(K^f 

SaL Marry, well remembered ; 
I reasoned with a Fresehman yesterday ; who toU 

me, th^ Antqpif^ ^^ fi ibip of mk Ming wxtskH 

on the narrow ftf^j th? 4p^994wiD% ( itfiiok tl»y l^ 
^e 9\Mfp; 9 very dangerous flat, and fatal, whefe 



file tkttstM of mtthy tt tdl Alp lie btiriea, as ikey 
say^ if my gossip r^foit be dti lWe3t iroman of her 
#6rd. 

AOa. I WdtiM fthe Were $^ Mttg d g6ssip In th&t, aa' 
ever knapt ginger, or ihade Ber neishbours believii 
iriie we|>t for tbe death of a third husband : b*tit it is 
thxe, that the good Antonio, th^ honest Antonio,-^ 
O that I ha4 a title good ettongh to keep his nanci^ 
coinpftny! 

Sat. Come, the (bl! lito]^. 

iSie^. Why the end is, he Bath lost a ship. 

Sdi. I would it might prove the end of his losses ! 

Sola. Let me ^y Amen betimes, lest the Devil 
^ross thy prayei'; for here iie coDEies in the likeness 
of 9 Je#.->«* 

£nief Sttft6ct. 

Mow HOW, l%yloek? whaif news tsmoiig the tterehtfhts ? 

Si^.. You knew, hone so Wel}> none so wdl asyou*^ 
of my dtfUghfer^s fligfaf. 

Sal. Thafs certaiil ;• I« fof rAy p&rt, kheW tl^ tio- 
lor that made the wings she flew withal. 

Sola* And Shylock, f<>f his own part, knew the 
bird was fledged; and then it is the complexion of 
^«M all tc^ leave the daih. 

Skjf. She h ^titmMA to fit. 

Soli fha^s <^erttfii^, if the Aevit i^^behei^ jud|^. 

S^. My^oWn flesh and blood to rebel! 

Saia. But tell ttHf do yoti Mb,/, i^th^t A^toHio 
hsve IM atiy bft^ aft s^' &t no f 

Mf. Thef^lhtfve Itfiother bad match : a bankrupt 
prodigal, who dare sci^rce show hi» head on the Rialto^ 
->— A beggar, that used to come' so smug upon the 
ItMurr^^et Ktnf kbk «& hft hMd : fif WM woh^to. 
call roe usurer ;— let YAOt looK to Kis^ mM t he W«i»^ 
Weit te^ )eti4'ik»>ii«y fdr ir dbllMli aWA1ei)r^^iet 
Bim look to his bond« 



36 TUX HERCHAKT Ot VSKIClU lA&t Itl< 

SaL. Why, I^ra- sure, 'if he forfeit/ thou wilt not 
take his flesh ; what's that good for? 

Shy, To bait fish with^ : if it will feed nothing 
else^ it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, 
and hindered me of half a million; laughed at my 
losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwart« 
ed my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my 
enemies; and what's his reason ? I am a jew : Hath 
not a jew eyes i hath not a jew hands, organs, di- 
mensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with' the 
same food,- hurt with the same weapons, subject to 
the same diseases, healed by the same means, wanned 
and cooled by the same winter and summer^as a 
christian is? if you prick us, do we not bleed? if. 
you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us^ da 
we not die ? and if you wrong us^ shall we not re> 
venge ? if we are like you in the rest, we will resem- 
ble you in that If a jew wrong a christian, what i& 
his humility ? revenge : If a christian ' wrong a jew, 
what should his sufferance be by christian example? 
why, revenge. The villany, you teach me, I'wiU 
execute ; and it shall go hard, but I will better the 
instruction. 

Enter Pietro. 

Pietro. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is ' at his 
house, and desires to speak with you both. 
Sal. We have been up and down to seek him. 

[Emt Pietro. 

Sola. Here comes another of the tribe ; a third 

cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn jew. 

lExeunt Sal. and Sala* 

Enter TvBAht 

Shy, How no^ Tuba £, what news from 'Genoa? 
hast thou found my daughter ? • 

Tub. I often came where I. did hear of her, bmi^ 
cannot find her. 



SCENE I.] tBJSrUtn^HAUT OF VEKieB* 37 

Sky» Why there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone^ 
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse 
never fell upon our nation till now ; I never felt it till 
now: — ^two thousand ducats in that; and other preci- 
ous, precious jewels.— ^1 would, my daughter were dead' 
at my foot, and thejeweb in her ear! Vould^she were 
hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin ! No 
news of them ? — ^Why so : — and I know not what'i 
spent in the search :*why, thou loss upon loss! the 
thief gone with so much, and so much to find the 
thief: and no satis&ction, no revenge: nor no ill 
luck stirring, but what lights o' my shoulders ; no 
sighs, but o'my breathing; no tears, but o'my 
shedding. 

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too ; Antonio, 
as I heard in Genoa, — 

Shjf. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 

Ttf6. — :Hath. an argosy cast away^ coming from 
Tripolis. 

Shy. I thank God, I thank God f— Is it true ? is it 
true? 

TuJb* I spoke withjsome of the sailors, that escaped 
the wreck. 

Shy, I thank thee, good Tubal ; — Good news, good 
news: ha! ha! — Where, in Genoa ? 

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, 
one night, four score ducats. 

S/iy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me: — I shall never 
see my gold again: four score ducats at a sitting ! 
four score ducats ^ 

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in 
my company to Venice, that swear he cannot chuse 
but breaki 

Shjf. 1 am very glad of it; Fll plague him; 111 
torture him ; I am glad of it. 

7\Uf. One of them showed me a ring, that he had 
of your daughter for a monkey. 

Shy, Out upon her! Thou torturest me. Tubal : 



99 THE MERCHAKT OF YEKICE. [aCT UU 

it was my torquoi6e ; I had it of Leah, when I was a 
bachelor : I would not have given it for a wildernesit 
of monkeys. 

. Ttt6» But Antonio is certainly undone. 

Shff* V^Yt that's true, that's very true : Go, Tubal, 
fee me.^n officer, bespeak him a fortnight before: I 
will have the heart of hip, if be forfeit ; for were he 
out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I will: 
Go, go. Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue ; go, 
good Tubal ', at our synagogue. Tubals . [Exeunt. 



SCENE IT. 



Portia's House at Belmont, --^The Three Caskets of 
Goidf SttoeTf and Lead, are set out. 



Portia, Bassanio, Nerissa, Gratiano, Singers^ 
Musicians, Pages, and other Attendants, dis- 
covered. 

Bass. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things : 
First, never to unfold, to any one. 
Which casket 'twas I cho^; next, if I fail 
Of the i%ht casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in w^y of qaarriage ; lastly, 
If I do fell in fortune of my choice. 
Immediately to leave you, and be gone ? 
, Por»^ To i^^ese injunctions every one doth swear. 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 

Bass. And so have I address'd me. — Fortune now 
To my heart's hope ! 

Por. I pray you, tarry ; pause a day or two . 
Before you hazard ; for, in chusing wrong, 
I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while: 



SCEVS II.] THE MERCHANT OF ▼BKICB. S9 

There's something tells me, but it is notiove, 

I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 

Hate counsels not in such a quality. 

I could teach you 

How to chuse-jight, but I am then forsworn; 

So will I never be : so you may miss me; 

But if you do, youll make me wish a sin^ 

That I had been forsworn. 

I speak too long : but 'tis to pieze the time; 

To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 

To sta}' you from election. 

Bass, Let me chuse ; 
For, as I am, 1 live upon the rack. 
Come, let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

For, Away, then: I am lock'd in one of them; 
If you do love me, you will find me out* — 
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof. —'- 
Let music sound while he doth make his choice ; 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan^like end, 
Fading in music : that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be th^ stream, 
And watVy death-bed for him. 

^ Song, whilst Bassavio comments on the Caskets to 

himself. 

TeU me. where is fancy bred. 
Or in the hearty or in the head? 
H&w begot f how nourished ? 

Reply. It is engendered in the eyes y 

With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 

In the cradle where it lies ; 

Let m all ring fancy's knell ; 

rU begin ity — bing^ dong, bell. 
All. I^ing, dongy bell, 

Bass. Some god direct my judgment !^*Lct me 
see.-^ 

£ 2 



40 THE MERCHANT Of VSVICE* [iCT III. 

Who ckmetk me, ihall gain what many men desire. 
That may be meant 

Of the fool multitude, that chuse by show ; 
The world is still deceived with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt. 
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil? In religion, 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve h with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
Thus ornament is but the gulled shore 
To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
Veiling an Indian beauty.-—— 
Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee. 
^"^ho chuseih me, shall get as much as he deserves. 
And well ^aid too ; for who shall go about 
To cozen fortune, and be honourable 

Without the stamp of merit? . . 

O, that estates, degrees, and offices. 
Were not deriv'd corruptly ! and that clear honour 
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! 
How many then should cover, that stand bare I 
How many be commanded, that command ! 
And how much honour 
Fick*d from the chaff, and ruin of the times. 
To be new vamish'd ! — Much as he deserves — 
m not assume desert — 

Who chuseth me, must give and hazard all he hath, 
1 none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 
'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead, 
Which rather threat'nest, than dost promise aught, 
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence. 
And here chuse I ; Joy he the consequence! 
' Par. How all the other passions fleet to air ! 

love, be moderate, allay thy ecstacy ; 

1 feel too much thy blessing ; make it less. 
For fear I surfeit ! 




I 



For fear I surfeit ! 



.1.^ , ^Ijaiwc 11. icSSy 



SCEKS 11.] THE MIBCHAHT 07 TEKICE. 41 

Basi. [Opening the Leaden Quket] What find I' 
here? 
Fair Portia's counterfeit? Here is the scroll^ 
The continent and summary of my fortune. 

[Reads.] You that chuse not hy the vieWy 
Chance as fair, and chuse as true ! 
Since this fortune falls to t/ou, 
Be content^ and seek no new. 

If you be well fleas* d with this. 
And hold your fortune for your bliss^ 
Turn you where your lady is, 
And claim her with a laving kiss* . 

A gentle scroll ! — Fair lady, by your leave T^ 

I come by note, to give, and to receive ; 

Yet doubtful whether what I see be true, 

Until confirmed, sign'd, ratify'd by you. \K%snng her. 

For, You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand. 
Such as I am : though for myself alone, 
I would be ambitious in my wish, 
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you, 
1 would not be trebled twenty times myself; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
More rich ; 

That only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
Exceed* account. But now I was the lord 
Of this iaxt roansiouj master of my servants, 
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 
This house, these servants, and this same myself, 
Are yours, my lord ; I give them with this ring ; 
Which, when you part from, lose, or give away. 
Let it presage the ruin of your love, 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

Bass, Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 

B 3 



42 TAB MBRCBANT OF VEKIGB. [aCT III. 

Only my blood speaks to you in my reins : 
But when this ring 

Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence ; 
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead. 

Ner. My lord, and lady, it is now our time. 
That have stood by, and seen Our wishes prosper, 
To cry, good joy ! Good joy, my lord, and lady ! 

Gra. My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
For, I am sure, you can wish none from me : 
And, when your honours mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you. 
Even at that time I may be marr/d too. 

Bass. With aU my heart, so thou canst get a 

wife. 
Gra. I thank your lordship ; you have got me 
one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
You lov'd, I lov'd ; f<w intermission 
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your fortune stood upon the caskets there ; 
And so did mine too, as the matter fiaills : 
For wooing here^ until I sweat again ; 
And swearing, till my very roof was dry 
With oaths of love; at last, — ^if promise last, — 
I got a promise of this fair one here, 
To have her love, provided that your fortune 
Atchiev'd her mistress^ 
Por, Is this true, Nerissa? 
Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleaa'd withal. 
Bass, And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 
Gra, Yes, 'faith, my lord. 
Bass. Our feast shall be much honoured in your 

marriage. 
Gra. We'll play with 4hem, the first boy, for a 

thousand ducats; 
Ner. What, and stake down ? 

4 



8CKVX II.] TBX MEBCHAKT OF VENICE. 43 

Gra, No! we shall ne'er win at that sport, and 
stake down.' 
But who comes here? Lorenzo, and his infidel? 
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio ? 

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salanio. 

3as8, Lorenzo, and Salanio, welcome hither ! 
If that the youth of my new interest here 
Have power to bid you welcome : — By your leave, 
I bid my very friends And countrymen. 
Sweet Portia, welcome. 

Por. So do I, my lord ; 
They are entirely welcome. 

Lor, I thank your honour : — For my part, my 
' lord. 
My purposo was not to have seen you here ; 
But meeting with Salanio by the way, 
He did entreat me, past all saying nay. 
To come with him along. 

Sal, I did, my lord, [To Bassanio. 

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
Commends him to you. \Gvces Bassanio a Letter, 

Bass, Ere I ope bis letter, 
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. 

Sai, Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ;^ 
Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
Will show you his estate. 

Gra, Nerissa, cheer yon'- stranger ; bid her wel- 
come. 
Your hand, Salanio : What's the news from Venice? 
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? 
I know he will be glad of our success ; 
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece, 

Sal, 'Would you had won the fleece that he hath 
lost! 

For, There are some shrewd contents in yon* same 
paper. 
That steals the eolour from Bassanio's cb/eek : 



44 THB MKRCHAVT OV VEKICK. [aCT HI. 

Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 

Could turn so much the constitution 

Of any constant man.. What, worse and worse ! — 

With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself. 

And I must freely have the half of any thing 

That this same paper brings yout 

Ba$8, O sweet Portia, 
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words. 
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady. 
When I did first impart my love to you, 
I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
Ran in my veins, 1 was a gentleman ; 
And then I told you true : . and yet, dear lady, 
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart : When I told yon ^ 
My state was nothing, 1 should then haye.told you 
That I was worse than nothing : for, indeed, 
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy, 
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 
The paper as the body of my friend. 
And every word in it a gaping wound, 
Issuing life-blood — But is it true, Salanio ? 
Have all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit? 
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England ? 
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 
Of merchant-marring rocks? 

Sal, Nut one, my lord. 
Besides, it should appear, that if he had. 
Tbe present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it : Never did I know 
A creature, that did bear the shape of man. 
So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
He plies the duke at morning, and at night ; 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state, ' 
1( they deny him justice : twenty merchants. 
The duke himself, and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 



SCmrK 11.^ THE MBJICHAKT OP TEKXCE. 45 

But none can dme him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 

Far* Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble } 

Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest mau, 
The best conditioned and unweary'd spirit 
In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honour more appears, 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 

For. What sum owes he the Jew ? 

Bass, For me, thr^e thousand ducats. 

For, What, no more ? 
Fay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
Double six thous^^nd, and then treble that, 
Before a friend of this description . 
Shall lose a hair through my 3assaniofs faoH. 
First, go with roe to church, and .call m/e wife; 
Aad then away to Venice to your friend ; , . 
For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. You shall have;gold 
To pay the petty debt-twenty times ovtsr : 
When it is paid, bring your true friend i^long ; 
My maid Nerissa, and myself, ^ean.ti;me, 
Will live as inaids and widows. .Come, away ; • 
For you shall hence uppn your,. wedding day. 
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 

Bass, [Reads.] Sweet Bassfmio, m^ shxps have all 
lOiscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very 
loWy my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and^ smce^ in pay- 
ing it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are cl&Bired 
between you jmd me, if I might but see you at my 
death: notwithstanding use your ^pleasure: if your 
love do not persuade you to come, k$ not my letter » 

For, O Ipve, despatch all business^ and be gone. 

Bass, Since I have your good leave to go away, 
I will make haste: but, till I come agftin. 

No bed shall eer be guilty of my stay, 

No rest be interposer 'twi^t us twain. [Bweunt, 



46 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. [aCT IlT. 



SCEN'S III. 



A Street in Venice. 



Enter Shtlock^ Salariko, Antokio, and ike 

Gaoler, 

Shy. Gaoler^ look to him; — Tell not me of 
mercy ; — 
This is ^he fool that lent out money gratis : — 
Gaoler, look to him. <- 

Ant, Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Sky, ril have my bond; speak not against my 
bond ; 
1 have sworn an oath, that I ^vill have my bond ; 
Thou cail'dst me dog, before thou hadst a cause ; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs : 
The duke shall grant me justice. — I do wonder, 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
To come abroad with him at his request. 

Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Sky. rU have my bond; 1 will not hear thee 



ni have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. • 
rU not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, - 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To christian intercessors. Follow not^ 
111 have no speaking ; I will have my bond. 

[Exit Shtlock. 

Sala, h is the most impenetrable Cur, 
That ever kept with men. 

Ani. Let him alone ; 
ril follow him no more with bootless prayers. 



SqSMB IVJ THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 47 

He seeks my life ; his reason well I know ; 
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
Many that have at times made moan to me ; 
Therefore he hates me. 

Sala. I am sure, the duke 
Will nevjer grant this forfeiture to hold. 

jint. The duke cannot deny the course of law ; 
For the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be deny'd, 
Will much impeach the justice of the state ; 
Since that the trade and profit of the city 
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 
These grieh and losses have so 'bated me. 
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
To-morrow to my bloody creditor. — 
Well, gaoler, on : — Pray Heav'n, Bassanio come 
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE IV. 



Portia's House at Belmont. 



Enter Nerissa, Portia, Lorenzo, Jessica, and 
Balthazar, who goes behind and waits. 

Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your pre- 
sence, 
You have a noble and a true, conceit 
Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But, if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
How true a gentleman you send relief, 
How dear a lover of my lord, your husband, 



48 THB MEBCHAITT OP VKIIICE. [aCT HI. 

I know you would be ]iTOuder of the work, 
Than customary bounty can •enforce you. 

For, I never did repent for doing good, 
Nor shall not now : 

This comes too near the praising of myself; 
Therefore, no more of it : bear oth^r things : 
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
The husbandry a|id manage of my house, 
Until my lord's return : for mine own part^ 
I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow, 
To live in prayer and contemplation. 
Only attended by Nerissa here. 
Until her husband and my lord's return : 
There is a monastery two miles off. 
And there we will abide. I do desire you 
Not to deny this imposition ; 
The which my love, and some necessity, 
Now lays upon you. 

Lor, Madam, with all my heart ; 
I shall obey you in all fair commands. 

Par, My people do already know my mind, 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In plaee of lord Bassanio and myself. 
So fare you well, till we shall meet again. 

Lor: Fair thoughts, and happy hours attend on you ! 

Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 

For, I thank you for your wish, and am well 
pleas'd 
To wish it back on you r fare you well, Jessica. — 

[Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
Now, Balthazar, 

As I have ever found thee honest, true, 
So let me find thee still : Take this same letter,- 
And use thou all the- endeavour of a man; 
In speed to Padua ; see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand, doctor Bellario : 
And| look, what notes and garments he doth giye 
tkee, 



SCSirS Y.] THE MEECBANl* OF VEKICJS. 49 

Bring them, I pray thee, with imagtd'd speed 
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice : — ^waste no time in words, 
But get thee gone ; I shall be there before thee. 

Bo/. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 

[Exit Balthazar. 

For. Coine on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
That you yet know not of: We'll see our husbands 
Before they think of us. 

Ner. Shairthcy see us ? 

jpor. They shall, Nerissa; 
But come, HI tell thee all my whole device, 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park gate ; and therefore haste away. 
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt. 



SCENE V. 



The Garden at Belmont. 



Enter LAtrvcBiiOT and Jessica. 

« 

Laun, Yes, truly : — for, look you, the sins of the 
fiather are to be laid upon the children ; therefore I 
promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with 
you, and so now I speak the agitation of the matter. 
Therefore be of good cheer ; for, truly, I think, yoti 
are damned. There is but- one hope in it, that cart 
do yoti any good : and that is but a kind of a bas- 
tard hope neither. 

Jess. And what hope is that, I pray thee } 

Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that ytmr fa-^ 
ther got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter;. 

Jess. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed t 
so the sins of my mother should be visited Upon me. 



50 THB MXRCHAKT OV YXKICE* [aCT JII. 

Zotfu. Truly then I fear you are damned both by 
&ther and mother: thus when I shuii Scylla, your 
father, 1 &11 into Charybdis, your mother : well, you 
are gone both ways. 

Jeu. I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath 
made me a christian. 

Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we were 
chnstians enough before; e'en as many as could well 
live one by another : this making of christians will 
raise the price of hogs ; if we grow all to be pork 
eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals 
for money. 

Jess, ni tell my husband, Launcelot, what you 
9ay ; here he comet. 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launce- 
lot, if you thus get my wife into comers. 

Jess. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo ; Launce- 

, lot and I are out : he tells me flatly, there is no mer^ 

cy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter. 

Lor, Go in, sirrah ; bid them prepare for dinner. 

Laun, That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 

Lor. Goodly lord, what a wit snapper are you ! 
then bid them prepare dinner. 

Lamn. That is done too, sir; only, cover is the word. 

iur. Will you cover then, sir? 

Laun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. 

Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! wilt thou 
show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I 
pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain mean- 
ing : go to (by fellows; bid them cover the table, serve 
in the meat, and we will come in to dinner. 

Laan, For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for 
the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in 
to dinner, sir, why let it be as humours and conceits 
shall govern. [Exit Launcelot. 

Xor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited^ 



SC£K£ T.] THX VERCUAITT OP VENICE. 51 

The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words : and I do know 
A many foob, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like faimy that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer^st thou, Jessica i 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ? 

Jess, Past ail expressing. 

Lor, Even such a husband 
Hast thou of me, as she is^ for a wife. 

Jess, Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 

DUETT. 

Jess. In vows of everlasting truths 

You loastt your idle hows y fond youth; • 
But leave me once^ and I should Jindy 
That out of' sight were out of mind. 

Lor. Ah, do thyself no wrong, my dear^ 
Affect no coy nor jealous fear \ 
Each beauteous object, I might see, 
Wmdd b$U inspire a thought of thee, 

Jess, and Lor. ifhus absence warms with fiercer flame 

The fine affections of the soul; 
As distance points with surer aim 

The faithful needle to its darling pole. 

[Exeunt^ 



t 3 



52 THS MBRCHAMT OF TXVICB. [aCT IT. 



ACT THE FOUKTH. 

SCENE I. 

A Court rf Justice in Venice. 
Flourish of Trumpets* . 

The DcTKE, the Maonificoes, Antonio, Bassa- 
Kio» Salanio, Salarino, GaATiAHO,a»€( others^ 
dufcofoered. 

Duke. What^ i$ Antonio here f 

Ant. Ready, so please your grace. 

Duke. I am sorry for thee ; thou art come to an- 
swer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Ant. I have heard, 
Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate. 
And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury ; and am arm'd 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

Sola. He's ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 

Enter Sutlock, 

Duhe, Make room, and let him stand before our 
face. — 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too. 



8CXNB I.] TH£ MS&CHANT OF VEKICB. 55 

• 

That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy raalite 

To the last hour of act ; and then, 'tis thought, 

Thou'lt show thy mercy, and remorse, more strange 

Than is thy strange apparent cruelty : 

And, where thou now exact'st the penalty, 

(Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh) 

Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture. 

But, touched with human gentleness and love, 

Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 

Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 

That have of late so huddled on his back; 

Enough to press a royal merchant down, 

And pluck commiseration of his state 

From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flinty 

From stubborn Turks, or Tartars, never train'd, 

To offices of tender courtesy. 

We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 

Shy, I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose,. 
And by our holy sabbath have I sworn, 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. 
Youll ask me, why I rather chuse to have 
A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive 
Three thousand ducats: Til not answer that : 
But, say, it is my humour : Is it answered i 
What if my house be troubled with a rat. 
And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
To have it ban'd ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 
Some men there are, love not a gaping pig ; 
Some, that are road if they behold a cat ; 
Now for your answer ; 
As there is no Arm reason to be rendered, 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 
More than a lodged hate, and a certain loathings 

F 3 



54 THS MERCBAVT OF TBKICB. [ACT IT. 

I bear ADtonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answered ? 

Ba$8. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my an> 
8wer. 

Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 

Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? 

Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 

Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee 
twice? 

AtU. I pray you, think you question with the Jew : 
You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf, 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise. 
When they are fretted with the gusls of heaven ; 
You may as well — do any thing most hard. 
As seek to soften that (than which what's harder?) 
His Jewish heart : — Therefore, I do beseech you, 
Make no more offers, use no further means, 
But, with all brief and plain conveniency. 
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
1 would not draw them, I would have my bond. 

Duke. How sha!t thou hope for mercy, rend'ring 
none ? 

Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? 
You have among you many a purchased slave. 
Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules. 
You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
Because you bought them-: — Shall I say to you. 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 



SCENE I.] THE KEKCHANT OP VENICE. 55 

Why sweat they under their burdens ? let their beds 

Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 

Be seasoned with such viands ? you will answer, 

The slaves are ours : — So do I answer you : 

The pound of flesh, which I demand of him. 

Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it : 

If you deny me, lie upon your law ! 

There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 

I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court. 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor. 
Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
Come here to-day. 

Sal. My lord, here stays without 
A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. Bring us the letters : Call the messenger. 

[Exit Salariko. 

Bass. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man ? courage 

y ®^ • 

The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all. 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me : 
You cannot better be employed, Bassanio, 
Thqn to live still, and write mine epitaph. 

Enier Sala&iko mth Nkrissa, dressed lijfe a 

Lawyer's Clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
Ner, From bcith, my lord: Bellario greets your 
grace. [Presents a Letter. 

Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 
Sktf. To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there. 
Gra» Can no prayers pierce thee ? 
Sktf. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 
Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 



56 THE MEaCHAKT OF TEVICE {aCT IT. 

And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my &ith, 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter. 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallowM dam, 
Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 

Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,' 
Thou but offend'st thy lungjs to speak so loud : 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin, — I stand here for law. 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court : 
Wht^re is he ? 

Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart : —some three or four of 
you. 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. — 

[Exeunt Salanio and Salariko. 
Mean time, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 

Your grace shall understand, that, at the receipt of 
your letter, I am very sick ; but in the instant that your 
messenger came, in Iffoing visitation was with me a young 
doctor of Rome, his name is Balthazar: I acauainted 
him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and 
Antonio the merchant : toe tum'd der many books toge^ 
ther; he isjumished with my opinion; which bette/dwitk 
his awn learning, (the greatness whereof I cannot enough 
commend,) comes with him, at my importunky, to fill up 
your grace's request in my stead. I beseech you,' let his 
lack of years be no impeSment to let him lack a reverent 
estimation ; for I never knew so young a body with so 
old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptancCf 
whose trial shaU better publish Ms commendation. 



SeSVS ij THE If ERCUAKT Or VElTieB. 57 

Duke» You hear the leu-h'd Bellario, what he 
writes; 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. — 

Ent^r Sal Am NO, Portia, Dressed like a Doctor of 

Laasy and Salanio. 

Give me your hand : Came you from old Bellario ? 

For. I did, my lord. 
. Duke, You are welcome : take your place.. 
Are you acquainted with the difference 
That hold this present question in the court? 

For. I am informed throughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant heVe, and which the Jew ? 

Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

For. Is your name Shylock ? 

Shy. Shylock is my name. 

For. Of a strange nature is. the suit you follow ; 
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you, as you do proceed. — 
You stand within his danger, do you not? 

Ant. Ay, so he says. 

For^ Do you confess the bond? 

Ant. I do. 

For. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 

For. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
It droppeth, as the g^tle rain from heaven. 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'Tis. mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown: 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and tear of kings ; 
"But mercy is above the scepter d sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show Ukest God^s, 



€0 THfl MBRCHAUT OF VWXlQtk* [aOT IV* 

Than is lier cuitom :. it is still her use. 
To let the wretched maa outlive his wealth. 
To view with hollow eye, and wiinkled* brow. 
An age of poverty ; from > which lingering penance 
Of such a misery doth dhe.cUt me <^. 
Commend me to your honourable wife : 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
Say, how I luv'd you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge, . 
Whether Bassanio had not once a love; 
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend^ 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; > . 
For if the Jew do but cut deep enough, . 
Ill pay it instantly with all my heart. 

Bass. Antonio, I am marhed to a wife, 
Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
Are not with me esteemed above thy life 2 - 
I would lose all, ay, .sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you« 

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I lave ; 
I would she were in Heaven, so she- could 
Entreat some power; to change this- currish Jew. 

Sky, These be the christiaix husbands : 1 hav« a 
daughter; . * 

'Wpuld any of the stock of Barabbas 
Had been her husband, rather than a christian.! 

[Aside. 
We trifle time ; I pray thee, pursue sentence. » 

Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine ; 
The court awards.it, and the law doth give it. 

Shy, Most rightful judge! 

Por. And you must cut this jfiesh from off his bf^flBt; 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. * 

Shy, Mo^t learned judge 1-^A sentence; com^, pre- 
pare. 

Por, Tarry a little; — there is something else. 

This bond doth give thee Jiere no jot of. blood ; 



SCINS I.J THE MBmCBAITT OF V«VICB. $1 

The Words expressly aie, a pound of flesh ; 

But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 

One drop of christian blood, thy lands and goods 

Are, by the laws, of Venice, confiscate 

Unto the state of Venice. 

Gra. O upright judge ! — Mark, Jew; — O learned 
judge! 

Shy. Is that the law ? 

For. Thyself shalt see the act. 
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. • 

Gra. O learned jud^l— Mark, Jew; — a learned 
judge ! 

Sky. I take this offer then ; — ^^pay the bond thrice, 
And let the christian go. 

Bass. Here is the nu>ney. 

Par. Soft; 
The Jew shall have all justice ; — soft ; — no haste ; — 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Chra. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 

Por. Therefore, prepare thee to ciit off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less, nor more. 
But just a pound of flesh ; if thou tak'st more, 
Or less, than- a just pound, — be it but so much 
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance. 
Or the division of the twentieth part 
Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, — 
Thou diest, and:all thy good's are confiscate. 

Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. 

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 

Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it. is. 

Por. He hath refused it in the. open court; 
He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 

Gra. A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel! — 
I thank thee^ Jew, for teaching mt: that woisl« 



69 VHB MUCH AW OF>VBKrCS. [aCT IT. 

Sky, Shall I not barely have my principal ? - 

For, Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why, then, the devil give him- good of it !. 
Ill stay no longer question. 

Por. Tarry, Jew; 
Hie law hath yet atiother hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, — 
If it be prov'd against an alien. 
That by direct, or indirect attempts. 
He seek the life of any citizen^ 
The party, 'gainst the which he doth cpntrive. 
Shall seize on half his goods ; the other half 
Comes to the privy cofl^r of the stale;. 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the Duke only, 'gainst -all other voice. 
In which predicament, I say, thou stand's!.: 
For it appears, by manifest proceeding. 
That, indirectly, and directly too, . 
Thou hast comriv'd against the very life 
Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd. 
The danger formerly by me rehears'd* 
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. . 

Gra, Beg, that thou raay'st have leave to hang thy* 
self: 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, . 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our 
spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it :. • 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; . 
The other half comes to the general state. 
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 

Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio. 

Sky. Nay, take my Jife and all, pardon no| 
that: 
Vou take my house, when you do take the prop 



SCEKB.l.] THE MiaCHAVTOFTJBNICX)! 6$^ 

That doth rastain* my house ; you take my Mfe^ 
When you do take the means whereby I live. 

Par. What mercy can you render him^ Antonio ? 

Gra. A halter, gratis ; nothing else, for Heaven's 
sake. 

Ant. So please my lord the Duke, and all the court. 
To quit the fine for one one half of his goods ; 
I am content, so he will let me have 
The other half in use, — ^to render it. 
Upon his death, unto the gentleman, 
That lately stole his daughter. 
Two things provided more, — ^That, for: this favour, 
He presently become a christian ; 
The other, that he do record a gift. 
Here in the court, of all he dies possessed, 
Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 

Duke* He shall do this ; or else 1 do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

For. Art thou contented, Jew ? What dost thcfu 
say? 

Shy, I am content. 

Par. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. I pray yoju, give me. leave to go from hence; 
I am not well; send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Gra, In christening thou shalt have two god»fa* 
ihers ; 
Had! been judge, thou should'st have had ten more, 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 

[Exit ShylocK*- 

Duke* Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.- 

For. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon; 
I must away this night toward Padua, 
And it is meet^ I presently set.forth. 

Duke. I wax sorry that your.leieure serves you noti 
AtttofHOy gratify thi^ gentlemani 

03 



6i THB If aUCHAVT OF VSHICJB. "[aCT IT. 

For, in my mind, you are much bouiid to him J: 

[Exeunt Duke, Magkiticoes, and Train. 

Sass, Most worthy gentleman, 1 and my friend 
Have by your wisdom this day been acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 
Threje thousand ducats^ due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 

Ant. And stand indebted, over and above, 
In love and service to you evermore. 

Por. He is well paid, that is well satisfied, 
And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
And therein do I account myself well paid; 
My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
I pray you, know -me, when we meet again ; 
I wish you .well, and so I take my leave. 

Bass, Dear sir, of force I attempt you further ; 
Take some remembrance of us, for a tribute, 
Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, — 
Not to deny tne, and to pardon me. 

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake; 
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you : — 
Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ; 
And you in love shall not deny me this.^ 

Bas, This ring, good sir, — alas, it is a trifle ; 
I will not shame myself to give you this. 

Por, I will have nothing else but only this ; 
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. 

Bess. There's more depends on this, than on the 
value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you. 
And find it out by proclamation ; 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

Por. I see,, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
You taught me first to beg ; and now, methinks. 
You teach me how a beggar should be answered. 

Bass. Good. sir, this ring was given me by my 
wifei 



KIEV* II.] IfOLM EBCH AKT OT TBHTICB* 65 

And, when she put it on, she made me vow 
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it* 

Par, That 'sense serves many men to save their 
gifts. 
And if your wife be not a mad woman, 
And know how well I have deserv'd this ring. 
She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
Tot giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 

[Examt Portia mui Nertssa. 

Ant. My lord^ Bassanio, let him have the ring; 
Let his deservings, and my love withal, 
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 

Bosf, Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him. 
Give him the ring; and brin^im, if thou canst. 
Unto Antonio's house : — away, make basre.-p-* 

[Exit Gratiano. 
Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont : Come, Antonio. [Exeunt^ 



SCENE II< 

A Street m Venice. 
Enter Nerissa and Portia. 

For. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this 
deed, 
And lei him sign it; we'll away. toruighi. 
And be a day before our husbands home : 
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken : 
My lord Bassanio, upon more advice, 
Hath sent you here this ring ; and doth entreat 
Your company at dinner. 

Par. That cannot be : 

©a 



66 tHfi MKWBHAVT OV TSKICS. [aCT Y. 

This ring I do accept most thankfaUy, 

And so, I pray yoa, tell him: Furthermore, 

I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 

Gra. That will I do. 

Npr. Sir, I would speak with you :— 
ril see if [ can get my husband's ring, 
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 

For, Thou ma/st, I warrant : VVe shall have old 
swearing, 
That they did give the ritigsaway to mm ; 
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. 
Away, make haste ; thou know^st where I will tarry. 

lExU Portia. 

Ner. Come, good sif, will you show me to this 
house ? [Exeunt. 



ACT THE FIFTH. 

8C£N£ 1. 

The Avenue to Portxa^s Honue at Belmont. 

Lorenzo and Jessica disco^eredy seated. 

Lor. The moon shines bright : — ^In such a night as 
this. 
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew ; 
And, with an uuthrift love, did run from Venice, 
As far as Belmont. 

Jess. And in such a night, 
Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well ; 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith. 
And ne'er a true one. 

Lor. And in such a nighc. 
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew. 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 



scEirs u] tfi« VKACBAVT 01^ vtmfci. 67 

Jets. I would outnight you, did nobody come ; 
Baty hark, I hear the footing of a man. 

Enter BALTHA«Aa. 

Jjor, Who comes so fast in silence of the night? 

B€d, A friend. 

Lbr. A fnend ? what fHend I yonr name, I pray 
you, friend } 

Bah Balthazar is my name ; and I bring word^ 
My mistress will, before the break ef day,. 
Be here at Belmont. 
I pray you, is my master yet retum'd i 

Lor, He is not, nor we have not heard f^om him — 
But go we iii, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 

Laun. [lVithinI\ Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola ! 

Lor, Who calls ? 

Enter Launcbjlot, 

Laun. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo, and Mis- 
tress Lorenzo ? sola, sola ! 

Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; here. 

Loan. Sola! where? where? 
• Uor, Here.* 

Laun, Tell him, there's a post come from my mas- 
ter, with his horn full of good news ; my master will 
be here ere morning. ^ [Exit Launcelot. 

Lor» My friend, Balthazar, signify, I pray you. 
Within the house, your mistress is at hand. 

[Exit Balthazar. 

E4U€r Portia amd Nerissa at a Distance. 

For. That light we see is burning in my halL 
H6w far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines, a gopd deed in a naughty world. 

Lor. That is the voice, 
Or I am much deceiv'd> of Portia. 



68 V9S MBBCBAKT OT TSNICK. [aCT Y. 

For. He knows me, as the blind man knows .the 
cuckowy 
By the bad voice. 

Lor, Dear lady, welcome home. 

For. We have been praying for our husbands' wel- 
fere. 
Which speed, we hope^ the better for our words. . 
Are they returo'd ? 

Lor, Madam> they are not yet ; 
But there is come a messenger before. 
To signify their coming. 

For. Go in, Neriisa, 
Give order to my servants, that they take 
No note at all of our being absent hence; [Exit Neb* 
Noryou, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. \A Tucket wwuk. 

Lor. Your husband is at hand, 1 hear his trumpet. 

Enter Bassakjo, Antonio, Gratiano, and Nb« 

RISSA. 

For. You are welcome home, my lord. 

B(U8. I thank you, madam : give welcome to my 
friend.— . ; 

This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Por."" You should in all sense be much bound to him ; 
For, as { bear, he was much bound tor you. 

jint. No more than I am well acquitted of« 

For. 8ir, you are very welcome to our house : 
It must appear in other ways than words. 
Therefore 1 scant this breathing courtesy: 

Gra. By yonder moon^ I swear you do me wrong; 
In faith, 1 gave it to the judge's clerk : 
'Would he were hang'd that had it, for my part. 
Since you do take it, love, so much to heart. 

For. A quarrel, ho, already f what's the matter I 

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
Th&t she did give to me; whose posy was 
For all the world, like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife^ love me and leave me not* 



ffCSKB I.] TBB If ERCHAVT 0r TSKIOV. 6^ 

^er. What talk' you of the posy, or the value f 
You swore to me, when I did give it you, 
That you would wear it till your hoiir <tf death ; 
And that it should lie with yqurin your grave v > 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oathi. 
You should have heen respective, and. have kept it. 
Gave it a judge's clerk l-^but well I know, 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his &ce that had it. 

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 

Ner» Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 

Ghra. Now, hy this hand, I gave it to a youth, — 
A kind of boy ; a litde scrubbbed boy. 
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk ; 
A prating boy, that bogg'd it as a £ee ; 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

Por^ You were- to blame, I roust be plain with you, 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
A thing stuck oh with oaths upon your finger, 
And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
Never to part with it ; and hera he stands ; 
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, 
Noir pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: 
An 'twere to me I should bemad at it. 

Bass. Why, I were'best tacut my left band off, 
And swear, I lost the ring defending it. [Asid^ 

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that begged it, and, indeed, 
Deserv'd it too ; aind then the boy, his clerk. 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine : 
And neither man, nor master, would t&ke aught 
But the two rings. 

For. What ring gave yoti, my lord ? 
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it ; but you see, tny finger 
Hath not tk« nog upon U^-^t is gone. 



jrO .THE XERCHAKT OJ*^ TXH^eB. {ACT 9** 

N 

For, Even so void is your fake heart of. tnithy. 
By Heaven, I will ne'erxome into your- bed. 
Until I see the ring. 

Ner, Nor I. in youis, 
Till 1 again see mine. 

Bass, Sweet Portia, 
If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
Jf you did know for wh(»n 1 gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what 1 gave the ring. 
And how unwillingly I Id't the ring. 
When nauffht would be accepted but the ring, 
You would abate the strength of your displeasure* . 

For, If you had known the virtue of the ring. 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
Or your own honour to retain the ring. 
You would not then have parted with the ring. 
"What man is there so. much unreasonable. 
If you had pleas'd to have defended it 
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a cerpmony } 
Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; 
ril die.for^t, but some woman had the ring. 

Bass, No, by mine honour, madam, by my souJ, 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me. 
And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him, . . 
And suffered him to go displeas'd away.; 
£vp he that bad held up the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady, 
I was enforced to send it after him. 
Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'dl 
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

For, liet not that doctor e'er come near my house : 
Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd. 
And that which you did jswear to keep for me,. 
I will become as liberal as you ; 
111 not deny him any thing I have, 
No, not my husband's bed : . , 

Know him I shoU, I M« w^U »«<« of U ; 



SCENB I.] THE MEaCHAlTT OF VEKICt.' 7t 

Lie not a night from home ; watch me, lik^. Afgtu ; ' 

If you do not, if I be left alone, 

Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, 

I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. 

Ner. And I his clerk ; therefore be well advis'd, 
How you do leave me to mine own protection. 

Gra. Well, do you see : let me not take him then ; 
For, if I do, Til mar the young clerk's pen. 
' Ant.l am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 

Por, Sir, grieve not you ; You are welcome not- 
withstanding. 

Bass, Portia, forgive me this enforced' wrong ; * 
And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
1 swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
( ne.ver more will break an oath with thee. 

Ant, I once did lend my body for his wealth, 
Which, but for him, that had your husband's ring^ 
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give him this ; 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 

Ant, Here, lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring. ' 

Bass^, By Heaven, It is the same I gave the doctor ! 

Por, I had of him : pardon me, Bassanio ; 
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. 

Ner, And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; 
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's- clerk, 
In lieu of this last night did iie with me. 

Gra, Why, this is like the mendingof highw«ys ' 
In summer, where the ways are fair enough : 
What I are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it ^ 

Por, Speak not so grossly. — ^You are all amaz'd : 
Here is a letter, read it at youp leisure ; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario: 
There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor ; 
Nerissa there> her d^k : Lorenzo here 
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, . 
And but even now retHm'd > I have Qot yet 



72 THE MSaCBANT OF VEHIC£. [aCT ▼. 

Entered my house. — Antonio, you ve welcome ; 
And I have better news in store for you, 
Than you expect ; unaeal ^is letter soon t 
Thre you bhall find three of your argosies 
Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 
You shall not know by what strange, accident 
I chanced on this letter. 

Bass, Were you the. doctor, and I knew you not? 

GrtL Were you the clerk, that is to make me 
cuckold? 

Ner. Ay ; but the clerk that never means to do it, 
Unless he live until. he be a man. 

Bass, Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow ; 
When I am absent, then sleep with my wife* 

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life^.and livingf 
For here I read for certain, that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 

Por. How now Lorenzo ? 
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you, 

Ner. A V, and I'll give them him without a fee.*— 
There do J g^ve to you, and Jessiba, 
From the rich Jew a special deed of gift, 
After his death, of all he dies possessed of. 

Lor* Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 

Por. It is almost moniing, 
Abd yet, i am4mre, you are satisfied 
Of these events at full : Let us go in ; 
And charge us there upon inter*gatory, 
And we. will anwserall things faithfully. 

Gra. Let it be so*: The first inter'gaitory, 
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is^ 
Whether till the next night she had rather stay ; 
Or go to bed now, bdng two hours to-day : 
But were the day come, I should wish it dark," 
ThHt 1 were couchins with the doctor's clerk. 
Well, while I live, I'll fear no otht-r thing 
So sure, as keeping safe Nenssa's ring. < 

TtlX SKt>. 



KING HENRY V. 



A HISTORICAL PLAY, 



IN FIVE acts; 



By WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 



AS PBRPORMED AT THI 



THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. 

PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS 

FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. 



WITU RBMARKi 



BY MRS. INCHBALD. 



LONDON: 



FftlNTBD FOR lONGMAN, HURST, RB1S» AND ORMB» 
PATERNOSTSR ROW. 



WILLIAM SAVAGE) PRlNTEft, 
LONDON. 



REMARKS. 



iii^fc 



This play of Henry the Fifth, is the moral to thtf 
play of Henry the Fourthf-rfur here, the jocund Prince 
of Wales, having become King x>( England, not only 
forsakes all his companions in vice ; but hangs two or 
three of them. 

The death of Falstaff also, told in a humour« 
Oils, but most natjural manner, will be as impressive, 
on some minds, as any of those scenes where the poet 
has frequently made state, pomp, or bitterest calar 
mity, attendant on the dying man. — That pining ob- 
scurity in which the supercilious Sir John was com? 
polled to live, when his royal comrade became ashamed 
of him, is 9. subjecl; w^l worth the reflection of many 
a luckless parasite — and now, this steaiipg tp his 
bed ; stealing to his grave, without one tragic bustle, 
except th^t which his consciaice makes, so well de- 
scribes the usual decease of a peglected profligate^ 
that every man, who thinks, will own thp resemblance) 
and take the warning conveyed. 

The disorderly conduct, and ensuing fate of Sir 
John FaUtalf, is not a more ei^cellent lesson for the 
dissipated and dishonourable, than the confidence 
of the French king and his court, in their prowess, 

£3 



4 REMARKS. 

is instructive to ministers of state, and every puny po- 
litician. A dramatist, who had feigned occurrences, 
or who had not closely adhered to facts, as Shak- 
speare in this play has done, might have been charged 
with burlesquing the humaii character in the vain- 
glory which is here given to France, and her conse- 
quent humiliation. 

Fiction, from the pen of genius, will often appear 
more like nature, than nature will appear like her- 
self. The admired speech invented by the author 
for King Henry, in a beautiful soliloquy just before 
battle, seems the exact effect of the place and cir- 
cumstances with which he was then surrounded, and 
to be, as his very mind stamped on the dramatic 
page — ^and yet perhaps his majesty, in his meditations, 
had no such thoughts as are here provided for him ; — 
but that his opponents had thoughts and expectations 
equally extravagant with those allotted to them, their 
every action evinced. 

The incident of the soldier's glove has a degree of 
interest not only from itself, but that it shows some 
slight remain.der of Falstaff's merry Hal, in the then 
great King of England, 

The famed battle of Agincourt, which this play cx» 
hibits, was fought on the 25th of October, the day of 
St. Crispin ; to which one of the k]ng*s sentences al* 
ludes. Here fifteen thousand of the English only, it 
is said, defeated fifty- two thousand of the French. 
The consequences of this glorious victory were yet 
most horrible to the humane Britons ; for the num- 
ber of their prisoners amounting to more than their 
4 



ftEMAlllLS. 5 

bwn triumphant army, they were commanded, even 
vhen the heat of contest had subsided, to put every 
Frenchman to death. 

Aithough the particular number of the forces which 
Were engaged on either side, in this memorable com* 
bat, may be differently recorded by different histo** 
rians ; and the motive which induced the conqueror 
to slay his captives, may also be variously stated : yet 
it is certain that the French army were more than 
twice the number of the English, and that the Eng- 
lish slew their prisoners. 

Shakspeare was determined, in this drama, to ex- 
pose every vanity of the Gallic foe to British ridi- 
cule — and thus — instantly after the slaughter of their 
numerous hosts— he displays the frivolous anxiety 
of the surviving nobility, by the herald Montjoy, In 
this address to Henry : — 

— — ** Great king, 
^* I come to thee for charitable license^ 
" That we may wander o'er this bloody field> 
^^ To sort our nobles from our common men { 
" For many of onr princes (woe the while !) 
** Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood : 
*^ So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
" In blood of princes/* 

There is a judicious remark by a commentator on 
Shakspeare — " that he knows not why thu Princess 
Katharine, in this play, should not be allowed to 
speak English, as well as all the other French/' 

B 3 



REMARKS. 

But had her royal highness been as fluent in speech 
as the rest of the characters, the poet had possibly 
failed of materials to have lengthened his last act to 
the expected number of pages. Dr. Johnson, in 
speaking of the evident deficiency of this act, most 
justly and forcibly says — 

*^ The truth is, that the poet*s matter failed him 
in the fifth act, and he was glad to fill it up with 
what he could get; and not even Shakspeare can 
write well without a proper subject. It is a vain en- 
deavour for the most skilful hand to cultivate barren- 
ness, or to paint upon vacuity .'^ 

Notwithstanding some brilliant exploits of Henry 
the Fifth — the catastrophe of his life, and the final 
event of all his actions, may convey, to many a 
youthful debauchee, as, good a moral as his total 
abandonment of his early associates. 

The hero of Agincourt was in declining health, the 
effect of former intemperance, even on the spot where 
he gathered his laurels. He lived no more than three 
years after this renowned victory, and left no more 
than one child, who was dethroned and murdered. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE* 



ENGUSH. 

Henry the Fifth, King of 

England 
Duke of Gloster 
Duke of Bedford 
Duke of Exeter 
Earl of Westmoreland 
Archbishop of Canterbury 
Bishop of Ely 
Earl of Cambridge 
Lord Scroop 
Sir Thomas Grey 
Sir Thomas Erpingham 
Gower 
Fluellen 
Williams 
Bates 
Nym 

Bardolph 
Pistol 
Boy 

Mrs. Quickly 

FRENCH. 

Charles the Sixth, Kiitg of 

France 
The Dauphin 
Duke of Burgundy 
Constable of France 
Bourbon 
Governor of Harfleur 

MONTJOY 

Isabel, Queen of France 
Princess Katharine 



] Mr. kemble. 

Mr, C. Kemble. 
Mr. IV. Murray* 
Mr. Pope. 
Mr, Clartmontk 
Mr, CreswelL 
Mr, Waddy*, - 
Mr, King, 
Mr. Field. 
Mr* Jeferies. 
Mr. HulL 
Mr, Chapman, 
Mr, BUmchardi 
Mr, Emery, 
Mr. Beverly. 
Mr. WUde. 
Mr, Davenport, 
Mr. Simmons, 
Master Benson, 

Mrs, Dacenport. 



! 



Mr, Murray* 

Mr, Brunton, 
Mr, Farley. 
Mr, Klanert, 
Mr, L, Bologna* 
Mr, Atkins, 
Mr. Treby. 

Mrs. St, Leger. 
Miss Taylor. 

Lords, Heralds, Messengers, Citizens, French" 
and English Armies, and Attendants. 

The SCENEy at the beginning of the Flay, lies in Eng- 
land; but (ifterwards uhoUy in Franc f^ 



KING HENRY V. 



ACT THE FIRST. 



SCENE I. 



An Antechamber in the English Court. 



Enter the Aechbishop of Canterbury, and the 

Bishop of Ely. 

Can. My lord, Fll tell you,— That self bill is urg'd. 
Which, in the eleventh year o' the last king's reign. 
Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, 
But that the scambling and unquiet time 
Did push it out of further question. 

Ely, But how, my lord, shall we resist it now ? 

Can. It must be thought on ; If it pass against us^ 
We lose the better half of our possession ; 
For all the temporal lands, which men devout 
By testament have given to the church, 
Would they strip from us, 

Ely. But wh^t prevention ? 

Can. The king is full of gra^se^ and fair regard. 

Ely, And a true lover of the holy church. 



iO KING HEliRT V, ' [ACt 

Can. Thecounes of his youth promis'd it not. 
The breath no sooner left his father's body, 
But that his wildness, mortify'd in him, 
Seem'd to die too : yea, at that very moment. 
Consideration, like an angel, came, 
And whipp'd the oftending Adam out of him ; 
Leaving his body as a paradise, 
To envelope and contain celestial spirits. 
Never was such a sudden scholar made : 
Never came reformation in a flood, 
With such a heady current, scouring faults ; 
Nor never Hydra -headed wilfulness 
So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 
As in this king. 

Efy. We're blessed in the change. 

Can, Hear him but reason in divinity, 
And, all admiring, with an inward wish 
You would desire the king were made a prelate ^ 
Hear him debate of common-wealth affairs, 
You would sa}', — it hath been all*in-all his ^tudy : 
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle rendered you in music 1 
Turn him to any cause of policy. 
The gordian knot of ii he will Unloose, 
Familiar as his garter ; that, when he speaks. 
The air, a chartered libertine, is still, 
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
To steal his sweet and honied sentences ; 
So that the art, and practic part of life, 
Must be the mistress to this theoric : 
Which is a wonder, how his grace should glean it. 
Since his addiction was to courses vain ; 
His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow ; 
His hours flll'd up with riots, banquets, sports; 
And never noted in him any study. 
Any retirement, any sequestration 
From open haunts, and popularity. 
Ely, The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, 



SC3NS IV.] KIN6 H£NRY V^ U 

And wholesome berries thrive, and ripen best, 
Neighboured by fruit of baser quality : 
And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation 
Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt. 
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty,— 
But, my good lord, 
How now for mitigation of this bill, 
Urgfd by the commons ? Doth his majesty 
Incline to it, or no ? 

Can. He is rather swaying more upon our part 
Tban cherishing the exhibitors against us: 
For I have made an offer to his majesty, — 
As touching France, — to give a greater sum 
Than ever at one time the clergy yet 
Did to his predecessors part withal. 

Ely. How did this offer seem received, my lord i 

Can. Wjth good acceptance of his majesty ; 
Save, that there was not time enough to hear 
(As, I perceiv'd, his grace would fain have done,) 
The severals, and unhidden passages. 
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms. 
And, generally, to the crown of France, 
• Periv'd from Edward, his great grandfather. 

Ell/, What was the impediment that broke this off ^ 

Can. The French embassador, upon that instant, 
Crav'd audience : and the hour, I think, is come. 
To give him hearings Is it four o'clock ? 

Ely. It is. 

Can. Then ^o we in, to know his embassy. 

fily. I'll wait upon you; and I long to hear it. 

[Exeunt. 



12 KING IIEKBT V. [aCT U 



SCENE II. 



The Audience Chamber. 

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets. 

KiXG Hekrt discovered on his Throne. 
Glostbr, Bepford, Exeter, Westhorelakd, 
Cambridge, Scroop, Grey, Heralds, 6cc. at-- 
tending. 

K. Hen, Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury? 

Bed, Not here in presence. 

K. Hen, Send for him, good brother. 

[Exit a Herald. 

West. Shall we call in the embassador, my liege ? 

K, Hen, Not yet, my cousin : we would be resolved, 
Before we hear him, of some things of weight. 
That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. 

Enter Herald, with the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, and the Bishop of Ely. 

Can. Heaven 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 cluro. 
And Heav'n forbid, my dear and faithful lord. 
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your read- 
ing; 
Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
With opening titles miscreate, whose right 



SC£N£ II.] - KING HENRY V. 13 

Suits not in native colours with the truth ; 

For Heav'n doth know, how many, now in health. 

Shall drop their blood in approbation 

Of what your reverence shall incite U3 to : 

Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, 

How you awake the sleeping sword of war ; 

We charge you in the name of Heaven, take heed. — 

Under this conjuration, speak, my lord. 

Can, Then hear me, gracious sovereign ; — 
There is no bar 

To make against your highness' claim to France, 
But this which they produce from Fharamond ; 
'^ No woman shall succeed in Salique land :" 
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze 
To be the realm of France, and Fharamond, 
The founder of this law and female bar. 
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm. 
That the land Salique lies in Germany, 
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe : 
Nor did the French possess the Salique land 
Until four hundred one and twenty years 
After defunction of king Fharamond, 
Idly supposed the founder of this law : 
Besides, their writers say, 
King Pepin, who deposed Childerick, 
Did hold in right and title of the female : 
So do the kings of France unto this day : 
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law. 
To bar your highness claiming from the female. 

K. Hen, May I, with right and conscience, make 
this claim } 

Can, The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! 
For in the book of Numbers it is writ, — 
When the son dies, let tho inheritance 
Descend unto the daughter. 

Exe, Gracious lord. 
Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ; ^ 
Look back unto your mighty ancestors: 

c 



14 KING HEKIIT V. [act ^ 

Go, my dr^ad lord< to your great grandsire's tomb, 
From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, 
And your great uncle's, Edward the Black Prince: 
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, 
Making defeat on the full power of France ^ 
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill 
Stood smiling, to behold his lion whelp 
Forage in blood of French nobility. 

Glost. O noble English, that could entertain, 
With half their forces, the full pride of France, 
And let another half stand laughing by. 
All out of work, and cold for action ! 

fVest, A'wakoi remembrance of these valiant dead, 
And with your puissant arm renew their feats; 
You are their heir; you sit upon their throne ; 
The blood and courage that renowned them. 
Runs in your veins; and my thrice puissant liege 
Is in the very May-morn of his youths 

/Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
Bed, Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth 
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, 
As did the former lions of your blood. 

Ex€. They know your grace hath, cause, and 
means, and might ; 
So hath your highness; never king of England 
Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects; 
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England, 
And lie -pavilioned in the field of France: 
O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege^ 
With blood and sword and fire to win your right I 

Can* In aid whereof, we of the spiritualty 
Will raise your highness such a mighty sum, 
As never did the elergy at one time 
Bring in to any of your ancestors. 
K, Hen. We must not only arm to invade, tbe 
French, 
But lay down our proportions' to defend 
Against th« Scot : 



S€fiNE]II.] X1N6HKNETT. 1^ 

For you shall read, that my great grandfather 

Never went with his forces into France, 

But that the Scot on his unfurnished kingdom 

Came pouring, like the tide into a breach ; 

That England) being empty of defence, 

Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. 

Exe. She hath been then more fear'd thau harm'd^ 
my liege ; 
For hear her but exampled by herself.— r 
When all her chivalry hath been in France, 
And she a mourning widow of her nobles. 
She hath herself not onlv well defended, 
But taken, »id impounded as a stray, 
The king of Scots; whom she did send to France*, 
To fill king Edward's fame with prisoner kings; 
And make her chronicle as rich with praise. 
As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
With sunken wreck,' and sumless treasuries. 

Can. Therefore, to France, my liege. 
Divide your happy England into four : 
Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
And you withal shall make all Gallia shake;. 
If we, with thrice such power left at borne. 
Cannot defend our own door from the dog, 
Let us be worry'd, and our nation lose 
The name of hardiness and policy. 

K, Hen. Call in the messengers sent from the 
Dauphin. [Exit a Hbrald* 

Now are we well resolv'd ; and, by Heaven's help, 
And yours, the noble sinews of our power, 
France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe^ 
Or break it all to pieces. 

Flourish^ 

Enter Herald, uith the Con«tabi,b op f'RANCE, 
MoNTjoY, and two French Lords. 

^ow are we well prepar'^l to know the pleasure 

g2 



16 KING H£KRY V. [aCT I. 

Of our &ir cousin Dauphin; for, we hear. 
Your greeting is from him, not from the king. 

Const, May it please your majesty, to give us leave 
Freely to render what we have in charge ; 
Or shall we sparingly show you far off 
The Dauphin's meaning, and our embassy ? 

K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a christian king; 
Therefore, with frank and with uncurbed plainness, 
Tell us the Dauphin's mind. 

Const, Thus then, in few : 
Your highness, lately sending into France, 
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 
Of your great predecessor, king Edward the third. 
In answer of which claim, the prince our master 
Says,— rthat you savour too much of your youth ; 
And bids you be advis'd, there's nought in France, 
That can be with a nimble galliard won ; 
You cannot revel into dukedoms there : 
He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, 
A tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, 
Desires you, let the dukedoms that you claim, 
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks. 

K, Hen, What treasure, uncle ? 

Exe, Tennis balls, my liege. 

K, Hen, We're glad, the Dauphin is so pleasant 
with us. 
His present, and your pains, we thank you for : 
When we have match'd our, rackets to these balls, 
We will, in France, by Heaven's grace, play a set, 
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard. 
And we understand him well, 
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days. 
Not measuring what use we made of them. 
We never valued this poor seat of England ; 
But tell the Dauphin, I will keep my state. 
Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness. 
When I do rouse me in my throne of France : 

[Rises. 



ftC£N£ II.] KTNG HINflT T. t^Z 

For I will rise there with so full a glory. 

That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, 

Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us* 

But this lies all within the will of Heav'n, 

To whom I do appeal ; and in whose name. 

Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on, 

To venge me as 1 may, and to put forth 

My rightful hand in a well-hallowed cause. — 

So, get you hence in peace, — and tell the Dauphin, 

His jest will savour but of shallow wit. 

When thousands weep more than did laugh at it. — 

Convey them with safe ^conduct. — Fare you well. 

[Exeunt Herald, Constable, JVIontjoy, 
and the two Lo^ds. 
£jre. This was a merry message. 
K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush at \U 
Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour. 
That may give furtherance to our expedition : 
For we have now no thought in us, but France ; 
Save those to Hea^tr'n, that run before our businew. 
Therefore let our proportion for these wars 
Be soon collected; and all things thought upon 
That may, with reasonable swiftness, add 
More feathers to our wings; for, Heav'n before. 
We'll chide this Dauphin at his fathei^s door. 
[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets^ 

[Exeunt* 



SCENE III. 

Before the Boards Head Tavern^ in Eastcheap. 

Enter Nym and Bardolph. 

Bard. Well met, corporal Nym. 
JS'j/m. Good-morrow, lieutenant Bardolpli. 

c3 



18 KING HENRY ▼. [aCT I. 

» 

Bard. What, arc ancient Pistol and you friends yet? 

Nym, For my part, I care not: 1 say little; but 
^hen time shall serve, there shall be smiles: — But 
that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will 
v^ink, and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one; 
but what though? it will toast cheese; and it will 
endure cold as another man's sword will: and there's 
the humour of it. 

Bard, I will bestow a breakfast, to make you 
friends: and well be all three sworn brothers to 
France. Let it be so, good corporal Nym. 

Nym* Taith, I will live so long as I may, that's 
the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, 
I will do as I may; that4s my rest, that is the ren- 
dezvous of it. 

.Bard, It is certain, corporal, that he is married 
to Nell Quickly ; and certainly she did you wrong: 
for you were troth-plight to her. 

Nym. I cannot tell ; things must be as they may; 
mm may sleep: and they may have their throats 
about them at that time ; and some say, knives have 
edge^. It must be as it may ; though patience be 
a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be con- 
clusions. Well, I cannot tell. 

JEw/er Pistol, and Mas. Quickly, /row the Tavern. 

Bard, Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife : — 
Good corporal, be patient here. — How now, mine 
host. Pistol ? / 

Pist, Base tike, calFst thou me — host ? Now, by 
this hand I swear, I scorn the term ; nor shall my 
Nell keep lodgers. 

Quick. O welladay, lady, if he be not drawn now ! 
We shall have wilful adultery and murder commit- 
ted. 

Bard, Good ancient, good corporal, offer nothing 
here. 
Nym. Pish ! 



SCENE III.] KING HENRY V* 19 

Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog ! thou prick-ear'd 
cur of Iceland ! 

Quick, Good corporal Nyro, show the valour of a 
roan, and put up thy sword, 

Nyrtit Will you shog oif ? I would have you solus^ 

Pist. Solus, egregious dog ? O viper vile ! 
The solus, in thy most mai-vcllous face ; 
The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat ; 
I do retort the solus in thy bowels. 

Kym, 1 am not Barbason ; you cannot conjure me. 
I have a humour to knock you indifferently well 
if you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you 
with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms : — and that's 
the humour of it. 

Pist. O, braggard vile, and damned furious wight I 

hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? 

1 have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly 
For the only she ; and — fouca, there's enough. 

Enter Boy, from the Tavern. 

Boy. Mine host, Pistol, you must come to my 
master, — and you, hostess ; — he is very sick, and 
would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nose be- 
tween his sheets, and do the office of a warming 
pan : — ^Taiih he's very ill. 

Bardi Away, you rogue. 

Quick. By my troth, he II yield the crow a pudding 
one of these days ; the king has kill'd his heart. — 
Good husband, come home presently. 

[Exeunt Mrs. Quickly and Boy into the Tavern. 

Bard. Come, shall 1 make you two friends ? We 
must to France together. Why, the devil, should 
wc keep knives to cut one another's throats ? 

Pist. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl 
on. 

Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of 
you at betting ? 

Pist. Base is the slave that pays. 



$t) KING HEKRT y^ (aCT I, 

Nym. That now I will have : — ^that's the humour 
of it. 

Pist, As manhood shall compound : push home. 

Bard, By this sword, he that makes the first thrust 
rjl kill him : by this sword I wiJI. 

Fist, Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their 
course. 

Bard, Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be 
friends : an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with 
me too. Tr ythee, put up. 

Pist^ A noble shall thou have, and present pay : 
And liquor likewise will I give to thee; 
For I shall sutler be 
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. 
Give me thy hand. 

Nym, I shall have my noble^ 

Pist. In cash most justly paid; 

Nym, Well then, that's the humour of it^ 

Enter Mrs. QuiCKLY,yrof» the Tax)cm. 

Quick, As ever you came of women, come in 
quickly to Sir John : Ah, poor heart ! he is so shak'd 
of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lament- 
i^ble to behold. Sweet men, come to him. 

[Exit Mrs, Quickly, into the Tavern. 

Nt/m, The king hath run bad humours on the 
knight ; that's the even of it. 

Pist, Nym, thou hast ^spoke the right ; his hearW is 
fracted and corroborat,e. 

Nym* The king is a good king ; Uut it must be as 
it may ; be passes some humours and careers. 

Pist, Let us condole the knight;, for, lambkins, we 
ivill live. [Exeunt^ into the Tavern* 



SCENE I.] KING HENRY V. 2i 



ACT THE SECOND. 



SCENE I. 



Southampton Harbour* 

Enter YiXETERp Gloster, Bedford, one/ West- 
moreland. 

Glost. *Forc Heaven, his grace is bold, to trust these 

tmitors. 
Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. 
• JP^est, How smooth and even they do bear them- 
selves ! 
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, 
Crowiicd with faith and constant loyalty! 

Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, 
By interception which they dream not of. 

JExtf. Nay, but the man, that was his bedfellow. 
Whom he hath cloyM and grac'd with princely fa>- 

vours, — 
ThaUhe should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
His sovereign s life to death airo treachery ! 

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, 

Enter Kino Henry, Cambridoe, Scroop, Grey, 
Lords, Heralds, and Guards. 

K, Hen, Now sits the wind fair, and we will 
aboard. 
My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of Masham, 
And you» my gentle knight, give me your thoughts; 



Sift KIN# HENRY y. [aCT lU 

Think you not, that the powers we bear with us, 
Will cut their passage through the force of France? 

Scroop, No doubt, my liege, if each man do his 
best. 

Jf. Hen. I doi^bt not that; since we are well per- 
suaded, 
We carry not a heart with us from hence, • 

That grows not in a fair consent with ours ; 
Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish 
Success and conquest to attend on usy. 

xCam, Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd. 
Than is your majesty ; there's not a subject. 
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
Under the sweet shade of your government. 

Grei/, Even those, that were your father's ei^cr 
mies. 
Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you 
With hearts create of duty and of zeal. 

K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thank?- 
fulness ; 
And shall forget the office of our hand, 
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit, 
According to the weight of worthiness.—^- 
Uncle of Exeter, 

Enlarge the man, committed yesterday^ 
rhat raird against our person : we consider, 
It was excess of wine that set him on; 
And, on his more advice, we pardon him. 

Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security: 
Let him be punish'd, sovereign ; lest that example 
Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. 

K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. 

Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. 

Grey. You show great mercy, if you give him life, 
After the taste of much correction. 

K. Hen. We'll yet enlarge that man ; 
Though Cambridge, Scroop, jand Grey, — in their 
,dear fare, 



Ahd tender preservation of our person, — 

Would have him pusish'd. Now to our French 

causes : 
Who are the late comrakstoners ? 

Cum, I one, my lord ; - 
Your highness bade me ask for it teniay* 
Scroop, So did you me, my liege. 
Gret/, And I, my royal sovereign. 
K. Hen, Then, Richard, Earl of Cambrridge, thert 
is yours ; 
There yours, lord Scroop of Masham ; — and,- sir 

knight. 
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours ; — 
Read them ; and know, 1 know your worthiness.-^ 
My lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, 
We will aboard to-night. — Why, how now, gentle- 
men? 
What see you m those papers, that you lose 
So much complexion ? Look ye, how they change \ 
Their cheeks are paper ! Why, what read you there. 
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood 
Out of appearance? 

Cam, I Confess my fault ; 
And do submit me to your highness' mefcy- 
Grey, Scroop, To which we all appeal. 
K, Hen, The mercy, that was quick in us but lat«y 
By your own counsel is suppressed and kiird : 
You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy. 
See you, my princes, and my noble peers. 
These English monsters! My Lord Cambridge here,—- 
You know, how apt our love was, to accord 
To furnish him with all appertinents 
Belonging to his. honour ; and this man 
Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired, 
And sworn unto the practices of France, 
To kill us here in Hampton : — To the which, 
This knight — no less for bounty bound to us 
Than Cambridge is,— hath likewise sworn.— -B^t O ! 



24 KING HENRY V. [aCT II. 

• 

What shall I say to thee. Lord Scroop ? thou cruel, 

Ingratefuly savage, and inhuman creature! 

Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 

That knew'st the very bottom of my soul. 

That almost might's t have coin'd me into gold, — 

Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use ? 

May it be possible, that foreign hire 

Could out of thee extract one spark of evil, 

That might annoy my finger i Tis so strange, 

That, though the truth of it stands off as gross 

As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it. 

If that same demon, that hath gull'd thee thus, 

Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, 

He might return to vasty Tartar back, 

And tell the legions, — I can never win 

A soul so easy as that Englishman's. — 

Their faults are open: 

Arrest them to the answer of the law ; 

And Heav'n acquit them of their practices! 

Exe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 

Richard Earl of Cai^bridge. 
1 arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry 

Lord Scroop of Masham. 

I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Tho- 
mas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. 

Scroop. Our purposes Heav'n justly hath discovert ; 

And I repent my fault, more than my death ; 

Which I beseech your highness to forgive. 

Although my body pay the price of it. 

Cam* For me, the gold of France did not seduce ; 

Although 1 did admit it as a motive, 

The sooner to effect what 1 intended : 

But Heaven be thanked for prevention ! 

Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice. 

Beseeching Heaven, and you, to pardon me. 
Grey* Never did faithful subject more rejoice 

At the discovery of most dangerous treason, . 

Tlian 1 doat this hour Joy o'er myself, 



SCENS II.] KING H&ISRT T. 25 

Prevented from a damned enterprise : 

My faulty but not my body^ pardon, sovereign. 

K. Hen, You have conspi?d against our royal per- 
son; 
Joined 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 unto deisolation. — 
Touching our person, seek we no revenge ; 
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, 
Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws 
We do deliver you. Go therefore hence, 
Poor miserable wretches, to your death ; 
The taste whereof, HeaVn, of his mercy, give 
You patience to endure; and true repentance 
Of all your dear offences ! — Bear them hence. — 
f^Exeuni Gabt, Scroop, and Cambridge, guarded. 
Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof 
Shall be to you, as us« like glorious. 
Then, forth, dear countrymen, 
Putting it straight in expedition ; 
Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance ; 
No King of Engjland, if not King of France. 

[Flourish* — Exeunt, 



SCBVB II. 

Before the Boat's ffead Taioemi in Eastcheap. 

Enter NrM, Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Bardolph, 
and Boy f from the Tavern, 

Quick, Tr'ythee^ honey-^weet hsuband, let me bring 
thee to Staines. 



g(J Xl*JO fi£NltY V. [act It 

Pist. No; for my manly heart dOth yern. — 
Bardolph, be blithe; — Nym^ rouse thy yauhting 

veins; — 
Boy, bristle thy courage up; — for Falstaffbe is dead^ 
And we must yern therefore. 

Bard, 'Would I were with him, whftresome'er h« 
is^ either in heaven, or in hell ! 

Quick. Nay, sure, he's itot in hell : he's in Ar* 
thur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthtir^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^ e'en at turning o' the tide : for after 
I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with 
flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, 1 knew 
there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as 
a pen. How now, Sir John? quoth I : what, mant 
be of good cheer. So 'a cried out, — Heaven, heaven, 
heaven, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, 
bid him, 'a should not think of heaven ; I hoped, 
there was no need to trouble himself with aay such 
thoughts yet : So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his 
/eet : 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 upward, and upward, and all wa^ 
as cold as any stone. 

JVym. They say, he cried out of sack. 

Quick, Ay, that 'a did. 
^Bard. And of women. 

Quick, Nay, that 'a did not. 

Boy. Yes, that 'a did ; and said, they were devils 
incarnate. 

Quick. 'A could never abide carnation ; 'twas a co- 
lour he never lik'd. 

Boy. 'A said once^the devil would have him about 
women. 

Quick. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women: 
but then he was rheumatic, aad talked of the wbore 
of Babylon. 
3 



9C£F£ II.] KlNGHEMRT-r. 27 

Bo^, Do you not remember 'a saw a flea stick up« 
•n Bardolph's nose ; and 'a said, it was a *black soul 
burning in heil-fire ? 

Bard, Welly the fuel is gone that maintained that 
£re: that's all the riches I got in his service. 

Niftn, Shall we shogg off? The king will be gone 
from Southampton. 

Fist. Come, let's away.— My love, give me thy 
lips. 
Look to my chattels, and my moveables : 
Go, clear thy crystals. — Ypkerfellows* in arn^. 
Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my boys, 
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck ! 

Bojf. And that ia but unwholesome fopd, they say* 

Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. 

JBard^ Farewell, hostess. [Kisses Ifer, 

Nym. I canno^ kiss ; that's the humour of it ; but 
^dieu. 

Fist. I^t housewifery appear ; keep close, I thee 
/Command. 

Quick, Farewell; adieu. 

[Exeunt Ntm, BAaooLPH, and Pistol, — ftnd 
Mrs. Quickly, itUo ike Tavern. 

Boy. As youpg as I am, I have observed these 
three swashers. For Bardolph, — he is white-livered, 
^Dd )red-faeed ; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, 
but fights not. For Pistel,-r-he hath a killing 
tongue, ai^d a quiet sword; by the means whereof, 
*a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For 
Kym, — he hath heard, that men pf iew words arc 
ihe best men ; and therefore he scorns to say his 
players, lest 'a should be thought a coward \ but his 
jfew bad words are matched with as few good deeds ; 
for 'a never broke any man's hfad but his own ; and 
that was against a post, when he was drunk. They 
will steal any thing, and call it — purchase. They 
would have me as familiar with men's pockets, as 
^qr ^oves or tl^eir handkerchief ; which make^ 

p % 



28 KING HENRY V. [aCT II« 

much against my manhood, if I should take from an- 
other's pocket, to put into mine ; for it is plain pock- 
etting up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek 
some better service : their villany goes against my 
u'cak stomach, and therefore 1 must cast it up. [Exit. 



SCENE in. 



The Palace of the King of France. 

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets. 

Enter the King of France, the Dauphin, the 
Duke of Burgundy, the Constable cf 
France, Bourbon, Lords, and Guards* 

It. King. Thus come the English with full power 
upon us ; 
And more than carefully it us concerns. 
To answer royally in our defences : 
Therefore the Dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne, 
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth, — 
And you. Prince Dauphin, — with all swift despatch, 
To line, and new repair, our towns of war, 
With men of courage, and with means defendant; 
Foe England his approaches makes as fierce. 
As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 
It fits us then to be as provident 
As fear may teach us, out of late examples 
Left by the fatal and neglected English, 
Upon our fields. 

Dau. My most redoubted father. 
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe ; 
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, 
(Tho' war, nor no known quarrel, were in question^ 



AeZLNEIII.] KIIQG HENRY IT. 99 

But that defences, musters, preparations, 

Should be maintained, assembled, and collected, 

As were a war in expectation. 

Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth, 

To view the siek and feeble parts of France : 

But let us do it with no show of fear ; 

Ko, with no more, thap if we heard that England 

Were busied with a whitsun morria-dance : 

For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd, 

Her sceptre so fantastically borne 

By a vain, giddy, shallow, humourous youth. 

That fear attends her not. 

Const* O peace, Prince Dauphin ! 
You are too much mistaken in this king; 
And you shall find, his vanities fore-^pent 
Were but the outside of tlie Roman Brutus, 
Covering discretion with a coat of folly. 

Dau. Well, 'lis not so, my lord high constable; 
But, though we think it so, it is no matter : 
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh 
The enemy more mighty than he seems ; 
S.Q9 the proportions of defence are &\Vd» 

Fr, King, Think we kiqig Harry ssrottg; 
And; princes, look you strongly arm to meet him,. 
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us ; 
And he is bred oMt pf tha^t bloody strain, 
That hunted ufi in our familiar paths: 
Witness our too much memorable shame^ 
When Cressy battle fatally was struck. 
And sill our princes captiv'd, by the hand 
Of that black name, Edward, black prince of Wales; 
Whiles that his mountain sire, — on mountain stand- 
ing, 
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, — 
Saw his hercHcal seed, and smil'd to see him 
Mangle the work of nature^ and deface 
The patterns that by Heaven, and by French fathers^t 
Had twenty jears been made. This is a stem 

D3 



50 KING liENaT r.' [actii. 

Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear 
The native mightiness and fate of him.. 

Enter Mont joy. 

Mont, Embassadors from Henry king of England 
Do crave admittance to your majesty. 

Fr. King, We'll give them present audience. Go, 
and bring them. \E3it Montjot. 

You see, this chase is hotly followed, friends. 

Dau. Turn head, and stop pursuit ; for coward 
dogs 
Most spend their mouths, when what they seem to 

threaten. 
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, 
Take up the English short ; and let thera know 
Of what a monarchy you are the head : 
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin^ 
As selfHieglecting. 

Enter Montjot, Exeter, and Two English Lords. 

Fr. King* From our brother England f 
Exe, From him ; and thus he greets your majestj. 
He wills you, in the awful name of Heav'n, 
That you divest yourself, and lay apart. 
The borrowed glories, that. 
By law of nature, and of nations, long 
To him, and to his heirs ; namely, the crown. 
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain, 
By custom and the ordinance of times, 
Unto the crown of France. That you may know, 
^Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim, 
Pick'd from the worm holes of long-vanished days, 
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd, 

[Preients a Pedigree^ 
He sends you this most memorable line : 
Willing you overlook his pedigree : 
And, when you find him evenly derived 
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, 



8C£ir£ 111.] KING HENAT V. SI 

£dward the third, he bids you then resign 
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held 
From him, the native and true challenger.' 

Fr, King, Or else what follows i 

Exe. Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the crown 
E'en in your hearts, there will he rake for it : 
And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming. 
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove; 
That, if requiring fail, he ma^ compell : — 
This is his claim, his threatening, and my message; 
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here. 
To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 

Fr, King, For us, we will consider of this further ; 
To*morrow shall you bear our full intent 
Back to our brother England. 

Dau, For the Dauphin, 
I stand here for him^ — What to him from England f 

Exe, Scorn and defiance ; slight regard, contempt, 
And any thing that may not misbecome 
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at: 
Thus says my king : — and, if your father^s highness 
Do not, in grant of all demands at large, 
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, 
He'll call you to so hot an answer for it. 
That caves and womby vaultages of France 
Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock, 
In second accent of his ordinance. 

Dau, Say, if my father render fair reply, 
It is against my will ; for 1 desire 
Nothing but odds with England ; to that end, 
As matching to his youth and vanity, 
I did present him with those Paris balls. 

Exe» He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it : 
And, be assur'd, you'll find a difierence 
Between the promise of his greener days, 
And these he masters now : — now, he weighs time 
£^en to the utmost grain ; — which you shall read 
In your own losses, if he stay in France, 



32 XIKG HKKRT V. [act lit. 

Fr. King. To-morrow you shall know our mind at 

full. 
Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our king 
Come here himself to question our delay; 
For he is footed in this land already » 

Fr. King, You shall be soon despatched, with fair 
conditions : 
A night is but small breath, and little pause, 
fo answer matters of this consequence. 

[Fhurisk of Drums and Trvmpcts. ExemU. 



4* 



ACT THE THIRD, 

BCSN£ I. 

Before the Gates of Harfleur. 
• Shouts — Alarums — Cannon* 

Enter Kino Hbnrt, Exeter, Gloster, Bbdtorb^* 
Westmorelanb, Gower, Lords, Captaix, amd 

Soldiers. 

K. Hen, Once more unto the breach, dear fiiends, 
OBce more ; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead I 
Beat in the rondure of their rampar'd walls, 
Or tear the lions out of England s coat ! 

[Shouts — Charge — Cannon. — Exeuni^ 

Enter BoY, Pistol, Nym, and Bardolph. 

Bard. On, on, on, on, on ! to the breach I to the 
breach I 



SCEirX III.] KIHG H£KRY V. 3S 

Nym, Tray thee, lientcnant, stay ; the knocks are 
too hot ; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of 
lives : The humour of it is too hot, that is the very 
plain song of it. 

FiMt, The plain song is most just ; for humours do 
abound ; 
Knocks go and come ; Heaven's vassals drop and die ; 
And sword and shield. 
In bloody field, 
Doth win immortal fame. 

Boy. 'Would 1 were in an ale-house in London ! I 
would give all my fume for a pot of ale, and safety. 

Enter Flitellek. 

Flu. Up to the preach, you dogs ! Avaunt, you 
culUons ! [Driven them alt off. 

Enter GowER. 

Gvw. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently 
to the mines ; the Duke of Gloster would speak with 
you. 

Ffn. To the mines ? Tell you the duke, it is not so 
good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is 
not according to the disciplines of the war; the con- 
cavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th'ath- 
▼ersary (you may discuss unto the duke, look you,) 
is digt himself four yards under the countermines: 
1 think 'a will plow up all, if there is not pettcr di- 
jeclions. 

[A Parley sounded.] 

Gow. The town sounds a parley. 

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets,'] 

Enter King Henuy, tsHh Exeteii, Gloster, 
Bedford, Westmoreland, and his Train, 

The Govern OR and Citizens enter on the Walls. 

K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the 
town? 



34 XING HEKRT V, [iCT IIK 

This is the latest parte we will admit c 

Therefore, to owr best mercy give yourselves ; 

Or, like to men proud of destruction. 

Defy us to our worst : as I am a soldier, 

(A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me best,) 

If 1 begin the battery once again, 

I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleui^ 

Till in her ashes she- lie buried. 

What say you ? Will you yield, and this avoid? 

Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end : 
The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated. 
Returns vts, — that hil powers are not yet ready 
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king. 
We yi(;ld our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy j 
£nter our gates; dispose of us, and ours ; 
For we no longer are defensible. 

K. Hen, Open your gates. — r 

[Governor and Citizeks leave ike Wftfbf 
Gouie, uncle Exeter, 

Go you, and enter Harfieur; there remain, 
And fortify it strongly 'gaii)st the French : 
Use mercy to thiem all. For us, dear uncle,— - 
The winter coming o^i, and sickness growing 
Upon our soldiers, — we'll retire to Calais. 
To-night, in Harfieur will we be your guest ; 
To-morrow, for the march are we addrest. 

[The Gates are openedy the Governor mi 
Citizens come out^ and present the Keys.^^ 
flourish, ^c.-^The King, 6lc. enter tie Tom.] 



SGKliS If«] KlMQr KENKT V, 95 



MfE^E IT. 

TAe JrencJi Camp. 

Mttier the King ^ Frakce, the DAvPniVy Bur» 
GiTNDT, Bourbon, the CoNdTABtB of France, 
LoR]>i, Captain ai^ SoIdiers. 

Jr. King, Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river. 
Somme. 

Const* 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, 

Dau* Shall a few sprays of us, — 
The emptying of our fathers' luxury, 
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,^ 
Sprout up so suddenly into the clouds, 
And overlook their grafters ? 

Const. Where have they this mettle ? 
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and du]l ? 
On whom, as in despite, the sua looks pale, 
Killing their fruit with frowns ? 
O, for the honour of our land. 
Let us not hang like roping icicles 
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people 
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields 

Don. By faith and honour 
Our madams mock at us; 
They bid us, — to the English dancing schools. 
And teach Lavoltas high, and swift Corantos ; 
Saying, our grace is only in our heels, 
rAnd that'we are most lofty runaways. 

Fr, King^ Where is Montjoy, the herald ! Speed 
him hence ; 
Let bim greet England with our sharp defiance.—- 
Up, princes ; and, with spirit of honour edg'd. 



36 KINO HBVRT T. [act IU. 

Yet sharper than your swords, hie to the field ; 
Bar Harry England, that swee|>s through our land 
With pennons painted in the hlood of Harfleur : 
Go down upon him,— you haye power enough,—^ 
And, in a captive chariot, into Rouen 
Bring him our prisoner. 

Bur. This becomes the great. 
Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, 
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march ; 
For, I am sure, when he shall see our army. 
He'll drop his heart>into the sink of fear, 
And, for achievement, offer us his ransom* 

JPr. King. Therefore, lord constable, haste on 
Montjoy ; 
And let him say to England, that we send 
To know what willing ransom he will give.— 
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. 

Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty. 

Fr. King. Be patient, for you sl^all remain with 
us. — 
Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all ; 
And quickly bring us word of England's fall. 

[Floumh ofDrumt and Trumpets. — Exeunt. 



SCENE III* 

The EngUsh Camp* 

Enter Gowek and Flvellxit. 

Gow. How now, captain Fluellen } Came yett from 
the bridge? 

Flu, I assure you, there is very excellent service 
committed at the pridge. 

G<ni/. Is the duke of Exeter safe? 



SCENE III.] KIHG HEKRT Y. 3/ 

Flu, The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as 
Agamemnon ; and a man that I love and honour with 
my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, 
and my livings, and my uttermost powers: — He is 
not, (Heaven be praised and plessed () any hurt in the 
'orld ; but keeps . the pridge most valiantly, with 
excellent discipline. There is an ensign at the pridge. 
— I think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant as 
Mark Antony ; and he is a man of no estimation in 
the 'orld; but I did see him do gallant service. 

Goto, What do you call him ; 

Flu. He is caird — ^Ancient Pistol. 

Gov. I know him not. 

Enter Pistol. 

* Flu. Here comes the man. 

Fist. Captain, I thee beseech to do xtifi favours : 
The duke of Exeter doth love thee well. 

Flu. Ay, I praise Heaven ; and I have merited some 
love at his hands. 

Fist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of hearty 
And buxom valour, hath, — by cruel fate. 
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel. 
That goddess blind, 
That stands upon the rolling restless stone, — 

Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol : — Fortune is 
painted plind, with a mufiSer before her eyes, to sig- 
nify to you that Fortune is plind : And she is painted 
also with a wheel, to signify to you, which is the mo» 
ral of it, that she is turning,' and inconstant, and va- 
riation, and mutabilities : and her foot, look you, is 
fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, 
and rolls : — In good truth, the poet is make a most 
excellent description of Fortune : Fortune, look you, 
is an excellent moraL 

Fist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him ; 
For he \s^i\x stol'n a pix, and hanged must 'a be. 
A damned death! 

s 



*I1^G HENRi" f*. [act Ift* 

Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free ; 
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut 
With edge of penny-cord, and vile reproach : 
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. 

Flu, Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand youi^ 
meaning. 

Pist, Why then, rejoice therefore. 

Flu. Certainly, Ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice 
at; for if, look you, he were my brother,-! would de^ 
sire the duke to use his good pleasure, and put him ta 
executions ; for disciplines ought to be used. 

Fist. Die and be damn'd ;- and figo for thy friend- 
ship-- 

Fln, It is well. 

Fist. The fig of Spain f [Exit Pistol, 

Flu. Very good. 

G<m. Wh^, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; !• 
i^member him now ; a bawd, a cut-purse. 

Flu. ril assure you, a utter'd as prave 'ords at the 
fridge,- as you shall see in a summer's day: — But it 
K very well ; what he has spoke to me,» that is well,- 
If warrant you^when time is serve.- 

Gwi). Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now 
and then- goes to the wars, to grace himself, at his 
return to London, under tfee form of a soldier. But 
you mtlst learn to know such slanders of die age, or 
else you may be marvellously mistook. 

Flu, I tell you what,- captain GoWer : I do per- 
ceive, he is not the man that he would gladly make 
show to the 'orld he is : If I find a hole in his coat,- 
1 will tell him my mind. — [A distaht March*- 

Hark you, the king is coming ; and I must speak 
^hh himirom the pridge. 

[A March.] 

Enter King Hi?NRY, Gloster, Bedford, WesI*- 
MORELAND, Captain and Soldiers. 

Flu, Heaven pless youf* majesty ! 

1 . 



«CSN£ HI. iClNG H£NET T. Bf 

K. Hen. How now, FlueilenFCam'st thou from .the 
hndgei 

Flu, Ay, so please your Majesty. The duke of 
Exeter has very gallantly maiptained the pridge : the 
French is gone ofi^ look you ; and there is gallant 
and most prave passages : Marry, th' athversary was 
have possession of the pHdge; but he is inforced to 
retire, and the duke of Exeter is master of the pridge c 
I can tell your Majesty^ the duke is a prave man, 

K. Hen. What inen have you lost, P'luellen : 

Flu. The perdition of th' athversary hath been 
very great, very reasonable great; — Mairy^ for my 
part, I think the .duke hath lost never a man, but ope 
that is like to be executed for robbing a church ; one 
Bardolph^ if your majesty kno^ the ^an : his face 
is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames 
,of fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like 
fiL coal of fire ; sometimes plue, and «ometimeg re^i 
Ji>ut his nose is executed^ and i^s fiiie is out^ 

[Tucket Bfrnnds, 

Enter Mont joy, onc^ Attendant's^ 

^. Htn. What shall I know of thee; 

Mont. My master's mind* 

K. Hen, Unfold it. 

Mont. Thus says my king: — Say thou to Harry 
England, 
Although we seemed dead^ we did but sleep; 
Tell him, we ^ould at Harfleur have rebuk'd him ; 
But that we thought not good to bruise an injury. 
Till it were ripe. Now speak we on our cue 
With voice imperial : England shall repent 
liis folly^ see his weakness, and admire 
Our sufferance : bid him therefore to considei^ 
What musi the ransom be, which must proportion 
The losses we have borne, the subjecto we 
Have lost, and the disgrace we have digested : 
pirst, for our loss, too poor is his exphecjuer; 

£ % 



40 KIKG HENRY >• [aCT III. 

For the effusion of our blood, his army 
Too faint a number : and for our disgraa*, 
Ev'n his own person, kneeling at our feet, 
A weak and worthless satisfaction. 
To this, defiance add ; and, for conclusion, 
Tell him, he hath betray'd his followers, 
Whose condemnation is pronounc'd. — So far 
My king and master ; and so much my office. 
K, Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. — ^Turn thee 
back, 
And tell thy king, — I do not seek him now ; 
But could be willing to march on to Calais 
Without impeachment : fur, to say the sooth, 
(Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much 
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,) 
My people are with sickness much enfeebled ; 
My numbers lessened ; and those few I have 
Almost no better than so many French ; 
Who, when they were in health, 1 tell thee, herald, 
I thought upon one pair of English legs 
Did march three Frenchmen. — Yet, forgive me 

Heav'n, 
That I do brag thus ! this your air .of France 
Hath blown that vice in me : I must repent. — 
Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am ; 
My ransom, is this frail and worthless trunk ; 
My army, but a weak and sickly guard ; 
Yet Heav'n before, tell him we will come on. 
Though France himself, and such another neighbour, 
Stand in our way. — ^There's for thy labour, Montjoy. 
Go, bid thy master well advise himself: 
If we may pass, we will ; if we be hindered. 
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
Discolour. — 

The sum of all our answer is but this ; 
We would not seek a battle, as we are; 
Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it ; 
So tell your master, ' 



«CEN£ III.] KIKG BENEY V. 41 

Mont. I shall' deliver so. — ^Thanks to your high- 
ness. [Exit MoNTjoY, with his Attei^ damts, 
Glost. I hope they will not come upon us now, 
K, Hen. We are in Heaven's hand, brother, not ii| 
theirs. 
On to the bridge ; it now draws toward night : — 
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ; 
And on tormorrow bid them march away. 

[March. — Exewdf 



ACT THE FOURTH, 



SCENE I, 



Kino Henry's Tent. 



King Henry oh^Gloster discovered^ 

K^Hen. Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in great 

danger ; 
Tbe greater therefore should our courage be. 

Enter Bepford* 

Good morrow, brother Bedford. — 

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 

Would men observingly distil it out ; 

For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers^ 

Which is both healthful and good husbandry, 

lEnter Sir Thomas Erpingham. 

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas ErpinghaiB ; 

e3 



42 KIKG HENRT T. [ ACT IT. 

A good soft pillow, for that good white head. 
Were better than a churlish turf of France. 
Erp. Not so, my tiege ; this lodging likes m« bet- 
ter; 
Since I may say, — now lie 1 like a king. 
K.Hen, Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. — Bro- 
thers both. 
Commend me to the princes in our camp ; 
Do my good-morrow to them ; and, anon. 
Desire them all to my pavilion. 
GlosL We shall, my liege. 

[Exetmt Bedford, and Glosteb. 
Erp. Shall I attend your grace ? 
K. Hen. No, my good knight : 
Go with my brothers to my lords of England^ 
1 and my bosom must debate awhile ; 
And then I would no other company. 
Erp, The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry! 

[Exit Erpikguam. 

K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak'st 

cheerfully. [Exit into his Tent. 



SCENE II. 

Another Part of the English Camp, 

Enter King Henry, and Pistol. 

Pist. Quivalaf 
K. H-en. A friend. 

Pist. Discuss unto me : Art thou officer; 
Or art thou base, common, and popular ? 
K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. 
Pist. Trail'st thou the puissant pike ? 
K. Hen. Even so : What are you ? 
Pist. As good a gentleman as the emperor. 



SCENE II.] KINO HENEY T. 43 

K, Hen. Then you are a better than the king. 

Pist. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold ; 
A lad of life, an imp of fame ; 
Of parents good, of fist most valiant ; 
I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings 
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name ? 

K. Hen. Hany le Roy, 

Pist. Le Roy ! a Cornish name : art thou of Cor- 
nish crew ? 

K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman. 

Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen ? 

K. Hen. Yes. 

Pist. Tell him, Fll knock his leek about his pate, 
Upon St. Davy's day. 

K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap 
that day, lest he knock that about yours. ' * 

Ptst. Art thou his friend ? 

K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 

Pi9t. The J?^o fo^ thee then ! 
My name is Pistol x^all'd. [Exit Pistol. 

K. Hen. It sorts well with your fierceness. 

Enter Fluellen and Gower. 

Gom. Captain Fluellen ! Captain Fluellen ! 

Flu. So ; speak fewer. — It is the greatest admira- 
tion in the universal 'orld, when the true and ancient 
prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept : If you 
would take the pains but to examine the wars of 
Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, 
that there is no tiddle taddle, nor pibble babble, in 
Pompey's camp: I warrant you, yoa shall find the 
ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the 
forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of 
it, to be otherwise. 

Gov). Why, the enemy is loud ; you heard him all 
night. 

Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prat^ 
log coxcomb, is it meet think you, that we should 



44 KIKO MENAY r. [aCT IV« 

^IsOy look you, be an ass and a fool, and a prating 
coxcomb? in your conscience now ? 

Gaw, I will speak lower. 

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you that you will. 

[Exeunt Gower, and Fluellb^t, 

K, Hen* Though it appear a little out of fashion. 
There is much c^re and valour in this Welshman. 

Enter Williams and Bates. 

Will. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning 
which breaks yonder ? 

Bates, I think it be : but we have no great cause 
to desire the approach of day. 

WUL We see yonder the beginning of the day; 
but, I think, we shall never see the end of it. — Who 
goes there ? 

K. Hen, A friend. 

WUL Under what captain serve you ? 

K. Hen, Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. 

WiU, A good old commander, and a most kind 
gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our 
estate ? 

K. Hen, Even as men vi^reck'd upon a sand, that 
look to be wash'd off the next tide. 

Bates, He hath not told his thought to the king ? 

K, Hen, No ; nor it is not meet he should : for, 
thou^ I speak it to you, I think, the king is but a 
man, as I am : the violet smells tQ him, as it doth 
to me; the element shows to him, as it doth to me : 
all his senses have but human conditions : therefore, 
when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out 
of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are : Y«t, in 
reason, no' man should possess him with any appear- 
ance of fear; lest he, by showing it, should dishearten 
his army. 

Bates, He may show what outward courage he 
will : but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could 
vish himself in the Tl^am^ up to the neck ; and so I 



SCENE XI.] KINO HENRY V. 45 

vrould he were, and I by hi no , at all adventures, %o 
we were quit here. 

K, Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
of the king ; I think, he would not wish himself any 
whore but where he is. 

Bates. Then 'would he were here alone! — so should 
he be sure to be ransomed, and many poor men's lives 
saved. 

K, Hen. I dare say, you love him not so ill, to wish 
him here alone; howsoever you speak this, to feel 
other men's minds : Methinks, I could not die any 
where so contented, as in the king's company; his 
cause being just, and his quarrel honourable. 

IFiT/. That's more than we know. 

Bates. Ay, and more than we should seek after ; 
for we know enough, if we know we are the king's 
subjects : if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the 
king wipes the crime of it out of us. 

IVill. But, if the cause be not good, the king himself 
hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs, 
and arms, and heads, chopp'd offin a battle, shall join 
together at the latter day, and cry all — We died at 
such a place; some, swearing; some, crying for a sur- 
geon ; some, upon their wives left poor behind them ; 
some, upon the debts they owe; some, upon their 
children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die 
well, that die in battle ; for how can they charitably 
dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument? 
Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black , 
matter for the king, that led them to it ; whom to dis- 
obey, were against all proportion of subjection. 

Jl. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent 
about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, 
the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should 
be imposed upon Lis father, that sent him : But this is 
not so: the king is not bound to answer the particu- 
lar endings of his soldiers, nor the father of his son ; for 
they purpose not their death, when they purpose 



their services. Jlvery subject's duty is the king's ; but 
every subject's soul is his own: — therefore should 
ievery soldier in the wars do, as every sick man in his 
bed, wash every mote out of his conscience; and, dyr 
jng so, death is to him advantage ; or, not dying, the 
time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was 
gained : and in him that escapes^ it were not sin to 
Uiink, that making God so free an offer, he let him 
outlive that day, to see his greatness, and to teach 
Others how they should prepare. 

Wil, Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is 
upon his own head ; the king is not to answer for it. 

Bates, I do not desire he should answer for me ; 
and yet I de^rmine to fight lustily for bim. 

K. Hen, I myself heard the king say, he would not 
he ransomed. 

Witt. Ay, he said so, to make jis fight cheerfully ; 
but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, 
and we ne'er the wiser. 

K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his 
word after. , 

JVm, That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun ! 
?— You'll never trust his word after ! Come, 'tis a fool-? 
ish saying. 

K. Hen, Your reproof is something too round ; I 
dhould be angry with you, if the time were, confer 
nient. 

fVitt, Let it be a quarrel between \is, if yoij live. 

K, Hen, I embrace it. 

Will, How shall I know thee agaii> ? 

K, Hen, Give me any gage of thine, and I will we^r 
it in my bonnet : then, if ever thou dar'st acknow- 
ledge it, I will make it my quarrel. 

Will. Here's my glove ; give me another of thine. 

K. Hen. There. 

Will. This will I also wear in my cap : If ever thou 
(Come to me, and say, after to-morrow, " This is my 
glove," by this hand, I will t^ke tljee a bo3^ on the eap. 



scENSii.} *r!r4 HEiTaY r/ 4/ 

jBl. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.- 

Will, Tbou dar'st as. well be hang'd. 

K. Hen, Well, I will do it, though I take thee in iht 
king's company. 

WiU, Keep thy word : fare thee well. 

Bates. Be friends, yon English fools,* be friends ; we 
have French qiiarrels enow, if you could tell how to" 
reckon. [Exeunt Williams and Bates. 

K. Hen. Upon the king! let us our lives> our souls,- 
Our sins lay on the king ;■ — we must bear all. 

hard condition, twin- bom with greatness! 
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect. 
That private men enjoy ! — and what have kings, 
"That privates have not too,- save ceremony ? 
And what art thoii, thou idol, ceremony ? 

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 

Creating awe and fear in other men, — 

Wherein thou art less happy being fear*df 

Than they in fearing ? 0,> be sick, great greatness^^ 

And bid thy ceremony give thee cure. 

Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggai'^s knee,^ 

Command the health of it ? No, thou proud drcam,- 

That play'st so subtly with a king's repose : 

1 am a king, that find thee ; and I know,- 
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball. 
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. 
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, 
Not all these, laid in bed maj^stical, 

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave. 

Who, with a body fill'd, and' vacant mind, 

Gets him to rest, cram m'd with distressful bread;- 

And, but for ceremony, sufch a wretch, 

Winding up days with toil, and nights With sleep. 

Hath the fore-hand and^ vantage of a king. 

Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham. 

irp. My lord, your nobles, jealoUs of y6\ir absence,- 
Seek through your eamp to find you. 



.4S 



KING HEXaT V. [aCT V, 






• J > 



. -'. 



4 



•I 



. ' 






' ' - I 



4S KIHG HENRY V. [aCT t. 

K. Hen, Good old knigbt, 
Collect them all together at my tent : 
rU be before tbee. 

£rp, I shall do't, my lord. [Exit Eepikohah. 

K. Hen. O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts! 
Possess them not with fear ; take from them now 
The sense of reckoning, lest the opposed numbers 
Pluck their hearts from them ! Not to-day, O Lord, 
0, not to-day, think not upon the fault 
My father made in compassing the crown ! 
I Richard's body have interred new ; 
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears. 
Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood : 
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay. 
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up 
Toward Heav'n, to pardon blood : — more will I do,— 

[Trumpet sounds.] 
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me. 

[Flourish of Trumpets. — Exit. 



SCENE III. 

The French Camp., 

A March. 

Enter DaItphin, the Constable of France, and 

Burgundy. 

Dqu. My lord high constable, the English lie with- 
in fifteen hundred paces of your tent. 

Const. Who hath measured the ground ? 

Van. The Lord Grandpr^. 

Const. A valiant and most expert gentleman. 

Bur. Alas, poor Harry England ! he longs iiot for 
the battle as we do. 

Pau. What a wretched and peevish fellow is thii 
2 



\ 



8CKKB XT.] KING HEKfiT ▼• 40 

King of England^ to mope with his fat-brained fol- 
lowi^rs 80 far out of bis knowledge ! 

Bur. If the English had any apprehension, they 
would run away. 

Dau. That they lack ; for, if their heads had any 
intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy 
head-pieces. 

Const. That island of England breed3 very valianl 
creatures ; their mastifb are of unmatchable courage. 

Dau. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth 
of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like 
rotten apples ! You may as well say, — that's a valiant 
flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. 

£tir. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with the 
mastiff in robustious and rough coming on, leaving 
their wits with their wives : and then give them great 
meals of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like 
wolves, and fight like devils. 

Const. Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we 
about it ? 

Dau. I stay but for my guard : — On, to the field; 
I will the banner from a trumpet take, 
And use it for my haste. Come, come away! 
The sun is high ; and we out-wear the day. 

[Fkiiriih rf Drums and Trumpets, — Exeunt., 



SCENE IT. 

KiKO Hekrt's 7W. 

A March. 

Enter Glostkr, Bedford, Exeter, Westmore- 
LAVDy'fLUELLEN, and aU tht English Army. 

Glost* Where is the king ? 

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. 



50 KING HENRY T. [aCT tV. 

WesL Of fighting mea they have full threescore 

thousand, 
Exe» That's five to one : besides, they all are fresh. 
Bed. Heaven's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful 

odds! 
West. Oh, that we now had here 
But one ten thousand of those men in EnglamI, 
That do no work to-day.! 

Enter King Hbnrt, attended. 

K. Hen. What's he that wishes so ? — 
My cousin Westmoreland? — No, my fair cousin;* 
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow 
To do our country loss ; alid if to live, 
The fewer men the greater diare of honour. 
Wish not one man more: 

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,- 
That he, who hath no stomach to this fight, 
Let him depart! his passport shall be made, 
And croWnsfor convoy put into his purse: 
We would not die in that man's company. 
That fears his fellowship to die with us. — * 
This day is call'd — the feast ai Crispian : 
He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd. 
And rouse him at the name of Crispian : ^ 
He, that shall live this day, and see old age, 
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends. 
And say, — ^To-morrow is Saint Crispian : 
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars. 
And say, — These wounds I had on Crispian's day : 
Old men forget ! yet all shall be forgot, 
But he'll remember, jwith advantages. 
What feats he did that day : Then shall our names, 
Familiar in their mouths as household words, — ' 
. Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter, 
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury, and Gloster, — 
Be in tht'ir flowing cups freshly rememberd : 



SCXHS ly.] KIKO HEMftT T. 5^ 

This story shaU the good man teach his son ; 

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by« 

From this day to the ending of the world. 

But we in it sh^U he remembered : 

We few, we happy few* we band of brothers ; 

For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me^ 

Shall be my broiher ; be he ne'er so vile. 

This day shall gentle his condition : 

And genlle.men in England, now a-bed. 

Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here ^ 

And hold thefr manhoods chejap, while any speaks. 

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. 

Enter Gower. 

€rOw. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with spewed ; 
The French are bravely in their battles set. 
And will with all expedience charge on us. 

K, Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. 

West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward 
now I [Tucket sfmndi. 

Enter Montjoy imJ Atteivdavts. 

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, ki^g 
Harry, 
If for (by ransom thou wilt now compound, 
Before thy most assured overthrow. 

K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now ? 

Mont. The Constable of France. 

JST. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back : 
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.. 
Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows thtis? 
The man, that once did sell the lion's skin 
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.— 
^t me speak proudly ; — ^Tell the Constable, 
We are but warriors for the working day ; 
Our gayness and our gilt are all be8mirch'4 
With rainy marching in the painful field, 
^nd time hath worn us into slovenry ; 



5S KIKO HEITRT y. [act IT. 

But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim : 
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night 
They'll be in fresher robes ; for they will pluck 
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads. 
And turn them out of service. — 
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald ; 
Tbey shall have none, I swear, but these my joints : 
Which, if they have, as I will leave 'em to them. 
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable. 

Mont, I shall. King Harry, and so fare thee well : 
Thou never shaft hear herald any more. 

[EjnV MoNTjoY, with Attendan^ts. 
y^X. Hen. Now on, you noblest English, 
/^Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof, — 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
Have in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument ; 
Di^shonour not your mothers ; now attest. 
Thai those, whom you calPd fathers, did beget you : 
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
And teach them how to war, — And you, good yeo- 
men. 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 
The mettle of your pasture, let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not} 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. — 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips. 
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 
'Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge, 
Cry, — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint George! 

Exeunt, 
[Charge, Shouts, Cannon, 8^c^ 



SCXKE v.] KING HSNB¥ ▼.' $.Sf 

8CEN £ V. 

. The Field of BaitU. 
Alarums. 

Enter the Dadphin, the Constable of France> 

and Guards. 

Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all ! 
Reproach and everlasting shame 
Sit mocking in our plumes. 

Const. Why, all our ranks are broke. 

Dau. O, perdurable shame! — ^let's stab ourselves. 
Be these the wretchiBs that we pla/d at dice for ! 
Is this the king we sent to for his ransom ? 

Const. Disorder, that hath spoiVd us, friend us 
now ! 
Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives. 

Dau. We are enow yet living in the field. 
To smother up the English in our throngs, 
If any order might bethought upon. 

Const. V\\ to the throng : 
Let life be short ; else, shame will be too long. 

[Alarumsy Cannon^ ShontSy 4^«] 

SCENE VI. 

Another Fart of the Field of Battle. 

AlarumSy ShoutSy Cannon, Spc* 

Enter King Henry, Gloster, Bedford, West- 
moreland, and Troops. 

K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice valiant coun- 
trymen ; 

?3 



54 KINO HEKRT V. [aCT IT. 

Bat all's not done ; yet keep the French the field. 

Enter Exeter. 

Exe. The Duke of York commends him to your 
majesty* 

K. Hen. Laves he, good uncle? Tbricey within 
this hour, 
I saw him down ; thrice up again, and fighting ; 
From helmet to the spur, all blood he was. 

Exe, In which array (brave soldier I) doth he lie. 
Larding the plain : and by his bloody side 
(Yokefellow to his honour-owing wounds), 
The noble Earl of Suffolk abo lies. 
Suffolk first died ; and York, all haggled over. 
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd. 
And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes. 
That bloodily did yawn upon his face. 
And cries aloud, — " Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk ! 
My soul shall thine keep company to heav'n; 
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast; 
As, in this glorious and well-foughten field, 
We kept together in our chivalry !" 
Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up : 
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, 
And, with a feeble gripe, says, — " Dear, my lord. 
Commend my service to my sovereign." 
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 
He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; 
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 
A testament of noble-ending love. 
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 
Those waters from me, which I would have stopped; 
But I had not so much of man in me. 
But all my mother came into mine eyes, 
And gave me up to tears. 

K, Hen. I blame you not ; 
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound 
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too. 

ICharge — (kmtiKm 



«CEKX VII.] KIKG HENET V, 



56 



But hark ! what new alarum is this same ? 

The French have reinforc'd their scattered men ; , 

Then every soldier kill his prisoners : 

Give the word through. [CAargey S^c— Exeunt. 



SCEKS VII. 

Another Fart of the Field. 
Alarums continued. 

Enter Flvellen, and Gower. 

Flu. Kill the poys, and the luggage ! Tis expressly 
against the law of arras. Tis as ar]:ant a piece of 
knavery, mark you now, as can be ofier'd in the 
'orld : in your conscience now, is it not } 

Gow. Tis certain, the French have not left a boy 
alive ; and the cowardly rascals that ran away from 
the battle, have done this slaughter: besides, they 
have burned, and carried away, all that was in the 
king's tent : wherefore the king, most worthily, hath 
caused every soldier to cut bis prisoner's throat. ' O, 
'tis a gallant king ! 

Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain 
Gower; — What call you the town's name, where 
Alexander the pig was porn } 

Gow. Alexander the great. 

Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, 
or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the mag- 
nanimouj, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a 
little variations. 

Gow. 1 think Alexander the great was bom in 
Macedon ; his father was called — Philip of Macedon, 
as I take it. 

Flu. I think it is in Macedon, where Alexander is 
pom. — I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of 



'56 KING HENRY V. [aCT I¥. 

the 'oiid, I warranjt you shall find, in the comparisons 
between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, 
look you, is poth alike. There is a river in Macedon; 
and there is also, moreover, a river at Monmouth ; it 
is called Wye, at Monmouth; but it is out of my 
praitis what is the name of the other river; but, 'tis 
all one — 'tis so like as my fingers is to my fingers, and 
there is salmons in poth. if you mark Alexandei's 
life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it 
indifferent well ; for there is figures in all things. — 
Alexander, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, 
and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, 
and his indignations, and also being a little intoxi* 
cates in hi^ prains, did, in his ales and his angers, 
look you, kill his pest friend, Clytus. 

GoxD, Our king is not like him in that; he never 
killed any of his friends. 

Flu, It is not well done, mark you now, to take 
the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end, 
and finished. I speak but in the figures and compa- 
risons of it: As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, 
being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Mon- 
mouth, being in his right wits and his goot judgments, 
is turn away the fat knight with the great pelly- 
doublet ; he was full of jests, and gypes, and knave- 
ries, and mocks; I am forget his name. 

Gow. Sir John Falstaff. 

Flu. That is he. — I tell you, there is good men 
porn at Monmouth. 

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets,} 

Gow. Here comes his majesty* [Exit Goweb. 

Flourish. 

Enter King Henry, Exeter, Oldster, West- 
moreland, Bed^'ord, Heralds, Attendants, 
. Captain, and Guards. 

K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to France^ 
Until this instant. — Take a trumpet, herald ; 



8CSVZ Til.] KIKO HKKRT V. 57 

Ride you unto the horsemen on yon hill ; 
If they will fight with us^ hid them come down, 
Or void the field ; they do offend our sight: 
If they'll do neither, we will come to them ; 
And make them skir away, as swift as stones 
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings : 
Go, and tell them so. 

Exf. Here comes the herald of the French, my 
liege. 

Gloit, His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be* 

Enter Momtjoy, aiuf Attendants. 

JEl. Hen. How now, what means this, herald ? — 
Know'st thou not, 
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom ? 
Coro'st thou again for ransom } 

Mont. No, gi*eat king : 
I come to thee for charitable license 
That we may wander o'er this bloody field. 
To book our dead, and then to bury them ; 
To Sort our nobles from our common men ; 
For many of our princes (woe the while !) 
lie drown'd and soakM in mercenary blood ; 
(So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
In blood of princes ;) and their wounded steeds 
Fret fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage, 
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters. 
O, give us leave, great king. 
To view the field in safety, and dispose 
Of their dead bodies. 

K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald, 
I know not if the day be ours, or no : 
For yet a many of your horsemen peer. 
And gallop o'er the field. 

Mont. The day is yours. 

K. Hen. Praised be Heaven, and not our strength, 
for it! 
What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by } 



68 KINO HENET T. [aCT !▼• 

Mont. They call it — -Agincpurt. 
K. Hen, Then call we this — ^the field - of Apn* 
court, 
Fought on the d^y of Crispin Crispianus. 

{Flourisk of Drums and Trumpets — Shouts,'} 

Flu. Your grandfather, of famous memory, anljt 

please your majesty, and your great uncle Edward 

the Plack Prince of Wales, as 1 have read in the 

chronicles, fought a most prave pattle he^'e in France* 

jr. Hen. They did, Fluellen. 

Flu, Your majesty says very true : If your majestjr 
is remember'd of it, the Welshmen did goot service ia 
a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their 
Monmouth caps; which^ your majesty knows, to 
this hour is an honourable padge of the service ; ajpf^ 
I do pelieve your majesty takes no scorn to wear the 
leek upon St Tavy's day. 

K.Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour: 
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 

Flu. All the water in the Wye cannot wash your 
majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell 
you that : Heaven pless it and preserve it, as long as 
it pleases your grace, and his majesty too« 

K.Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. 

Flu. I am your majesty's countryman, I care not 
who knows it: I will confess it to ail the 'orld; I 
need not be ashamed of your majesty^ praised be 
Heaven, so long as your majesty is an honest man. 

K. Hen, Heaven keep me sol — Our hei^lds g|» 
with him: 
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
On both our parts. — 

Exit MoNTjoT, xvith the Heralds, andih 
Attendants, 
Call yonder fellow hither. 

Exe. Soldier, you must pome to the king. 



8CXNX Vn.] KING HENKT T. 59 

Enter Williams. 

K, Hen, Soldier, why wear'st thou tbat glove in 
thy tap ? 

fViU. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one 
that I should fight withal, if he be alive. 

K* Hen. An Englishman? 

WUL An't please your majesty, a rascal that swag- 
gei'd with me last nighty who, if 'a live, and ever 
dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him 
a box o' the ear ; or, if I can see my glove in his cap, 
(which he s\K'ore, as he was a soldier, he would wear, 
if alive), I will strike it out soundly. 

K. Hen, What think you, Captain Fluellcn ? is it 
fit this soldier keep his oath ? 

Fh, He is a craven and a villain else, an't please 
your majesty, in my cbnscicnce. 

K, Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of 
great sort, quite from the answer of his degree. 

Flu. Though he be as goot a gentleman as the 
tevil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is ne- 
cobsary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and 
his oath. 

K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou 
meet'st the fellow. 

Will. So I will, my liege, as 1 live. 

K. Hen. Whom serv'st thou under ? 

WUL Under Captain Gower, my liege. 

Flu. Gower is a goot captain, and is goot know- 
ledge and literature in the wars. 

K.Hen. Call him hitherto me, soldier. 

Will. I will, my liege. [Exit Williams. 

K. Hen. Here, Fluellen : wear thou this favour 
for me, and stick it in thy cap : When Alcn^on and 
myself were down together, I pluck'd this glove from 
his helm ; if any man challenge this, he is a fi iend to 
Alen9on, and an enemy to our person ; if thou en- 
counter any such, apprehend him, an thou' dost love 
me. 



60 KING HEKRT V. [aCT IT. 

Flu, Your grace does me as great honours, as can 
be desired in the hearts of his subjects : I would fain 
see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find 
himself aggrieved at this glove: that is all; but I 
would fain see it once:, an please Heaven of his grace^ 
that I might see it. 

jr. Hen. Know st thou Gower ? 

Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. 

K. Hen, 'Pray thee go seek him, and bring him to 
roy tent. 

f/if. I will fetch him. [Exit Fluellek. 

K. Hen, Brother Gloster, 
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels ; 
The glove, which I have given him for a favour, 
May, haply, purchase him a box o' the ear. — 

[Exit Gloster. 
It is the soldier's ; I, by bargain, should 
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Westmoreland; 
If that the soldier strike him (as I judge. 
By his blunt bearing, he will keep his word), 
Some sudden mischief may arise of it ; 
For I do know Fluellen valiant. 
And, touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder, 
Arid quickly will return an injury: 
Follow, and see there be no harm between them. 

[Exit Westmoreland. 
Uncle of Exeter, and brother Bedford, 
Come you with me. 

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets* — Exeunt, 



SCENE VIII. 



Another Part of the Field. 

Enter Gow'er and Williams. 
WilL I warrant it is to knight you, captain. 



SC£N£ Til.] KING HENBT T« 6l 

Enter Fluellew. 

Flu, Heaven's will and his pleasure, captain, I be- 
seech you now, come apace to the king: there is 
more goot toward you, peradventure, than is in your 
knowledge to dream of. 

IVilL Sir, know you this glove ? 

Flu. Know the glove ? I know the glove is a glove. 

Will* 1 know this ; and thus I challenge it. 

[Strikes Fluellek. 

Flu, 'Sbud, an arrant traitor, as any*s in the uni« 
versal 'orld, or in France, or in England. 

Gaw. How now, sir ? you villain ! 

Will, Do you think Til be forsworn ? 

Fbi. Stand away, Captain Gower ; I will give trea- 
son his payment into plows, I warrant you* 

JVilL 1 am no traitor. 

f7tf. That's a lie in thy throat. — I charge you in 
bis majesty's name, apprehend him ; he's a friend of 
the duke Alen9on's. 

Enter Westmorelakd and Gloster* 

Glost. How now, how now ! what's the matter ? 

Flu. My lord of Gloster, here is (praised Heaven be 
for it ! a most contagious treason come to lights look 
you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. — 
Here is bis majesty. 

Enter King Hekry, Bedford, Exeter, Erping« 
HAM, Captain, and Guarj>8. 

K. Hen. How now ! what's the matter ? 

Flu. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, 
look your grace, has struck the glove, which your 
inajesty is take out of the helmet of Alen9on« 

JViu. My liege, this was my glove ; here is the fel- 
low of it : and be, that 1 gave it to in change, pro- 
mised to wear it in his cap ; I promised to strike him, 
if be did: I met this man with my glove in bis cap» 
and I Ivave been as good as my word. 

o 



62 KIVQ HENRT T. [acT IV. 

J7it. Your majesty hear now, (saving your majesty's 
manhood,) what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lowsy 
knav« it is : I hope, your majesty is pear me testi- 
mony, and witness, and avouchments, that this is the 
glove of Alenpon, that your majesty is give me, iu 
your conscience now. 

K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier : Look, here is 
the fellow of it : 'Twas I, indeed, thou proraised'st 
to strike ; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. 

Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer 
for it, it there is any martial law in the 'orld. 
K, Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction ? 
Will. All offences, my liege, Come from the heart : 
never came any from mine, that might offend your 
majesty. 

K. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse. 
IFUl. Your majesty came riot like yourself: you 
appeared to me but as a common man ; witness the 
night, your garments, your lowliness ; and wliat your 
highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you, 
take it for your own fault, and not mine ; for had you 
been as I took you for, I made no offence ; therefore, 
I beseech your highness, pardon me. 
K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with 
crowns.= — 

[Exeter drops a Purse into the Glove. 
Keep it, soldier; 

And wear it for an honour in thy cap, 
Till I do challenge it.— 
And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. 

Flu. By this day and this . light, the fellow has 
mettle enough in his pelly : — Hold, there is twelve 
pence for you ; and I pray you to keep you out of 
prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions; 
and, I warrant you, it is the petter for you. 
tVill. I will none of your money. 
, Flu, It h with a goot will, I can tell you : it will 
serve you to mend your shoes. . [Exit Williams. 



SC£NB VII.] KINO HEl^BY V. 63 

Enter the Two English Heralds. 

K, Hen, Now, Herald ; are the dead numbered ? 
[Herald delivers two Papers to the Kino, who 
gives one of them to the Duke of Exeter. 
What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle ? 

Exe. Charles, Duke of Orleans, nephew to the king; 
John, Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt: 
Of other lords, and barons, knights, and 'squires. 
Full fifteen hundred, besides conjUion men. 

K. Hen, This note doth tell me of ten thousand 
French 
Slain in the neld ; of princes, in this number. 
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
One hundred twenty-six : added to these, 
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen. 
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which. 
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights : 
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, 
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ; 
Ilie rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, 'squires, 
And gentlemen of blood and quality. — 
Here was a royal fellowship of death! 
Where is the number of our English dead ? 

Exe. Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Sufr 
folk, 
Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire : 
None else of name ; and^ of all other men. 
But ^ve and twenty. 

K» Hen. O Heaven, thy arm was here! 
And not to us, but to thy arm alone, 
Ascribe we all. — 

Come, go we in procession to the village : 
And be it death proclaimecl through our host. 
To boast of this, or take that praise from Heav'n, 
Which is his only. 

Flu. Is it not lawful, an iplease your majesty, tp 
tell how many is killed ? 

o 2 



6a king HBNR7 V. [aCT V. 

K, Hen. Yes, captain ; but with this acknowledg- 
ment, 
That Heav'n fought for us. 

Flu, Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot, 
iC. Hen* Do we all holy rites. 
The deaci with charity enclosed in clay, 
VVe will to Calais ; and to England then ; 
Where ne'er from, France arriv*d more happy men. 

[March. — Exeunt. 



ACT THE FIFTH. 



SCENE I. 



The English Camp in France, 

^ Enter Fluellen and Gower. 

Gow, Nay, that's right : — But why wear you your 
leek to-day ? St. Davy's day is past 

Flu, There is occasions and causes why and where- 
fore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend. 
Captain Gower: The rascally, scald, beggarly, 
lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol, — which you and your- 
self, and all the 'orld, know ih be no pettcr than a 
fellow, look you now, of no merits, — he is come to 
me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look 
you, and bid me eat my leek : it was in a place 
where 1 could not preed no contentions with him ; 
but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I 
see him once again, and then I will tell him a little 
piece of my desires. 

Gaw. Why, here he comes, gwelling like a turky- 
cock. 

Flu, T'n no matter for his swelling, nor bis turky- 
cocks. 



SCENE I.] KITUCt hekrt v« 65 

Enter Pistol. 
Heaven pless you, ancient Pistol ! you scurvy, Ipwsy 
knave, Heaven pless you ! ^ 

[Draxvs the Leek across his Nose^ 

Pist, Ha! art thou bedlam ? dost thou thirst, b.ase 
Trojan, 
To have me fold up Parca's fatal tveb ? 
Hence ! I am qualmibh at the smell of leek. 

Flu, I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lowsy knave, 
at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to 
eat, look you, this leek : because, look you, you do 
not love it, — nor your affections, and your appetites, 
and your digestions, does not agree with it, — 1 would 
desire you to eat it. 

Pist, Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats. 

Flu, There is one goat for you.— [Strikes him^ 
Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it ? 

Pist, Base Trojan, thou shalt die. 

flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Hea- 
ven's will is: I will desire yoii to live the mean time, 
and eat your victuals ; come, there is sauce for it. — 
[Strikes him to t/te Qround,] You called me yester- 
day, mountain 'squire, but I will make you to-day a 
'squire of low degree. — I pray you, fall to j if you 
can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. 

Gffw. Enough, captain, you have astonished him. 

flu, I say, 1 will make him eat some part of my 
leek, or I will peat his pate four days : — Pite, I pray 
you; it is goot for your green wound, and your 
ploody coxcomb. 

Pist, Must I bite ? 

Flu, Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of 
questions too^ and ambiguities. 

Pist, By tliis leek, I will most horribly revenge ; I 
eat, and eke I swear,— 

Flu, Eat, I pray you : Will you have son^e more 
sauce to your leek i there is not enough leek to swear by* 

Pist. Quiet thy cudgel ; thou dost see, I e^t. 

g3 



66 KFKG HBNRT V, [aCT T. 

Flu, Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. 
Kay, 'pray you, throw none away ; the skin is goot 
for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions 
to see leeks hereafter, 1 pray you, mock at them; 
that is all. 

Pist. Good. 

Flu. Ay, leeks is goot : — Hold you, there is a 
groat to heal your pate. 

Pist, Me a groat ! 

Flu, Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it ; or 
I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat. 

Pist, I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. 

Flu, If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in 
cudgels ; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy no- 
thing of me but cudgels. Heaven be wi' you, and 
keep you, and heal your pate. [St tikes kirn, — Exit, 

Pist, All hell shall stir for this. 

G(yw. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly 
knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, — be- 
gun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a me- 
morable trophy of predeceased valour, — and dare not 
avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have 
seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice 
or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak 
English in the native garb, he could not therefore 
handle an English cudgel : you find it otherwise ; 
and, henceforth, let a Welsh correction teach you a 
good English condition : far6 you well. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

The French Court at Tropes, in Champagne^ 

Flourish of all the Instruments, 

Enter King Heniit, Exeter, Bedford, Glostbr, 
Westmoreland, and other Lords; meeting tkeFvL. 
Kim 6, Queen Isabel, Princess Katharine, 
the Duke op Burgundy, the Constable of 
France, Montjoy, French Lords and Ladies. 

K,Uen4 Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met ! 



SCEKE II.] KINO HENRY ▼. 07 

Unto our brother France, ^nd to our sister. 
Health and fair time of day : — joy and good wishes 
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine : < 
And, as a branch and member of this royalty. 
By whom this great assembly is contrived, 
We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy : — 
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all ! 

Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your 
iace. 
Most worthy brother England ; fairly met :— .- 
So are you, princes English, every one« 

Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother Englandf 
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting, 
As we are now glad to behold your eyes ; 
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them 
Against the French, that met them in their bent, 
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks : 
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, 
Have lost their quality ; and that this day 
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love. 

K. Hen. To cry " Amen'* to that, thus we appear. 

Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you. 

Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love. 
Great kings of France and England. That I've la« 

bour'd 
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, 
To brin^ your most imperial majesties 
Unto this bar and royal interview. 
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness : 
Since then my office hath so far prevailed, 
That, face to face, and royal eye to eye, 
You have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me. 
If I demand, before this royal view, 
What rub, or what impediment, there is. 
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, 
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births. 
Should not, in this best garden of the world. 
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage I 



6i KINO HENRT V, [aCT V, 

K. Hen. If, Duke of Burgundy, you wpuld the 
peace, 
Which you have cited, you must huy that peace 
With full accord to all our just demands; 
Whose tenours and particular effects 
You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands. 

Bur. The king hath heard them : to the which, as 
yet. 
There is no answer made. 

K. Hen. Well then, the peace, 
yrhich you before so urg'd, lies in his answer, 

Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye 
Cerglanc'd the articles : pleaseth your ^race 
To appoint some of your counsel presently 
To sit with us, once more with better heed 
To re-survey them, we will, suddenly. 
Pass our accept, and peremptory answer. 

K, Hen. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter, — 
You, brother Bedford, — brother Gloster> you, — 
And take >vith you free power to ratify. 
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
Shall see advantageable for our dignity ; 
And we'll con sign thereto. — Will you, fair si^er. 
Go with the princes, or st;ay here with us ? 

Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with them ; 
Haply, a woman's voice may do some good, 
When articles, too nicely urg'd, be stood on. 

K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with 
us; 
3he is our capital demand, comprised 
Within the fore rank of our articles. 

Q. Isa. She hath good leave. 
[Exeunt all but King Henry and Katharine. 

K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair. 
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms. 
Such as will enter at a lady's ear, 
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? 

Kath, Your ninjesly shall mock at me; I cannot 
speak your England. 



SCENE II.] KINO HENRY V. 6S 

K, Hen* O fair Katharine, if you will love me 
soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to 
hear you confess it brokeuly with your English 
tongue. Do you like me, Kate ? 

Kath, I cannot tell vat is — like me. 

K. Hen, An angel is like you, Kate ; and you are 
like an angel. 

Kath, De tongues of de man is be full of deceits. 

£. Hen. No, 'faith, Kate ; I know no ways to 
mince it in love, but directly to say — I love you : then, 
if you urge me further 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 ? 

Kath. Me understand well. 

K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, or 
to dance, for your sake, Kate, why you undid me : 
If I could win a lady 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 : Butj before Heaven, I cannot look greenly, nor 
gasp out my eloquence ; nor I have no cunning io^ 
protestation, only downright oaths: which I never 
use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou 
canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, — whose face 
is not worth sun-burning, that never looks into his 
glass for love of any thing 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 a good leg will fall, a straight back 
will stoop, a black beard will turn white ; but a good 
heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rathex, the sun, 
and not the moon ; for it shines bright, and never 
changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou wouldst 
have such a one, take me : take me, take a soldier ; 



70 KING HENRY V. [aCT V. 

take a soldier, take a king : And what say's! thou 
then to my love ? 

Kath. Is it possible, dat I should love de enemy 
of France f 

K. Hen, No ; it is not possible, you should love 
the enemy of France, Kate; but, in loving me, you 
shall love the friend of France ; for I love France so 
well, tfai&t 1 will not part with a village of it; I will 
have it all mine : and, Kate, when France is mine, 
^nd I am yours, then^ours is France, and you are 
mine. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much 
English ? Canst thou love me ? 

Kath. I cannot tell. 

K. Hen, Can any of your neighbours tell^ Kale ? 
ni ask them. Come, I know, thou lov'st me ; and 
at night, when you come into your closet, you'll 
question your gentlewomen about me; and t knew, 
.Kati, you will to them, dispraise tho^ parts in me, 
that you love with your heart. If ever thou be'st 
mine, Kate^ (as I have a saving faith within me tells 
me — thou shalt,) I get thee with scambling^ and thou 
raust therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder : 
Shall not thou and I, between St. Dennis and St, 
George, compound a boy, half French, half English, 
that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk by 
the be^rd? shall we not, my fair Flower-dc-Luce? 
How answer you. La plus beUe Katharine du mondcy 
man ires chere et devin deesse, 

Kath, Your majesty 'ave fausse French enough to 
deceive the most sage damoiselle dat is en France, 

K, Hen, Now, fie upon my false French ! By mine 
honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate ; by which 
honour I dare not swear, thou lov'st me ; yet my 
blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwith- 
standing the poor and untempting effect of my visage. 
Now beshrew my father's ambition! he wa5 th nking 
of civil wars when h^ got me ; therefore was 1 . ated 
9^ith a stubborn outside, with an aspect of ire i, that. 



SCENE 11.] fciNG fiElritY V. 71 

when I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in 
faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: 
my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer-up of 
beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face: Thou 
hast me^ if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt 
wear me, if thou wear me, better and better ;' and 
therefore tell me, most fair Katharimy will you have 
me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the 
thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress ; 
take me by the hand, and say — Harry of England, 
I am thine : which word thou shalt no sooner bless 
mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud — England 
is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry 
Plantagenet is thine ; who, though I speak it before 
his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou 
shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your 
answer in broken music ; for thy voice is music, and 
thy English broken : therefore, queen of all, Kath- 
arine, wilt thou have me ? 

Kath. Dat is, as it shall please le roi, mon pere, 

K, Hen. Nay, it will please him ; it shall please 
him, Kate. 

Kath.' Den it shall also content me. 

K. Hen, Upon that, I kiss you, and I Call you— - 
my queen. You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate : 
there is more eloquence in a touch of them, than in 
the tongues of the French council ; and they should 
sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general 
petition of monarchs. — Here comes your father. 

£nter the Fasnch Kikg and Queen, tvith ail the 
French and English Lords, Captain, and 
Guards. 

Bur. My royal cousin, teach you our princess, 
English ? 

K. Hen, I would have- her learn, my fair cousin^ 
how perfectly I love her ; and that is good English. 

Bur. Is she not apt 



7^ KING HENRY V. [aCT V. 

K. Hen, Our tongue is rough, coz ; and my condi- 
tion is not smooth : so that, having neither the voice 
nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so con- 
jure up the spirit of love in her, that he will appear 
in his true likeness. — Shall Kate be my wife ? 

Fr. King, So please you. 

Exe, The king hath granted every article: 
His daughter, first; and then, in sequel, all, 
According to their firm proposed natures. 

Fr, King^ Take her, fair son ; and from her blood 
raise up 
Issue to me : that the contending kingdoms 
Of France arid England, whose very shores look pale 
With envy of each other's happiness, 
May cease their hatred ; and this dear conjunction 
Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord 
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance 
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. 

K. Hen, Now welcome, Kate :— and bear me wit- 
ness all. 
That here I take her as my sovereign queeil. — 

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets,'] 

Prepare we for our marriage : on which day, 
My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath, 
And all the peers, for surety of our leagues. — 
Then shall I swear to Kate, — and you to me, — 
And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be ! 

[Flourish of all the Instruments."] 

[Exeunt omnes» 



THE BND. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ; 



A COMEDY, 



IN riTB ACTS; 



Bt WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 



AS rSRPOllMSD AT THB TBBATRBt ROTAl* 



DRURY LANE AND COVENT GARDEN. 



PRIMTEO UMOBE THE AUTHOBITT OP THE MAMAOEM 
PROM THE PROMPT BOOK. 

WITH REMARKS 

BY Mrs. mCHBALD. 



LONDON: 



PRINTED POR LOMOMAW) HORST, RBBt> AND ORMB, 
PATBRNOSTBR ROW. 



* ■ * 



WiLMAM SAVA«i'£^P&INT£R9 



REMARKS. 



The story of this comedy is supposed, by Pope» ta 
have been taken from the fifth book of Ariosto's 
Orlando Furioso. 

Steevens says, there is as remote an original to be. 
traced in Spenser's ^ Fairy Queoi.'' 

^ Much ado about Nothing^ has more charms in its 
dialogue, than in its &ble, or events. The first plot 
appears a trivial one, because all the incidents of note, 
which arise from it, are connected with persons of so 
little consequence in the piece, that their vidssttudes 
of fortune excite not that hope, fear, nor curiosity in 
the audience, which more important characters would 
inspire. 

Claud io and Hero are said to be in love, but they 
say so little about it themselves, that no strong sym- 
pathy is created, either by their joys, or their, 
sorrows, their expectations or disappointments;-?* 
though, such is the reverence for justice implanted in 
humankind, that every spectator feels a degree of 
flelight in the final vindication of her innocence, and 
phe confusion of her guilty accusers. , - 
Those persons, for whom the hearts of the audicncq 



4 REMARKS. 

are most engaged, have, on the contraiyy scarce one 
event to aid their personal interest : every occurrence! 
which befalls them, depends solely on the pitiful act 
of private listening. If Benedick or Beatrice had 
possessed perfect good manners, or just notions of 
honour and delicacy, so as to have refused to have 
become eves-droppers, the action of the play must 
have stood still, or some better method have been 
contrived — a worse hardly could — to have imposed on 
their mutual credulity. 

But this willingness to overhear conversations, the 
reader will find to be the reigning fashion with the dra* 
roatis persons of this play ; for there are nearly as ma- 
ny unwarrantable listeners^as there are characters in it. 
But, in whatever failings the ill-bred custom of Mes- 
sina may have involved the sard Benedick and Beatrice, 
they are both highly entertaining, and most respectable 
personages. They are so witty, so jocund, so free from 
care, and yet so sensible of care in others, that the best 
possible reward is conferred on their merit — marriage 
with each other. 

What Dr« Johnson has said in respect to authors 
writing characters for provincial, or foreign pronun- 
ciation, may be applied to those, who produce such 
parts as Dogberry, that please merely by misapplica- 
tion of words — ^** This mode of forming ridiculous 
characters, can confer praise only on him who ori- 
ginally discovered it, for it requires not much either 
of wit, or judgment. Its success must be derived al- 
most wholly from the player ; but its power in a skil- 
ful mouth, even he who despises it, is unable to re- 
sist*'* 



aSMA&KS, 5 

Shakspeare has given such an odious character of 
the bastardy John, in this play, and of the bastardy 
Edmund, in King Lear, that, had those dramas been 
written in the time of Charles the Second, the author 
must have been suspected of disaffection to half th« 
court, * 



3 3 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Don Pedro 

Leokato 

Don John 

Claudio 

Benedick 

Balthasar 

Antomo 

boracrio 

CONRADE 

dogrerry 

Verges 

Friar 

Sexton 

Seacoal 

Oatcake 



DRURTLANR. 

Mr, Holland, 
Mr, Wroughton, 
Mr, Eyre, 
Mrm H, Siddons, 
Mr, Elliiton, 
Mr, Digttum, 
Mr. FomelL 
Mr, Cooke, 
Mr, Ray. 
Mfm Dowton. 
Mr, Wewitzer. 
Mr, Maddocks, 
Mr. Webb. 
Mr, &>ark8, 
Mr. Purser, 



COVENT GARDEV. 

Mr. Brunton, 
Mr: Murray, 
Mr. Waddy. 
Mr. C. Kemble. 
Mr. IjewU. 
Mr. Taylor. 
Mr, Davenport, 
Mr, Clarenumt. 
Mr. Field. 
Mr, Munden. 
Mr, Simmons, 
Mr. Chapman. 
Mr. Jeffiries. 
Mr. Beverley. 
Mr. Atkins. 



Hero 
Beatrice 
Margaret 
Ursula 



Miss Mellon. 
Mrs. Jordan, 
Miss Tidswell. 
Mrs. ScQtt. 



Miss BoUon. 
Mrs. H,Johnston. 
MrSm Humpkriesi 
Mrs. WmUiy. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



ACT THE FIRST. 



tCKVE 1. 



Tke Court before Lbon ato's Htmse. 

Leokato, reading a Letter^ Hero, Beatrice, and 

Balthasar discovered^ 

Leon, I l«am in this letter, that Don Pedro, of Ar* 
ragon, comes this night to Messina. 

Balik, He is very near by this ; he was not three 
leagues off when I left him. 

2>(Mi. How many geiitlemen have you lost in this 
«ction? 

Baitk, But few of any sort, and none of name. 

Leon, A victory is twice itself, when the achiever 
brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don 
Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Flo* 
rentine, called Claudio. 

Baltk. Much deserved on his part, and equally re** 
membered by Don Pedro: He hath borne himsenbe* 
yond the promise of his age ; doing, in the figure of 
a lamb, the feats of a lion. 

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina, will be 
very much glad of it. 



8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [aCT I. 

Baltk, I have already delivered him letten, and 
there appears much joy in him; even so much, 
that joy could not show itself inodest eiv:>ugh withoiit 
a badge of bitterness. 

Leon. Did he break out into tears? 

Balth. In great measure. 

Leon. A kind overflow of kindness : There are no 
faces truer than those that are so washed. 

Beatr. I pray you, is Signior Montanto returned 
from the wars ? 

Balth, I know none of that name, lady ; there was 
none such in the army of any sort. 

Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ? 

Hero, My cousin means Signior Benedicki of Pa* 
dua. 

BaUh.Ohiht*s returned, and as pleasant as ever he 
was. 

Beatr, I pray you, how many hath he killed and 
eaten, in these wars? But how many hath he killed ? 
for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing, 

Leon, '("aitb, «meoe, you tax Signior Benedick too 
much ; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. 

Baltk, He hath done good service, lady, in these 
wars. 

Beatr, You had musty victual, and he hath holp 
to eat it : he's a very valiant trencher man ; he hath 
an excellent stomach. 

Baltk. And a good soldier too, lady. 

Beair. And a good soldier to a lady t — But what ii 
he to a lord ? 

Leon, You must. not, sir, mistake my niece :t — ^there 
is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and 
her; they never meet but there'a a skirmish of wit 
between them. 

Beatr. Alas, he gets nothing by that !-f— Who i» his 
companion now ^ he hath every month a new sworn 
brother. 

Baltk, Is it possible ? 



HCSKS I.] MUCH ABO ABOVT KOTHIHO. $ 

Beatr, Very easily possible; lie wears his faith but 
as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the 
next block. 

Balik, I se^ ladyy the gentleman is not in your 
books. 

Beatr. No ; an he were, I would burn my study. 
But, 1 pray you, who is his companion ? 

BaUh. He is most in the company of the right no- 
ble CJaudio. 

Beatr, O lord, he will hang upon him like a dis- 
ease ! he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the 
taker runs presently mad. Heaven help the noble 
Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost 
him a thousand pounds, ere he be cured* 

heon* You'll ne'er run mad, niece. 

Beatr, No, not till a hot January. 

[Fkuriih of Trumpets. 

BaUh, Don Pedro is approached. [Exit, 

£nter Don Pedko, Don John, Claudi6, and 

Benedick. 

Pedro. Good Signior Leonato* you are come to 
meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to 
avoid cost, and you encounter it. 

Leon, Never came trouble to my house, in the like« 
ness of your grace ; for, trouble being gone, comfort 
should remain ; but, when you depart from nie, sor- 
row abides, and happiness takes his IcAve. 

Pedro, You embrace your charge too willingly.— 
I think, this is your daughter. 

Leon. Her mother halh many times told me so. 

Bened, Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her) 

Leon. Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a 
child. 

Pedro. You have it full, Benedick : we may guess 
by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady 
fathers herself : — Be happy, lady I for you are like ah 
honourable father. 



10 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [aCT t. 

Bentd. If Signior Leonato be her fatber, she would 
not have his head on her shoulders for all Messiii8| 
as like him as she is ! 

Beatr, I wonder, that you will still be talking, 
Signior Benedick ! nobody marks you. 

Bened, What, my dear Lady Disdain ! are you 
yet living? 

Beatr, Is it possible, Disdain should die, white she 
hath such meet food to feed it, as Sianior Benedick ^ 
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come 
in her presence. 

Bened. Then is courtesy a turn«^oat ! — But it is* 
certain, lam loved of all. ladies, only you excepted: 
and I would I could find in my heart, that I had not 
a hard heart ! for truly, I love none. 

Beatr, A dear happiness to women! they would 
else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor, * I 
thank Heaven, and my cold blood, I am of your hti* 
mour for that ! I had rather hear my dog bark at a 
crow, than a man swe^r he loves me. 

^ened. Heaven keep your ladyship still in that 
mind ! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a pre^ 
destinate scratched face. 

Beatr. Scratching could not make it worse, and 
'twere such a face as yours. 

Bened. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher I 

Beatr* A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast 
of yours. 

Bened. I would, my horse had the speed of your 
tongue, and so good a continuer ! But keep your way, 
o' Heaven's name ! — I have done. 

Beair. You always end with a jade's trick ; I know 
you of old. 

Pedro. This is the sum of all: — L^eonato, Siguier 
Claudio,and Signior Benedick^ my dear friend, Leeo- 
ato, hath invited you all. I tellliim, we shall stay 
here at the least a month ; and he heartily prays^ somf 

9 



SCSKS 1.1 IfttrCH ADO AAOitT MOTBIKO* 11 

occasion may detain us longer ; I dare &wear he is no 
hypocrite, but prays from his heart. 

Le<m» If you swear, my lordj you shall not be for- 
'swQrn. — Let me bid you welcome, my lord ; being re- 
conciled to the prince, your brother, I owe you all 
dutv. 

Jobd, I thank you; t am not of many words, but 
I thank you. 

Leon, Please it your grace, lead on ? 

Pedro, Your hand, L&Duato ; we will go together. 
[Exeunt tdl^ hut Benedick and Claudio. 

Claud, Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of 
Signior Leonato f 

Bened, I noted her not ; but I looked on her. 

Claud. Is she not a. modest young lady ? 

Bened, Do you question me, as an honest man 
should do, for my simple true judgment? or would 
you have me speak after my custom, as being a pro- 
fessed tyrant to their sex } 

Claud. No» I pray thee, speak in sober judment ! 

Bened. Why, i'faith, methinks, she is too low for a 
high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little 
for a great praise : only this commendation I can af- 
ford her ; that, were she other than "she is, she were 
unhandsome ; and, being no other but as she is, I do 
not like her. 

Claud. Thou think'st, I am in sport ; I pray thee, 
tell me truly, how thou lik'st her. 

Bened. Would you buy her, that you inquire after 
her } 

Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel ? 

Bened, Yea, and a case to put it into. — But, speak 
you this with a sad brow ? or do you play the flouting 
Jack ? Come, in what key shall a man take you? 

Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that 
ever 1 looked on ! 

Bened. I can see yet witho\;it spectacles, and I see 



12 ' M0CH ADO ABOUT NOTHINa. [ ACT Ir 

no sach matter : there's her cousin, an she were not 
possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, 
as the first of May doth the last of December ! But, 
I hope, you have no intent to turn husband, have 
you ? 

Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had 
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 

Bened. Is't come tothis,i'laith ? Hath not the world 
one man, but he will wear his cap with su^icion ? — 
Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again f Go 
to, i'faith ! an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a 
yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. — 
Looky Don Pedro is returned to seek you. 

Enter Don Pedeo^ 

Pedro. What secret hath held y6u here, that yoa 
followed not to Leonato's ? 

Bened. 1 would, your grace ivould constrain me to 
telll 

Pedro, I charge thee, on thy allegiance! 

Bened. You hear, Count Claudio-^I can be as se- 
cret as a dumb man ; I would have you think so ; but 
on my allegiance — mark you this, on my allegiance, 
— He is in love. With whom ? — now that is your 
grace's part. — Mark, how short his answer is : — With 
Hero, Leonato's short daughter. 

Claud* If Ms were so, so were it uttered. 

Ben§d, Like the old tale, my lord; — it is not so, 
nor 'twas not so ; but, indeed. Heaven forbid it should 
be so! 

Claud. If my passion change not shortly, Heaven 
forbid it should be otherwise ! 

Pedro. Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very 
well worthy. 

Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, liay lord. 

Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought ! 

Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spok^mine! 



8CJINS I.] * MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTaiVO. 13 

Bemd, And, by my two faiths and troths^ my lord, 
I spoke mine ! 

Cimtd. That I love her, I feeK 
Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 
Bened, That I neither feel how she should beloved, 
nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion 
that fire cannot melt out of me : I will die in it at the 
stake. 

Ptdro* Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the 
despite of beauty • 

Claud, And never could maintain his part, but in 
the force of his will. 

Baud. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; 
that she brought me up, I lilcewise give her most 
humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat wind- 
ed in my forehead, all women shall pardon me : Be- 
cause I wfll not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I 
will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, 
for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. 

Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die,look pale with love. 

Bened, With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, 
my lord — not with love: prove, that ever I lose more 
blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, 
pick out mine eyes with a baltad-raaker's pen, and 
hang me up at the door of a brothel-house, for the 
sign of blind Cupid. 

Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, 
thou wilt prove a notable argument. 

Bened. If I do, hang me in a bottle, like a cat, and 
shoot at me ! 

Pedro. Well, as time shall try : 
In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. 

Bened, The savage bull may; but if evei* the Sen- 
sible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns, and 
set them in my forehead : and let me be vilely paint- 
ed ! and in such great letters as they write — Here is 
good horse to hire, let them signify under my sign'-* 
Here you may see Benedick, the married man. 



14 MVCB Ar>Q ABOVT VOTBtKG. . [ilGT 1. 

Pedro. Nay, if Cupid hath nol spent aU bis quhrer 
in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. 

Bened. I look for an earthquake too^hea. 

Pedro. Welly you will. temporise with the boors! — 
In the mean time, good Signior Benedick, repair to 
Leonato's^ commend me to him, and tell him, I will 
Aot fail him at supper; for, indeed, he hath made 
great preparation. 
. Bened. I bave almost matter enough in me for such 

an embassage ; and so I commit you 

. Claud, To the tuition of Heaven; from my house, 
if I had it 

Pedro, The sixth of July ; your loving friend, Be* 
nedick. * 

. Bened* Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of 
your discourse is sometimes guarded with fragments, 
and the guards are but slightly basted on neither: — 
ere you- flout old ends any further, examine your con- 
science; and so I leave you. lExit. 

Claud. My liege, your bigbness- now may do me 
good. 

Pedro. My love is thine to teach ; teach it but h«w, 
And thou shalt see how apt it is to leant 
Any bard lesson, that may do thee good. 
, Ciaud. Hath. Leonato any son, my lord f 

Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir: 
Dost ibou affect her, Clandio I • 

Claud. O my lord. 
When you went onward on this ended action^ 
I look'd upon her with a soldier^s eye. 
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand 
Than to drive liking to tiM name of love; 
JBut now J am returned, and that war thoughts 
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
(pame thronging, soft and delicate desires, 
All prompHog me how ftur youQft Hero is. 
Saying i lik'd ber» ere I went to ^ars^ 

Pedro., TJ40U wilt belike a lover preseotly. 



SCEKB II.] MtrCB ADO ABOUT NOTBIl^; 15 

And tire the bearer with a book of words: 
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, 
And I will break with her. 
Was't not to this end, 

That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ? 
* Claud, How sweetly do you minister to love, 
That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
I would have sali/d it with a longer treatise* 

Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than 
the flood f 
Look, what will serve, is fit: 'tis once, thdu lov'st; 
And I will fit th?e with the remedy. 
I know we shall have revelling to-night ; 
I will assume thy part in some disguise, 
And tell fur Hero, i am Claudio ; 
And in her bosom Til unclasp my heart, 
And take her hearing prisoner, with the force 
And strong encounter of my amorous tale : 
Then, after, to her fiither, will 1 break ; 
And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine ; 
In practice let us put it presently* [Exeunt, 



SCENE II. 



A Halif in LEOiir ato's House. 



Enter Dqn John and Conrad. 

Can* What the goujerci my lord! why are you 
thus out of measure sitoi ? 

John, There i» no measure in the occasion that 
breeds it, therefore the sadness it without limit. 

Cm* You should hear reason* 

c 2 



\6 WCH ADO ABOUT N0THIV6. [aCT I. 

John. And when I have heard it, what blessing 
bringeth it i 

Cofi< If not a present remedy, yet a patient suffer-^ 
ance. 

John. I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad 
when I have cause, and smile at no roaa's jests ; eat 
when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; 
sleep when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's busi« 
iiess ; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in 
his humour. 

Con. Yea, but you roust not make the full show of 
this, till yoo may do it without controlment. You 
have, of late, stood out against your brother, and he 
hath ta'en you newly into his grace : where, it is im- 
possible you should take true root, but by th^ fair 
weather that you make yourself; it is needful, that 
you frame the season for your own harvest. 

Join. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a 
rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood to be dis^ 
dained of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love 
from any : in this, though I cannot be said to be a 
flattering honest man, it must not be denied, but I am 
a plain dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle, 
and infranchised with a clog! therefore, I have de- 
creed not to sing in my cage : (If I had my mouth, 
I would bite; if 1 bad my liberty, I would do my 
liking: in the mean time, let me be that I am, and 
seek not to alter me. 

Con. Can you make use of your discontent f 
John. I make all use of it, for I use it only* Who 
comes here ? 

Enter Borachio. 

What news,. Borachio ^ 

Bor. I came yonder, from a great supper ; the 
priiice, your brother, is royally entertained by Le« 
onato ; and I can give you intelligence of an intended 
marriage. 



SOBKB ii] MirCX ADO ABOVT VOTHUTO. 1^ 

Jiolff. Will ii lerre for any mode) to build miicliief 
on 2! What is be, for a fool, that betrotbs bioMelf to 
aoquietiiess? 

ior. Marry, it is your brothel's right hand. 
' John. MTho? die most exquisite Ckudio? 
, Bm'. Even he 1 . 

Jokn^ A propersqnire! and who, and who? which: 
way looks he f 

' JBot. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of L^. 
onato. . ., 

. . Jckn. A fery forward March chick ! Come, come; 
let us thither; this may prove food to my displeasure ; 
that young start-up hath all the glory of my over- 
throw: if I can- cross him any way, I bios myself 
eveiy wa^. You are^both sure, and will assist me? 
t CSm/To the death, my lord. 

John, Let us to the great supper; their cheer is the? 
greater, that I am subdued* 'Would the cook were 
of my mind! [Etteimt. 



ACT THE SECOND. 



SCENK I, 



A Room m Leovato's Home^ 



!. £a/er Lbomato oMii^ Ahtokio 

f.Zfon* How cam<; vou to this? 

Ant. I tell you, the prince and Count Claudioj 
liraimng in d^e thictpleached alley of th^ orchard, 



IS M^UCH ABO ABOUT NOTHIITO. [aCT !!• 

were overheard by a man of mine. It was agreed 
upon, that the prince shouldt in a dance, woo Hero, as 
for himself, and, having obtained her, give her tpt 
Count Ciaudio. 

Leon, Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this ? 

Ant. A good sharp fellow. I will send for iiim, 
and you shall question hinr yonrself. 

Leon. No, no ; we will hold it as a drearo, till it 
appear itself.-^But do you acquaint my daughter 
withal, that she may be better prepared for her an* 
swer, if, peradventure, this be true. Here she comes* 

Enter Hero and Beatrice. 

Was not Count John here at supper ? 

Htro» I saw him* not. 

Beatr. How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never 
can see him, but I'm heart-burned an hour after, 
^^Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. 
/^ Beatr. He were an excellent man, that were made 
just in the midway, between him and Benedick : the 
one is too like an image, and says nothing ; and the 
other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. 

Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in 
Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melan- 
choly in Signior Benedick's face 

' Beatr. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, 
and money enough in his purse, such a man would 
win any woman in the world — if he could get her 
good will. 

JLeon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee 
a husband, if thou be'st so shrewd of thy tongue ! 

Beatr. For the which blessing, I am at Heav'n up- 
on my knees every morning and evening : Lord, I 
could not endure a husband with a beard on his face! 
1 had rather lie in the woollen. 

Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath no 
beard. 

Beah-. What should I do with him? dress him ill 



SCENS I.] MU€n A90 ABOVT VOTHtttO* 1$ 

my apparel, and make him my waiting-g^entlewoman f 
He that hath a beard, is more than a youth ; and he 
that hath no beard, is less than a man : and he that is 
more than a youth, is not for roe ; and he that is less 
than a man, [ am not for him: Therefore I will even 
take sixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, and lead 
his apes into hell. 

Ant, [To H£Ro.] Well, niece, I trust, you will be 
ruled by your father ? 

Beatr. Yes, faith ; it is fay cousin's duty to make 
a courtesy, and say, '^ Father, as it please you :" — but 
yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, 
or else make another courtesy, and say, <^ Father, as iU 
please me." 

Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted 
with a husband. 

Beatr, Not till Heaven make men of some other 
metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to 
be over Mastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make 
account of her life to a clod of wayward marie ? No, 
uncle, ril none : Adam's sons are my brethren, and 
truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. 

Ant, Niece, remember what I told you: if the 
prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your an- 
swer. 

Beatr. The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if 
you be not wooed in good time : if the prince be too 
important, tell him, there is a measure in every thing, 
and so dance out the answer. For, hear me. Hero, 
wooing, wedding, and repenting, is a Scotch-jtg^ a 
measure, and a cinque>pace: the first suit is hot a>id 
hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical ; the 
wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure full of state 
^d ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, with 
his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and fas- 
ter, till he sink into his grave. 

Leon, Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly* 



20' KireH ABO ABOUT VO^IVO. * [ACt H. ^ 

' Btain I have a good eje^ uncle; I con see a chnrcii : 
by day light. IMusk wiiim. 

Leon. The revellers are aiteiiogii {l£nnci. 

Enter Don Pxdro, Clavoio, Bbkspick, Baltha- 
8A11, Bon John, BoBACHiOy Conrade, Marga*. 
RET, Ursula, tmd ijiken^ masked. 

Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your 
friend ? 

Hero* So yon walk softly, and look sweetly, atid 
say nothing, I am yours for the wdk ; and, especially, ■ 
when I walk away. 
. ¥edro. With me in your company? 
Hero, I may so, when I please. 
' . Pedro. And when please you .to say so ? 
Hero. When 1 like your favour; for Heaven defend,- 
the lute should be Kke the case ! 

Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the* 
house is Jove. 

Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatched. 
. Pei^o. Speak low, if you speak love. 

. 4 Dance. 

.Beeir. Will you not tell me who. told ypu so ? 
Bened. No, you shall pardon me. 
Beo^r; Nor wiU you not tell me who you are? 
(.Bened. Hot ikovf. : . 

, JBea^r.Tbi^t I . .wa$ disdainful^-rand thut I had my 
gpodiwif out of th^ hundred merry tales ;-«-'Well9. this 
waii Si^nior Benodick that said so, , 

Bened. What's he? 
. Be^. I am sure, you know him well eno.ughr . 

J%eited. . Not I, believe me$ 
. .fi«ia/)r.:.I>id be never make ypu laugh? < 
-, Bened. J pri^y .you what is he? 
Beatr. Why, he is the pjrioces jestef ^ a very:dull 
fool; On^ it'iii 'j^ift is in/.devising ijnpossibiei|lan4i;.i>: 



I 



SCEVX I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTRIRO. Zl 

none but libertines delight in him ; and the com 
niendation is not in his wit, but in his viliany ; for he 
both pleaseth men, and angers them, and then they 
]augh at him, and beat him ; I am sure, he is in the 
fleet ; I would he had boarded me# 

Bened, When I know the gentleman, riWtell him 
what you say. 

Beatr» Do, do ; he'll but break a comparison or 
two on me; which, peradventure, not marked, or not 
laughed at, strikes him into melancholy ; and then 
there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no 
supper that night. 

[The Cfmpany begmning to leave the Room. 
We must follow the leaders. 

[Mustek. — Exeunt all but Don John, Bo- 
EACHio, and C^AVJiio. 
John. Sure, my brother is anjorous on Hero, and 
hath withdrawn her father, to break with him about 
it : The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. 
Bor. And that is Claudio: 1 know him by his bearing. 
John. Arc not you Signior Benedick ? 
Claud, You know me well ; I am he. 
John. Signior, you are very near my brother in 
his love: he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you, dis^ 
suade him from her, she is no equal for his birA: you 
may do the part of an honest man in it. « 
Claud. How know you he loves her f 
John. I heard him swear his affection. 
Bor. So did I too ; and hrswore he would marry 
her to-night. 
John. Come, let us to the banqtiet. 

[Exeunt Don John and Boracuio* 
Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, 
Bat hear these ill news with the ears of Claudi o— ■ 
Tis certain so ; — ^The prince wooes for himself. 
Friendship is constant in all other things, 
Save in the office and affairs of love : 
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; 



ii MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTHIKG. [aCT It; 

lict fev'iy eye negotiate for itself, 

And trust no agent ; for beauty is a witch. 

Against whose charms faith metteth into blood. 

This is an accident of hourly proof, 

Which 1 mistrusted not : Farewell, therefore', Hero. 

Enter Benedick. 

Bened, Count Claudio? 

Claud. Yea, the same. 

Bened. Come, will you go with me? 

Clawi. Whither? 

Bened. Even to the next willow, about your own 
buliness,Couht. What fashion will you wear the gar- 
land of? About your neck, like it usurer's chainf of 
> under yoor-arm, like a lieutenantfs scarf? You roust 
wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. 

Claud. I wish him joy of her. 

Bened. Why, that's spoken like an honest dfover; 
so they seU bullocks. But did you think the princa 
would have s^ved you thus? 

Claud. I pray you, leave me. 

Bened, Ho ! now you strike like the blind man ; 
'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat 
the post.. 
^ Chnd. If it will not be, I'll leave ymi. ~ 

• [Exit Claudio;- 

Bened: Alas, poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep 
into sedges. — =But, that my Lady Beatrice sbcNiM 
know me, and not know me! The prince's fool!^-Ha! 
it may be, I go under that title, because 1 am aneny. 
— Yea ; but so ; I am apt to do myself wrong ; I am 
not so reputed: it is the base, though bitter, disposition 
of Beatrice, that puts the world into her person, and 
so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may. 

Enter Don Pedro. 

Pedro. Now, signior, wbere's the count I Did you 
i-»ee him? . 



• SCIVS I.} KVCH ABO ABOVT VOVHIV«. .23 

Beiirif. Trotb^ my krd^ I played the part of lady 
Fame* 1 found him here as melancholy as a lodge 
in a warren ; I told him^ wid, I thinky I told htm 
'true, that your grace had got the good will of his 
ybiiDg lady ; and I offered him my company to a wil» 
low tree, either to make him a garland, as being ibf- 
sakeoy or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to 
be whipt. 

Pedro. To be whipt ! whatV his hn\t f 

Bened. The flait transgiession-of a school boy ; who, 
being overjoyed with finding a bird s nest, shows it 
bis companion, and he steals it. - 

Fedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The 
transgressioa b in the stealer. 

Bmtd. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod hjfid 
.been made, and the garland too ; for the garland he 
might hare worn himself; and the rod he might have 
bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen bis 
bird's nest. 
. Pedro. I will but teach them to nog, and restore 
them to the owner. 

• Bmed* If their ringing answer your sayings by my 
£uth, you say honestly. 

. P^dro., Th^ Lady^ Beatrice hath a quarrel to yen ; 
the gentleman, that 'danced with Ber, told her^ she is 
' much wronged by you. 

Bened* Wronged ! she wronged ! she misused me 
past the endurance of a block.; an oak, but with one 

• gre^ leaf on it, would have answered, her; my very 
visor began to assume life, and scold with her; She 
told' me, not thinking I had* been myself, that I was 
the prince's jester ; and that I was duller than a great 
'thaw- ; huddling jest upon jest, with «suclv impossible 
conveyance, upon me, that I stood like a man at a 
mark, with a whole army shooting at me : She speaks 
poignards, and every word stabs: if her br^aih were 

as terrible as her terminations, there were no living 
*Qear>her, she would infect to the north star. I would 



24 JCVCH APO ABOUT NOtHIHG. [aCT H. 

not marry her, though she were endowed with all that 
Adam had left him before he transgressed : she would 
have made Hercules have turned spit; yea, and. have 
«]eft his cluby to make the fire too. I wQuld to Hea- 
yen, some scholar would conjure her : for, certatoly, 
while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell, as 
in a sanctuary ; and people sin upon purpose, because 
they would go thither ; so, indeed, all disquiet, hor- 
ror, and perturbation follows her. 

Beatr, Leon. Claud, and Hero. [Within.] Ha ! ha ! 
ha! 

Pedro, Look, here she comes. 

Bened, Will your grace command me any service 
to the world's end f I will go on the slightest errand 
now to the Antipodes, thi^t you can devise to send me 
on ; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the far- 
thest inch ol Asia ; bring you the length of Prester 
John's foot ; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's 
heard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather 
than hold three words conference with this harpy : 
You have no employment for me ? 

Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. 

Enter Bbatrice, Leonato, Claudio, and Hero. 

Bened. O lord, sir, here's a dish I love not ; 1 can- 
not endure my Lady Tongue. [Exit Benkdick. 

Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have lost the heart 
of Signioi' Benedick* You have put hinx down, lady, 
you have put him down. 

Beatr. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you 
sent me to seek. 

Pedro. Why, how now. Count ? wherefore are yoa 
sad? 

Claud. Not sad, my lord. 

Pedro. How then? Sick? 

Claud. Neither, my lord. 

Bcatr. The count is neither sad,; nor sick, nor me^ 



SCINE I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIVO. 25 

ry, nor well : but civil, Count; civil as an orange, 
and something of that jealous complexion. 

Pedro, Tfaith, lady, I think your blazon to be 
true; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit 
is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, 
and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father, 
end his good will obtained : name the day of mar- 
riage, a^d Heaven give thee Joy ! 

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with 
her my fortunes ; his grace hath made the match, 
and all grace say amen to it ! 

Beatr, Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. 

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I 
were but little happy, if I could say how much. — ' 
Lady, as you are mine, I am yours : I give away my- 
self for you, and dote upon the exchange. 

Beatr. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his 
mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak, neither. 

Pedro, In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 

Beatr, Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it 
keeps on the windy side of care. — My cousin tells 
him in his ear, that he is in her heart* 

Claud, And so she doth, cousin. 

Beatr. Good lord, for alliance ! — ^Thus goes every 
one to the world but I, and I am sun-burned ; I may 
•it in a corner, and cry, Heigho for a husband ! 

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 

Beatr. I wodld rather have one of your father's 
getting : Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you ? 
Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could- 
come by ^em. 

Pedro, Will you have me, lady ? 

Beatr. No, my lord, unless I might have another 
for working days ; your grace is too costly to wear 
every day : — ^But, I beseech your grace, pardon me; 
1 was born to speak all inirth, and no matter. 

Pedro, Your silence most offends me ; and to be 

D 



^ <MirCR At>0 ABOUT KOTHtHO. . [aCT 1|. 

merry best becomes yon; for, oat of question, yom 
were born m a meriy hour. 

Beair, No, sure, my lord, my mother cried ; but 
then there was a star danced, and under that was I 
boFD.-— Cousins, Heaven give you joy ! 
.. Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I toM 
-yovL of? 

Beair. I cry you mercy, uncle.*-»By your grace's 
pardon^ [Exit, 

r Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant spirited lady! — 
Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church ? 

Claud, To-morrow, my lord : Time goes on crutches, 
till love have all his rites. 

Lton. Not till Monday, my dear son ; and a time 
too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. 

Fedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a 
'breathing; but,! warrant thee, Claudio, the time 
shall not go dully by us. I will, in the interim, un- 
dertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring 
Signior Benedick and the Lady Bieatrice into a moun- 
'tain of affection, the one with the other* I would 
fain have it a maitch | and I doubt not to fashion it, 
if you three will but minister sudi assistance as 1 
shall give you direction. 

Leon. My lord, I am for you, if it cost me ten 
nights watchings. 

Ckmd. And J, my lord. 

Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? - 

Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to lielp 
• my cousin to a good husband* 

Fedro. And Benedick is not the uflhofMAiHest hu^ 
band that I know : thus far can I praise him; he i^ 
:of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed 
honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cou- 
. sin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick :— and 
I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, 
that, in despite of his quick yiii and queasy sto- 



8CKH911.] If 17CH ADO ABOUT KOTBXirej %f 

VAchy he shall fall in love with Beatrice* If we-can 
do this, Cupid is no longer an archer ; his glory shall 
be ours, for we are the only love gods. Go in with- 
me, and I will tell you my drift. \Extunt. 



SCKNB II. 



A Hall m Lbovato's Howe, 



Enter Don John and Bobachio. 

John, Jt is so ; the Count Claudio shall marry the 
daughter of Leonato. 

Bar, Yea, my lord ; but I can cross it. 

John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment, will 
be roedicinable to me : I am sick in displeasure to 
him; arid whatsoever comes athwart his affection, 
ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this 
marriage } 

Bor. Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly, (hat 
no dishonesty shall appear in roe. 

John, Show me briefly how. 

Bor, I think, 1 told your lordship, a year since^ 
how much I am in the mvour of Margaret, the wait- 
ing gentlewoman to Hero. 

John. I remember. 

Bor* I can, at any unseasonable instant of the 
night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber 
window, * . 

John, What life is in that, to be the death of this 
marriage ? 

Bor» The poison of that lies in you to temper. 
Go you to the prince, your brother ; spare not to 
tell hin, that he bath wronged his honour in marry* 

d2 



28 MVCH ABO ABOUT WOTHINO. [aPT II. 

ing the renowned Claudio, whose estimatton do yoa 
mightily hold up, to a contaminated stale, such a 
one as Hero. 

John. What proof shall tmakeof that? 

hor. Proof enough to misuse (he prince, to vei 
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: Look 
you for any other issue ? 

John. Onl}' to despite them, I will endeavour any 
thing. 

Bor, Go then,' find me a meet hour to draw Don 
Pedro, and the Count Claudio, alone : tell them, 
that you know that Hero loVes mc ; intend a kind of 
zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as— in love of 
your brother's honour, who hath made this match ; 
and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be 
cozened with the semblance of a maid, — that you 
have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe 
this without trial: offer them instances; which shall 
bear no less likelihood, than to sec mc at her cham- 
ber window ; hear me call Margaret, Horo ; hear 
Margaret term me, Borachio ! and bring them to sec 
this the very night before the intended wedding : for, 
ill the mean time, 1 will so fashion the matter, that 
Hero shall be absent ; and there shall appear such 
seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy 
shall be called assurance, and all the preparatioa 
overthrown. 

John^ Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I 
will put it in practice : be cunning in the working 
this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. 
. Bor. Be you constant in the accusation, an my 
cunning shall not ^hame me. 

John. I will presently {o learn their day of mar- 
riage. \Ex€unt. 



SCBMB III.] MUCH ADO ilBOUT IVOTHtVO. 2$ 



SCBNE III. 

Leonato*s Garden, 



Enter BsNEDiCKt 

BinetU I do ii|iich wonder, that one man, seeing 
how much another man is a fool when he dedicates 
his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at 
such shallow tollies in others, become the argument 
of his own scorn, bj failing in love: and such a man 
is Claudio. . I have known when there was no music 
with him but the drum and the fife : and now had 
he rather hear the tabor and the pipe ; I have known 
when he would have walked ten mile afoot, to see a 
good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, 
carving the fashion of |i new doublet.. He was wont 
to speak plain, and to the purpose, like aa honest 
man, and a soldier ; and now he is turned or(ho- 
grapfaer; hi.s words are a very fantastical banquet, 
just so many strange dishes. May I foe so converted, 
and see with these eyes ? I cannot tell ; I think not : 
I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an 
oyster ; but I'll take ^y oath on it, till he have made 
in oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. 
One woman is fair ; yet 1 am well : another is wise ; 
yet I am well : another virtuous ; yet I am well : but 
till' all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not 
come in my grace. Rich, she shall be, that's cer«' 
tain; wise, or I'll none; virtnouSr or I'll never 
choapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her: mrld, 
or come not near me ; noble, or not I ; of good dis- 
course, an excellent musician, and her hair shall bvr 

B 3 



40 MUCH ADO ABOUT VOTHtKO. [aCT II. 

of what colour it please Heaven. — Ha ! the prince, 
and Monftieur Love ! I will hide-ine in the arbour. 

[Withdraws, 

Enter DoK Pedro, Lronato, Claudio, Baltha- 

SAR, and Singers. 

Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music ? 

Claud, Yea, ray good lard : — how still the even- 
ing is, 
As bush'd on purpose to grace harmony ! 

Pedro, Sep you where Benedick hath hid himself f 
Come, Baithasar, we'll hear that song again. 



6LF.E. 

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more. 

Men were deceivers ever; 
Onefoot in sea^ and one on shore; 
To one thing constant never : 
Then sigh not so, 
But let them go. 
And be you blythe and bonny ; 
Converting all your sounds ofuoe 
Into, Hey nonny, nonny. 

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo. 

Of dumps so dull and heavy ; 
The fraud of men teas ever so. 

Since summer first was leavy. 
Then sigh not so, ^c, 

Pedro. Dost thou hear, Baithasar? I pray thee, get 
us some excellent music ; for, to*morrow night, wq 
would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber window. 

Balth, The best I can, my lord. 

Pedro. Do so: farewell! [Exeunt Balthasav. 
«!</ Singers.] Come hither, Leonato: Wba,t waa it 



SCENE III.] MUCH AOO ABOUT KOTHINO. 3t 

you told me of to-day? that yourniece^ Beatnce, 
was in love with Signior Benedick i [They sit* 

Claud* O, ay : — [Aside.] Stalk on, stalk on ; th^ 
fowl sits. — I did never think that lady would have 
loved any man. 

Lean, No, nor I neither; hut most wonderful, 
that she should so date on Signior Benedick, whom 
she hathy in all outward behaviours, seemed ever to 
abhor. ^ 

Bened, Is't possible ? Sits the wind in that corner? 

Lean. By my troth, my lord, I cannot teU what to 
think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged 
affectiun, — it is pftst the infinite of thought. 

Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. 

Claud. 'Faith, like enough. 

Leon. Counterfeit ! There never was counterfeit of 
passion came so near the life of passion, as she dis- 
covers it. 

Fedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she ? 

Claud. [Aside.] Bait the hook well; this fish will 

bite. 

Leon. What effects, my lord ! She will sit you, ^ 

You heaid my daughter tell you how. 

Claud. She did, indeed. 

Pedro, liow, how, 1 pray ypu I You amaase me : I 
would have thought her spirit had been invincible 
against all assaults of affection. 

Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; espe-* 
cially against Benedick. 

Bened. I should think this a gull, but that the 
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, 
sure, hide himself in such reverence. 

Claud. Aside. He hath ta'en the affection ; hold it 

up. , 

Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to 

Benedick? , , t 

Leon* No ; and swears she never will : that s her 

torment* 



32 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [aCT 11. 

Sened. So, so ! 

Leon. My daughter says, the ecstacy hath so mach 
overborne her, that she is sometime afraid she will 
do desperate outrage to herself. 

Pedro. It were good, if Benedick kneiw of it by 
some other, if she will not discover it. I pray you, 
tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. 

Leon, Were it good, think you ? 

Claud. 'Tis yery possible hell scorn it ; for the man, 
as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. 

Bened, Very well ! 

Claud, Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it 
out with good counsel. 

Leon. Nay, that's impossible ; she may wear her 
heart out first. 

Pedro, Well, we will hear farther of it by your 
daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick 
well ; and I could wish he would modestly examine 
himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a 
lady. 

Leon, My lord, will yo^ walk ? dinner is ready } ' 

[They rise, 

Claud, [Adde,^ If he do not dote on her upon this, 
J will never trust my expectation. 

Pedro, [Aside,'] Let there be the same net spread 
for her, and that must your daughter and her genths 
woman carry, f^e sport will be^ when they hold an 
opinion of one another's dotage, and no such matter ; 
that's the scene that I would see. Let us send her to 
call him to dinner. [Exeunt. 

' • • 

Ben£DICK advances. > 

IBened, This can be no trick : The conference was 
sadly borne. — ^They have the truth of this froni Hero. 
They seem tp pity the lady; it seems, her afiections 
have the full bent. Love me! why, it must be re- 
quited. I hear how I am censured : they say^ I will 



SCSRB III.] II VCa ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 33 

bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come fr)om 
her : they say too, that she will rather die than give 
any sign of afifection. — I did never think to marry : — 
I must not seem proud : happy are they that hear 
their detractions, and can put them to mending. 
They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear 
them witness : and virtuous ; — ^'tis so, I cannot re- 
prove it: and wise, — but for loving me: — By my 
troth, it is no addition to her wit ; — nor no great ar* 
gument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with 
her. — I may chance have some odd quirks and rem- 
nants of wit broken on me, because I have railed 
so long against marriage: But doth not the appetite 
alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he 
cannot endure in his age: — Shall quips, and sen- 
tences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a 
man from the career of his humour? No: the world 
must be peopled. When 1 said, I would die a bache- 
lor, I did not think 1 should live till I were married. 
— Here comes Beatrice: By this day, she's a fair 
lady : 1 do spy some marks of love in her. 

Enter Beatrice. 

Beatr. Against my will, I am sent to bid yoa como 
in to dinner. 

Bened, Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. 

Beatr, I took no more pains for those thanks, than 
you take pains to thank me ; if it had been painful, I 
would not have come. 

Bened. You take pleasure, then, in the message ? 

Beatr. Yea, just so much as you may take upon 
a knife's point, and choke a daw withal :— You have 
fkii stomach, signior ; fare you well. [Exit, 

Bened. Ha! •* Against my will, I am sent to bid 
you come in to dinner" — there's a double meaning in 
that. *' I took no more paint for those tbanks, tban 



34 MVCH ADO ABOUT KOTHIKG. [ACT III/ 

you takepiiiii fo thank mc^'-^that's as much as to 
say, Any patns that I take for you is as easy as 
thanks : — If I do not take pity on her, I am a fillain ; 
if I do not love her, I am a jew : — I will go get her 
picture. [£^v 



ACT THE THIRD. 



SCENE U 



LxoHATo's Garden^ 



Enter Hero, Ma&oaret, andVusvLA. 

Hero. Goojd Margaret, run thee into the parloui; 
There shalt thou find my cousin, Beatrice; 
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula 
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse 
Is all of her ; say, that thou overheaird'st us ; 
And bid her sted into the pleached bower, 
To listen our propose : This is thy office. 
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 

Marg, 111 make her come, {warrant you, pre* 
sently. [£nY Margaret. 

Bero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 
Our talk must only be of Benedick : 
When I do name him, let it be thy part 
To praise him more than ever man did merit : ' 






.* 



» . 1 



• . *. '* • 



V- 



f }'•• •.;• . ' 



•r^ 



SeXKB J.] MUCH ABO ABOVT KOTHIKO. 35 

Jtfjr talk to thee must be^ how Benedick 
* Is tick in love with Beatrice : of this matter 
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, 
That only wounds by hearsay. 

Enter Beatrice, an one Side. 

5Mide»] Now begin ; 
'*or look where J^alrice, like a lapwing, runs 
Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 

Urs. lAside,} Fear you not my part of the dia- 
logue. 

Hero, No, tfuly, Ursula, she is too dis<iainful ; 
JL know, her spirits are as coy and wild 
As haggards of the rock. 

Urs. But are you sure^ 
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? 

Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord. 
They did intreat me to acquaint her of it : 
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, 
To wish him wrestle with affection, 
And never to let Beatrice know of it 

Vrs. Why did you so ? Doth not the gentleman 
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, 
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon I 

Hero. 0» god of love ! I know, he doth deserve 
As much as may be yielded to a man : 
But nature never fram'd a woman's heart 
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; 
Disdfdn and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes. 
Misprising what th^ look on ; and her wit 
Values itself so hi^ly, that to her 
All mt^Uer else seems weak : she cannot love, 
Nor take no $faape, jwr project of affection, 
She is so self-endeared. 

Ur$. Sure, I think so ; 
And therefore, certMuly, it were not good 
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 



^*" 



36 ilUCH ADO AB017T KOTHIKG. [aCT Ur. 

Hero, Why, you speak truth : I never yet saw man, 
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, 
But she would spell him backward : if fair-fac'd. 
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister ; 
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic. 
Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill headed ; 
If low, an agate very vilely cut: 
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ; 
If silent, why, a block moved with none. 
'So turns she every man the wrong side out ; 
And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 

Urs, Sure, sure, such carping is nojt commend- 

ablel 
Hero, But who dare tell her so ? If I should speak, 
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me 
Out of myself, press me to death with wit. 
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire. 
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: 
' It were a better death than die with mocks. — 
Un, Yet tell her of it ; hear what she will say. 
Hero, No ; rather I will go to Benedick, 
And counsel him to fight against his passion : 
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders 
To stain my cousin with : one doth not know, 
How much an ill word may impoison liking. 

Urs. Oh, do not do your cousin such a wrong ; 
Siie cannot be so much without true judgment, 
Having so sweet and excellent a wit. 
As she is prized to have, as to refuse 
So rare d, gentleman as Signior Benedick. 

Hero, Indeed, he hath an excellent good name: 
Urs, His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. — 
When are you married, madam ? 
Hero, Why, every day ;— to-morrow. 
Un, She's lim'd, I warrant you ; we have caught 
her, madam. 



^CEHB II.] MUCH APO ABOUT KOT^IHO. 37 



Hero. If it prbves so, th^iv loving gpes by haps: 
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 

lExeunt Hero and Ursula. 

Beatrice advances. 

■ « 

Beair. What fire is in mine ears? Can tju^be true? 

Stand 1 condemn'd for pride and;»eorn so much? 
Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 

No glory lives behind' the back of such. 
And, Benedickj love on, [ will requite thee: 

Taming my wild heart io thy loving hand ; 
If thou dost love, my kindness shall, incite thee 

To bind our hopes up in a holy band : . 

For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 
Believe it better than reportingly. ;. [Exit. 



SCENIC II. 



A Hall in Lbovato's Houte. 



Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Cl audio, and 

Benedick. 

. Pedro. I do but stay till your manage be con^ 
sum mate, and then go I toward Arragon. 

. Qaud. rU bring ^ou thither, ray lord, if you'll 
vouchsafe me. 

Ptfdro, Nay,.l will only be bold with Benedick 
fpr his .company ; for, from the crown of his head to 
tl|e sole of his foot, he is all mirth ; he hath twice or 
thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman 
dare not shoot at him : he halh a heart as sound as a 
belief an^ hia tongue is the clapper; for what his 
heart thinks, his tongue speaks.' 



n if UCH ABO ABOUT If OTHIKa. [aCT UU 

Bened. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 
Leon. So say I ; methinks, you are sadder* 
Claud, I bope, he be in love. 
Pedro. Hang him, truant ! there's oo true drop of 
blood in hiniy to be truly touched with love : if he be 
sad, he wants money. 
Bened. I have the tooth*acfae. 
Pedro. Draw it. 

Bened. Hang it! , 

Pedro. Whatf sigh for the tooth-ache f 
Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? 
Bened. Well, every one can master a grief, but he 
that has it* 

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. If he be not in 
iove with some woman, there is no believing of old 
signs : he brushes his hat o' mornings : what should 
that bode ? 

Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet : can you 
imell him out by that? 

Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's 
lA love. 

Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. 
Gaud. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now 
Crept into a lutestring. 

redro. Indeed, that tells a hoavy tide for him : 
' conclude, conclude he is in love. 

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 
Pedro. That would I know too; I warrant, one 
that knows him not. 

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in despite 

of^all, dies for him. 

Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. 

Bened. Yet this is no charm for the tobth-ache.-^^ 

^Qld signior, walk aside with me; I have studied 

eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which 

ikese ho(>by-horses must not hear. 

lExeunt Bbmbdick and Leonato. 



nCEVM II.] MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTHIK*. 3^ 

Pedro. For my life» to break with Him about 
Beatrice. 

Ciaud. Tis even so : Hero and Margaret have, by 
this time, played their parts with Beatrice ; and then 
the two bears will not bite one another, 'when they 
meet. 

Enter DoK Joiiv. 

John, My lord and brother. Heaven save you ! 

Pedro, Good den, brother. 

John. If your leisure served, I would speak with 
you, • 

Pedro, In private ? 

John. If it please you ; — yet Count Claudio may 
hear ; for what I would speak of, concerns him. 

Pedro, What's the matter? 

Joktip Means your lordship to be married to-mor* 
row ? 

Pedro. You know, he does. 

John. I know not that, when he knows what I 
know. 

Claud, If there be any impediment, I pray you, 
discover it. 

John. You may think, I love you not; let that 
appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now 
will manifest : for my brother, I thinlc, he holds you 
well ; and, in dearness of heart, hath holp to effect 
your ensuing marriage : surely, suit ill spent, and la- 
bour ill bestowed ! 

Pedro. Why, what's the matter f 

Join, I came hither to tell you, and, circump 
stances shortened, for she hath too long been a talk- 
ing of, the lady is disloyal, 

Claud. Who? Hero! 

John. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every 
man's Hero, 

Claud, Disloyal! 

John,^ The word is too good to paint out her wick- 

£3 



40 k UCH Ai>0 A BOITT N0THIK6« [aCT IIJ^. 

edness ; I could say, she were worse ; think you of a 
worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not tiH 
farther warrant : go but with me to-night, you shall 
see her chamber window entered ; eten the night be- 
fore her wedding day ; if you love her then, to-mor- 
row wed her; but it would better fit your honour to 
change your mind. 

Claud, May this be so i 

Pedro, I will not think it. — 

John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess 
not that you know : if you will follow me, 1 will 
show you enough ; and when you have seen more', 
and heard more, proceed accordmgly. 

Claude If i see any thing to-night why I should not 
marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I 
should wed, there will I shame her. 

Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her^ I 

will join with thee to disgrace her. 

. John, I will disparage her no farther, till you are 

my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, and 

let the iaiiue.show itself. [Exeunt 



SCENE III. 



The Street. 



JEn/er Dogberry, Verges, Seacoal, Oatcare, ' 

and Four Watchmen. 

Dogb, Are you good men and true ? 
Verges. Yea, or else it were pity but they shoi^Icl 
suffer salvation, body and soul. 
Dogb, Nay, that were a pum^hn^eot toq. gpod (or 



SCXKS III.] MUGB ADO ABOUT MOTBIKO* 41 

thein, if they should have any allegiance in theiOi 
being chosen for the prince's watch. 

Verges. Well, give them their charge, neighbour 
Dogberry. 

. J^Bgb, First, who think you the most desartless 
man to be constable ? 

Verges, Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; 
for they can write and read. 

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: Heaven 
hjath biess'd you with a good name : to be a well fa* 
¥our'd man is the gift of fortune ; but to ^rite and 
read comes by nature. 

Sea. Both which, Master Constable,——- 

Dogb. Yon have. 

Sea. I have. 

Dogb, I knew it would be your answer. Well, for 
your favour, sir, why, give Heaven thanks, and 
make.no boast of it; and for your writing and 
reading, let that appear when there is no need of 
such vanity. You are thought here to be the most 
senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch ; 
therefore, bear you the lantern : This is your charge ; 
.You shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to 
bid any man stand, in the prince's name* 

Sea. How if he will not stand ? 

Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let 
him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch to* 
gether, and thank Heaven you are rid of a knave. 

Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he 
is none of the prince's subjecst. 

Dogb. True ; and they are to meddle with none 
but the prince's subjects : — ^You shall also make no 
noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and 
talk, is most tolerable, and not to be endured. 

Sea. Vfe will rather sleep than talk ;^ we know 
what belongs to a watch. 

Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most 
%uiet watchman ; for 1 cannot see how sleeping should 

E 3 



ii iiuCH ADO iBOUT KOTHlkG. [a^T III. 

bflfend: only, have a care that your Mils be not 
stolen : — Well, you are to call at ail the alehouses, 
and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. 

Sea. How if they will not ? "^ 

Dogb. Why, then, let them alone till they are so« 
her ; if they make you not then the better answer, 
you may say, they are not the men you took them 
for, - 

• Sea. Well, sir. 

Dogb.^ If you meet a thief, you may suspect him-, 
by virtue of your office, tp be no true man; and, for 
such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with 
them, why, the more is for your honesty. 

Sea. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay 
hands on him ? 

; Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, I 
think, they that touch pitch will be defiled : the most 
peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to 
let him show himself what he is, and steal out of 
your company. 

Verges. You have been always called a merciful 
man, partner. 

Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will ; 
much more a man who hath any honesty in him. 

Verges. If you hear a child cry in the night, you 
'roust call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 

Sea. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not 
hear us ? 

Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the child 
wake her with crying : for the ewe that will not hear 
''her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when 
he bleats:. 

Verges. Tis very true. 

Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con* 
^ stable, are to present the prince's own person ; if 
you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 

Verges. N«y, by'ilady, that, I think, he cannot. 

Dogb. Five shillings to one on't with any man, that 



J 



»0£N«'in.] ttUCH ABO ABOUT VOTHIKO. 43 

knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, not 
without the prince be willing : for, indeed, the watch 
ought to offend no man ; and it is an offence to stay 
a man against his will. 
' - Verges^ B/rlady, I think, it be 80» 

Dogb, Ha! ha! ha! Well, masters, good night: 
an there be any matter of weight chances, call up 
me : keep your fellow's counsels and your own, and 
good night« — Come, neighbour. 

[Erfifft/ DooBERRT nmf Verges. 
' Sea, Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us 
go sit upon the church-bench till two, and then all 
to bed. 

Enter Dogberry and Verges. 

Dogb, One word more, honest neighbours : I pray 
^ou, watch about Signior Leonato's door; for the 
wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil 
to-night : Adieu! be vigilant, 1 beseech you. 

[Exeunt Dogberry and Verged. 

Enter Borachio. 

Bor. What, Conrade ! — 
■ Sea. [Aside*] Peace, stir not. 
. Bor. Conrade, I say ! 

Enter Conrade. 

Con. Here, roan, I am at thy elbow. 

Bor. Stand thee close, then; and I will, like a 
.true drunkard, utter all to thee. 
• Sea. [Aside.] Some treason, masters ; yet' stand 
close. 

Bdr. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John 
a thousand ducats. 

Con, Is it possible that any villany should be so 
^ear? 

Bor. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible 
. any villany should be so rich for, when rich villains 



44 XVCH AOa ABOUT NOTHIK&* [aCT III. 

fcaveneedof poor ones, poor o&et may make wliat 
price they will. 

Con, I wonder at it* . 

Bor, That shows^thou art unconfirmed : Thou know- 
est that the fashion of a doublet^ or a hat, or a cloak, 
k nothing to a man. 

Can. Yes, it is apparel. 

Bor. I mean the fashion. 

Cm. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. 

Bor, Tush ! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. 
But seest thou not what a deformed thief this Het- 
f hion is f 

Sea, [Aside,'] I knoW that Deformed ; he has been 
a vile thief these seven years ; he goes up and down 
like a gentleman : I remember his name. 

Bor. Didst thou not hear somebody ? 

Con. No ; 'twas the vane on the house. 

Bor. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief 
this fashion is? how giddily he turns, about all the 
kot bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty ? 

Con. Art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion 
too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling 
me of the fashion ? . v 

Bor. Not so neither: but know, that 1 have to- 
night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, 
by the name of Hero; she leans me out at her mis- 
tress' chamber window ; bids me a thousand times 
good night, — I tell this tale vilely : — I should first tell 
thee, how the prince, Claudio, and niy master, 
planted, and placed, and possessed by my master, 
Don John, saw afar off, in the orchard, this amiable 
encounter. 

Con, And thought they, Margaret was Hero? 

Bor. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; 
but the devil, my master, knew she was. Margaret: 
away went Claudio, enraged ; swore he would meet 
her, as he was appointed, next morning at the 
temple, and there, before the whole congregation, 



SCIONS IV,] MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTHING. is 

tihame her with what he saw ovrr night, and send her 
home again without a husband. 

Sea, We charge you in the prince's name, stand ! 

Oat. Call up the right master constable :[£»/ a 
Watchman.] We have here recovered the most dan- 
gerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the 
commonwealth. 

Sea. And one Deformed is one of them; I know 
him ; he wears a lock. 
' Con, Masters, masters, — - 

Sea. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I war- 
rant you. 

Coil. Masters, — 

Sea. Never speak ; we charge you, let us obey 
you to go with us. [Exeunt. 



SCEVE IV. 



Hero's Apartment in Leonato's House* 



Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. 

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and 
desire her to rise. 
Urs. I will, lady. 

Hero, And bid her come hither, {Exit Ursula. 
Mdrg. Here she comes. 

Enter Beatrice. 

Hero, Good morrow, coz. 

Beatr, Good morrow^ sweet Hero. 
/. ^ero.^WI^y, how now ! do you speak in the sick 
tune? " . .1 



4li MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIK«« [aGV IIU 

Beatr^ I am ottt of all other tune, methinks.. Tw 
almost five o'clock, cousin ; 'tis time you were ready* 
By my troth, I am exceeding ill : — heigho ! 

Hero. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? 

Beatf. For the letter that begins them all, H. ■ ■ , ■ ■ 
By my troth, I am sick. 

Hero. Got you some distilled Carduus Benedic- 
tus, and lay it to your heait ; it is the only thing for 
a qualm. 

Beatr. Benedictus ! why Benedictus? you have 
8ome moral in this Benedictus. 

Hero, Moral! No, by my troth; I meant plain 
holy- thistle. 

Enter Ursula. 

Urs, Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the count, 
Signior Benedick, and Don John, are come to fetch 
you to church. 

Hero. Come in with me, good cos, good Meg, 
good Ursula. [Exemtt. 



SCEN£ T« 



A HdU in Leokato's House, 



Enter Leonato, Dogberry, and Verges. 

Leon, What would you with mc, honest neigh- 
bour ? 

Dogb, Marry, sir, I would have some confidence 
with you, that discerns you nearly. 

Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see, 'lis a busj 
time with me. 



SCBirfc T.] MUCH ADO ABOfTF HOTHIVtt. 4f 

Jhgb, Marry, this it is, sir ! 

Verges. Yes, in truth it is, sir ! 

Leon. What is it, my good friends ? 

Dogb, Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the 
natter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt, 
as. Heaven help, i would desire they were f but, ii| 
faith, honest as the skin between his brows. 

Verges, Yes, I thank Heaven, I am as honest as 
any man living, that is an old man, and no honester 
than L 

Dogb, Comparisons are odorous : palabras, neigh- 
bour Verges. 

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. 

Dogb, It pleases your worship to say so, but we are 
the poor duke's officers ; but, truly, for mine own 
part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in mjr 
heart to bestow it all of your worship. 

Leon, All thy tediousness on me, ha? 

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 
^ds; fori hear as good exclamation on your worships 
as of any man in the city ; and though I be but a 
poor man, I am glad to hear it. 

Verges. And so am I. 

Leon. I would fain know what you have to say« 

Verges. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting 
your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as ar- 
rant knaves as any in Messina. 

Dogb, A good old man, sir ; — he will be talking — 
as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out ; 
Heaven help us ! it is a world to see ! — Well said, 
i'faith, neighbour Verges ! — An two men ride of a 
borse, one must ride behind : — An honest soul, i'faith, 
sir ! by my troth, he is, as ever broke bread ! but, 
Heaven is to be worshipped — All men are not alike ; 
alas, good neighbour ! 

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of yo«. 

J^ogb. Gifts, that Heaven gives. 

Leon* I must leave you. 



43 MUCH ADO ABOUT HOTTING. [aCT 1Y. 

Dogb. One word, sir: nur watch, sir, have, indeed, 
comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would 
have them this morning examined before your wor- 
ship. 

. Leon. Take their examination yourself, and. bring 
it me ; I am now in great haste, as it may appear un- 
to you. 

Dogb. It shall be suffigance. 

Leon. Fare you well ! [Exii. 

Dogb. Go, good partner, go get you to Francis 
Seacoal,. bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the 
gaol ; we are now to examination these ipen. 

Verges. And we must do it wisely. 

Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you : 
here's that, [Touckbig his Forekead.] shall drive some 
of them to a non-com : only get the learned writer to 
set down our excommunication, and meet me a^ the 
gaol. {Exeunt. 



ACT THE FOURTH. 



SCENE 1. 



A Chapel. 

Don Peduo, Don Jorn,Leonato^ Feiar,Cl audio, 

Benedick,' Hero, and Beatrice, discaoertd. 

« 

..Zi^i^ Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the 
plain form of marriage, and you diall recount their 
particular duties afterwards.r .r. . 

4 



8CXHE I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 49 

Friar. You come hither, ipy lord, to marry this 
lady } 

Claud, No. 

Leon. To be married to her. Friar ; you come to 
marry her. 

Friar, Lady, you come hither to be married to 
this count ? 

Htro^ I do. 

Friar. If either of you know any inward impedi- 
ment, why you should not be conjoined, 1 charge 
you, on your souls; to utter it. 

Claud. Know you any. Hero ? 

Hero. None, my lord. 

Friar. Know you any,, Count f 

Leon. I dare make his answer, none. 
. Claud. Oh, what men dare do ! what men may do ! 
what men daily do ! 

Bened. How now ? Interjections ? 

Cktud. Stgnd thee by. Friar: — Father, by your 
leave; 
Will you, with free find unconstrained soul. 
Give roe this maid, your daughter ? 

Leon. As freely, son, as Heaven did give her me. 

Claud. And what have I to give you back, whos» 
worth 
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ? 

Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. 

Claud, Sweet prince^ you learn me nobk thankful- 
ness. — 
"fhere, Leonato, take her back again ; 
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour : 
Behold, how like a maid she blushes here ! 
O, .what authority and show of truth., 
Can cunnipg sin cover itself withal ! 
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed : , 
Her blush is guiltiness, not, modesty. 

Leon. What do you mean^ ipy lord ? 



50 xvcR ADO ABotrr iroTHiKo. [act it. 

C/diid. NottolMiaarriedi 
Not knit my soul to an approved wanton ■ 

LtfOfi. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof. 
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth 

Claud. No, Leonato, 
I never tempted her with word too large ; 
But, as tt brother to a sister, show'd 
Bashful sincerity, and comely love. 

Hero. And seem'd 1 ever otherwise to you ? 

(^aud. Out on thy seeming ! I will write against it ; 
You seem to me, as Dian in her orb : 
As chaste, as is the bud ere it be blown; 
But you are more intemperate in your blood 
Than Venus, or those pampered animals, 
That rage in savage sensuality. 

Hero. Is my lord well, that he' doth speak to wide? 

Lem, Sweet prince, why speak not you ? 

Pedro, What should I speak ? 
I stand dishonoured, that have gone about 
To link my dear friend to a wanton here. 

Leon, Are these things spoken, or do I but dream i 

John, Sir, they are spoken, and these things vt 
true. 

Hero. True, O Heaven ! 

Qottd. Leonato, stand I here ? 
Is this the prince i Is this the prince's brother f 
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own ? 

' Leon, All this is so ; but what of this, my lord ? 

Claud, Let me but move one question to your 
daughter. 
And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 

Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child! 

Hero, O Heaven defend me ! how I am beset ! — 
What kind of catechizing call you this? 

Claud, To make you answer truly to your name. 

JETero. Is it not Hero ? Who can blot that oama 
With any just reproach ? 



SCEVX J.] MUCH ADO ABOUT ]IOTaill«» 51 

Claud. Marry, that can Hero; 
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 
What man was he, talk'd with you yesternight. 
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one? 
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 

Hero. I talked with no man at that hour, my lord. * 

Pedro, Leonato, 
I am sorry, you must hear ; — Upon mine honour^ 
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, 
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night. 
Talk with a ruffian, at her chamber window ; 
IVho hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, 
Confessed the vile encounters they have had 
A thousand times in secret. 

John. Fie, Ae I they are 
Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; 
There is not chastity enough in language, 
"Without offence, to utter them : Thus, pretty lady, 
I am sorry for thy much misgovemment. 

Claud, O Hero, what an angel hadst thou been. 
If half thy outward graces had been plac'd 
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart! 
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell ! 
For thee, I'll lock up all the gates of love, 
And on my eye-lids, shall conjecture hang. 
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm. 
And never shall it more be gracious. [Hbro 9Woou9» 

Leon^ Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? 

Beatr, Why, how now, cousin I wherefore sink you 
down? 
[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, iukI Claudio* 

Bened. How doth the lady? 

Beair. Dead, I think ; — Help, uncle !*- 
Hero! why, Hero! uncle! Signior Benedick ! Friar! 

Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand t 
Death is the fairest cover for her shame^ 
That may be wished for. 

Beatr » How^ now, cousin. Hero? 

f 2 



52 MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTHINO. [aCT it; 

Friar, Have comfort, lady. 

Leon, Doftt thou look up ? 

Friar, Yea ; Wherefore should she not ? 

Lton, Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly 
thing 
Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 
The story, that is printed in her blood ! 
Do not live, Hero : do not ope thine eyes : 
For did I think, thou wouldst not quickly die, 
Thought I, thy spiriti were stronger than thy shames, 
Myself would, on the rearward of • reproaches. 
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one ? 
Chid I for that, at frugal nature's frame ' 
Tve one too much by thee ! O, she is fall'n 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Hath drops too few, to wash her clean again ! 

Bened, Sir, sir, be patient! 
For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 
I know not what to say. 

Beatr, O, on my soul, my cousin is belied !* 

Bened. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? 

Beatr, No, truly, not ; although, until last night, * 
I have this twelvemonth heen her bedfellow, 

Leon. Confirmed, confirmed ! Oh, that is stronger 
made, 
Which was before ban'd up with ribs of iron ! 
Would the two princes lie ? and Claudio lie ? 
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness. 
Wasb'd it with tears? Hence ! from her ! let her die I 

Friar. Hear me a little ; 
For 1 have only silent been so long, 
And given way unto this course of fortune. 
By noting of the lady : I have mark'd 
A thousand btushing apparitions start 
Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness, bear away those blushes. 
Call me a fool ; .... 

Trust not my readings nor my observation. 



SC£K£ I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT XOTKIHA. 5$ 

My reverence, calling, nor divinity; 
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here, 
Under some biting error. 

Leon. Friar, it cannot be : 
Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left. 
Is, that she will not add to her damnation, 
A sin of perjury : she not denies it : 
^hy seek'st thou, then, to cover with excuse 
That, which appears in proper nakedness? 

Friar Lady, what man is he, you are accused of? 

HerO' They know, that do accuse me : I know 
none : 
If I know more of any man alive. 
Than that, which maiden modesty doth warrant. 
Let all my sins lack mercy ! O my father, 
Prove you that any man with me convers'd 
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
Maintain d the change of words with any creature, 
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. 

Friar. There is some strange misprision in the 
princes. 

Benedn Two of them have the very'bent of honour ; 
And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 
The practice of it lives in John, the bastard. 
Whose spirits toil in frames of villanies. 

Leon. I know not; if they speak but truth of her. 
These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her honour, 
The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 

Friar. Pause awhile. 
And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
Your daughter here, the princes left for dead ; 
Let her a while be secretly kept in, 
And publish it, that she is dead indeed. 

Leon. What shall become of this ? what will thif 
do? 

Friar. She dying, as it must be maintain'd, 
Upon the instant that she was accus'd, 
Shall be lamented, piiy'd, and excus'd, 

V 3 



54 MUCH ADO ABOUT ITOTHIKO. [aCT IT. 

Of every hearer ; So will it fare with Claudio : 

When he shall hear, she died upon his words. 

The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 

Into his study of imagination ; 

And every lovely organ of her life 

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit. 

Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 

Tban when she liv'd indeed : then shall he mourn. 

And wish he had not so accused her ; 

No, though he thought his accusation true. 

Let this be so, and doubt not, but success 

Will fashion the event in better shape, 

Than I can lay it down, in likelihood. 

Bened. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you : 
And though, you know, my inwardness and love 
Is very much imto the prince and Claudio, 
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this 
As secretly, and justly, as your soul 
Should with your body. 
' Leon, Being, that I flow in grief. 
The smallest twine may lead mo. 

Friar, Tis well consented ; presently, away ; 
Come, lady, die, to live : this wedding day, 
Perhaps, is but prolonged ; have patience, and endare. 
[Exeunt all but Bbnrdick and Bbatrice* 
' Beked, Lisidy Beatrice, have you wept all this 
while? 

Beatr. Yea, and I will weep a whi:e longer. 

Bened, I will not desire that. 

Beatr, You have no reason: I do it freely. 

Bened, Surely, I do believe your fair cottsin ia 
wronged. 

Beatr. Ah, how much might the man deserve of 
me, that would right her ! " 

Bened. Is there any way to show such friendship } 

Beatr. A very even way, but no such friend. 

Bened. May a man do it ? 

Beatr. It is a man's oflice, but not yours. 



SCEKB I.] MUCH ADO ABO0T NOTHIIIO. 55 

Bened. I do love nothing in the world so well as 
you: 
Is not that-strange ? 

Beair* As strange as the thing I know not: ft were 
as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as 
you : but, believe roe not ; and yet I lie not ; I con- 
fess nothing, nor I deny nothing : — I am sorry for my 
cousin. 

Bened. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me ! 

Beatr, Do not swear by it, and eat it. 

Bened, I will swear by it, that you love me ; and 
I will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. 

Beatr, Will you not eat your word ? 

Bened, With no sauce that can be devised to it : I 
protest, 1 love thee ! 
' Btatr. Why, then. Heaven forgive roe ! 

Bened, What offence, sweet Beatrice ? 

Beatr, You have staid roe in a happy hour ; I was 
about to protest, I loved you. 

Bened. And do it, with all thy heart ! 

Beair, I love you with so much of my heart, that 
none is left, to protest. 

- Bened, Come, bid me do any thing for thee. 
Beatr. Kill Claudio. 

Bened, Ha ! not for the wide world ! 
Beatr. You kill roe to deny it : — Farewell ! 
Bened. Tarry, sweet Beatrice ! 
Beatr. I am gone,' though I am here ; — There is no 
love in you : — nay, I pray you, let me go. 
Bened. Beatrice,— 
Beatr, In faith, I will go! 
Bened. We'll be friends iirst. 

- Beatr. You dare easier be friends with me, than 
fight with mine enemy. 

Bened. Is Claudio thine enemy ? 

Beatr. Is he not approved in the height a villain, 
that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured, my kins- 
woman ? — Ob, Uiat I were a man i — What I bear her in 



$6 MUCK ikDO ABOVT KOTHUr0. [aCT IT, 

hand until they come to take hafids, «Qd then, with 
public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated 
rancour, — O Heaven, that I were a man ! I would eat 
his heart in tbe market place! 

Bened. Hear me, Beatrice. 

Beatr. Talk with a man out at a window ?— a pro- 
per saying ! 

Bened. Nay, but, Beatrice 

Beatu Sweet Hero !-Hihe is wronged, she is slan- 
dered, she is undone ! 

Bened, Beat— 

Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely 
testimony, a goodly cotint-confect — a sweet gallant, 
surely ! O that I were a man, for his sake ! or that I 
had any friend, would be a man for my sake ! But 
manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into com- 
pliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim 
ones too : He is now as valiant as Hercules, that%nly 
tells a He, and swears it : I cannot be a man with 
wishing, therefore I will* die a woman with grieving. 

Bened. Tarry, good Beatrice : By this hand, 1 love 
theef 

BetUr, Use it for my love, some other way than 
swearing by it. 

Bened. Think you in your soul, the Count Clau- 
dio hath wronged Hero f 

Beatr. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul ! 

Bened. Enough, I am engaged ; I will challenge 
him. I will kiss your hand, and so leave you : By 
this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account I — 
As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort 
j^our cousin ; I must say she is dead; and so farewell! 

{Examt. 



SCSVB II.] MUCH ADO ABOI^T KOTHINd. 57 



SCENE II. 



A Prison, 



Enter the Sexton, Dooberry, Verges, Ssacoal, 

and Oatcake. 

Dogb, Is our whole dissembly appeared ? 

Verges, O, a stool and a coshton for the sexton ! 

Sexton, Which be the malefactors? 

Dogb. Marry, that am I, and my partner. 

Verges, Nay, that's certain ; we have the exhibi- 
tion to examine. 

Sexton, But which are the offenders that are to be 
examined ? let them come before Master Constable. 

Dogb, Yea, marry, let them come before me. 

[Seacoal beckons to the Watch. 

Enter Watch, bringing in Borachio and ConraDe. 

What is your name, friend ? 

Bor, Borachio. 

Dogb. Pray write down Borachio. — Yours, sirrah ? 

Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Con- 
rade. 

Dogb, Write down Master Gentleman Conrade.^ — 
Masters, do you serve Heaven i 

Con. and Bor. Yes, sir, we hope. 

Dogb. Write down, that they hope they serve 
Heaven-^and write Heaven first; for Heaven defend 
but Heaven should go before such villains ! — Mas* 
ters, it is proved already, that you are little better 



58 MUCH ADO ABOUT MQTHIKG. ' [aCT IV. 

than false knaves ; and it will go near to be thought 
so shortly. How answer you for yourselves ? 

Can, Marry, sir, we say we are none. 

Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you !*- 
but I will go about with him. — Come you hither, sir- 
rah ! a word in your ear, sir; I say toyou, it is 
thought you are false knaves. 

Bor, Sir, I say to you, we are none. 

Dogb. Well, stand aside. — ^'Fore Heaven, they are 
both in a tale !*-Have you writ dowji, that they are 
none? 

Sexi<m, Mastei Constable, you go not the way to 
examine ; you must call the watch, that are their ac- 
cusers. 

Dogb> Yea, marry, that's the eftest way : — Let the 
watch stand forth: — Masters, I charge you, in the 
prince's name, accuse these men ! 

Sea, This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's 
brother, was a villain. 

Dogb» Write down, — Prince John, a villain ; 
Why, that is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother^ 
villain 1 

Bon Master Constable— 

Dogb. 'Pray thee, fellow, peace ! I do not like thy 
look, I promise thee. . 

Sexton, What heard you him say else ? 

Oat, Marry, that he had received a thousand da- 
cats of Don John, for accusing the Lady Hero wrong* 
fully. 

Do^, Flat burglary, as ever was committed ! 

Verges, Yea, by the mass, that it is ! 

Sexton. What else, fellow ? 

Sea, And that Count Claiidio did mean, upon his 
words, to disgrace Hero, before the whole assembly, 
and not marry her. 

Dogb, O villain! thou wilt be coodanmed into 
everlasting redemption for this! 

Sexton. What else? 



aeSKB II.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHXKG. 59 

Sea. This is alL 

Sexton, And this is more, masters, than you can 
4eny. Prince John is this morning, secretly stolen 
away : Hero was in this manner accused, in this very 
manner refused, and, upon the grief of this, suddenly 
died«-— Master Constable, let these men be boundf, 
and brought to Leonato's. — I will go before, and show 
him their examination. [Exit, 

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned* — Come, bind 
Ihem. — ^Thou naughty varlet! 

Con, Away, you are an ass ! you are an ass ! 

Dogb, Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost thou 
not suspect my years i O that he were here, to write me 
down, an ass! — but, masters, remember, that I am an 
ass ; though it be not written down, yet forget not, 
that I am an ass: — No, thou villain, thou art full 
of piety, as shall be proved upon thee, by good wit- 
ness !^1 am a wise fellow ; and, which is more^ an 
officer; and, which is more, an householder; and^ 
which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh, as any in 
Messina ! and one that knows the law, go to ; and a 
rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had 
losses ; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing 
kandsome about him :-*Bring him away. O, that 1 
kad been writ down«-<«n ass I [ExemU 



$U MUCH ADO ABOVT HOTHnTG. [aCT ▼« 



ACT THE FIFTH. 

SCKVX I. 

Tkc Court, before Leonato's House. 

Enter Leonato and Antonio. 

Ani. If. you go on thus, you will kill yourself; 
And 'tis not wisdom , thus to second grief 
Against yourself. 

. Leon. I pray thee^ cease thy counsel ; 
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear. 
But such a one, whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child. 
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, 
And bid him speak of patience ; — 
No, no ; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 
To those, that wring under the load of sorrow ; 
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, 
To be so moral, when he shall endure 
The like^himself : therefore give me no counsel. 

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing difi^. 

LeoH, I pray thee, peace ; I will be flesh and blood; 
For there was never yet philosopher, 
That could endure the tooth-ache patiently ; 
However they have writ the style of gods. 
And make a pish at chance and sufferance. 

Ant* Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself ; 
Make those, that do offend you, sufier too. 

Leon. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will do 
so; 
My soul doth tell me, Hero is belied ; 
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince. 
And all of them, that thus dishonour her. 



SCtjrj& 1.1 MUCH ABO ABOUT KOTHINO. 6l 

Ant, Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. 

Enter Dov F EDViO and Clavdio* 

Pedro. Good den, good den. 

Claud, Good day to both of you. 

Leon. Hear you, my lords 

Pedro. We have some haste, Leonak). 

Leon. Some haste, my lord ! — :well, fare you well, 
my lord : 
Are you so hasty now ? — well, all is one. 

Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 

Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, 
Some of us would lie low. 

Claud. Who wrongs him ? 

Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissem- 
bler, thou ! 
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, 
I fear thee not. 

Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 
If it should give your age such cause of fear ! 
In faith, my hand meaiit nothing to my sword. 

Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me ! 
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool. 
As, under privilege of age, to brag 
What I have done being young, or what would do. 
Were I not old : Know, Claudio, to thy head. 
Thou hast so wrong'dmy innocent child, and me, 
That I am forced to lay my reverence by ; 
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, 
Do challenge thee to trial of a man : 
I say, thou hast belied my innocent child. 

Pedro. You say not right, old man. 

Leon. My lord, my lord, > 

ril prove it on his body, if he dare; 
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice. 
His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 

Claud, Away, I will not have to do with you! 

Leon. Canst thou so daff me ? ^ .; 



6t MUCH ADO ABOUT K0THIK6. [aCT T, 

Ant, Let him answer me : 
Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me; 
Sir boy, Til whip you from your foining fence ; 
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will ! 

Lean. Brother— 

Ant. Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops ! 
That dare as well answer a man, indeed. 
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue ! 

Leon. Brother Anthony 

Ant. Hold your content ; What, man ! I know 
them, yea. 
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple; 
Scambling, outfacing, fashion-mong'ring boys. 
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, 
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words. 
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, 
And this is all. 

Lean. But, brother Anthony 

Ant* Come, 'tis no matter ; 
po not you meddle, let me deal in this. 

Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your pa- 
tience. 
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ; 
But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nolbin^; 
9ut what was true, and very full of proof. 
' Leon. My lord, my lord 

Pedro. I will not hear you. 

Leon. No? 
Brother, away ; I will be heard I 

Ant. And shall. 
Or some of us will smart for it. 

[Exeunt Leovato and Antonio. 

Pedro. See, see. 
Here corbes the man, we went to seek I 

Enter Bknedick. 

Claud. Now, Signior, 
What news? 



SCXNE I.] MtrCfl ADO ABOUT VOTHISG. 65 

Bened. Good day^ my lord. 
Pedro. Welcome, Signior ! 
You are almost come to part almost a fray. 

Claud, We had like to have had our two noses 
snapped off, with two old men without teeth. 

Pedro, Leouato and his brother: What think'st 
thou ? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have be^ 
too young for them. 

Bened. In a false quarrel, there is no true valour. 
I came to seek you both. 

Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; 
for we are high proof melancholy, and would fain 
have it beaten away : Wilt thou use thy wit ? 
Bened. It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it ! 
Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale !— 
Art thou sick, or angry ? 

Claud. What ! courage, man ! What, though care 
killed a cat, thou bast m^tle enough in thee to kill 
care. 

Bened. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if 
you charge it against me ; I pray you, chuse another 
subject. 

Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more! 
I think, he be angry, indeed ! 

Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 
Bened. Shall I speak a word in your ear ? 
Claud. Heaven bless me from a challenge ! 
Bened* You are a villain ! I jest not' — I will make 
it good, how you dare, with what you dare, and when 
you dare: — Do me right, or I will protest your cow- 
ardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death 
ihall fall heavy on you ! Let me hear from you. 

Ckmd. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good 
cheer. 
Pedro. What, a feast, a feast ! 
Claud. Tfaith, I thank him, he halh bid me to a 
calve's head ; the which, if I do not carve most cu- 
riously, say my knife's naught* 

o 2 



64 ilUCR ABO ABOUT VOTHIVG. [ACt V. 

Bened. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. 

Pedro, But when shall ive set the savage bull's 
boms on the sensible Benedick's head ? 

Ciaud. Yea, and text underneath ,— Here dwells 
Benedick, the married man ? 

Bmed, Fare you well, boy I you know my mind — 
I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you 
break jests, as braggarts do their blades, which, Hea* 
ven be thanked, hurt not! — My lord, for your many 
cotirtesies, I thank you — I must discontinue your 
company: your brother, the bastard, is fled from 
Messina; you have, among you, killed a sweet and 
innocent lady : For my Lord Lack beard there, ha 
and I shall meet, and till then, peace be with him! — 
L«t mc hear from you. [Exit, 

Pedro. He is in earnest. 

Claud, Inmost profound earnest; and, Til warrant 
you, for the love of Beatrice ! 

Pedro, And hath challenged thee? 

Claud. Most sincerely ! 

Pedro, What a pretty thing man is, when he goes 
in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit ! — Did 
he not say, my brother was fled ? 

£»fer DoGBERRT, Verges, Conrade, Borachio, 
Seacoal, Oatcake, and the Watch. 

Dogh. Come yoti, sir! if justice cannot tame you, 
she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance : — 
nay, and you be a cui'sing hypocrite once, you most 
be looked to. 

Pedro, How now^ two of my brother's men bound I 
Borachio one ! 

> * 

Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord. 
Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done } 
Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false re- 
port ; moreover, they have spoken untruths ; 'second- 
arily, they are slanders :. sixth and lastly, they have 



»££K£ I.] MUCH APO ABOUT VOTBINa. 65 

belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust 
things : and, to conclude, they are lying knaves* 

Pedro, First, I ask ihee, what they have done; 
thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence ; sixth and last- 
ly, why they are committed; — ^jnd, to conclude, 
what you lay to their charge. 

Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division* 

fedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that you 
are thus bound to your answer f this learned con- 
stable is too cunning to be understood : — What's your 
offence ? 

Bor. Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine 
fmswer ; do you hear me, and let this count kill me. 
I have deceived even your very eyes : what your wis- 
doms could not discover, these shallow fools have 
brought to light ; who, in the night, overheard me 
confessing to this man, how Don John, your brother, 
incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were 
brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret, 
in Hero's garments; how you disgraced her, when 
you should marry her : my villany they have upon 
record, which, I had rather seal with my death, than 
repeat over to my shame : the lady is dead, upon 
mme and my master's false, accusation ; and, briefly, 
1 desire nothing but the reward of a villain. 

Pedro, Runs not this speech like iron through your 
blood ? 

Claud. I have drunk poison, whiles he uttered it. 

Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this? 

Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it, 

Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery :— 
And fled he is upon this villany. 

Claud. Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appeal* ' 
Jn the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. 

Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this time, 
our sexton hath reformed SigniorXeonato of the mat- 
ter: And, masters, do not forget to specify, when time 
apd place shf^ll sejrve, that I am s^u ass, 

Q 3 



€6 MUCH ADO AB0t7T NOTHING. [aCT V. 

' Verges. Here comes Master Signior Lcoimto, and 
the sexton too. 

Enter Leonato, Servants, and the Sexton. 

Leon, Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes ; 
That, when I note another man like him, 
I may avoid him : Which of these is he? 

Bor. If you would know your wronger, look on me. 
' Leon. Art thou the slave, that, with ihy breath, 

hastkitrd 
Mine innocent child ? . 

Bur.' Yea, even I alone. 

Leon. No, not so, villain ; thou beliest thySelf : 
Here stand a pair of honourable men, 
A third is fled, that had a hand in it : — 
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ; 
Record it with your high and worthy deeds ; 
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 

Claud. I know not how to pray your patience. 
Yet I must speak : Chuse your revenge yourself; 
Impose me to what penance your invention 
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not; 
But in mistaking. 

. Pedro. By my soul, nor I ; 
And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
I would bend under any heavy weight 
That he'll enjoin me to. 

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live. 
That were impossible ; but, I pray you both. 
Possess the people in Messina here, 
How innocent she died ; 
To-morrow morning, come you to my house; 
Arid, since you could -not be my son-m-law, 
Be yet my nepheM^ : my brother hath a daughter, 
Almost a copy of my child that's dead, 
And she alone is heir to both of us ; 
Give her the right, you should have given her cousini 
And so dies my revenge. 
Claud. O, noble sir. 



-SCBNB^I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 67 

Your over kindness doth wring tears from me ! 
I do embrace your offer, and dispose 
For henceforth of poor Claudio. 

Leon, To-raorrow, then, J will expect your com- 
ing, 
To-night, I take my leave, 

[Exeunt Pedro and Claudio, 
This naughty man 

Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 
Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong. 

Bor, No, by my soul, she was not ; 
^or knew not what she did, when she spoke to me ; 
But always hath been just and virtuous, 
In any thing that I do know by her. 

Dogb. Moreover, sir, which indeed, is not under 
white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did 
cull me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered in 
his punishment. 

Leon. I thank thee, for thy care and honest pains. 

Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful 
and reverend youth ; and I praise Heaven for you ! 

Leon, There's for thy pains. 

Dosb. Heaven save the foundation ! 

Leon, Go, I discharge thee ot thy prisoner, and I 
thank thee. 

Dvgb. I leave an errant knave with your worship ; 
which, I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for 
the example of others. Heaven keep your worship — 
I wish your worship well — Heaven restore you to 
health ! I humbly give you leave to depart ; and, if 
a merry meeting may be wished, Heaven prohibit it! 
—Come, neighbour. 

[Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, tlie Sexton, 
Sracoal, Oatcake, onrf if//tf Watch. 

Lebn. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with 
Margaret, 
HoW her .acquaintance grew with this lewd follow. 

[Exejunt' 



68 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [aCT V. 



SCENE II. 



A Hally in Leonato*s House. 



Enter Benedick end Maegaret. 

Bened. 'Pray thee, ^weet Mistress Margaret^ de- 
serve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech 
of Beatrice. 

, Marg, Will you then, write roe a sonnet in praise 
of my beauty? 

Bened. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man 
living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth, 
'thou deservest it ! 

Marg, To have no man- come over me? why, shall 
I always keep below stairs I 

Bened. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's 
mouth, it catches. 

Marg. And yours, as blunt as , the fencer's foils, 
which hit, but hurt not. 

Bened, A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not 
hurt a woman : and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. 

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you* [Exit^ 

Bened. [Sings.] The god oflcfoe^ 

That sits ab&fe^ 
And knows me, and knows me, 
How pitiful I cfetferce,— — 

I mean in singing ; but in loving,— Leaiider, the good 
swimmer, Troilus, the first employer, of panders, and 
a whole book full of these quondam carpet mongers, 
whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a 
blank verse, why, they were nev^r so tn:|ly turned 



SCENE II.] KUCH ADO ABOUT NdXHlftO. : 6$ 

over and over, as my poor self^ in love : Marry, I can- 
not show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out 
no rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent rhyme; for 
school, fool, a babbling rhyme ; for scorn, horn, a 
hard rhyme ; very ominous endings! — No, I was not 
born under a rhyming planet, for I cannot woo in fes- 
tival terms. — 

Enter Beatrice. 

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called 
thee? 

Beatr. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me, 

Bened. O, stay but' till then! 

Beatr. Then^ is spoken ; fare you well now : — and 
yet, ere 1 go, let me go with that I came for, which 
is, with knowing what hath past between you aind 
Claudio. 

Bened. Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either 
J must shortly hear .frpm him, or 1 will subscribe 
him a coward. And, 1 pray thee now, tell me, for 
which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love 
with me? 

Beatr. For them all together; which maintained 
so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any 
good part to intermingle with them. But for which 
of my good parts di'd you first suffer love for me. 

Bened, Suffer love ; a good epithet! 1 do suffer love, 
indeed, for 1 love thee against my will. 

Beatr. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor 
heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it 
for yours ; for I will never love that, which my friend 
hates. 

Bened. Thou and I are too wise to woo peace- 
ably. 

•Beatr. It appears not in this confession ; there's not 
one wise man among twenty, that will praise himself. 

Bened. Ah old, an old instance — And now tell me, 
how doth your cousin ? . 



70 MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTOIKO. [aCT V. 

Beatr, Very ill. . 

Bencd. And how do you ? 
Beatr. Very ill too. 

Bened* Serve Heaven, love me, and mend. 
Here comes one in baste. 

Enter Ursula. 

Urs, Madam, you must come to your uncle; it is 
proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused,> the 
prince and Claudio mightily abused ; and Don Joha 
IS the author of all, who is fled and gone. 

[Exit UlLBULA. 

Beatr, Will you go hear this news, signior? 

Bened^ I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and 
be buried in thy heart; and, moreover, I will ^o. with 
thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt* 



SCENE III. 



A Bjoom in Leokato's Houte. 

/ 

Enter I^eonato, Hero, Friar, Antonio, Bene- 
, D|CK, Beatrice, URsi/LiT, and other Ladies. 

■ 
Friar. Did not I tell you she was innocent? 
Lean. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused 
her, 
Upon the error that you heard debated : 
But Margaret was in some fault for this ; 
Although against her will, as it appears. 
Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so welK 
Bened. And so am I, being else by £uth enforc\i 
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it 
Leon. Welly daughter^ and you gentlewomen all. 



»C£NB II.] MUCH ABO ABOUT VOTHINO. Jl 

Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves ; 
And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd : 
The prince and Claudio promised by this hour 
To visit ine : — You know your office, brother; 
You must be father to your brother's daughter. 
And give her to young Claudio. 

Ant. Which I will do with a confirmed countenance. 

Bened. Friar, I must entreat your plains, I think. 

Friar. To do what, signior ? 

Bened. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.— • 
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. 
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 

Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most 
true. 

Bened. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 

Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from me. 
From Claudio and the prince : But what's your will t 

Bened. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 
But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd 
In the estate of honourable marriage; — 
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. 

Lean. My heart is with your liking. 

Friar. And my help. 
Here comes the prince, and Claudio. 

EtUer Don Pedro and Claudio. 

Leon. We here attend you : Are you yet determined 
To-day to marry with my brother^s daughter? 

Claud. Y\\ hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. 

Leon. Call her Wtb, brother: Here^s the friar ready. 

[Exit Antonio, 

Pedro. Good-m^Ecow, Benedick : Why, what^s th% 
matter. 
That you have such a February face. 
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ? 

Qaud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull : 
'tush, fear not, man, well tip thy horns with gold, 



72 MITCH ADO ABOUT HQTfliNG. [aCT Y^ 

And all our Europe shall rejoice at thee ; 
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,^ 
When he would play the noble beast in love. 
Bened. Bull Jove, sir, bad an amiable low : 
And some such strange bull leap*d your father's cow, 
And got a calf in tbat same noble feat, 
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat 
Oh, here they come ! 

Enter Antonio, loith Hero^ Beatrice, Ursula, 
and other Ladies masked, 

Claud. Which is the lady I roust seize upon ? 

Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. 

Claud. Why then she's mine ; Sweet, let me see 
your face. 

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her 
hand 
Before this friar, and swear to marry her. 

Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar ; ■ 
I am your husband, if you like of me. 

Hero. And when I liv'd, I was your other wife ; 

[Unmaiking. 
And when you lov'd, you were my other husband. 

Claud. Another Hero? 

Hero, Nothing certainer : 
One Hero dieddefil'd, but I dolivc, 
And^ surely as I live, I am innocent. 

Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero, that is dead ! 

Xeoit. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander 
liv'd. . / 

* Friar. All this amazement can I qualify ; 
When, after that the holy rites are coded, 
ni tell ^ou largely of fair Hero's death : 
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar, 
And to the chapel let us presently. 

Bened. Soft and fair, Friar, — Which is Beatrice? ' 



Beatr. Imtti^ef ib fbat tiiiiilefl 

lf#n^. Do not /6u tot« ftk; ? 

ISen/^^ Y^i fio ftiofe thdtl fe^Mii. 

Bene6i Why, ili«tf«yotftttnt)e/«ii4thepriiicM*yin(i 

tliv« b^rt d(^delt«^ ^ for lif6y 9iro#eyicm did; 
Beaif. Do ndtyoti toVe mt} 
Baud. Kd, n6 f«0r« thtftv t «a6(m« 

AeiKf . Why^ fb^ff, itiy eottsltt^ Miir|^mf dtid Cn 

Jkfift ftnitih dt^eiVd, fof they did ftwenf » y«u d^d^ 
B^n^i. They swore, that you were almost si^k fef 

Beatr. Th^y iwdre, fhaf y«a waft; w^ nigh Ae»d 

Idf fKe. 
Bened. Tis no such matter : — ^Then, you do Aot 

love me f 
Bi0r. n&i it\ityf Wi iH frtf^ndly f^cMl^eiM. 
i>cm. €6ifl6, e6uin«, t afl^ »af^ yon tdf6 tMe^f^dif* 

man. 
Claud. And ni bd 9#o#n afp6ft% (h«e h« k>^e»h«f> 
For h^nf» a j^ape^^ Wf(l(efri«^ h)* haiid» 
Jl MAttffg ftotijbet of his own pure brain, 
Fashion'd to Beatrice. 

[Gives the Paper to Beatbice. 
Hero. And here's another, 
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket. 
Containing her affectio» aat^ Benedick. 

[Gfcei the Paper to Bekedick* 
Bened, A miracle ! — here's our own hands against 
our hearts ! — Come, I will have thee ; but, by this 
light, I take thee for pity ! 

Beatr, I would not deny you ; — but, by this good 
day, I yield upon great persuasion ! and, partly, to 
save your life : for I was told, you were in a consump- 
tion. 

B