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HANDBOUND 

AT  THE 


UNIY!  RSITY  OF 
I  <  (RONTO  PRESS 


I 


PLAYS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE, 


WITH 


NOTES  OF  VARIOUS  COMMENTATORS. 


EDITED 


BY   MANLEY   WOOD,    A.M. 


IN  FOURTEEN  VOLUMES. 


VOL.  VII. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED    FOR    GEORGE   KEARSLEY. 
1806. 


PR 

2  7-^3 

v7 


95262X 


Printed  bjr  T.  DAVISON, 
Wiutcfriars. 


CONTENTS. 

VOL.  VII. 

KING  HENRY  IV.  PART  1 1 

ANNOTATIONS   125 

KING  HENRY  IV.  PART  II 151 

ANNOTATIONS 2S7 

KING  HENRY  V 319 

ANNOTATIONS 455 


KING   HENRY  IV. 

PART  I. 


BY 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE. 


VOL.  VII.  £ 


THOMAS  BENSLEY,   H< INTER, 
i-nh  Court,  Hecc  Strict. 


R  E  M  A  It  K  S 


ON   THE 


FIRST  PART  OF  HENRY  I\ 


17 


The  transactions,  contained  in  this  historical  drama, 
are  comprised  within  the  period  of  about  ten  months: 
for  the  action  commences  with  the  news  brought  of 
Hotspur  having  defeated  the  Scots,  under  Archi- 
bald Earl  Douglas,  at  Holmedon,  or  Halidown  Hill, 
which  battle  was  fought  on  Holy  rood-day  (the  14th 
of  September)  1402:  and  it  closes  with  the  defeat 
and  death  of  Hotspur  at  Shrewsbury ;  which  engage- 
ment happened  on  Saturday  the  21st  of  July,  (th* 
eve  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen)  in  the  year  1403. 

THEOBALD. 

Shakspeare  has  apparently  designed  a  regular  con- 
nexion of  these  dramatic  histories  from  Richard  the 
Second  to  Henry  the  Fifth.  King  Henry,  at  the  end 
of  Richard  the  Second,  declares  his  purpose  to  visit 
the  Holy  Land,  which  he  resumes  in  his  speech. 
The  complaint  made  by  King  Henry  in  the  last  act 
of  Richard  the  Second,  of  the  wildness  of  his  son, 
prepares  the  reader  for  the  frolicks  which  are  here  to 
be  recounted,  and  the  characters  which  are  now  to 
be  exhibited.  johnson. 


Persons  Represented. 


King  Henry  the  Fourth. 

Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,      1  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

Prince  John  of  Lancaster,  3 

Earl  of  Westmoreland,  1  ^  .      .    ,     .     T_. 
~      ,Tr  ■„  (friends  to  the  Kin?. 

Sir  Walter  Blunt,  3 

Thomas  Percy,  Earl  of  Worcester. 

Henry  Percy,  Earl  of  Northumberland : 

Henry  Percy,  surnamed  Hotspur,  his  Son. 

Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March. 

Scroop,  Archlishop  of  York. 

Archibald,  Earl  of  Douglas. 

Owen  Glendower. 

Sir  Richard  Vernon. 

Sir  John  Falstaff. 

Poins. 

Gadshill. 

Peto. 

Bardolph. 

Lady  Percy,  wife  to  Hotspur,  and  Sister  to  Mortimer. 
Lady  Mortimer,  Daughter  to  Glendower,  and  Wife 

to  Mortimer. 
Mrs.  Quickly,  Hostess  of  a  Tavern  in  Eastcheap. 

Lords,    Officers,    Sheriff,     Vintner,    Chaml-erlain, 
Drawers,  two  Carriers,  Travellers,  and  Attendants. 

SCENE,  England. 


FIRST  PART  OF 


KING   HENRY  IV. 


ACT   I.     SCENE  I. 

London.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Westmoreland,  Sir  Walter 
Blunt,  and  others. 

K.  Hen.  So  shaken  as  we  are,  so  wan  with  care, 
Find  we  a  time  for  frighted  peace  to  pant, 
And  breathe  short-winded  accents  of  new  broils 
To  be  commenc'd  in  stronds  afar  remote  *. 
No  more  the  thirsty  Erinnys  of  this  soil 
Shall  daub  her  lips  with  her  own  children's  blood4; 
No  more  shall  trenching  war  channel  her  fields, 
Nor  bruise  her  flow  rets  with  the  armed  hoofs 
Of  hostile  paces :  those  opposed  eyes, 
Which, — like  the  meteors  of  a  troubled  heaven, 
All  of  one  nature,  of  one  substance  bred, 
Did  lately  meet  in  the  intestine  shock 


0'  FIRST  PART  OF 

And  furious  close  of  civil  butchery, 

Shall  now,  in  mutual,  well -beseeming  rants, 

March  all  one  way;  and  be.no  more  oppos'd 

Against  acquaintance,  kindred,  and  allies: 

The  edge  of  war,  like  an  ill-sheathed  knife, 

No  more  shall  cut  his  master.     Therefore,  friends, 

As  far  as  to  the  sepulcher  of  Christ, 

f  Whose  soldier  now,  under  whose  blessed  cross 

We  are  impressed  and  engag'd  to  fight,) 

Forthwith  a  power  of  English  shall  we  levy; 

Whose  arms  were  moulded  in  their  mothers'  womb 

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  cioss. 

But  this  our  purpose  is  a  twelve-month  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* 

In  forwarding  this  dear  expedience3. 

West.  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,  loaden  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  Welch  man  taken, 
And  a  thousand  of  his  people  butchered : 


KING  HENRY  IV.  ; 

Upon  whose  dead  corps  there  was  such  misuse, 
Such  beastly,  shameless  transformation, 
By  those  Welchwomen  done4,  as  may  not  be, 
Without  much  shame,  retold  or  spoken  of. 

A'.  Hen.  It  seems  then,  that  the  tidings  of  thi*  broil 
Brake  off  our  business  for  the  Holy  land. 

West.  This,  match' d  with  other,  did,  my  gracious 
lord  5 
For  more  uneven  and  unwelcome  news 
Came  from  the  north,  and  thus  it  did  import. 
On  Holy-rood  day,  the  gallant  Hotspur  there, 
Young  Harry  Percy,  and  brave. Archibald, 
That  ever-valiant  and  approved  Scot, 
At  Holmedon  met, 

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

K.  Hen.  Here  is  a  dear  and  true-industrious  friend, 
Sir  Walter  Blunt,  new  lighted  from  his  horse, 
Stain'd  with  the  variation  of  each  soil 
Betwixt  that  Holmedon  and  this  seat  of  ours ; 
And  he  hath  brought  us  smooth  and  welcome  news. 
The  earl  of  Douglas  is  discomfited  j 
Ten  thousand  bold  Scots,  two  and  twenty  knights, 
Balk'd  in  their  own  blood,  did  sir  Walter  see 
On  Holmedon's  plains:  Of  prisoners,  Hotspur  took 
Mordake  the  earl  of  Fife,  and  eldest  son 


b  FIRST  PART  OF 

To  beaten  Douglas ;  and  the  earl  of  Athol 
Of  Murray,  Angus,  and  Menteith. 
And  is  not  this  an  honourable  spoil  ? 
A  gallant  prize?  ha,  cousin,  is  it  not? 

West.  In  faith, 
It  is  a  conquest  for  a  prince  to  boast  of. 

K.  Hen.    Yea,    there  thou   mak'st   me  sad,   and 
mak'st  me  sin 
In  envy  that  my  lord  Northumberland 
Should  be  the  father  of  so  blest  a  son  ? 
A  son,  who  is  the  theme  of  honour's  tongue ; 
Amongst  a  grove,  the  very  straightest  pi  ant ; 
Who  is  sweet  fortune's  minion,  and  her  pride: 
Whilst  I,  by  looking  on  the  praise  of  him, 
See  riot  and  dishonour  stain  the  brow 
Of  my  young  Harry.     O,  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  you, 

coz', 
Of  this  young  Percy's  pride  ?  the  prisoners, 
Which  he  in  this  adventure  hath  surpriz'd, 
To  his  own  use  he  keeps  j  and  sends  me  word, 
I  shall  have  none  but  Mordake  earl  of  Fife. 

West.  This  is  his  uncle's  teaching,  this  is  Wor- 
cester, 
Malevolent  to  you  in  all  aspects; 
Which  makes  him  prune  himself,  and  bristle  up 


KING  HENRY  IV.  9 

The  crest  of  youth  against  your  dignity. 

K.  Hen.  But  I  have  sent  for  him  to  answer  this ; 
-And,  for  this  cause,  awhile  we  must  neglect 
Our  holy  purpose  to  Jerusalem. 
Cousin,  on  Wednesday  next  our  council  we 
Will  hold  at  Windsor,  so  inform  the  lords: 
But. come  yourself  with  speed  to  us  again ; 
For  more  is  to  be  said,  and  to  be  done, 
Than  out  of  anger  can  be  uttered. 

West.  I  will,  my  liege.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     Another  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  Falstaff. 

Fal.  Now,  Hal,  what  time  of  day  is  it,  lad? 

P.  Hen.  Thou  art  so  fat-witted,  with  drinking  of  old 
sack,  and  unbuttoning  thee  after  supper,  and  sleep- 
ing upon  benches  after  noon,  that  thou  hast  forgotten 
to  demand  that  truly  which  thou  would'st  truly 
know 5.  What  a  devil  hast  thou  to  do  with  the 
time  of  the  day  ?  unless  hours  were  cups  of  sack,  and 
minutes  capons,  and  clocks  the  tongues  of  bawds, 
-and  dials  the  signs  of  leaping-houses,  and  the  blessed 
sun  himself  a  fair  hot  wench  in  flame- colour'd  taf- 
fata;  I  see  no  reason,  why  thou  should'st  be  so  su- 
perfluous 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: 


10  FIRST  PART  OF 

and  not  by  Phoebus,  — he,  that  wandering  knight  So 
fair.     And,  I  pray  thee,  sweet  wag,  when  thou  art 
king, — as,  God  save  thy  grace,  (majesty,  1  should 
say ;  for  grace  thou  wilt  have  none,) 

P.  ILn.  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, 
not  us,  that  are  squires  of  the  night's  body,  be 
call'd  thieves  of  the  day's  beauty  6 ;  let  us  be — Dia- 
na's foresters,  gentlemen  of  the  shade,  minions  of 
the  moon:  And  let  men  say,  we  be  men  of  good 
government;  being  govern'd  as  the  sea  is,  by  our 
noble  and  chaste  mistress  the  moon,  under  whose 
countenance  we — steal. 

/'.  Hen.  Thou  say'st  well;  and  it  holds  well  too: 
;  r  the  fortune  of  us,  that  are  the  moon's  men,  doth 
ebb  and  flow  like  the  sea;  being  govern'd  as  the  sea 
is,  by  the  moon.  As,  for  proof,  now:  A  purse  of 
gold  most  resolutely  snatch'd  on  Monday  night,  and 
most  dissolutely  spent  on  Tuesday  morning;  got  with 
swearing — lay  by;   and  spent  with  crying — bring  in: 

.v,  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 

11  i 

/    I.  By  the   Lord,    thou  say'st  true,   lad.     And 
U    not    my    hostess   of    the    tavern   a   most   sweet 

-      b  r 

P.  ILn.   As  the  honey  of  Hybla,  my  old  lad  of  the 


KING  HENRY  IV.  1 1 

castle7.     And  is  not  a  buff  jerkin  a  most  sweet  robe 
of  durance  3? 

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

P.  Hen.  Why,  what  a  pox  have  I  to  do  with  my 
hostess  of  the  tavern  ? 

Fal.  Well,  thou  hast  cali'd  her  to  a  reckoning, 
many  a  time  and  oft. 

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

Fal.  No  j  I'll  give  thee  thy  due,  thou  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 
apparent  that  thou  art  heir  apparent, — But,  I  pr'y- 
thee,  sweet  wag,  shall  there  be  gallows  standing  in 
England  when  thou  art  king?  and  resolution  thus 
fobb'd  as  it  is,  with  the  rusty  curb  of  old  father  an- 
tick  the  law  ?  Do  not  thou,  when  thou  art  king,  hang 
a  thief. 

P.  Hen.  No;   thou  shalt. 

Fal.  Shall  I  ?  O  rare!  By  the  Lord,  I'll  be  a  brave 
judge. 

P.  Her.  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 


18  FIRST  PART  OF 

With  my  humour,  as  well  as  waiting  in  the  court,  I 
can  tell  you. 

P.  Hen.  For  obtaining  of  suits  9? 

Fal.  Yea,  for  obtaining  of  suits:  whereof  the 
hangman  hath  no  lean  wardrobe.  'Sblood,  I  am  as 
melancholy  as  a  gib  cat l0,  or  a  lugg'd  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  me- 
lancholy of  Moor-ditch? 

Fal.  Thou  hast  the  most  unsavoury  similies ;  and 
art,  indeed,  the  most  comparative,  rascalliest, — sweet 
young  prince, — But  Hal,  I  pry'thee,  trouble  me  no 
more  with  vanity.  I  would  to  God,  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  j  but  I  mark'd 
him  not:  and  yet  he  talked  very  wisely  j  but  I  re- 
garded him  not :  and  yet  he  talk'd  wisely,  and  in  the 
street  too. 

P.  Hen.  Thou  did'st  well  j  for  wisdom  cries  out  in 
the  streets,  and  no  man  regards  it. 

Fal.  O,  thou  hast  damnable  iteration "j  and  art, 
indeed,  able  to  corrupt  a  saint.  Thou  hast  done  much 
harm  upon  me,  Hal, — God  forgive  thee  for  it!  Be- 
fore I  knew  thee,  Hal,  I  knew  nothing  3  and  now  am 
I,  if  1  man  should  speak  truly,  little  better  than  one 
of  the  wicked.  I  must  give  over  this  life,  and  I  will 
e  it  over  j  by  the  Lord,  an  I  do  not,  I  am  a  villain ; 
I'll  be  damo*d  for  never  a  king's  son  in  Christendom. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  13 

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. 

Enter  Poins  at  a  distance, 

Fal.  1X  Why,  Hal,  'tis  my  vocation,  Hal ;  'tis  no 
sin  for  a  man  to  labour  in  his  vocation.  Poins ! — 
Now  shall  we  know  if  Gadshill  have  set  a  match. 
O,  if  men  were  to  be  sav'd  by  merit,  what  hole  in 
hell  were  hot  enough  for  him?  This  is  the  most 
omnipotent  villain,  that  ever  cried,  Stand,  to  a  true 
man. 

P.  Hen.  Good  morrow,  Ned. 

Poins.  Good  morrow,  sweet  Hal. — What  says 
monsieur  Remorse  ?  What  says  sir  John  Sack-and- 
Sugar?  Jack,  how  agrees  the  devil  and  thee  about  thy 
soul,  that  thou  soldest  him  on  Good -Friday  last,  for  a 
cup  of  Madeira,  and  a  cold  capon's  leg? 

P.  Hen.  Sir  John  stands  to  his  word,  the  devil 
shall  have  his  bargain;  for  he  was  never  yet  a  breaker 
of  proverbs,  he  will  give  the  devil  his  due. 

Poins.  Then  art  thou  damn'd  for  keeping  thy  word 
with  the  devil. 

P.  Hen.  Else  he  had  been  damn'd  for  cozening 
the  devil. 

Poins.  But  my  lads,  my  lads,  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, by  four  o'clock,  early  at  Gadshill:  There  are 


14  FIRST  PART  OF 

pilgrims  going  to  Canterbury  with  rich  offerings^  and 
traders  riding  to  London  with  fat  purses:  I  have 
visors  for  you  all,  you  have  horses  for  yourselves  5 
Gadshill  lies  to-night  in  Rochester;  I  have  bespoke 
supper  to-morrow  night  in  Eastcheapj  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  hangr'd. 

Fal.  Hear  me,  Yedvvard ;  if  I  tarry  at  home,  and 
go  not,  I'll  hang  you  for  going. 

Pains.  You  will,  chops? 

Fal.  Hal,  wilt  thou  make  one? 

P.  Hen.  Who,  I  rob?  I  a  thief?  not  I,  by  my 
faith. 

Fal.  There's  neither  honesty,  manhood,  nor  good 
fellowship  in  thee,  nor  thou  earnest  not  of  the  blood 
royal,  if  thoa  darest  not  stand  for  ten  shillings. 

P.  Hen.  Well,  then,  once  in  my  days  I'll  be  a 
mad-cap. 

Fal.  Why,  that's  well  said. 

/'.  Hen.  Well,  come  what  will,  I'll  tarry  at  home. 

Fal.  By  the  Lord,  I'll  be  a  traitor  then,  when 
thou  ait  king. 

P.  Hen.  I  care  not. 

Poins.  Sir  John,  I  prythee,  leave  the  prince  and 
me  alone;  1  will  lay  him  clown  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 
speakest  may  move,  and  what  he  hears  may  be  be- 


KING  HENRY  IV.  15 

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. 

P.  Hen.  Farewell,  thou  latter  spring !  Farewell 
AU-hallown  summer!  [Exit  Falstaff. 

Poms.  Now,  my  good  sweet  honey  lord,  ride  with 
us  to-morrow,-  I  have  a  jest  to  execute,  that  I  can- 
not manage  alone.  FalstarT,  Bardolph,  Peto,  and 
GadshilJ,  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  I  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,  where- 
in it  is  at  our  pleasure  to  fail;  and  then  will  they 
adventure  upon  the  exploit  themselves :  which  they 
shall  have  no  sooner  achieved,  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 
appointment,  to  be  ourselves. 

Poins.  Tut!  our  horses  they  shall  not  see,  I'll  tie 
them  in  the  wood ;  our  visors  we  will  change,  after 
we  leave  them;  and,  sirrah,  I  have  cases  of  buck- 
ram for  the  nonce13,  to  immask  our  noted  outward 
garments. 

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


16  FIRST  PART  OF 

Poins.  Well,  for  two  of  them,  I  know  them  to  be 
as  true-bred  cowards  as  ever  turn'd  back;  and  for 
the  third,  if  he  fight  longer  than  he  sees  reason,  I'll 
forswear  arms.  The  virtue  of  this  jest  will  be,  the 
incomprehensible  lies  that  this  same  fat  rogue' will 
tell  us,  when  we  meet  at  supper:  how  thirty  at  least, 
he  fought  with  j  what  wards,  what  blows,  what  ex- 
tremities he  endured  j  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  to-morrow  night  in 
Eastcheap,  there  I'll  sup.     Farewell. 

Poins.  Farewell,  my  lord.  [Exit  Poins. 

P.  Hen.  I  know  you  all,  and  will  a  while  uphold 
The  unyok'd  humour  of  your  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  wonder'd  at, 
By  breaking  through  the  foul  and  ugly  mists 
Of  vapours,  that  did  seem  to  strangle  him. 
If  all  the  year  were  playing  holidays 
To  sport  would  be  as  tedious  as  to  work; 
But,  when  they  seldom  come,  they  wish'd-for  come, 
And  nothing  pleaseth  but  rare  accidents. 
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  I  falsify  men's  hopes; 


K1XG  HE1\RY  IV.  ]j 

And,  like  bright  metal  on  a  sullen  ground, 
My  reformation,  guttering  o'er  my  fault, 
Shall  show  more  goodly,  and  attract  more  eyes. 
Than  that  which  hath  no  foil  to  set  it  off. 
I'll  so  offend,  to  make  offence  a  skill ; 
Redeeming  time,  when  men  think  least  I  will T+. 

Exit. 

SCENE   III. 

The  same.     Another  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henrv,  Northumberland,  Wor- 
cester, Hotspur,  Sir  Walter  Blunt,  and 
others, 

K.  Hen.  My  blood  hath  been  too  cold  and  tem- 
perate, 
Unapt  to  stir  at  these  indignities, 
And  you  have  found  me;  for,  accordingly, 
You  tread  upon  my  patience :  but,  be  sure, 
J  will  from  henceforth  rather  be  myself, 
Mighty,  and  to  be  fear'd,  than  my  condition15; 
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  used  on  it; 
And  that  same  greatness  too  which  our  own  hand.* 
Have  holp  to  make  so  portly. 

North.  My  lord, 

VOL.  VII-  C 


lb  FIRST  PART  OF 

A'.  Hen,  Worcester,  get  thee  gone,  for  I  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 l6. 
You  have  good  leave  to  leave  us;   when  we  need 
Your  use  and  counsel,  we  shall  send  for  you. — 

[Exit  Worcester. 
You  were  about  to  speak.  [To  Northumberland. 

North.  Yea,  my  good  lord. 

Those  prisoners  in  your  highness'  name  demanded, 
Which  Harry  Percy  here  at  Holmedon  took, 
Were,  as  he  says,  not  with  such  strength  denied 
As  is  deliver'd  to  your  majesty : 
Either  envy,  therefore,  or  misprision 
Is  guilty  of  this  fault,  and  not  my  son. 

Hot.  My  liege,  I  did  deny  no  prisoners. 
Rut,  I  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,  and  trimly  dress'd, 
Fresh  as  a  bridegroom;  and  his  chin,  new  reap'd, 
Show'd  like  a  stubble  land  at  harvest- home: 
IK-  was  perfumed  like  a  milliner; 
And  'twixt  his  finger  and  his  thumb  he  held 
A  pouncct-box17,  which  ever  and  anon 

He  gave  his  nose,  and  took't  away  again; 

Who,  therewith  angry,  when  it  next  came  there, 
Took  it  in  snuff18: — and  still  he  smil'd,  and  talk'dj 
And,  as  the  soldiers  bore  dead  bodies  by, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  ig 

He  call'd  them — untaught  knaves,  unmannerly, 

To  bring  a  slovenly  unhandsome  corse 

Betwixt  the  wind  and  his  nobility. 

With  many  holiday  and  lady  terms 

He  question'd  me:  among  the  rest,  demanded 

My  prisoners,  in  your  majesty's  behalf. 

I  then,  all  smarting,  with  my  wounds  being  cold, 

To  be  so  pester'd  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  mad, 

To  see  him  shine  so  brisk,  and  smell  so  sweet, 

And  talk  so  like  a  waiting  gentlewoman, 

Of  guns,  and  drums,   and  wounds,   (God  save  the 

mark!) 
And  telling  me,  the  sovereign'st  thing  on  earth 
Was  spermaceti,  for  an  inward  bruise ; 
And  that  it  was  great  pity,  so  it  was, 
That  villainous  salt-petre  should  be  digg'd 
Out  of  the  bowels  of  the  harmless  earth, 
Which  many  a  good  tall  fellow  had  destroyed 
So  cowardly  3  and,  but  for  these  vile  guns, 
He  would  himself  have  been  a  soldier. 
This  bald  unjoin  ted  chat  of  his,  my  lord, 
I  answer'd,  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, 


20  FIRST  TART  OF 

To  such  a  person,  and  in  such  a  place, 
At  such  a  time,  with  all  the  rest  retold, 
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  brother-in-law,  the  foolish  Mortimer, 
Who,  on  my  soul,  hath  wilfully  betray'd 
fThe  lives  of  those,  that  he  did  leave  to  fight 
■'  Against  the  great  magician,  damn'd  Glendower; 
Whose  daughter,  as  we  hear,  the  earl  of  March 
Hath  lately  married.     Shall  our  coffers  then 
Be  emptied,  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, 
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  hour 
In  changing  hardiment  with  great  Glendower: 


KING  HENRY  IV.  21 

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  hid  his  crisp  head  in  the  hollow  bank 
Blood-stained  with  these  valiant  combatants. 
Never  did  bare  and  rotten  policy 
Colour  her  working  with  such  deadly  wounds  j 
Nor  never  could  the  noble  Mortimer 
Receive  so  many,  and  all  willingly : 
Then  let  him  not  be  slander'd  with  revolt. 

K.  Hen.  Thou  dost  belie  him,  Percy,  thou  dost  be- 
lie 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. 

\_Exeunt  King  Henry,  Blunt,  and  Train. 

Hot.  And  if  the  devil  come  and  roar  for  them, 
I  will  not  send  them : — I  will  after  straight, 
And  tell  him  so ;  for  I  will  ease  my  heart, 
Although  it  be  with  hazard  of  my  head. 


»  FIRST  PART  OF 

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

Re-enter  Worcester. 

Hot.  Speak  of  Mortimer  ? 

'Zounds,  I  will  speak  of  him;  and  let  my  soul 
Want  mercy,  if  I  do  not  join  with  him  : 
Yea,  on  his  part,  I'll  empty  all  these  veins, 
And  shed  my  dear  blood  drop  by  drop  i'the  dust, 
Bat  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.  [To  Worcester. 

Wor.  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  turn'd  an  eye  of  death  ig, 
Trembling  even  at  the  name  of  Mortimer. 

Wor.    I  cannot   blame   him:    Was  he  not  pro* 
claim'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  us  God  pardon !)  did  set  forth 
Upon  his  Irish  expedition; 
From  whence  he,  intercepted,  did  return 
To  be  deposed,  and,  shortly  murdered. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  2i 

Wor.  And  for  whose  death,  we  in  the  world's  wide 
mouth 
Live  scandaliz'd,  and  foully  spoken  of. 

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. 
Bat  shall  it  be,  that  you, — that  set  the  crown 
Upon  the  head  of  this  forgetful  man ; 
And,  for  his  sake,  wear  the  detested  blot 
Of  murd'rous  subornation, — shall  it  be, 
That  you  a  world  of  curses  undergo ; 
Being  the  agents,  or  base  second  means, 
The  cords,  the  ladder,  or  the  hangman  rather  ? — 
O,  pardon  me,  that  I  descend  so  low, 
To  show  the  line,  and  the  predicament, 
Wherein  you  range  under  this  subtle  king. — 
Shall  it,  for  shame,  be  spoken  in  these  days, 
Or  nil  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,  God  pardon  it !  have  done. — 
To  put  down  Richard,  that  sweet  lovely  rose, 
And  plant  this  thorn,  this  canker,  Bolingbroke  20  ? 
And  shall  it,  in  more  shame,  be  further  spoken, 
That  you  are  fool'd,  discarded,  and  shook  off 
By  him,  for  whom  these  shames  ye  underwent? 
No 3  yet  time  serves,  wherein  you  may  redeem 


24  FIRST  PART  OF 

Your  banish'd  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  I  say, 

War.  Peace,  cousin,  say  no  more: 

And  now  I  will  unclasp  a  secret  book, 
And  to  your  quick-conceiving  discontents 
I'll  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous ; 
As  full  of  peril,  and  advent' rous  spirit, 
As  to  o'er-walk  a  current,  roaring  loud, 
On  the  unsteadfast  footing  of  a  spear*1. 

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;—  O!  the  blood  more  stirs, 
To  rouse  a  lion,  than  to  start  a  hare.    . 

North.  Imagination  of  some  great  exploit 
Drives21  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  thence,  might  wear, 
Without  corrival,  all  her  dignities: 
But  out  upon  this  half-fac'd  fellowship! 

//  or.  He  apprehends  a  world  of  figures  here, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  25 

But  not  the  form  of  what  he  should  attend. — 
Good  cousin j  give  me  audience  for  a  while. 
.  Hot.  I  cry  you  mercy. 

Wor.                                Those  same  noble  Scots, 
That  are  your  prisoners, 

Hot.  I'll  keep  them  all ; 

By  heaven,  he  shall  not  have  a  Scot  of  them: 
No,  if  a  Scot  would  save  his  soul,  he  shall  not: 
I'll  keep  them,  by  this  hand. 

Wor.  You  start  away, 

And  lend  no  ear  unto  my  purposes. — 
Those  prisoners  you  shall  keep. 

Hot.  Nay,  I  will;  that's  flat:— 

He  said,  he  would  not  ransom  Mortimer; 
Forbad  my  tongue  to  speak  of  Mortimer ; 
But  I  will  find  him  when  he  lies  asleep, 
And  in  his  ear  I'll  holloa — Mortimer! 
Nay, 

I'll  have  a  starling  shall  be  taught  to  speak 
Nothing  but  Mortimer,  and  give  it  him, 
To  keep  his  anger  still  in  motion. 

Wor.  Hear  you, 

Cousin;  a  word. 

Hot.  All  studies  here  I  solemnly  defy, 
Save  how  to  gall  and  pinch  this  Bolingbroke: 
And  that  same  sword-and-buckler  prince  of  Wales,  — 
But  that  I  think  his  father  loves  him  not, 
And  would  be  glad  he  met  with  some  mischance, 
I'd  have  him  poison'd  with  a  pot  of  ale. 

Wor.  Farewell,  kinsman !   I  will  talk  to  you, 


26  FIRST  PART  OF 

When  you  are  better  temper'd  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  Glocestershire ; — 
'Twas  where  the  mad-cap  duke  his  uncle  kept  j 
His  uncle  York  ; — where  I  first  bow'd  my  knee 
Unto  this  king  of  smiles,  this  Bolingbroke, 
When  you  and  he  came  back  from  Ravenspurg. 

North.  At  Berkley  castle. 

Hot.  You  say  true : 
Why,  what  a  candy  deal  of  courtesy 
This  fawning  greyhound  then  did  proffer  me ! 
Look, — when  his  infant  fortune  came  to  age, — 
And, — gentle  Harry  Percy — and,  hind  cousin, — 

O,   the  devil  take  such  cozeners! God  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. 

Wor.  Then  once  more  to  your  Scottish  prisoners. 
Deliver  them  up  without  their  ransom  straight, 
And  make  the  Douglas'  son  your  only  mean 
For  powers  in  Scotland  5  which,— for  divers  reasons, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  27 

Which  I  shall  send  you  written, — be  assur'd, 
Will  easily  be  granted. — You,  my  lord, — 

[To  Northumberland. 
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 3  upon  my  life,  it  will  do  well. 

North.  Before  the  game's  afoot,  thou  still  let'st  slip. 

Hot.  Why,  it  cannot  choose  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  'tis  no  little  reason  bids  us  speed, 
To  save  our  heads  by  raising  of  a  head  23 : 
For,  bear  ourselves  as  even  as  we  can, 
The  2+  king  will  always  think  him  in  our  debt  5 
And  think  we  think  ourselves  unsatisfied, 
Till  he  hath  found  a  time  to  pay  us  home. 
And  see  already,  how  he  doth  begin 
Do  make  us  strangers  to  his  looks  of  love. 


28  FIRST  PART  OF 

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

Wbr.  Cousin,  farewell: — No  further  go  in  this, 
Than  I  by  letters  shall  direct  your  course. 
When  time  is  ripe,  (which  will  be  suddenly,) 
I'll  steal  to  Glendower,  and  lord  Mortimer ; 
Where  you  and  Douglas,  and  our  powers  at  once, 
(As  I  will  fashion  it,)  shall  happily  meet, 
To  bear  our  fortunes  in  our  own  strong  arms, 
Which  now  we  hold  at  much  uncertainty. 

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 

[Ex  emit 


KING  HENRY  IV.  29 

ACT  II.    SCENE  I. 
Rochester.     An  Inn  Yard. 

Enter  a  Carrier,  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand. 

1  Car.  Heigh  ho!  An't  be  not  four  by  the  day, 
I'll  be  hang'd :  Charles'  wain  is  over  the  new  chim- 
ney, and  yet  our  horse  not  pack'd.     What,  ostler! 

Ost.  [Within.']  Anon,  anon. 

J.  Car.  I  pr'ythee,  Tom,  beat  Cut's  saddle,  put  a 
a  few  flocks  in  the  point 3  the  poor  jade  is  wrung  in 
the  withers  out  of  all  cess  25. 

Enter  another  Carrier. 

2  Car.  Pease  and  beans  are  as  dank  M  here  as  a 
dog,  and  that  is  the  next  way  to  give  poor  jades  the 
bots:  this  house  is  turned  upside  down,  since  Robin 
ostler  died. 

1  Car.  Poor  fellow!  never  joy' d  since*  the  price  of 
oats  rose  5  it  was  the  death  of  him. 

2  Car.  I  think,  this  be  the  most  villainous  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 
kino-  in  Christendom  could  be  better  bit  than  I  have 
been  since  the  first  cock. 

2  Car.  Why,  they  will  allow  us  ne'er  a  jorden, 
and  then  we  leak  in  your  chimney  j  and  your  cham- 
ber-lie breeds  fleas  like  a  loach. 


30  FIRST  PART  OF 

1  Car.  What,  ostler!  come  away,  and  be  hang'd, 
come  away. 

2  Car.  I  have  a  gammon  of  bacon,  and  two  razes 
of  ginger2,7,  to  be  delivered  as  far  as  Charing-cross. 

1  Car.  'Odsbody!  the  turkies  in  my  pannier  are 
quite  starv'd. — What,  ostler ! — A  plague  on  thee !  hast 
thou  never  an  eye  in  thy  head?  canst  not  hear?  An 
'twere  not  as  good  a  deed  as  drink,  to  break  the  pate 
of  thee,  I  am  a  very  villain. — Come,  and  be  hang'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.  I  pr'ythee,  lend  me  thy  lantern,  to  see  my 

gelding  in  the  stable. 

i  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,  can'st  tell  ? — Lend  me  thy  lan- 
tern, quoth  « ? — 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  Mugs,  we'll  call 
up  the  gentlemen  j  they  will  along  with  company,  for 
they  have  great  charge.  [Exeu?it  Carriers. 

Gads-.   What,  ho!  chamberlain! 

Cham.   [Within.]  At  hand,  quoth  pick-purse. 

Gads*  That's  even  as  fair  as — at  hand,  quoth  the 


KING. HENRY  IV.  31 

chamberlain:  for  thou  variest  no  more  from  picking 
of  purses,  than  giving  direction  doth  from  labouring; 
thou  lay' st  the  plot  how. 

Enter  Chamberlain. 

Cham.  Good  morrow,  master  Gadshill.  Ii:  holds 
current,  that  I  told  you  yesternight:  There's  a  frank- 
lin in  the  wild  of  Kent,  hath  brought  three  hundred 
marks  with  him  in  gold:  I  heard  him  tell  it  to  one 
of  his  company,  last  night  at  supper;  a  kind  of  audi- 
ditor;  one  that  hath  abundance  of  charge  too,  God 
knows  what.  They  are  up  already,  and  call  for  eggs 
and  butter:  They  will  away  presently. 

Gads.  Sirrah,  if  they  meet  not  with  saint  Nicholas* 
clerks  28,  1*11  give  thee  this  neck. 

Cham.  No,  I'll  none  of  it;  I  pr'ythee,  keep  that 
for  the  hangman;  for,  I  know,  thou  worship'st  saint 
Nicholas  as  truly  as  a  man  of  falsehood  may. 

Gads.  What  talk'st  thou  to  me  of  the  hangman?  if 
I  hang,  I'll  make  a  fat  pair  of  gallows:  for,  if  I  hang, 
old  sir  John  hangs  with  me;  and,  thou  know'st,  he's 
no  starveling.  Tut!  there  are  other  Trojans  that 
thou  dream'st  not  of,  the  which,  for  sport  sake,  are 
content  to  do  the  profession  some  grace;  that  would, 
if  matters  should  be  look'd  into,  for  their  own  credit 
sake,  make  all  whole.  I  am  join'd  with  no  foot 
land- rakers,  no  long-staff,  sixpenny  strikers;  none  of 
these  mad,  mustachio,  purple-hued  malt-worms:  but 
with  nobility,  and  tranquility ;  burgomasters,  and  great 
oneyers2"9;  such  as  can  hold  in;  such  as  will  strike 


32  FIRST  PART  OF 


sooner  than  speak,  and  speak  sooner  than  drink,  and 
drink  sooner  than  pray:  And  yet  I  lie ;  for  they  pray 
continually  to  their  saint,  the  commonwealth  j  or,  ra- 
ther, not  pray  to  her,  but  prey  on  her;  for  they  ride 
up  and  down  on  her,  and  make  her  their  boots. 

Cham.  What,  the  common-wealth  their  boots? 
will  she  hold  out  water  in  foul  way? 

Gads.  She  will,  she  will  ;  justice  hath  liquor  d  her. 
We  steal  as  in  a  castle,  cock-sure:  we  have  the  re- 
ceipt of  fern -seed30,  we  walk  invisible. 

Cham.  Nay,  by  my  faith;  I  think,  you  are  more' 
beholden  to  the  night,  than  to  fern-seed,  for  your  walk- 
ing: invisible. 

Gads.  Give  me  thy  hand :  thou  shalt  have  a  share 
in  our  purchase,  as  I  am  a  true  man. 

Ciiam,  Nay,  rather  let  me  have  it,  as  you  are  a 
false  thief. 

Gads.  Go  to;  Homo  is  a  common  name  to  all  men. 
Bid  the  ostler  bring  my  gelding  out  of  the  stable. 
Farewell,  you  muddy  knave.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 

The  Road  ly  Gadslrill. 

Enter  Prince  Henky,  andVoms;  BARDOLrn  and 
Peto,  at  some  distance. 

Poins.  Come,  shelter,  shelter;  I  have  remov'd  Fal- 
slarT's  horse,  and  he  frets  like  a  gumm'd  velvet. 
P.  Hen.  Stand  close. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  33 

Enter  Falstaff. 

-    Fal.  Poins!  Poins,  and  be  hang'd!  Poins! 

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

Fal.  Where's  Poins,  Hal? 

P.  Hen.  He  is  walk'd  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill; 
I'll  go  seek  him.  [Pretends  to  seek  Poins. 

Fal.  I  am  accurst  to  rob  in  that  thief's  company : 
the  rascal  hath  removed  my  horse,  and  tied  him  I 
know  not  where.  If  I  travel  but  four  foot  by  the 
squire  further  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.  I  have  for- 
sworn his  company  hourly  any  time  this  two  and 
twenty  years,  and  yet  I  am  bewitch'd  with  the  rogue's 
company.  If  the  rascal  have  not  given  me  medicines 
to  make  me  love  him,  I'll  be  hang'd;  It  could  not 
be  else;  I  have  drunk  medicines. — Poins! — Hal! — 
a  plague  upon  you  both! — Bardolph! — Peto! — I'll 
starve,  ere  I'll  rob  a  foot  further.  An  'twere  not  as 
good  a  deed  as  drink,  to  turn  true  man,  and  to  leave 
these  rogues,  I  am  the  veriest  varlet  that  ever  chew'd 
with  a  tooth.  Eight  yards  of  uneven  ground,  is 
threescore  and  ten  miles  afoot  with  me;  and  the 
stony-hearted  villains  know  itv/ell  enough:  A  plague 
upon't,  when  thieves  cannot  be  true  to  one  another! 
[They  whistle.']  Whew! — A  plague  upon  you  all! 
Give  me  my  horse,  you  rogues ;  give  me  my  horse^ 
and  be  hang'd. 

VOL.  VII.  3} 


34  FIRST  PART  OF 

P.  Hen.  Peace,  ye  fat-guts!  lie  down 3  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,  I'll  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  liest,  thou  art  not  col  ted,  thou  art 
uncolted. 

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? 
Fal.  Go,  hang  thyself  in  thy  own  heir-apparent 
garters!  If  I  be  ta'en,  I'll  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  for- 
ward, and  afoot  too, — I  hate  it. 

Enter  Gadshill. 

Gads.  Stand. 

Fal.  So  I  do,  against  my  will. 

Poins.  O,  'tis  our  setter:  I  know  his  voice. 

Enter  Bardolfh. 

Bar.  What  news  ? 

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

Fal.  You  lie,  you  rogue;  'tis  going  to  the  king's 
tavern. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  35 

Gads.  There's  enouo-h  to  make  us  all. 

Fal.  To  be  hang'd. 
-  P.  Hen.  Sirs,  you  four  shall  front  them  in  the  nar- 
row lane;  Ned  Poins,  and  I  will  walk  lower:  if  they 
'scape  from  your  encounter,  then  they  light  on  us. 

Peto.  How  many  be  there  of  them  ? 

Gads.  Some  eight,  or  ten. 

Fal.  Zounds!  will  they  not  rob  us? 

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

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

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

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

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

P.  Hen.  Ned,  where  are  our  disguises  ? 

Poins.  Here,  hard  by;  stand  close. 

[Exeunt  P.  Henry  and  Pmns. 

Fal.  Now,  my  masters,  happy  man  be  his  dole,  say 
1 3  every  man  to  his  business. 

Enter  Travellers. 

1  Trav.  Come,  neighbour;  the  boy  shall  lead  our 
horses  down  the  hill :  we'll  walk  afoot  a  while,  and 
ease  our  less. 

Thieves.  Stand. 

Trav.  Jesu  bless  us! 

Fal.  Strike;   clown  with  them;    cut  the  villains' 


36  FIRST  PART  OF 

throats:  Ah!  whorson  caterpillars!  bacon-fed  knaves ! 
they  hate  us  youth:  down  with  them 5  fleece  them. 

1  Trav.  Oj  we  are  undone,  both  we  and  ours,  for 
ever. 

Fal.  Hang  ye,  gorbellied  knaves:  Are  ye  undone? 
No,  ye  fat  churls j  I  would,  your  store  were  here! 
On,  bacons,  on !  What,  ye  knaves  ?  young  men  must 
live:  You  are  grand  jurors  are  ye?  We'll  jure  ye, 
i'faith. 

[Exeunt  Falstaff,  &c.  driving  the  Travellers  out. 

Re-enter  Prince  Henry  and  Poins. 

P.  Hen.  The  thieves  have  bound  the  true  men: 
Now  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. 

Pains.  Stand  close,  I  hear  them  coming. 

Re- enter  Thieves. 

Fal.  Come,  my  masters,  let  us  share,  and  then  to 
horse  before  day.     An  the  Prince  and  Poins  be  not 
two  arrant  cowards,  there's  no  equity  stirring:  there's 
no  more  valour  in  that  Poins,  than  in  a  wild  duck. 
P.  Hen.  Your  money.     [Rushing  out  upon  them. 
Poins.  Villains ! 
[As  they  are  sharing,  the  Prince  and  Poins  set 
upon  them.    Falstaff,  after  a  blow  or  two,  ivith 
the  rest,  run  away,  leaving  their  booty  behind 
them.'] 
P.  Hen.  Got  with  much  ease.  Now  merrily  to  horse : 


KING  HENRY  IV.  3/ 

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  alon^: 
Weft  not  for  laughing,  I  should  pity  him. 

Poins.  How  the  rogue  roard!  [Exeunt, 

SCENE  III. 
Warkworth.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  Hotspur,  reading  a  letter. 

But,  for  mine  own  part,  my  lord.  I  could  ie 

well  contented  to  he  there,  in  respect  of  the  love  Hear 
your  house. — He  could  be  contented, — Why  is  he 
not  then?  In  respect  of  the  love  he  bears  our  house: 
— he  shows  in  this,  he  loves  his  own  barn  better  than 
he  loves  our  house.  Let  me  see  some  more.  The 
purpose  you  undertake,  is  dangerous; — Why,  that's 
certain  j  '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  undertake,  is  dangerous;  the  friends  you  have 
named,  uncertain  ;  the  time  itself  unsorted ;  and  your 
whole  plot  too  light,  for  the  counterpoise  of  so  great 
an  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  3  our  friends  true 


38  FIRST  PART  OF 

and  constant:  a  good  plot,  good  friends,  and  full  of 
expectation:  an  excellent  plot,  very  good  friends. 
What  a  frosty-spirited  rogue  is  this  ?  Why,  my  lord 
of  York  commends  the  plot,  and  the  general  course 
of  the  action.  'Zounds,  an  I  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?  Have  I  not  all 
their  letters,  to  meet  me  in  arms  by  the  ninth  of  the 
next  month  ?  and  are  they  not,  some  of  them,  set  for- 
ward already?  What  a  pagan  rascal  is  this?  an  in- 
fidel! Ha!  you  shall  see  now,  in  very  sincerity  of 
fear  and  cold  heart,  wili  he  to  the  king,  and  lay  open 
all  our  proceedings.  O,  I  could  divide  myself,  and 
go  to  buffets,  for  moving  such  a  dish  of  skimm'd  milk 
with  so  honourable  an  action!  Hang  him!  let  him 
tell  the  king:  We  are  prepared j  I  will  set  forward 
to-night. 

Enter  Lady  Percy. 

How  now,  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  Harry's  bed? 
Tell  me,  sweet  lord,  what  is't  that  takes  from  thee 
rhy  stomach,  pleasure,  and  thy  golden  sleep? 
Why  dost  thou  bend  thine  eyes  upon  the  earth; 
And  start  so  often  when  thou  sit'st  alone? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  39 

Why  hast  thou  lost  the  fresh  blood  in  thy  cheeks ; 

And  given  my  treasures,  and  my  rights  of  thee, 

To  thick-ey'd  musing,  and  curs'd  melancholy  ? 

In  thy  faint  slumbers,  I  by  thee  have  watch'd, 

And  heard  thee  murmur  tales  of  iron  wars : 

Speak  terms  of  manage  to  thy  bounding  steed.; 

Cry,  Courage! — to  thejield!  And  thou  hast  talk'd 

Of  sallies,  and  retires ;  of  trenches,  tents, 

Of  palisadoes,  frontiers,  parapets ; 

Of  basilisks,  of  cannon,  culverin: 

Of  prisoners'  ransom,  and  of  soldiers  slain, 

And  all  the  'currents  of  a  heady  fight. 

Thy  spirit  within  thee  hath  been  so  at  war, 

And  thus  hath  so  bestir'd  thee  in  thy  sleep, 

That  beads  of  sweat  have  stood  upon  thy  brow, 

Like  bubbles  in  a  late  disturbed  stream: 

And  in  thy  face  strange  motions  have  appear'd, 

Such  as  we  see  when  men  restrain  their  breath 

On  some  great  sudden  haste.     O,  what  portents  arc 

these? 
Some  heavy  business  hath  my  lord  in  hand, 
And  I  must  know  it,  else  he  loves  me  not. 

Hot.  What,  ho !  Is  Gilliams  with  the  packet  gone? 

Enter  Servant. 

Serv.  He  is,  my  lord,  an  hour  ago. 

Hot.  Hath  Butler  brought  those  horses  from  the 

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


40  FIRST  PART  CM? 

Serv.  It  is,  my  lord. 

Hot.  That  roan  shall  be  my  throne. 

Well,  I  will  back  him  straight:   O  esperance! — 
Bid  Butler  lead  him  forth  into  the  park. 

[Exit  Servant. 

Lady.  But  hear  you,  my  lord. 

Hot.  What  say'st,  my  lady  ? 

Lady.  What  is  it  carries  you  away? 

Hot.  My  horse, 

My  love,  my  horse. 

Lady.                   Out,  you  mad-headed  ape ! 
A  weasel  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  his  title;  and  hath  sent  for  you 
To  line  his  enterprize:  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,  I'll  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 3I,  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  would'st  thou  have 
with  me  ? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  41 

Lady.  Do  you  not  love  me?  do  you  not,  indeed? 
Weil,  do  not  then  5  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.  Come,  wilt  thou  see  me  ride  ? 
And  when  I  am  o'horse-back,  I  will  swear 
I  love  thee  infinitely.     But  hark  you,  Kate; 
1  must  not  have  you  henceforth  question  me 
Whither  I  go,  nor  reason  whereabout: 
Whither  I  must,  I  must;  and,  to  conclude, 
This  evening  must  I  leave  you,  gentle  Kate. 
I  know  you  wise;  but  yet  no  further  wise, 
Than  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; 
And  so  far  will  I  trust  thee,  gentle  Kate ! 

Lady.  How!  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? 

Lady.  It  must,  of  force.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IK 
Eastcheap.     A  Room  in  the  Boar's  Head  Tavern. 

Enter  Prince  Henry  and  Poins. 

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


42  FIRST  PART  OF 

Poins.  Where  hast  been,  Hal? 

P.  Hen.  With  three  or  four  loggerheads,  amongst 
three  or  fourscore  hogsheads.  I  have  sounded  the 
very  base  string  of  humility.  Sirrah,  I  am  sworn 
brother  to  a  leash  of  drawers ;  and  can  call  them  all 
by  their  Christian  names,  as— Tom,  Dick,  and  Fran- 
cis. 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  Falstaffj  but  a  Corinthian 3i,  a  lad  of  mettle,  a 
good  boy,— by  the  Lord,  so  they  call  me;  and  when 
I  am  king  of  England,  I  shall  command  all  the  good 
lads  in  Eastcheap.  They  call— drinking  deep,  dying 
scarlet :  and  when  you  breathe  in  your  watering,  they 
cry — hem!  and  bid  you  play  it  off. — To  conclude,  I 
am  so  good  a  proficient  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour, 
that  I  can  drink  with  any  tinker  in  his  own  language 
during  my  life.  I  tell  thee,  Ned,  thou  hast  lost 
much  honour,  that  thou  wert  not  with  me  in  this 
action.  But,  sweet  Ned,— to  sweeten  which  name  of 
Ned,  I  give  thee  this  pennyworth  of  sugar,  clappd 
even  now  into  my  hand  by  an  under-skinker 33;  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  pry  thee, 
do  thou  stand  in  some  by-room,  while  I  question  my 
puny  drawer,  to  what  end  he  gave  me  the  sugar  j 
and  do  thou  never  leave  calling— Francis,  that  his 


KING  HENRY  IV.  43 

tale  to  me  may  be  nothing  but — anon.     Step  aside, 
and  I'll  show  thee  a  precedent. 

Poins.  Francis ! 

P.  Hen.  Thou  art  perfect, 

Poins.  Francis !  [Exit  Poins. 

Enter  Francis. 

Fran.  Anon,  anon,  sir. — Look  down  into  the 
Pomegranate,  Ralph. 

P.  Hen.  Come  hither,  Francis. 

Fran.  My  lord. 

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

Fran.  Forsooth,  five  year,  and  as  much  as  to — 

Poins.  [Within.]  Francis. 

Fran.  Anon,  anon,  sir. 

P.  Hen.  Five  years!  by'rlady,  a  long  lease  for  the 
clinking  of  pewter.  But,  Francis,  darest  thou  be  so 
valiant,  as  to  play  the  coward  with  thy  indenture, 
and  show  it  a  fair  pair  of  heels,  and  run  from  it? 

Fran.  O  lord,  sir!  I'll  be  sworn  upon  all  the  books 
in  England,  I  could  find  in  my  heart — 

Poins.  [Within  ]  Francis! 

Fran.  Anon,  anon,  sir. 

P.  Hen.  Flow  old  art  thou,  Francis? 

Fran.  Let  me  see, — About  Michaelmas  next  I 
shall  be — 

Poins.   [Within."]  Francis! 

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

P.  Hen.  Nay,  but  hark   you,   Francis:   For   the 


44  FIRST  PART  OF 

sugar  thou  gayest  me, — 'twas  a  pennyworth,  was't 
not  ? 

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

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

Poins.  \_lVithin.~]  Francis! 

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,  cry- 
stal-button, nott-pated 34,  agate-ring,  puke-stocking iS, 
caddis-garter 36,  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  canvas 
doublet  will  sully :  in  Barbary,  sir,,  it  cannot  come  to 
so  much. 

Fran.  What,  sir? 

Poins.  [JFithin."]  Francis! 

P.  Hen.  Away,  you  rogue;  Dost  thou  not  hear 
them  call  ? 

[Here  they  loth  call  him-,  the  drawer 
stands  amazed,  not  knowing  ivhich 
way  to  go. 

Enter  Vintner. 

Vint.  What!  stand'st  thou  still,  and  hear'st  such 
a  calling?  look  to  the  guests  within.     [Exit  Fran. 


I 


KING  HENRY  IV.  45 

My  lord,  old  sir  John,  with  half  a  dozen  more,  are  at 
the  door;  Shall  I  let  them  in? 

P.  Hen.  Let  them  alone  awhile,  and  then  open  the 
door.   {Exit  Fintner.']  Poms ! 

Re-enter  Poins. 

Poins.  Anon,  anon,  sir. 

P.  Hen.  Sirrah,  Falstaffand  the  rest  of  the  thieves 
Sire  at  the  door;  Shall  we  be  merry  ? 

Poins.  As  merry  as  crickets,  my  lad.  But  hark 
ye;  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  show'd 
themselves  humours,  since  the  old  days  of  goodman 
Adam,  to  the  pupil  age  of  this  present  twelve  o'clock 
at  midnight.  [Re-enter  Francis  with  wine.']  What's 
o'clock,  Francis  ? 

Fran.  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  Hot-spur  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  killd  to-day? 
Give  my  roan  horse  a  drench,  says  he;  and  answers. 
Some  fourteen,  an  hour  after;  a  trifle,  a  trifle.  I 
pfythee,  call  in  FalstarT;  I'll  play  Percy,  and  that 


46  FIRST  PART  OF 

damnd  brawn  shall  play  dame  Mortimer  his  wife. 
Rivo31 ,  says  the  drunkard.  Call  in  ribs,  call  in 
tallow. 

Enter  Falstaff,  Gadshill,  Bardolph,  and  Peto. 

Poins.  Welcome,  Jack.     Where  hast  thou  been  ? 

Fal.  A  plague  of  all  cowards,  I  say,  and  a  ven- 
geance too !  marry,  and  amen ! — Give  me  a  cup  of 
sack,  boy. — Ere  I  lead  this  life  long,  I'll  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  see  Titan  kiss  a  dish  of 
butter  ?  pitiful-hearted  Titan,  that  melted  at  the 
sweet  tale  of  the  son38!  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  villain- 
ous man  :  Yet  a  coward  is  worse  than  a  cup  of  sack 
with  lime  in  it;  a  villainous  coward. — Go  thy  ways, 
old  Jack j  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  unhang' d  in  England ;  and  one  of  them 
is  fat,  and  grows  old:  God  help  the  while!  a  bad 
world,  I  say!  I  would  I  were  a  weaver ;  I  could  sing 
psalms  or  any  thing39:  A  plague  of  all  cowards,  I 
say  still ! 

P.  Hen.  How  now,  wool-sack?  what  mutter  you? 

Fal.  A  king's  son  !  If  I  do  not  beat  thee  out  of  thy 


KING  HENRY  IV.  49 

kingdom  with  a  dagger  of  lath,  and  drive  all  thy  sub- 
jects afore  thee  like  a  flock  of  wild  geese,  I'll  never 
wear  hair  on  my  face  more.     You  prince  of  Wales  1 

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

Fal.  Are  you  not  a  coward?  answer  me  to  that-j 
and  Poins  there? 

Poins.  'Zounds,  ye  fat  paunch,  an  ye  call  me  cow- 
ard, I'll  stab  thee. 

Fal.  I  call  thee  coward!  I'll  see  theedamn'd  ere  I 
call  thee  coward :  but  I  would  give  a  thousand  pound, 
I  could  run  as  fast  as  thou  canst.  You  are  straight 
enough  in  the  shoulders,  you  care  not  who  sees  ydur 
back :  Call  you  that,  backing  of  your  friends  ?  A 
plague  upon  such  backing!  give  me  them  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  wiped  since 
thou  drunk'st  last. 

Fal.  All's  one  for  that.     A  plague  of  all  cowards, 
still  say  I.  [He  drinks. 

P.  Hen.  What's  the  matter? 

Fal.  What's  the  matter!  there  be  four  of  us  here 
have  ta'en  a  thousand  pound  this  morning. 

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

Fal.  Where  is  it?   taken  from  us  it  is:  a  hundred 
upon  poor  four  of  us. 

P.  Hen.  What,  a  hundred,  man? 

Fal.  I  am  a  rogue,  if  I  were  not  at  half-sword  with 
a  dozen  of  them  two  hours  together.     I  have  'scap'd 


48  FIRST  PART  OF 

by  miracle.  I  am  eight  times  thrust  through  the 
doublet;  four,  through  the  hose;  my  buckler  cut 
through  and  through;  my  sword  hack'd  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  come  in  the 
other. 

P.  lien.  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-legg'd  creature. 

Poms.  Pray  God,  you  have  not  murder'd  some  of 
them. 

Fal.  Nay,  that's  past  praying  for;  I  have  pep- 
per'd  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 


KING  HENRY  IV.  49 

bore  my  point.     Four  rogues  in  buckram  let  drive  at 
me, 

P.  Hen.  What,  four?  thou  said'st  but  two,  even 
now. 

Fal.  Four,  Hal ;  I  told  thee  four. 

Poins.  Ay,  ay,  he  said  four. 

Fal.  These  four  came  all  a- front,  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  they  were  but  four,  even 
now. 

Fal.  In  buckram. 

Poins.  Ay,  four  in  buckram  suits. 

Fal.  Seven,  by  these  hilts,  or  I  am  a  villain  else. 

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

Fal.  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  hose4C. 

Fal.  Began  to  give  me  ground:  But  I  follow'd  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 ! 

Fal.  But,  as  the  devil  would  have  it,  three  mis- 
begotten knaves,  in  Kendal  green41,  came  at  my  back, 

VOL.  VII.  e 


'I 


50  FIRST  PART  GF 

and  lei  drive  at  me; — for  it  was  so  dark,   Hal,  that 
thou  could'st  not  see  thy  hand. 

P.  Hen.  These  lies  are  like  the  father  that  begets 
them;  gross  as  a  mountain,  open,  palpable.  Why, 
thou  clay-brain'd  guts;  thou  knotty-pated  fool;  thou 
whoreson,  obscene,  gieasy  tallow-keech  42, 

Fal.  What,  art  thou  mad  ?  art  thou  mad  ?  is  not 
the  truth,  the  truth  ? 

P.  Hen.  Why,  how  could'st  thou  know  these  men 
in  Kendal  green,  when  it  was  so  dark  thou  could'st 
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  upon  compulsion,  I. 

P.  Hen.  I'll  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  elf-skin,  you  dried 
neats-tongue,  bull's  pizzle,  you  stock-fish, — O,  for 
breath  to  utter  what  is  like  thee!— you  tailor's  yard, 
you  sheath,  you  bow-case,  you  vile  standing  tuck; 

P.  Hen.  Well,  breathe  a  while,  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 


KING  HENRY  IV.  51 

bound  them,  and  were  masters  of  their  wealth. 


Mark  now,  how  a  plain  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  roar'd  for  mercy,  and  still  ran  and 
roar'd,  as  ever  I  heard  bull-calf.  What  a  slave  art 
thou,  to  hack  thy  sword,  as  thou  hast  done;  and  then 
say,  it  was  in  fight?  What  trick,  what  device,  what 
starting-hole,  canst  thou  now  find  out,  to  hide  thee 
from  this  open  and  apparent  shame  ? 

Poins.  Come,  lets  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 
Hercules:  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 
myself,  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  fellowship  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. 


52  FIRST  PART  OF 

Fal.  Ah !  no  more  of  that,  Hal,  an  thou  lovest  me. 

Enter  Hostess. 
Host.  My  lord  the  prince, 


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

Host.  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  man43,  and  send  him  back  again  to  my  mo- 
ther.   . 

Fal.  What  manner  of  man  is  he  ? 

Host.  An  old  man. 

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

P.  Hen.  Pr'ythee,  do,  Jack. 

Fal.  'Faith,  and  I'll  send  him  packing.  [Exit. 

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, — fie! 

Bard.  'Faith,  I  ran  when  I  saw  others  run. 

P.  Hen.  Tell  me  now  in  earnest,  How  came  Fal- 
staff's  sword  so  hack'd  ? 

Peto.  Why,  he  hack'd  it  with  his  dagger j  and 
said,  he  would  swear  truth  out  of  England,  but  he 
would  make  you  believe  it  was  done  in  fight ;  and 
persuaded  us  to  do  the  like. 

Bard.  Yea,  and  to  tickle  our  noses  with  spear- 


KING  HENRY  IV.  53 

grass,  to  make  them  bleed ;  and  then  to  beslubber 
our  garments  with  it,  and  swear  it  was  the  blood  of 
true  men.  I  did  that  I  did  not  this  seven  year  be- 
fore, I  blush'd  to  hear  his  monstrous  devices. 

P.  Hen.  O  villain,  thou  stolest  a  cup  of  sack  eigh- 
teen years  ago,  and  wert  taken  with  the  manner,  and 
ever  since  thou  hast  blush'd  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.  Choler,  my  lord,  if  rightly  taken. 

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

Re-enter  Falstaff. 

Here  comes  lean  Jack,  here  comes  bare-bone.  How 
now,  my  swreet  creature  of  bombast44"  ?  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  not  an  eagle's  talon  in  the  waist ;  I  could 
have  crept  into  any  alderman's  thumb-ring:  A  plague 
of  sighing  and  grief!  it  blows  a  man  up  like  a  blad- 
der. There's  villainous  news  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 
bastinado,  and  made  Lucifer  cuckold,  and  swore  the 


54  FIRST  PART  OF 

devil  his  true  liegeman  upon  the  cross  of  a  Welsh 
hook, — What,  a  plague,  call  you  him? 

Poins.  O,  Glendower. 

Fal.  Owen,  Owen;  the  same; — and  his  son-in- 
law,  Mortimer;  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  flying45, 

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  for  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 +6 
more:  Worcester  is  stolen  away  to-night:  thy  fa- 
ther's beard  is  turned  white  with  the  news;  you  may 
buy  land  now  as  cheap  as  stinking  mackarel47. 

P.  Hen.  Why  then,  'tis  like,  if  there  come  a  hot 
Jane,  and  this  civil  buffeting  hold,  we  shall  buy 
maidenheads  as  they  buy  hob-nails,  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  afeard?  thou  being  heir 
apparent,  could  the  world  pick  thee  out  three  such 


KING  HENRY  IV.  55 

enemies  again,  as  that  fiend  Douglas,  that  spirit  Percy, 
and  that  devil  Glendower?  Art  thou  not  horribly- 
afraid?  doth  not  thy  blood  thrill  jft  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  j  if  thou  love  me,  prac- 
tise an  answer. 

P.  Hen.  Do  thou  stand  for  my  father,  and  exa- 
mine me  upon  the  particulars  of  my  life. 

Fal.  Shall  I?  content: — This  chair  shall  be  my 
state,  this  dagger  my  scepter,  and  this  cushion  my 
crown. 

P.  Hen.  Thy  state  is  taken  for  a  joint-stool,  thy 
golden  scepter  for  a  leaden  dagger,  and  thy  precious 
rich  crown,  for  a  pitiful  bald  crown ! 

Fal.  Well,  an  the  fire  of  grace  be  not  quite  out  of 
thee,  now  shalt  thou  be  moved. — Give  me  a  cup  of 
sack,  to  make  mine  eyes  look  red,  that   it  may  be 
thought  I  have  wept ;  for  I  must  speak  in  passion, 
and  I  will  do  it  in  king  Cambyses'  vein. 
P.  Hen.  Well,  here  is  my  leg.48 
Fal.  And  here  is   my  speech : — Stand  aside,  no- 
bility. 

Host.  This  is  excellent  sport,  i'faith. 

Fal.  Weep  not,   sweet  queen,    for  trickling  tears 

are  vain. 
Host.  O  the  father,  how  he  holds  his  countenance! 
Fal.  For  God's   sake,   lords,   convey  my  tristful 
queen, 


56  FIRST  PART  OF 

For  tears  do  stop  the  flood  gates  of  her  eyes. 

Host,  O  rare!  he   doth  it  as  like  one  of   these 
harlotry  players,  as  I  ever  see. 

Fal.  Peace,  good  pint-pot  5    peace,    good  tickle- 
brain. — Harry,   I   do  not  only  marvel  where  thou 
spendest  thy  time,  but  also   how  thou   art  accom- 
panied: for   though    the   camomile,  the  more   it   is 
trodden  on,  the  faster  it  grows,  yet  youth,  the  more 
it  is  wasted,  the  sooner  it  wears.     That  thou  art  my 
son,  I  have  partly  thy  mother's  word,  partly  my  own 
opinion  ;  but  chiefly,  a  villainous  trick  of  thine  eye, 
and  a  foolish  hanging  of  thy  nether  lip,  that  doth  war- 
rant me.     If  then  thou  be  son  to  me,  here  lies  the 
point; — Why,  being  son  to  me,  art  thou  so  pointed 
at?  Shall  the  blessed  sun  of  heaven  prove  a  micher49, 
and  eat  blackberries?  a  question  not    to  be   ask'd. 
Shall  the  son   of  England   prove  a  thief,   and  take 
purses  ?  a  question   to  be   ask'd.     There  is  a  thing, 
Harry,  which   thou   hast  often  heard   of,  and  it  is 
known  to  many  in  our  land  by  the  name  of  pitch : 
this  pitch,  as  ancient  writers  do  report,   doth  defile; 
so  doth  the  company  thou  keepest :    for,  Harry,  now 
I  do  not  speak  to  thee  in  drink,  but  in  tears  ;  not  in 
pleasure,  but  in  passion :  not  in  words  only,  but  in 
woes  also: — And  yet  there  is  a  virtuous  man  whom  I 
have  often  noted  in  thy  company,  but  I  know  not 
his  name. 

P.  Hen.     What  manner  of  man,  an  it  like  your 
majesty  ? 

Fal.  A  good  portly  man,  iTaith,  and  a  corpulent  j 


■>;vdg..'.. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  57 

of  a  cheerful  look,  a  pleasing  eye,  and  a  most  noble 
carriage;  and,  as  I  think,  his  age  some  fifty,  or, 
by'r-lady,  inclining  to  threescore ;  and  now  I  re- 
member me,  his  name  is  Falstaff ;  if  that  man  should 
be  lewdly  given,  he  deceiveth  me  5  for,  Harry,  I  see 
virtue  in  his  looks.  If  then  the  tree  may  be  known 
by  the  fruit,  as  the  fruit  by  the  tree,  then  peremptorily 
I  speak  it,  there  is  virtue  in  that  Fal  staff:  him  keep 
with,  the  rest  banish.  And  tell  me  now,  thou  naughty 
varlet,  tell  me,  where  thou  hast  been  this  month? 

P.  Hen.  Dost  thou  speak  like  a  king  ?  Do  thou 
stand  for  me,  and  I'll  play  my  father. 

Fal.  Depose  me  ?  if  thou  dost  it  half  so  gravely, 
so  majestically,  both  in  word  and  matter,  hang  me 
up  by  the  heels  for  a  rabbet-sucker,50  or  a  poulter's 
hare. 

P,  Hen.     Well,  here  I  am  set. 

Fal.  And  here  I  stand  : — judge,  my  masters. 

P.  Hen.  Now,  Harry  ?  whence  come  you  ? 

Fal.  My  noble  lord,  from  Eastcheap. 

P.  Hen.  The  complaints  I  hear  of  thee  are  grievous. 

Fal.  'Sblood,  my  lord,  they  are  false: — nay,  I'll 
tickle  ye  for  a  young  prince,  i'faith. 

P.  Hen.  Swearest  thou,  ungracious  boy  ?  hence- 
forth ne'er  look  on  me.  Thou  art  violently  carried 
away  from  grace  :  there  is  a  devil  haunts  thee,  in  the 
likeness  of  a  fat  old  man :  a  tun  of  man  is  thy  com- 
panion. Why  dost  thou  converse  with  that  trunk  of 
humours,   that  bolting-hutch  of  beastliness51,   that 


58  FIRST  PART  OF 

swoln  parcel  of  dropsies,  that  huge  bombard  of  sack, 
that  stuff'd  cloak-bag  of  guts,  that  roasted  Manning- 
tree  ox  5z  with  the  pudding  in  his  belly,  that  reverend 
vice,  that  grey  iniquity,  that  father  ruffian,  that 
vanity  in  years  ?  Wherein  is  he  good,  but  to  taste  sack 
and  drink  it?  wherein  neat  and  cleanly,  but  to  carve 
a  capon  and  eat  it?  wherein  cunning,  but  in  craft? 
wherein  crafty,  but  in  villainy  ?  wherein  villainous, 
but  in  all  things  ?  wherein  worthy,  but  in  no- 
thing ? 

Fal.  I  would,  your  grace  would  take  me  with  you  j 
Whom  means  your  grace  ? 

P.  Hen.  That  villainous  abominable  misleader  of 
youth,  Falstaff,  that  old  white-bearded  Satan. 
Fal.  My  lord,  the  man  I  know. 
P.  Hen.  I  know,  thou  dost. 

Fal.  But  to  say,  I  know  more  harm  of  him  than  in 
myself,  were  to  say  more  than  I  know.  That  he  is 
old,  (the  more  the  pity,)  his  white  hairs  do  witness 
it :  but  that  he  is  (saving  your  reverence,)  a  whore- 
master,  that  I  utterly  deny.  If  sack  and  sugar  be  a 
fault,  God  help  the  wicked!  If  to  be  old  and  merry 
be  a  sin,  then  many  an  old  host  that  I  know,  is 
damn'd :  if  to  be  fat  be  to  be  hated,  then  Pharaoh's  lean 
kine  are  to  be  loved.  No,  my  good  lord  5  banish 
Pcto,  banish  Bardolph,  banish  Poins  :  but  for  sweet 
Jack  Falstaff,  kind  Jack  Falstaff,  true  Jack  Falstaff, 
valiant  Jack  Falstaff,  and  therefore  more  valiant, 
bein;r  as  he  ia,  old  Jack  Falstaff,  banish  not  him  thy 


KING  HENRY  IV.  5Q 

Harry's  company,   banish  not  him  thy  Harry's  com- 
pany j  banish  plump  Jack,  and  banish  all  the  world. 
P.  Hen.  I  do,  I  will.  \_A  knocking  heard. 

[Exeunt  Hostess ,  Francis,  and  Bardolpk. 

Re-enter  Bardolph,   running.. 

Bard.  O,  my  lord,  my  lord ;  the  sheriff,  with  a 
most  monstrous  watch,  is  at  the  door. 

Fal.  Out,  you  rogue!  play  out  the  play:  I  have 
much  to  say  in  the  behalf  of  that  Falstaff. 

Re-enter  Hostess,  hastily. 

Host.  O  Jesu,  my  lord,  my  lord ! 

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

Host.  The  sheriff  and  all  the  watch  are  at  the  door : 
they  are  come  to  search  the  house ;  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 
instinct. 

Fal.  I  deny  your  major:  if  you  will  deny  the 
sheriff,  so 5  if  not,  let  him  enter:  if  I  become  not  a 
cartas  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.  Go,  hide  thee  behind  the  arras53; -.-the 
rest  walk  up  above.  Now,  my  masters,  for  a  true 
face,  and  good  conscience. 


60  FIRST  PART  OF 

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

\_Exeunt  all  lut  the  Prince  and  Poins. 
P.  Hen.  Call  in  the  sheriff. 

Enter  Sheriff  and  Carrier. 

Now,  master  sheriff ;  what's  your  will  with  me  ? 

Slier.  First,  pardon  me,  my  lord.     A  hue  and  cry 
Hath  follow'd  certain  men  into  this  house. 

P.  Hen.  What  men? 

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

Car.  As  fat  as  butter. 

P.  Hen.  The  man,  I  do  assure  you,  is  not  here54-; 
For  I  myself  at  this  time  have  employ'd  him. 
And,  sheriff,  I  will  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  :  There  are  two  gentlemen 
Have  in  this  robbery  lost  three  hundred  marks. 

P.  Hen.  It  may  be   so  3  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  Carrier. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  6 1 

P.  Hen.  This  oily  rascal  is  known  as  well  as  Paul's. 
Go,  call  him  forth. 

Poins.  FalstalT? — fast  asleep  behind  the  arras,  and 
snorting  like  a  horse. 

P.  Hen.  Hark  how  hard  he  fetches  breath : 
Search  his  pockets.  [Poins  searches. ]  What  hast 
thou  found  ? 

Poins.  Nothing  but  papers,  my  lord. 

P.  Hen.   Let's  see  what  they  be :  read  them. 

Poins.  Item,  a  capon,  2s.  2d. 
Item,  Sauce,  4d. 
Item,  Sack,  two  gallons,  5s.  8d. 
Item,  Anchovies,  and  sack  after  supper,  2s.  6d. 
Item,  Bread,  a  halfpenny. 

P.  Hen.  O  monstrous !  but  one  half-pennyworth 
of  bread  to  this  intolerable  deal  of  sack ! — What  there 
is  else,  keep  close  j  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.  I'll  procure  this  fat  rogue  a. 
charge  of  foot  j  and,  I  know,  his  death  will  be  a 
march  of  twelve-score55.  The  money  shall  be  paid 
back  again  with  advantage.  Be  with  me  betimes  in 
the  morning;  and  so  good  morrow,  Poins. 

Poins.  Good  morrow,  good  my  lord.         [Exeunt. 


62  FIRST  PART  OF 


ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 

Bangor.     A  Room  in  the  Archdeacon's  House. 

Enter  Hotspur,    Worcester,   Mortimer,    and 

Glendower. 

Mor.  These  promises  are  fair,  the  parties  sure, 
And  our  induction  full  of  prosperous  hope. 
Hot.  Lord  Mortimer, — and  cousin  Glendower, — 

Will  you  sit  down  ? 

And,  uncle  Worcester  : — A  plague  upon  it ! 
I  have  forgot  the  map. 

Glend.  No,  here  it  is. 

Sit,  cousin  Percy;   sit,  good  cousin  Hotspur: 
For  by  that  name  as  oft  as  Lancaster 
Doth  speak  of  you,  his  cheek  looks  pale;  and,  with 
A  rising  sigh,  he  wisheth  you  in  heaven. 

Hot.  And  you  in  hell,  as  often  as  he  hears 
Owen  Glendower  spoke  of. 

Glend.  I  cannot  blame  him56:   at  my  nativity, 
The  front  of  heaven  was  full  of  fiery  shapes, 
Of  burning  cressets  j  and,  at  my  birth, 
The  frame  and  the  foundation  of  the  earth 
Shak'd  like  a  coward. 

Hot.  Why,  so  it  would  have  done 

At  the  same  season,  if  your  mother's  cat  had 
But  kitteu'd,  though  yourself  had  ne'er  been  born. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  63 

Glend.  I  say,  the  earth  did  shake  when  I  was  born. 

Hot.  And  I  say,    the  earth  was  not  of  my  mind, 
If  you  suppose,  as  fearing  you  it  shook. 

Glend.  The  heavens  were  all  on  fire,  the  earth  did 
tremble. 

Hot.  O,   then  the  earth  shook  to  see  the  heavens 
on  lire, 
And  not  in  fear  of  your  nativity. 
Diseased  nature  oftentimes  breaks  forth 
In  strange  eruptions 57  3  oft  the  teeming  earth 
Is  with  a  kind  of  cholick  pinch'd  and  vex'd 
By  the  imprisoning  of  unruly  wind 
Within  her  womb ;   which,  for  enlargement  striving, 
Shakes  the  old  beldame  earth,  and  topples  down 
Steeples,  and  moss-grown  towers.     At  your  birth, 
Our  grandam  earth,  having  this  distemperature, 
In  passion  shook. 

Glend.  Cousin,  of  many  men 

I  do  not  bear  these  crossings.     Give  me  leave 
To  tell  you  once  again, — that,  at  my  birth, 
The  front  of  heaven  was  full  of  fiery  shapes ; 
The  goats  ran  from  the  mountains,  and  the  herds 
Were  strangely  clamorous  to  the  frighted  fields. 
These  signs  have  mark'd  me  extraordinary; 
And  all  the  courses  of  my  life  do  show, 
I  am  not  in  the  roll  of  common  men. 
Where  is  he  living, — clipp'd  in  with  the  sea 

That  chides  the  banks  of  England,Scotland,  Wales, 

Which  calls  me  pupil,  or  hath  read  to  me? 
And  bring  him  out,  that  is  but  woman's  son, 


C4  FIRST  PART  OF 

Can  trace  me  in  the  tedious  ways  of  art, 
Or  hold  me  pace  in  deep  experiments. 

Hot.  I    think,    there  is   no    man    speaks    better 

Welsh : 

I  will  to  dinner. 

Mort.  Peace,  cousin  Percy :  you  will  make  him 
mad. 

Glend.  I  can  call  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep. 

Hot.  Why,  so  can  I;  or  so  can  any  man: 
But  will  they  come,  when  you  do  call  for  them  ? 

Glend.  Why,   I  can  teach  you,   cousin,  to  com- 
mand 
The  devil. 

Hot.  And  I  can  teach  thee,  coz,  to  shame  the  devil, 
By  telling  truth ;  Tell  truth,  and  shame  the  devil. — 
If  thou  have  power  to  raise  him,  bring  him  hither, 
And  1 11  be  sworn,  I  have  power  to  shame  him  hence. 
O,  while  you  live,  tell  truth,  and  shame  the  devil. 

Mort.  Come,  come, 
No  more  of  this  unprofitable  chat. 

Glend.  Three  times  hath  Henry  Bolingbroke  made 
head 
Against  my  power :  thrice  from  the  banks  of  Wye, 
And  sandy-bottom'd  Severn,  have  I  sent  him 
Bootless  home,  and  weather-beaten  back. 

Hot.  Home  without  boots,  and  in  foul  weather  too  ! 
How  'scapes  he  agues,  in  the  devil's  name  ? 

Glend.  Come,    here's   the  map:   Shall  we  divide 
our  right, 
According  to  our  threefold  order  ta'en? 


KING  HENRY  IV,  05 

Mori.  The  archdeacon  hath  divided  it 
Into  three  limits,  very  equally  : 
England,  from  Trent  and  Severn  hitherto., 
By  south  and  east,  is  to  my  part  assign'd : 
All  westward,  Wales  beyond  the  Severn  shore, 
And  all  the  fertile  land  within  that  bound, 
To  Owen  Glendower: — and,  dear  coz,  to  you 
The  remnant  northward,  lying  oft  from  Trent. 
And  our  indentures  tripartite  are  drawn; 
Which  being  sealed  interchangeably, 
(A  business  that  this  night  may  execute,) 
To-morrow,  cousin  Percy,  you,  and  I, 
And  my  good  lord  of  Worcester,  will  set  forth, 
To  meet  your  father,  and  the  Scottish  power, 
As  is  appointed  us,  at  Shrewsbury. 
My  father  Glendower  is  not  ready  yet, 
Nor  shall  we  need  his  help  these  fourteen  days: — 
Within  that  space,  [To  Glend.]  you  may  have  drawn 

together 
Your  tenants,  friends,  and  neighbouring  gentlemen. 

Glend.  A  shorter  time  shall  send  me  to  you,  lords, 
And  in  my  conduct  shall  your  ladies  come : 
From  whom  you  now  must  steal,  and  take  no  leave  -, 
For  there  will  be  a  world  of  water  shed, 
Upon  the  parting  of  your  wives  and  you. 

Hot.  Methinks,   my  moiety,   north  from  Burton 
here, 
In  quantity  equals  not  one  of  yours ; 
See,  how  this  river  comes  me  cranking  in, 
And  cuts  me,  from  the  best  of  all  my  land, 

VOL.  VII.  f 


66  FIRST  PART  OF 

A  huge  half-moon,  a  monstrous  cantle  out. 
I'll  have  the  current  in  this  place  damm'd  up  ; 
And  here  the  smug  and  silver  Trent  shall  run, 
In  a  new  channel,  fair  and  evenly  : 
It  shall  not  wind  with  such  a  deep  indent, 
To  rob  me  of  so  rich  a  bottom  here. 

Glend.  Not  wind?   it  shall,    it  must ;    you  see,  it 
doth. 

Mart.  Yea, 
But  mark,  how  he  bears  his  course,  and  runs  me  up 
With  like  advantage  on  the  other  side ; 
Gelding  the  opposed  continent  as  much, 
As  on  the  other  side  it  takes  from  you. 

JVor.  Yea,  but  a  little  charge  will  trench  him  here. 
And  on  this  north  side  win  this  cape  of  land ; 
And  then  he  runs  straight  and  even. 

Hot.  I'll  have  it  so;    a  little  charge  will  do  it. 

Glend.  I  will  not  have  it  alter'd. 

Hot.  Will  not  you  ? 

Glend.  No,  nor  you  shall  not. 

Hot.  Who  shall  say  me  nay  ? 

Glend.  Why,  that  will  I. 

Hot.  Let  me  not  understand  you  then, 

Speak  it  in  Welsh. 

Glend.  I  can  speak  English,  lord,  as  well  as  you: 
For  I  was  train' d  up  in  the  English  court : 
Where,  being  but  young,  I  framed  to  the  harp 
Many  an  English  ditty,  lovely  well, 
And  gave  the  tongue  a  helpful  ornament; 
A  virtue  that  was  never  seen  in  you. 


KING  HENRY  JV.  67 

Hot.  Marry,  and  I'm  glad  oft  with  all  my  heart; 
I  had  rather  be  a  kitten,  and  cry — mew, 
Than  one  of  these  same  metre  ballad-mongers : 
I  had  rather  hear  a  brazen  canstick58  turn'd, 
Or  a  dry  wheel  grate  on  the  axle-tree ; 
And  that  would  set  my  teeth  nothing  on  edge, 
Nothing  so  much  as  mincing  poetry  -, 
Tis  like  the  forc'd  gait  of  a  shuffling  nag. 

Glend.  Come,  you  shall  have  Trent  turn'd. 

Hot.  I  do  not  care  j   I'll  give  thrice  so  much  land 
To  any  well -deserving  friend. 
But,  in  the  way  of  bargain,  mark  ye  me, 
I'll  cavil  on  the  ninth  part  of  a  hair. 
Are  the  indentures  drawn  ?  shall  we  be  gone  ? 

Glend.  The  moon  shines  fair,  you  may  away  by 
night : 
I'll  haste  the  writer,  and,  withal, 
Break  with  your  wives  of  your  departure  hence  : 
I  am  afraid,  my  daughter  will  run  mad, 
So  much  she  doteth  on  her  Mortimer.  [Exit. 

Mort.  Fie,  cousin  Percy !  how  you  cross  my  father ! 

Hot.  I  cannot  choose:  sometimes  he  angers  me, 
With  telling  me  of  the  moldwarp  and  the  ant59, 
Of  the  dreamer  Merlin,  and  his  prophecies  -} 
And  of  a  dragon,  and  a  finless  fish, 
A  clip-wing'd  griffin,  and  a  moulten  raven, 
A  couching  lion,  and  a  ramping  cat, 
And  such  a  deal  of  skimble-skamble  stuff 
As  puts  me  from  my  faith.     I  tell  you  what, — 
He  held  me,  but  last  night,  at  least  nine  hours, 


63  FIRST  PART  OF 

In  reckoning  up  the  several  devils'  names, 

That  were  his  lackeys  :    I  cry'd,   humph,— and  well, 

—go  to,— 
But  mark'd  him  not  a  word.     O,  he's  as  tedious 
As  is  a  tired  horse,  a  railing  wife ; 
Worse  than  a  smoaky  house : — I  had  rather  live 
With  cheese  and  garlick,  in  a  windmill,  far, 
Than  feed  on  cates,  and  have  him  talk  to  me, 
In  any  summerhouse  in  Christendom. 

Mort.  In  faith,  he  is  a  worthy  gentleman  j 
Exceedingly  well  read,  and  profited 
In  strange  concealments60 ;  valiant  as  a  lion, 
And  wond'rous  affable  ;  and  as  bountiful 
As  mines  of  India.     Shall  I  tell  you,  cousin? 
He  holds  your  temper  in  a  high  respect, 
And  curbs  himself  even  of  his  natural  scope, 
When  you  do  cross  his  humour ;   'faith,  he  does; 
I  warrant  you,  that  man  is  not  alive, 
Might  so  have  tempted  him  as  you  have  done, 
Without  the  taste  of  danger  and  reproof ; 
But  do  not  use  it  oft,  let  me  entreat  you. 

IFor.  In  faith,    my  lord,  you  are    too   wilful- 
blame  -, 
And  since  your  coming  hither,  have  done  enough 
To  put  him  quite  beside  his  patience. 
You  must  needs  learn,  lord,  to  amend  this  fault: 
Though  sometimes  it  show  greatness,  courage,  blood, 
(And  that's  the  dearest  grace  it  renders  you,) 
Yet  oftentimes  it  doth  present  harsh  rage, 
Defect  of  manners,  want  of  government. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  69 

Pride,  haughtiness,  opinion,  and  disdain: 
The  least  of  which,  haunting  a  nobleman, 
Loseth  men's  hearts ;  and  leaves  behind  a  stain 
Upon  the  beauty  of  all  parts  besides, 
Beguiling  them  of  commendation. 

Hot.  Well,  I  am  school'dj  Good  manners  be  your 
speed ! 
Here  come  our  wives,  and  let  us  take  our  leave. 

Re-enter  Glendower,  with  the  Ladies. 

Mort.  This  is  the  deadly  spite  that  angers  me, — 
My  wife  can  speak  no  English,  I  no  Welsh. 

Glend.  My   daughter  weeps ;  she   will  not   part 
with  you, 
She'll  be  a  soldier  too,  she'll  to  the  wars. 

Mort.  Good  father,   tell  her, — that  she,   and  my 
aunt  Percy, 
Shall  follow  in  your  conduct  speedily. 

[Glendower  speaks  to  his  daughter  in  Welsh, 
and  she  answers  him  in  the  same. 
Glend.  She's  desperate  here  -,    a  peevish  self-will'd 
harlotry, 
One  no  persuasion  can  do  good  upon. 

[Lady  M.  speaks  to  Mortimer  in  Welsh. 
Mort,  I  understand  thy  looks :    that  pretty  Welsh 
Which    thou    pourest    down    from   these   swelling 

heavens, 
I  am  too  perfect  in  5  and,  but  for  shame, 
In  such  a  parley  would  I  answer  thee. 

[Lady  M.  speaks. 


70  FIRST  PART  OF 

I  understand  thy  kisses,  and  thou  mine, 

And  that's  a  feeling  disputation : 

But  I  will  never  be  a  truant,  love, 

Till  I  have  learn' d  thy  language ;  for  thy  tongue 

Makes  Welsh  as  sweet  as  ditties  highly  penn'd, 

Sung  by  a  fair  queen  in  a  summer's  bower, 

With  ravishing  division,  to  her  lute. 

Glend.  Nay,  if  you  melt,  then  will  she  run  mad. 

\_Lady  M.  speaks  again. 

Mort.  O,  I  am  ignorance  itself  in  this. 

Glend.  She  bids  you 
Upon  the  wanton  rushes  6l  lay  you  down, 
And  rest  your  gentle  head  upon  her  lap, 
And  she  will  sing  the  song  that  pleaseth  you, 
And  on  your  eyelids  crown  the  god  of  sleep, 
Charming  your  blood  with  pleasing  heaviness ; 
Making  such  difference  'twixt  wake  and  sleep, 
As  is  the  difference  betwixt  day  and  night, 
The  hour  before  the  heavenly-harness'd  team 
Begins  his  golden  progress  in  the  east. 

Mort.  With  all  my  heart  I'll  sit,  and  hear  her  sing ; 
By  that  time  will  our  book,  I  think,  be  drawn. 

Glend.  Do  so  j 
And  those  musicians  that  shall  play  to  you, 
Hang  in  the  air  a  thousand  leagues  from  hence ; 
Yet  straight  they  shall  be  here  :  sit,  and  attend. 

Hot.  Come,  Kate,  thou  art  perfect  in  lying  down  : 
Come,  quick,  quick ;  that  I  may  lay  my  head  in  thy 
lap. 

Ladrj  P.  Go,  ye  giddy  goose. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  71 

Glendower  speaks  some  Welsh  words,  and 
then  the  musick  plays. 

Hot.   Now    I    perceive,   the    devil     understands 
Welsh ; 
And  'tis  no  marvel,  he's  so  humorous. 
By'r-lady,  he's  a  good  musician. 

Lady  P.  Then  should  you  be  nothing  but  musical) 
for  you  are  altogether  govern'd  by  humours.  Lie 
still,  ye  thief,  and  hear  the  lady  sing  in  Welsh. 

Hot.  I  had  rather  hear  Lady,  my  brach,  howl  in 
Irish. 

Lady  P.  Would' st  thou  have  thy  head  broken  ? 

Hot.  No. 

Lady  P.  Then  be  still. 

Hot.  Neither;  'tis  a  woman's  fault. 

Lady  P.  Now  God  help  thee! 

Hot.  To  the  Welsh  lady's  bed. 

Lady  P.  What's  that?. 

Hot.  Peace  !  she  sings. 

A  Welsh  Song  sung  ly  Lady  M. 

Hot.  Come,  Kate,  I'll  have  your  song  too. 

Lady  P.  Not  mine,  in  good  sooth. 

Hot.  Not  yours,  in  good  sooth  !  'Heart,  you  swear 
like  a  comrlt-maker's  wife!  Not  you,  in  good  sooth; 
and,  As  true  as  I  live  5  and,  As  God  shall  mend  me; 
and,  As  sure  as  day : 

And  giv'st  such  sarcenet  surety  for  thy  oaths, 
As  if  thou  never  walk'dst  further  than  Finsbury. 


72  FIRST  PART  OF 

Swear  me,  Kate,  like  a  lady,  as  thou  art, 
A  good  mouth-filling  oath?  and  leave  in  sooth, 
And  such  protest  of  pepper-gingerbread, 
To  velvet-guards62,  and  sunday-citizens. 
Come,  sing. 

Lady  P.  I  will  not  sing. 

Hot.  'Tis  the  next  way  to  turn  tailor,  or  be  red- 
breast teacher63.  An  the  indentures  be  drawn,  I'll 
away  within  these  two  hours  j  and  so  come  in  when 
ye  will.  [Exit. 

Gknd.  Come,    come,  lord  Mortimer ;  you  are  as 
slow, 
As  hot  lord  Percy  is  on  fire  to  go. 
By  this  our  book's  drawn ;  we'll  but  seal,  and  then 
To  horse  immediately. 

Mort.  With  all  my  heart.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 
London.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,   Prince  of  Wales,  and  Lords. 

K.  Hen.  Lords,  give  us  leave  5  the  prince  of  Wales 
and  I, 
Must  have  some  conference  :  But  be  near  at  hand, 
For  we  shall  presently  have  need  of  you. — 

[Exeunt  Lords. 
I  know  not  whether  God  will  have  it  so, 
For  some  displeasing  service  I  have  done, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  73 

That,  in  his  secret  doom,  out  of  my  blood 
He'll  breed  revengement  and  a  scourge  for  me  j 
But  thou  dost,  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  poor,  such  bare,    such  lewd,  such  mean  at- 
tempts, 
Such  barren  pleasures,  rude  society, 
As  thou  art  match'd  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, — 
Which  oft  the  ear  of  greatness  needs  must  hear, — 
By  smiling  pick-thanks  and  base  newsmongers, 
I  may,  for  some  things  true,  wherein  my  youth 
Hath  faulty  wander' d  and  irregular, 
Find  pardon  on  my  true  submission. 

K.  Hen.  God  pardon  thee  ! — Yet  let  me  wonder^ 
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  supplied ; 


/4  FIRST  PAFxT  OF 

And  art  almost  an  alien  to  the  hearts 

Of  all  the  court  and  princes  of  my  blood: 

The  hope  and  expectation  of  thy  time 

Is  ruin'd;  and  the  soul  of  every  man 

Prophetically  does  forethink  thy  fall. 

Had  I  so  lavish  of  my  presence  been, 

So  common-hackney'd  in  the  eyes  of  men, 

So  stale  and  cheap  to  vulgar  company ; 

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,  I  could  not  stir, 

But,  like  a  comet,  I  was  wonder'd  at : 

That  men  would  tell  their  children,  This  is  he; 

Others  would  say,  —  Where?  which  is  Bolingbroke? 

And  then  I  stole  all  courtesy  from  heaven, 

And  dress'd  myself  in  such  humility, 

That  I  did  pluck  allegiance  from  men's  hearts, 

Loud  shouts  and  salutations  from  their  mouths, 

Even  in  the  presence  of  the  crowned  king. 

Thus  did  I  keep  my  person  fresh,  and  new ; 

My  presence,  like  a  robe  pontifical, 

Ne'er  seen,  but  wonder'd  at:   and  so  my  state, 

Seldom,  but  sumptuous,  showed  like  a  feast  5 

And  won,  by  rareness,  such  solemnity. 

The  skipping  king,  he  ambled  up  and  down 

With  shallow  jesters,  and  rash  bavin  witsc+, 

Soon  kindled,  and  soon  burn'd :  carded  his  state; 

Mingled  his  royalty  with  capering  fools ; 


KING  HENRY  IV.  73 

Had  his  great  name  profaned  with  their  scorns  ; 

And  gave  his  countenance,  against  his  name, 

To  laugh  at  gibing  boys,  and  stand  the  push 

Of  every  beardless  vain  comparative : 

Grew  a  companion  to  the  common  streets, 

EnfeofPd  himself  to  popularity: 

That,  being  daily  swallow'd  by  men's  eyes, 

They  surfeited  with  honey;  and  began 

To  loathe  the  taste  of  sweetness,  whereof  a  little 

More  than  a  little  is  by  much  too  much. 

So,  when  he  had  occasion  to  be  seen,. 

He  was  but  as  the  cuckoo  is  in  June, 

Heard,  not  regarded ;  seen,  but  with  such  eyes, 

As,  sick  and  blunted  with  community, 

Afford  no  extraordinary  gaze, 

Such  as  is  bent  on  sun-like  majesty 

When  it  shines  seldom  in  admiring  eyes: 

But  rather  drowz'd,  and  hung  their  eyelids  down, 

Slept  in  his  face,  and  render'd  such  aspect 

As  cloudy  men  use  to  their  adversaries; 

Being  with  his  presence  glutted,  gorg'd,  and  full. 

And  in  that  very  line,  Harry,  stand'st  thou  : 

For  thou  hast  lost  thy  princely  privilege, 

With  vile  participation;  not  an  eye, 

But  is  a- weary  of  thy  common  sight, 

Save  mine,  which  hath  desir'd  to  see  thee  more ; 

Which  now  doth  that  I  would  not  have  it  do; 

Make  blind  itself  with  foolish  tenderness. 

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


76  FIRST  PART  OF 

K.  Hen.  For  all  the  world, 

As  thou  art  to  this  hour,  was  Richard  then 
When  I  from  France  set  foot  at  Ravenspurg  j 
And  even  as  I  was  then,  is  Percy  now. 
Now  by  ray  scepter,  and  my  soul  to  boot, 
He  hath  more  worthy  interest  to  the  state, 
Than  thou,  the  shadow  of  succession  : 
For,  of  no  right,  nor  colour  like  to  right, 
He  doth  fill  fields  with  harness  in  the  realm  j 
Turns  head  against  the  lion's  armed  jaws ; 
And,  being  no  more  in  debt  to  years  than  thou, 
Leads  ancient  lords  and  reverend  bishops  on, 
To  bloody  battles,  and  to  bruising  arms. 
What  never-dying  honour  hath  he  got 
Against  renowned  Douglas ;  whose  high  deeds, 
Whose  hot  incursions,  and  great  name  in  arms, 
Holds  from  all  soldiers  chief  majority, 
And  military  title  capital, 

Through  all  the  kingdoms  that  acknowledge  Christ? 
Thrice  hath  this  Hotspur  Mars  in  swathing  clothes 
This  infant  warrior,  in  his  enterprizes 
Discomfited  great  Douglas :   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  archbishops  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, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  77 

Which  art  my  near'st  and  dearest  enemy  ? 
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  court'sy  at  his  frowns, 
To  show  how  much  degenerate  thou  art. 

P.  Hen.  Do  not  think  so,  you  shall  not  find  it  so: 
And  God  forgive  them,  that  so  much  have  sway'd 
Your  majesty's  good  thoughts  away  from  me! 
I  will  redeem  all  this  on  Percy's  head, 
And,  in  the  closing  of  some  glorious  day, 
Be  bold  to  tell  you,  that  I  am  your  son  j 
When  I  will  wear  a  garment  all  of  blood, 
And  stain  my  favours  in  a  bloody  mask, 
Which,  wash'd  away,  shall  scour  my  shame  with  it. 
And  that  shall  be  the  day,  whene'er  it  lights, 
That  this  same  child  of  honour  and  renown, 
This  gallant  Hotspur,  this  all-praised  knight, 
And  your  un-thought  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  for  my  indignities. 
Percy  is  but  my  factor,  good  my  lord. 
To  engross  up  glorious  deeds  on  my  behalfj 
And  I  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  reckon: no  from  his  heart. 


;s  FIRST  PART  OF 

This,  in  the  name  of  God,  I  promise  here: 
The.  which  if  he  be  pleas'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  shalt  have  charge,  and  sovereign  trust,  herein. 

Enter  Blunt. 

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

Blunt.  So  hath  the  business  that  I  come  to  speak  of. 
Lord  Mortimer  of  Scotland  hath  sent  word, — 
That  Douglas,  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  offer'd  foul  play  in  a  state. 

K.  Hen.  The  earl  of  Westmoreland  set  forth  to-day; 
With  him  my  son,  lord  John  of  Lancaster; 
For  this  advertisement  is  five  days  old: — 
On  Wednesday  next,  Harry,  you  shall  set 
Forward;  on  Thursday,  we  ourselves  will  march: 
Our  meeting  is  Bridgnorth:  and,  Harry,  you 
Shall  march  through  Glostershire;  by  which  account, 
Our  business  valued,  some  twelve  days  hence 
Our  general  forces  at  Bridgnorth  shall  meet. 
Our  hands  are  full  of  business:  let's  away; 
Advantage  feeds  him  fat,  while  men  delay.  [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  IV,  79 


SCENE   III. 

Eastcheap.     A  Room  in  the  Boars  Head  Tavertu 

Enter  Falstaff  and  Bardolph. 

Fal.  Bardolph,  am  I  not  fallen  away  vilely  since 
this  last  action?  Do  I  not  bate?  do  I  not  dwindle? 
Why,  my  skin  hangs  about  me  like  an  old  lady's  loose 
gown ;  I  am  wither' d  like  an  old  apple-John.  Well, 
I'll  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  for- 
gotten what  the  inside  of  a  church  is  made  off,  I  am 
a  pepper-corn,  a  brewer's  horse65:  The  inside  of  a 
church:  Company,  villainous  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  bawdy 
song ;  make  me  merry.  I  was  as  virtuously  given, 
as  a  gentleman  need  to  be;  virtuous  enough:  swore 
little;  diced,  not  above  seven  times  a  week;  went 
to  a  bawdy-house,  not  above  once  in  a  quarter — of 
an  hour;  paid  money  that  I  borrow'd,  three  or  four 
times;  lived  well,  and  in  good  compass:  and  now 
I  live  out  of  all  order,  out  of  all  compass. 

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


80  FIRST  PART  OF 

Fal.  Do  thou  amend  thy  face,  and  I'll  amend  my 
life:  Thou  art  our  admiral,  thou  bearest  the  lantern 
in  the  poop, — but  'tis  in  the  nose  of  thee ;  thou  art 
the  knight  of  the  burning  lamp66. 

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

Fal.  No,  I'll  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  heil- 
fire,  and  Dives  that  lived  in  purple  ;  for  there  he  is 
in  his  robes,  burning,  burning.  If  thou  wert  any 
way  given  to  virtue,  I  would  swear  by  thy  face;  my 
oath  should  be,  By  this  fire :  but  thou  art  altogether 
given  over ;  and  wert  indeed,  but  for  the  light  in  thy 
face,  the  son  of  utter  darkness.  When  thou  ran'st 
up  Gad's-hili  in  the  night  to  catch  my  horse,  if  I  did 
not  think  thou  hadst  been  an  ignis  fatuus ,  or  a  ball 
of  wildfire,  there's  no  purchase  in  money.  O,  thou 
art  a  perpetual  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  chandler's  in  Europe.  I  have  main- 
tained that  salamander  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 

belly ! 

Fal.  God-a-mercy!    so  should  I  be   sure   to  be 
heart-burn'd. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  81 

Enter  Hostess. 

How  now,    dame   Partlet  the   hen 67  ?  have  you  in- 
quired yet,  who  pick'd  ray  pocket? 

Host.  Why,  sir  John !  what  do  you  think,  sir 
John  ?  Do  you  think  I  keep  thieves  in  my  house  ?  I 
have  search'd,  I  have  inquired,  so  has  my  husband, 
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  shaved,  and 
lost  many  a  hair :  and  I'll  be  sworn,  my  pocket  was 
pick'd  :  Go  to,  you  are  a  woman,  go. 

Host.  Who  I  ?  I  defy  thee :  I  was  never  call'd  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 :   I  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  of 
them. 

Host.  Now,,  as  I  am  a  true  woman,  helland  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  pound. 

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

Host.  He  ?  alas,  he  is  poor  j  he  hath  nothing. 

Fal.  How !  poor  ?  look  upon  his  face ;  What 
call  you  rich  ?  let  them  coin  his  nose,  let  them  coin 

vol,  VII.  G 


82  FIRST  PART  OF 

his  cheeks :  I'll  not  pay  a  denier.  What,  will  you 
make  a  younker  of  me  ?  shall  I  not  take  mine  ease  in 
mine  inn,  but  I  shall  have  my  pocket  pick'd  ?  I  have 
lost  a  seal-ring  of  my  grandfather's,  worth  forty  mark. 

Host.  O  Jesu !  I  have  heard  the  prince  tell  him,  I 
know  not  how  oft,  that  that  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  Prince  Henf%y  and  Poins,  marching.  Fal- 
staff  meets  the  Prince  playing  on  his  truncheon, 
like  a  fife. 

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

Bard.  Yea,  two  and  two,  Newgate-fashion. 

Host.  My  lord,  I  pray  you,  hear  me. 

P.  Hen.  What  say'st  thou,  mistress  Quickly  ?  How 
does  thy  husband  ?  I  love  him  well,  he  is  an  honest 
man. 

Host.  Good  my  lord,  hear  me. 

Fal.  Pr'ythee,  let  her  alone,  and  list  to  me. 

P.  Hen.  What  say'st  thou,  Jack  ? 

Fal.  The  other  night  I  fell  asleep  here  behind  the 
arras,  and  had  my  pocket  pick'd  :  this  house  is  turn'd 
bawdy-house,  they  pick  pockets. 

P.  Hen.  What  didst  thou  lose,  Jack  ? 

Fal.  Wilt  thou  believe  me,  Hal  ?  three  or  four 
bonds  of  forty  pound  a-piece,  and  a  seal-ring  of  my 
grandfather's. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  83 

P.  Hen.     A    trifle,     some    eight-penny    mat- 
ter. 

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-mouth'd  man  as  he  is  5  and 
said,  he  would  cudgel  you. 

P.  Hen.  What !  he  did  not  ? 

Host.  There's  neither  faith,  truth,  nor  womanhood 
in  me  else. 

Fal.  There's  no  more  faith  in  thee  than  in  a  stew'd 
prune  68  j  nor  no  more  truth  in  thee  than  in  a  drawn 
fox 69  j  and  for  womanhood,  maid  Marian  may  be 
the  deputy's  wife  of  the  ward  to  thee  7°.  Go,  you 
thing,  go. 

Host.  Say,  what  thing  ?  what  thing  ? 

Fal.  What  thing?  why,  a  thing  to  thank  God  on. 

Host.  I  am  no  thing  to  thank  God  on,  I  would 
thou  should'st  know  it 3  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  beast  ?  why,  an  otter  ? 

P.  Hen.  An  otter,  sir  John  !  why  an  otter  ? 

Fal.  Why  ?  she's   neither  fish  nor  flesh ;  a  man 
knows  not  where  jto  have  her. 
,   Host.  Thou  art  an  unjust  man  in  saying  so;  thoa 
or  any  man  knows  where   to  have  me,   thou  knave 
thou! 


84  FIRST  PART  OF 

P.  Hen.  Thou  say'st  true,  hostess  j  and  he  slanders 
thee  most  grossly. 

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

P.  Hen.  Sirrah,  do  I  owe  you  a  thousand  pound  ? 

Fal.  A  thousand  pound,  Hal  ?  a  million :  thy 
love  is  worth  a  million ;  thou  owest  me  thy  love. 

Host.  Nay,  my  lord,  he  cali'd  you  Jack,  and  said, 
he  would  cudgel  you. 

Fal.  Did  I,  Bardolph  ? 

Bard.  Indeed,  sir  John,  you  said  so. 

Fal.  Yea ;  if  he  said  my  ring  was  copper. 

P.  Hen.  I  say,  'tis  copper:  Darest  thou  be  as  good 
as  thy  word  now  ? 

Fal.  Why,  Hal,  thou  know'st,  as  thou  art  but 
man,  I  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  I  do,  I  pray  God,  my  girdle  break  ! 

P.  Hen.  O,    if  it  should,   how  would  thy  guts  fall 
about  thy  knees!   But,  sirrah,  there's  no  room  for 
faith,  truth,  nor  honesty,   in  this  bosom  of  thine ;   it 
is  all   fill'd  up  with  guts,   and  midriff.     Charge  an  ; 
honest  woman  with  picking  thy  pocket !   Why,  thou  i 
whoreson,  impudent,  emboss'd  rascal 7I,  if  there  were  : 
any    thing   in    thy    pocket    but   tavern- reckonings, 
memorandums  of  bawdy-houses,  and  one  poor  pen- 
nyworth of  sugar-candy  to  make  thee  long-winded; 


KING  HENRY  IV.  8.5 

if  thy  pocket  were  enrich'd  with  any  other  injuries 
but  these,  I  am  a  villain.  And  yet  you  will  stand  to 
it  j  you  will  not  pocket  up  wrong72:  Art  thou  not 
asham'd  ? 

Fal.  Dost  thou  hear,  Hal  ?  thou  know'st,  in  the 
state  of  innocency,  Adam  fell  3  and  what  should  poor 
Jack  Fal  staff  do,  in  the  days  of  villainy  ?  Thou  seest, 
I  have  more  flesh  than  another  man ;  and  therefore 

more  frailty. 'You  confess  then,   you  pick'd  my 

pocket  ? 

P.  Hen.  It  appears  so  by  the  story. 

Fal.  Hostess,  I  forgive  thee :  Go,  make  ready 
breakfast  j  love  thy  husband,  look  to  thy  servants, 
cherish  thy  guests:  thou  shalt  find  me  tractable  to 
any  honest  reason:  thou  seest,  lam  pacified. — Still? — 
Nay,  pr'ythee,  be  gone.  [Exit  Hostess.']  Now, 
Hal,  to  the  news  at  court :  for  the  robbery,  lad, — 
How  is  that  answer'd  ? 

P.  Hen.  O,  my  sweet  beef,  I  must  still  be  good 
angel  to  thee  : — 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. 

Fal.  Rob  me  the  exchequer  the  first  thing  thou 
do'st,  and  do  it  with  unwash'd  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  diief,  of 


S3  FIRST  PART  OF 

the  age  of  two  and  twenty,  or  thereabouts!  I  am 
heinously  unprovided.  Well,  God  be  thanked  for 
these  rebels,  they  offend  none  but  the  virtuous  5  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. — 
Go,  Poins,  to  horse,  to  horse ;  for  thou  and  I, 
Have  thirty  miles  to  ride  yet  ere  dinner  time. 
Jack, 

Meet  me  to-morrow  i'  the  Temple  hall 
At  two  o'clock  i'  the  afternoon  : 
There  shalt  thou  know  thy  charge ;  and  there  receive 
Money,  and  order  for  their  furniture. 
The  land  is  burning  ;   Percy  stands  on  highj 
And  either  they,  or  we,  must  lower  lie. 

[Exeunt  Prince,  Poins,  and  Bardolph. 

Fat.  Rare  words !  brave  world  ! Hostess,   my 

breakfast ;  come  : — 
O,  I  could  wish,  this  tavern  were  my  drum!     [Exit. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  57 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  I. 

The  Rebel  Camp  near  Shrewsbury. 

Enter  Hotspur,  Worcester,  and  Douglas. 

Hot.  Well  said,  my  noble  Scot :  If  speaking  truth, 
In  this  fine  age,  were  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  soothers ;  but  a  braver  place 
In  my  heart's  love,  hath  no  man  than  yourself : 
Nay,  task  me  to  my  word  5  approve  me,  lord. 

Doug.  Thou  art  the  king  of  honour  : 
No  man  so  potent  breathes  upon  the  ground, 
But  I  will  beard  him. 

Hot.  Do  so,  and  'tis  well : — 

Enter  a  Messenger,  with  Letters. 

What  letters  hast  thou  there? — I  can  but  thank  you. 

Mess.  These  letters  come  from  your  father, — 

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

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

Hot.  'Zounds !  how  has  he  the  leisure  to  be  sick, 


88  FJRST  PART  OF 

In  such  a  justling  time  ?  Who  leads  his  power  ? 
Under  whose  government  come  they  along  ? 

Mess.  His  letters  bear  his  mind,  not  I,  my  lord. 

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

Mess.  He  did,  my  lord,  four  days  ere  I  set  forth  5 
And  at  the  time  of  my  departure  thence, 
He  was  much  fear'd  by  his  physicians. 

IVor.  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. 

Hot.  Sick  now !  droop  now  !  this  sickness  doth 
infect 
The  very  life-blood  of  our  enterprizej 

'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  5  nor  did  he  think  it  meet, 
To  lay  so  dangerous  and  dear  a  trust 
On  any  soul  remov'd,  but  on  his  own, 
Yet  doth  he  give  us  bold  advertisement, — 
That  with  our  small  conjunction,  we  should  on, 
To  see  how  fortune  is  dispos'd  to  us  : 
For,  as  he  writes,  there  is  no  quailing  now; 
Because  the  king  is  certainly  possess'd 
Of  all  our  purposes.     What  say  you  to  it  ? 
Wor.  Your  father's  sickness  is  a  maim  to  us. 

Hot.  A  perilous  gash,  a  very  limb  lopp'd  off: — 
And  yet,  in  faith,  'tis  not  ;  his  present  want 
Seems  more  than  we  shall  find  it 3 — Were  it  good, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  89 

To  set  the  exact  wealth  of  all  our  states 
All  at  one  cast  ?  to  set  so  rich  a  main 
On  the  nice  hazard  of  one  doubtful  hour  ? 
It  were  not  good :  for  therein  should  we  read 
The  very  bottom  and  the  soul  of  hope : 
The  very  list 73,  the  very  utmost  bound 
Of  all  our  fortunes. 

Doug.  'Faith,  and  so  we  should  j 

Where  now  remains  a  sweet  reversion : 
We  may  boldly  spend  upon  the  hope  of  what 
Is  to  come  in  : 
A  comfort  of  retirement  lives  in  this. 

Hot.  A  rendezvous,  a  home  to  fly  unto, 
If  that  the  devil  and  mischance  look  big 
Upon  the  maidenhead  of  our  affairs. 

Wor.  But  yet,  I  would  your  father  had  been  here. 
The  quality  and  hair  74  of  our  attempt 
Brooks  no  division :   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 ; 
And  think,  how  such  an  apprehension 
May  turn  the  tide  of  fearful  faction, 
And  breed  a  kind  of  question  in  our  cause: 
For,  well  you  know,  we  of  the  offering  side75 
Must  keep  aloof  from  strict  arbitrement; 
And  stop  all  sight-holes,  every  loop,  from  whenqp 
The  eye  of  reason  may  pry  in  upon  us : 
This  absence  of  your  father's  draws  a  curtain, 
That  shows  the  ignorant  a  kind  of  fear 


90  FIRST  PART  OF 

Before  not  dreamt  of. 

Hot.  You  strain  too  far. 

J,  rather,  of  his  absence  make  this  use ;  — 
It  lends  a  lustre,  and  more  great  opinion, 
A  larger  dare  to  our  great  enterprize, 
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  js  not  such  a 
word 
Spoke  of  in  Scotland,  as  this  term  of  fear. 

Enter  Sir  Richard  Vernon. 

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

Ver.  Pray  God,  my  news  be  worth  a  welcome, 
lord. 
The  earl  of  Westmoreland,  seven  thousand  strong, 
Is  marching  hitherwardsj  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  7<5, 
And  his  comrades,  that  darf'd  the  world  aside, 
And  bid  it  pass? 

Ver,  All  furnish' d,  all  in  arms, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  91 

All  plum'd  like  estridges  77,  that  wing  the  wind  j 
Bated  like  eagles  having  lately  bath'd ; 
Glittering  in  golden  coats,  like  images 5 
As  full  of  spirit  as  the  month  of  May, 
And  gorgeous  as  the  sun  at  midsummer  j 
"Wanton  as  youthful  goats,  wild  as  young  bulls. 
I  saw  young  Harry, — with  his  beaver  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  dropp'd  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  3 
They  come  like  sacrifices  in  their  trim, 
And  to  the  fire-ey'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  Glendower  were  come ! 

Ver.  There  is  more  news: 

I  learn'd  in  Worcester,  as  I  rode  along, 


92  FIRST  PART  OF 

He  cannot  draw  his  power  this  fourteen  days. 

Doug.  That's  the  worst  tidings  that  I  hear  of  yet. 
Wor.  Ay,  by  my  faith,  that  bears  a  frosty  sound. 
Hot.  What  may  the   king's  whole  battle   reach 

unto  ? 
Ver.  To  thirty  thousand. 
Hot.  Forty  let  it  be; 

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

Doug.  Talk  not  of  dying;   I  am  out  of  fear 
Of  death,  or  death's  hand,  for  this  one  half  year. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 
A  pul'lick  Road  near  Coventry. 

Enter  Falstaff    and  Bardolph. 

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

Bard.  Will  you  give  me  money,  captain? 

Fal.  Lay  out,  lay  oat. 

Bard.  This  bottle  makes  an  angel. 

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

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


KING  HENRY  IV.  93 

Fal.  If  I  be  not  ashamed  of  my  soldiers,  I  am  a 
souced  garnet73.  I  have  misused  the  king's  press 
damnably.  I  have  got,  in  exchange  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  soldiers,  three  hundred  and  odd  pounds.  I 
press  me  none  but  good  householders,  yeomen's  sons : 
inquire  me  out  contracted  bachelors,  such  as  had  been 
ask'd  twice  on  the  bans ;  such  a  commodity  of  warm 
slaves,  as  had  as  lief  hear  the  devil  as  a  drum;  such 
as  fear  the  report  of  a  caliver,  worse  than  a  struck 
fowl,  or  a  hurt  wild-duck 79.  I  press'd  me  none  but 
such  toasts  and  butter,  with  hearts  in  their  bellies  no 
bigger  than  pins'  heads,  and  they  have  bought  out 
their  services;  and  now  my  whole  charge  consists  of 
ancients,  corporals,  lieutenants,  gentlemen  of  compa- 
nies, slaves  as  ragged  as  Lazarus  in  the  painted  cloth, 
where  the  glutton's  dogs  licked  his  sores:  and  such 
as,  indeed,  were  never  soldiers ;  but  discarded  unjust 
serving-men,  younger  sons  to  younger  brothers,  re- 
volted tapsters,  and  ostlers  trade-fallen  5  the  cankers 
of  a  calm  world,  and  a  long  peace:  ten  times  more 
dishonourable  ragged  than  an  old  faced  ancient80: 
and  such  have  I,  to  fill  up  the  rooms  of  them  that 
have  bought  out  their  services;  that  you  would  think, 
that  I  had  a  hundred  and  fifty  tatter'd  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  press'd 
the  dead  bodies.  No  eye  hath  seen  such  scare- 
crows. I'll  not  march  through  Coventry  with  them, 
that's  flat: — Nay,  and  the  villains  march  wide  be- 


94  FIRST  PART  OF 

twixt  the  legs,  as  if  they  had  gyres  on;  for,  indeed, 
I  had  the  most  of  them  out  of  prison.  There's  but  a 
shirt  and  a  half  in  all  my  company :  and  the  half- 
shirt  is  two  napkins,  tack'd  together,  and  thrown  over 
the  shoulders  like  a  herald's  coat  without  sleeves ; 
and  the  shirt,  to  say  the  truth,  stolen  from  my  host 
at  saint  Alban's,  or  the  red- nose  innkeeper  of  Dam- 
try.  But  that's  all  onej  they'll  find  linen  enough  on 
every  hedge. 

Enter  Prince  Henry  and  Westmoreland. 

P.  Hen.  How  now,  blown  Jack?  how  now,  quilt? 
Fal.  What,   Hal?   How  now,  mad  wag?    what  a 
devil  dost  thou  in  Warwickshire? — My  good  lord  of 
Westmoreland,  I  cry  you  mercy  j  I  thought,  your  ho- 
nour had  already  been  at  Shrewsbury. 

West.  'Faith,  sir  John,  'tis  more  than  time  that  I 
were  there,  and  you  too ;  but  my  powers  are  there 
already:  The  king,  I  can  tell  you,  looks  for  us  all 3 
we  must  away  all  night. 

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

P.  Hen.  I  think,  to  steal  cream  indeed:  for  thy 
theft  hath  already  made  thee  butter.  But  tell  me, 
Jack  j  Whose  fellows  are  these  that  come  after  ? 

Fal.  Mine,  Hal,  mine. 

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

Fal.  Tut,  tut  j  good  enough  to  tossj  food  for 
powder,  food  for  powder ;  they'll  rill  a  pit,  as  well  as 
better:  tush,  man,  mortal  men,  mortal  men. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  95 

IVest.  Ay,  but,  sir  John,  methinks,  they  are  ex- 
ceeding poor  and  bare  5  too  beggarly. 

Fal.  'Faith,  for  their  poverty, — I  know  not  where 
they  had  that:  and  for  their  bareness, — I  am  sure, 
they  never  learn'd  that  of  me. 

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

Fal.  What,  is  the  king  encamp'd? 

West.  He  is,  sir  John  j  I  fear,  we  shall  stay  too 
long. 

Fal.  Well, 
To  the  latter  end  of  a  fray,  and  the  beginning  of  a 

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


SCENE   III. 
The  Rebel  Camp  near  Shrewsbury . 

Enter  Hotspur,  Worcester,    Douglas,    and 

Vernon. 

Hot.  We'll  fight  with  him  to-night. 

Wor.  It  may  not  be. 

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. 


96  FIRST  PART  OF 

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

Ver.  Do  not,  my  lord. 

Do>>g.  You  do  not  counsel  well; 

You  speak  it  out  of  fear,  and  cold  heart. 

Ver.  Do  ms  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,  my  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  br. 

I  wonder  much,  being  men  of  such  great  leading, 
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  half  himself. 

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

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

[The  trumpets  sound  a  parley. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  97 

Enter  Sir  Walter  Blunt. 

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

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

Blunt.  And  God  defend,  but  still  I  should  stand  so, 
So  long  as,  out  of  limit,  and  true  rul<j, 
You  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  peace 
Such  bold  hostility,  teaching  his  duteous  land 
Audacious  cruelty  :  If  that  the  king 
Have  any  way  your  good  deserts  forgot, — 
Which  he  confesseth  to  be  manifold, — 
He  bids  you  name  your  griefs ;  and,  with  all  speed, 
You  shall  have  your  desires,  with  interest ; 
And  pardon  absolute  for  yourself,  and  these, 
Herein  misled  by  your  suggestion. 

Hot.  The  king  is  kind  5  and,  well  we  know,  the 
kin^ 
Knows  at  what  time  to  promise,  when  to  pay. 
My  father,  and  my  uncle,  and  myself, 
Did  give  him  that  same  royalty  he  wears: 

▼  OL.  VII.  H. 


QS  FIRST  PART  OF 

And, — when  he  was  not  six  and  twenty  strong, 

Sick  in  the  world's  regard,  wretched  and  low, 

A  poor  mi  minded  outlaw  sneaking  home, — 

My  father  gave  him  welcome  to  the  shore j 

And, — when  he  heard  him  swear,  and  vow  to  God, 

He  came  but  to  be  duke  of  Lancaster, 

To  sue  his  livery,  and  beg  his  peace  j 

With  tears  of  innocency,  and  terms  of  zeal, — 

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; 

Met  him  in  boroughs,  cities,  villages: 

Attended  him  on  bridges,  stood  in  lanes, 

Laid  gifts  before  him,  proffer'd  him  their  oaths, 

Gave  him  their  heirs 3  as  pages  follow'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  strait  decrees, 

That  lie  too  heavy  on  the  commonwealth: 

Cries  out  upon  abuses,  seems  to  weep 

Over  his  country's  wrongs  5  and,  by  this  face, 

This  «eeming  brow  of  justice,  did  he  win 

The  hearts  of  all  that  he  did  angle  for. 

Proceeded  further ;  cut  me  off  the  heads 


KING  HENRY  IV.  gg 

Of  all  the  favourites,  that  the  absent  king 
In  deputation  left  behind  him  here, 
When  he  was  personal  in  the  Irish  war. 

Blunt.  Tut,  I  came  not  to  hear  this. 

Hot.  Then,  to  the  point. 

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

Blunt.  Shall  I  return  this  answer  to  the  kinsr  ? 

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, 
And  in  the  morning  early  shall  mine  uncle 
Bring  him  our  purposes:  and  so  farewell.  ■   • 

Blunt.  I  would,  you  would  accept  of  grace  and  love. 

Hot.  And,  may  be,  so  we  shall. 

Blunt.  'Pray  heaven,  you  do!  [Exeunt. 


100  FIRST  PART  OF 

SCENE  IF. 
York,     A  Room  in  the  Archbishop's  House. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  York,  and  a  Gentleman. 

Arch.    Hie,  good  sir  Michael j    bear  this  sealed 
brief81, 
With  winged  haste,  to  the  lord  mareshal  j 
This  to  my  cousin  Scroop  j  and  all  the  rest 
To  whom  they  are  directed :   if  you  knew 
How  much  they  do  import,  you  would  make  haste. 

Gent.  My  good  lord, 
I  guess  their  tenor. 

Arch.  Like  enough,  you  do. 

To-morrow,  good  sir  Michael,  is  a  day, 
Wherein  the  fortune  of  ten  thousand  men 
Must  'bide  the  touch :   For,  sir,  at  Shrewsbury, 
As  I  am  truly  given  to  understand, 
The  king,  with  mighty  and  quick- raised  power, 
Meets  with  lord  Harry :  and  I  fear,  sir  Michael, — 
What  with  the  sickness  of  Northumberland, 
(Whose  power  was  in  the  first  proportion,) 
And  what  with  Owen  Glendower's  absence  thence, 
(Who  with  them  was  a  rated  sinew  too, 
And  comes  not  in,  o'er  rul'd  by  prophecies,)  — 
I  fear,  the  power  of  Percy  is  too  weak 
To  wage  an  instant  trial  with  the  king. 

Gent.  Why,  my  good  lord,  you  need  not  fearj 
there's  Douglas, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  101 

And  Mortimer. 

Arch.  No,  Mortimer's  not  there. 

Gent.  But  there  is  Mordake,  Vernon,  lord  Harry 
Percy, 
And  there's  my  lord  of  Worcester  5  and  a  head 
Of  gallant  warriors,  noble  gentlemen. 

Arch.  And  so  there  is:    but  yet  the  king  hath 
drawn 
The  special  head  of  all  the  land  together; — 
The  prince  of  Wales,  lord  John  of  Lancaster, 
The  noble  Westmoreland,  and  warlike  Blunt; 
And  many  more  corrivals,  and  dear  men 
Of  estimation  and  command  in  arms. 

Gent.  Doubt  not,  my  lord,  they  shall  be  well  op- 
posd. 

Arch.  I  hope  no  less,  yet  needful  'tis  to  fear; 
And,  to  prevent  the  worst,  sir  Michael,  speed; 
For,  if  lord  Percy  thrive  not,  ere  the  king 
Dismiss  his  power,  he  means  to  visit  us, — 

For  he  hath  heard  of  our  confederacy, 

And  'tis  but  wisdom  to  make  strong  against  him; 
Therefore,  make  haste;  I  must  go  write  again 
To  other  friends;  and  so  farewell,  sir  Michael. 

[Exeunt  severally. 


102  FIRST  PART  OF 


ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 
The  Kings  Camp  near  Shrewslury. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Prince  Henry,  Prince  John 
of  Lancaster,  Sir  Walter  Blunt,  and  Sir  John 
Falstaff. 

K.  Hen.  How  bloodily  the  sun  begins  to  peer 
Above  yon  busky  hill !  the  day  looks  pale 
At  his  distemperature. 

P.  Hen.  The  southern  wind 

Doth  play  the  trumpet  to  his  purposes 5 
And,  by  his  hollow  whistling  in  the  leaves, 
Foretels  a  tempest,  and  a  blustering  day. 

K.  Hen.  Then  with  the  losers  let  it  sympathise; 
For  nothing  can  seem  foul  to  those  that  win. — 

Trumpet.     Enter  Worcester  and  Vernon. 

How  now,  my  lord  of  Worcester?  'tis  not  well, 
That  you  and  I  should  meet  upon  such  terms 
As  now  we  meet:  You  have  deceiv'd  our  tru:>t; 
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  well. 
What  say  you  to't?  will  you  again  unknit 
This  churlish  knot  of  all-abhorred  war  ; 
And  move  in  that  obedient  orb  again, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  J03 

Where  you  did  give  a  fair  and  natural  light  j 

And  be  no  more  an  exhal'd  meteor, 

A  prodigy  of  fear,  and  a  portent 

Of  broached  mischief  to  the  unborn  times  ? 

Wor.  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 !  how  comes  it 
then? 

Fal.  Rebellion  lay  in  his  way,  and  he  found  it. 

P.  Hen.  Peace,  chewet82,  peace. 

Wor.  It  pleas'd  your  majesty  to  turn  your  looks 
Of  favour,  from  myself,  and  all  our  house  j 
And  yet  I  must  remember  you,  my  lord, 
We  were  the  first  and  dearest  of  your  friends. 
For  you,  my  staff  of  office  did  I  break 
In  Richard's  time>  and  posted  day  and  night 
To  meet  you  on  the  way,  and  kiss  your  hand, 
When  yet  you  were  in  place  and  in  account 
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  right, 
The  seat  of  Gaunt,  dukedom  of  Lancaster: 
To  this  we  swore  our  aid.     But,  in  short  space, 


104  FIRST  PART  OF 

It  raind  down  fortune  showering  on  your  head; 

And  such  a  flood  of  greatness  fell  on  you, — 

What  with  our  help;  what  with  the  absent  king; 

What  with  the  injuries  of  a  wanton  time; 

The  seeming  sufferances  that  you  had  borne ; 

And  the  contrarious  -winds,  that  held  the  king 

So  long  in  his  unlucky  Irish  wars, 

That  all  in  England  did  repute  him  dead,— 

And,  from  this  swarm  of  fair  advantages. 

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  83, 

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, 

Tor  fear  of  swallowing;  but  with  nimble  wing 

We  were  enforc'd,  for  safety  sake,  to  fly 

Out  of  your  sight,  aud  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  ente.rprize. 

K.Hen.  These  tilings,  indeed,  you  have  articu- 
lated, 
Proclaim'd  at  market  crosses,  read  in  churches; 
To  face  the  garment  of  rebellion 
With  some  fine  colour,  that  may  please  the  eye 


KING  HENRY  IV.  105 

Of  fickle  changelings,  and  poor  discontents, 
Which  gape,  and  rub  the  elbow,  at  the  news 
Of  hurly  burly  innovation : 
And  never  yet  did  insurrection  want 
Such  water-colours,  to  impaint  his  cause  j 
Nor  moody  beggars,  starving  for  a  time 
Of  pellmell  havock  and  confusion. 

P.  Hen.  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  active-valiant,  or  more  valiant-young, 
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  j 
And  so,  I  hear,  he  doth  account  me* too: 

Yet  this,  before  my  father's  majesty, 

I  am  content,  that  he  shall  take  the  odds 
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.  And,  prince  of  Wales,  so  dare  we  venture 
thee, 
Albeit,  considerations  infinite 
Do  make  against  it:— No,  good  Worcester,  no, 
We  love  our  people  well j  even  those  we  love, 


106  FIRST  PART  OF 

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  I'll  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,  be  gone  5 
We  will  not  now  be  troubled  with  reply  ; 
We  offer  fair,  take  it  advisedly. 

[Exeunt  Worcester  and  Vernon. 

P.  Hen.  It  will  not  be  accepted,  on  my  life: 
The  Douglas  and  the  Hotspur  both  together 
Are  confident  against  the  world  in  arms. 

K.  Hen.  Hence,   therefore,   every   leader  to   his 
charge ; 
For,  on  their  answer,  we  will  set  on  them: 
And  God  befriend  us,  as  our  cause  is  just ! 

[Exeunt  King,  Blunt,  and  Prince  John. 

Fal.  Hal,  if  thou  see  me  down  in  the  battle,  and 
bestride  me,  so;  'tis  a  point  of  friendship S4. 

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

Fal.  I  would  it  were  bed-time,  Hal,  and  all  well. 

P.  Hen.  Why,  thou  owest  God  a  death.        [Exit. 

Fal.  'Tis  not  due  yet;  I  would  be  loth  to  pay  him 
before  his  day.  What  need  I  be  so  forward  with  him 
that  calls  not  on  me?  Well,  'tis  no  matter;  Honour 
pricks  me  on.  Yea,  but  how  if  honour  prick  me  off 
when  I  come  on?  how  then?  Can  honour  set  to  a 


KING  HENRY  IV.  107 

leg?  No.  Or  an  arm?  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  in 
that  word,  honour?  What  is  that  honour?  Air.  A 
trim  reckoningT — Who  hath  it?  He  that  died  o' Wed- 
nesday. 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?  Detrac- 
tion will  not  suffer  it:  —  therefore  I'll  none  of  it:  Ho- 
nour is  a  mere  scutcheon,  and  so  ends  my  catechism. 

I  Exit. 

SCENE  II. 
The  Re  I  el  Camp. 

Enter  Worcester  and  Vernon. 

Wor.    O,  no,   my  nephew  must  not  know,    sir 
Richard, 
The  liberal  kind  offer  of  the  king. 

Ver.  'Twere  best,  he  did. 

fVbr.  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  faults : 
Suspicion  shall  be  all  stuck  full  of  eyes : 
For  treason  is  but  trusted  like  the  fox; 
Who,  ne'er  so  tame,  so  cherish'd,  and  lock'd  up, 
Will  have  a  wild  trick  of  his  ancestors. 


108  FIRST  P/UIT  OF 

Look  how  we  can,  or  sad,  or  merrily, 

Interpretation  will  misquote  our  looks; 

And  we  shall  feed  like  oxen  at  a  stall, 

The  better  cherish'd,  still  the  nearer  death. 

My  nephew's  trespass  may  be  well  forgot, 

It  hath  the  excuse  of  youth,  and  heat  of  blood  j 

And  an  adopted  name  of  privilege, — 

A  hare-brain'd  Hotspur,  govern'd  by  a  spleen : 

All  his  offences  live  upon  my  head, 

And  on  his  father's  \ — we  did  train  him  on  5 

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,  I'll  say,  'tis  so. 
Here  comes  your  cousin. 

£»^r  Hotspuk  and  Douglas;  and  Officers  and 

Soldiers,   lehind. 

Hot.  My  uncle  is  return'd: — Deliver  up 
My  lord  of  Westmoreland. — Uncle,  What  news? 

Wor.  The  king  will  bid  you  battle  presently. 

Doug.  Defy  him  by  the  lord  of  Westmoreland. 

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

Doug.  Marry,  and  shall,  and  very  willingly. 

[Exit. 

Wor.  There  is  no  seeming  mercy  in  the  king. 

hot.  Did  you  beg  any?  God  forbid! 

IVor.  I  told  him  gently  of  our  grievances, 
Of  his  oath- breaking,  which  he  mended  thus, — 


KING  HENRY  IV.  109 

By  now  forswearing  that  he  is  forsworn : 

He  calls  us,  rebels,  traitors  ;  and  will  scourge 

With  haughty  arms  this  hateful  name  in  us. 

Re-enter  Douglas. 

Doug.   Arm,   gentlemen 5   to   arms!    for  I  have 
thrown 
A  brave  defiance  in  King  Henry's  teeth, 
And  Westmoreland,  that  was  engag'd,  did  bear  it; 
Which  cannot  choose  but  bring  him  quickly  on. 

If  or.  The  prince  of  Wales  stepp'd  forth  before  the 
king, 
And,  nephew,  challeng'd  you  to  single  fight. 

Hot.  O,  '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  tasking?  seem'd  it  in  contempt? 

Vcr.  No,  by  my  soul ;  I  never  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  chronicle; 
Making  you  ever  better  than  his  praise, 
By  still  dispraising  praise,  valued  with  you: 
And,  which  became  him  like  a  prince  indeed, 
He  made  a  blushing  cital  of  himself; 
And  chid  his  truant  youth  with  such  a  grace, 


110  FIPxST  PART  OF 

As  if  he  master' d  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  never  owe  so  sweet  a  hope, 

So  much  misconstrued  in  his  wantonness. 

Hot.  Cousin,  I  think,  thou  art  enamoured 
Upon  his  follies ;  never  did  I  hear 
Of  any  prince,  so  wild,  at  liberty: — 
But,  be  he  as  he  will,  yet  once  ere  night 
I  will  embrace  him  with  a  soldier's  arm, 

That  he  shall  shrink  under  my  courtesy. 

Arm,  arm,  with  speed: And,  fellows,  soldiers, 

friends, 
Better  consider  what  you  have  to  do, 
Than  I,  that  have  not  well  the  gift  of  tongue, 
Can  lift  your  blood  up  with  persuasion. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  here  are  letters  for  you. 

Hot.  I  cannot  read  them  now. — 
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  j 
If  die,  brave  death,  when  princes  die  with  us! 
Now  for  our  conscience, — the  arms  are  fair, 
When  the  intent  of  bearing  them  is  just. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  1 1 1 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Mess.  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  I  can  meet  withal 
In  the  adventure  of  this  perilous  day. 
Now, — EsperanceSs! — Percy! — and  set  on. — 
Sound  all  the  lofty  instruments  of  war, 
And  by  that  musick  let  us  all  embrace: 
For,  heaven  to  earth,  some  of  us  never  shall 
A  second  time  do  such  a  courtesy. 

[The  trumpets  sound.    They  embrace,  and  exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

Plain  near  Shrewsbury. 

Excursions,  and  Parties  fighting.     Alarum  to  the 
battle.    Then  enter  Douglas  andBLUNT,meeting. 

Blunt.  What  is  thy  name,  that  in  the  battle  thus 
Thou  crossest  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  tine. 

Doug.  The  lord  of  Stafford  dear  to-day  hath  bought 


112  FIRST  PART  OF 

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. 

[They  fight,  and  Blunt  is  slain. 

Enter  Hotspur. 

Hot.  O  Douglas,  hadst  thou  fought  at  Holmedon 
thus, 
I  never  had  triumph' d  upon  a  Scot. 

Doug.  All's  done,  all's  won;  here  breathless  lies 
the  king. 
-     Hot.  Where? 

Doug.  Here. 

Hot.  This,  Douglas?    no,  I  know   this  face  full 
well: 
A  gallant  knight  he  was,  his  name  was  Blunt ; 
Semblably  furnish'd  like  the  king  himself. 

Doug.  A  fool  go  with  thy  soul,  whither  it  goes: 
A  borrow'd  title  hast  thou  bought  too  dear. 
Why  didst  thou  tell  me  that  thou  wert  a  king? 

Hot.  The  king  hath  many  marching  in  his  coats. 

Doug.    Now,   by  my  sword,    I  will   kill   all  his 
coats ; 
I'll  murder  all  his  wardrobe,  piece  by  piece, 
Until  I  meet  the  king. 

Hot.  Up  and  away; 

Our  soldiers  stand  full  fairly  for  the  day,       [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  113 

Other  Alarums.     Enter  Falstaff. 

Fdl.  Though  I  could  'scape  shot-free  at  London,  I 
fear  the  shot  here 3  here's  no  scoring,  but  upon  the 
pate. — Soft!  who  art  thou?  Sir  Walter  Blunt ; — 
there's  honour  for  you:  Here's  no  vanity  S61 — I  am 
as  hot  as  molten  lead,  and  as  heavy  too :  God  keep 
lead  out  of  me !  I  need  no  more  weicht  than  mine 
own  bowels. — I  have  led  my  raggamuffins  where 
they  are  pepper'd:  there's  but  three  of  my  hundred 
and  fifty  left  alive 5  and  they  are  for  the  town's  end, 
to  beg  during  life.     But  who  comes  here? 

Enter  Prince  Henry. 

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:    Pr'ythee,  lend  thy 
sword. 

Fal.  O  Hal,  I  pr'ythee,  give  me  leave  to  breathe 
a  while. — Turk  Gregory 87  never  did  such  deeds  in 
arms,  as  I  have  done  this  day.  J  have  paid  Percy,  I 
have  made  him  sure. 

P.  Hen.  He  is,  indeed 5  and  living  to  kill  thee.  I 
pr'ythee,  lend  me  thy  sword. 

Fat.  Nay,  before  God,  Hal,  if  Percy  be  alive, 
thou  get'st  not  my  sword ;  but  take  my  pistol,  if  thou 
wilt. 

P.  Hen.  Give  it  me:  What,  is  it  in. the  case? 

VOL.VIl.  1 


114  FIRST  PART  OF 

Fat  Ay,  Hal;  'tis  hot,  'tis  hot;  there's  that  will 
sack  a  city. 

[The  Prince  draws  out  a  bottle  of  sack. 

P.  Hen.  What,  is't  a  time  to  jest  and  dally  now  ? 

[Throws  it  at  him,  and  exit. 

Pal.  Well,  if  Percy  be  alive,  I'll  pierce  him.  If 
he  do  come  in  my  way,  so;  if  he  do  not,  if  I  come 
in  his,  willingly,  let  him  make  a  carbonado  of  me. 
I  like  not  such  grinning  honour  as  sir  Walter  hath  : 
Give  me  life;  which  if  I  can  save,  so;  if  not,  honour 
comes  unlook'd  for,  and  there's  an  end.  [Exit* 

SCENE   IV. 

Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Alarums.      Excursions.      Enter   the   King,    Prince 
Henry,  Prince  John,  and  Westmoreland. 

A".  Hen.  I  pr'ythee, 
Harry,  withdraw  thyself;  thou  bleed'st  too  much :  — 
Lord  John  of  Lancaster,  go  you  with  him. 

P.  John.  Not  I,  my  lord,  unless  I  did  bleed  too. 

P.  Hen.  I  do  beseech  your  majesty,  make  up, 
Lest  your  retirement  do  amaze  your  friends. 

K.  Hen.  I  will  do  so: — 
My  lord  of  Westmoreland,  lead  him  to  his  tent. 

West.  Come  my  lord,  I  will  lead  you  to  your  tent. 

P.  Hen.  Lead  me,  my  lord?  I  do  not  need  your 
help : 
And  heaven  forbid,  a  shallow  scratch  should  drive 


KING  HENRY  IV.  JiJ 

The  prince  of  Wales  from  such  a  field  as  this  ; 
Where  stain'd  nobility  lies  trodden  on, 
And  rebels'  arms  triumph  in  massacres ! 

P.John.    We  breathe  too  long: — Come,  cousin 
Westmoreland, 

Our  duty  this  way  lies;  for  God's  sake,  come. 

[Exeunt  Prince  John  and  Westmoreland,. 

P.  Hen.  By  heaven,  thou  hast  deceiv'd  me,  Lan- 
caster, 
I  did  not  think  thee  lord  of  such  a  spirit: 
Before,  I  lov'd  thee  as  a  brother,  John; 
But  now,  I  do  respect  thee  as  my  soul. 

K.  Hen.  I  saw  him  hold  lord  Percy  at  the  point, 
With  lustier  maintenance  than  I  did  look  for 
Of  such  an  ungrown  warrior. 

P.  Hen.  O,  this  boy 

Lends  mettle  tG  us  all !  [Exit. 

Alarums.     Enter  Douglas. 

Doug.    Another   king!    they   grow   like  Hydra's 
heads : 
I  am  the  Douglas,  fatal  to  all  those 
That  wear  those  colours  on  them. — What  art  thou, 
That  counterfeit's t  the  person  of  a  king? 

K.  Hen.  The  king  himself;  who,  Douglas,  grieves 
at  heart, 
So  many  of  his  shadows  thou  hast  met, 
And  not  the  very  king.     I  have  two  boys, 
Seek  Percy,  and  thyself,  about  the  field : 
BiU,  seeing  thou  fall'st  on  me  so  luckily, 


116  FIRST  PART  OF 

I  will  assay  thee ;  so  defend  thyself. 

Doug.  I  fear,  thou  art  another  counterfeit ; 
And  yet,  in  faith,  thou  bear'st  thee  like  a  king: 
But  mine,  I  am  sure,  thou  art,  whoe'er  thou  be, 
And  thus  I  win  thee. 

[They  fight;   the  King  being  in  danger,  enter 
Prince  Henry. 

P.  Hen.  Hold  up  thy  head,  vile  Scot,  or  thou  art 
like 
Never  to  hold  it  up  again!  the  spirits 
Of  Shirley,  Stafford,  Blunt,  are  in  my  arms: 
It  is  the  Prince  of  Wales,  that  threatens  thee ; 
Who  never  promiseth,  but  he  means  to  pay. — 

[They  fight  j  and  Douglas  flies. 
Cheerly,  my  lord 5  How  fares  your  grace? — 
Sir  Nicholas  Gawsey  hath  for  succour  sent, 
And  so  hath  Clifton ;  I'll  to  Clifton  straight. 

K.  Hen.  Stay,  and  breathe  a  while :  — 
Thou  hast  redeem'd  thy  lost  opinion ; 
And  show'd,  thou  mak'st  some  tender  of  my  life, 
In  this  fair  rescue  thou  hast  brought  to  me. 

P.  Hen.  O  heaven!  they  did  me  too  much  injury. 
That  ever  said,  I  hearken' d  for  your  death. 
If  it  were  so,  I  might  have  let  alone 
The  insulting  hand  of  Douglas  over  youj 
Which  would  have  been  as  speedy  in  your  end, 
As  all  the  poisonous  potions  in  the  world, 
And  sav'd  the  treacherous  labour  of  your  son. 

A'.  Hen.  Make  up  to  Clifton,  I'll  to  sir  Nicholas 
Gawsey.  [Exit  King  Henry. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  117 

Enter  Hotspur. 

Hot.  If  I  mistake  not,  thou  art  Harry  Monmouth. 

P.  Hen.    Thou  speak'st  as  if  I  would  deny  my 
name. 

Hot.  My  name  is  Harry  Percy. 

P.  Hen.  Why,  then  I  see 

A  very  valiant  rebel  of  the  name. 
I  am  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  and  think  not,  Percy, 
To  share  with  me  in  glory  any  more: 
Two  stars  keep  not  their  motion  in  one  sphere ; 
Nor  can  one  England  brook  a  double  reign, 
Of  Harry  Percy,  and  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

Hot.  Nor  shall  it,  Harry,  for  the  hour  is  come 
To  end  the  one  of  us  5  And  'would  to  God, 
Thy  name  in  arms  were  now  as  great  as  mine! 

P.  Hen.  I'll  make  it  greater,  ere  I  part  from  thee} 
And  all  the  budding  honours  on  thy  crest 
I'll  crop,  to  make  a  garland  for  my  head. 

Hot.  I  can  no  longer  brook  thy  vanities. 

[They  fight. 

Enter  Falstaff. 

Fal.  Well  said,  Hal!  to  it,  Hal !— Nay,  you  shall 
find  no  boy's  play  here,  I  can  tell  you. 

Enter  Douglas  ;  hejights  with  Falstaff,  who  falls 
down  as  if  he  luere  dead,  and  exit  Douglas. 
Hotspur  is  wounded,  and  falls. 

Hot.  O,  Harry,  thou  hast  robb'd  me  of  my  youth : 


US  FIRST  PART  OF 

I  better  brook  the  loss  of  brittle  life, 

Than  those  proud  titles  thou  hast  won  of  me  3 

They  wound  my  thoughts,  worse  than  thy  sword  my 

flesh: 

But  thought's  the  slave  of  life,  and  life  time's  fool} 
And  time,  that  takes  survey  of  all  the  world, 
Must  have  a  stop.     O,  I  could  prophecy, 
But  that  the  earthy  and  cold  hand  of  death 
Lies  on  my  tongue: — No,  Percy,  thou  art  dust, 

And  food  for [Dies. 

P.  Hen.  For  worms,  brave  Percy :  Fare  thee  well, 

great  heart!  — 
Ill-weav'd  ambition,  how  much  art  thou  shrunk ! 
"When  that  this  body  did  contain  a  spirit, 
A  kingdom  for  it  was  too  small  a  bound; 
But  now,  twro  paces  of  the  vilest  earth 
Is  room  enough: — This  earth,  that  bears  thee  dead, 
Bears  not  alive  so  stout  a  gentleman. 
If  thou  wert  sensible  of  courtesy, 
I  should  not  make  so  dear  a  show  of  zeal: — 
But  let  my  favours  hide  thy  mangled  facej 
And,  even  in  thy  behalf,  I'll  thank  myself 
For  doing  these  fair  rites  of  tenderness. 
Adieu,  and  take  thy  praise  with  thee  to  heaven  1 
Thy  ignomy  sleep  with  thee  in  the  grave, 
But  not  remember'd  in  thy  epitaph! 

\_He  sees  Fahtaff  on  the  ground. 
What!  old  acquaintance!   could  not  all  this  flesh    • 
Keep  in  a  little  life?   Poor  Jack,  farewell! 
I  could  have  better  spar'd  a  better  man. 


M"  3TEPI1ES  KEMB1E, 


ErunuvTibv  cjKtrren 


KING  HENRY  IV.  119 

O,  I  should  have  a  heavy  miss  of  thee, 
If  I  were  much  in  love  with  vanity. 
Death  hath  not  struck  so  fat  a  deer  to-day  88, 
Though  many  dearer,  in  this  bloody  fray: — 
Embowell'd  will  I  see  thee  by  and  by; 
Till  then,  in  blood  my  noble  Percy  lie.  [Exit. 

Fal.  [Rising  slowly. ]  Embowell'd  !  if  thou  em- 
bowel me  to-day,  I'll  give  you  leave  to  powder  me, 
and  eat  me  too,  to-morrow.  'Sblood,  '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:  but  to  counterfeit  dying,  when  a  man 
thereby  liveth,  is  to  be  no  counterfeit,  but  the  true 
and  perfect  image  of  life  indeed.  The  better  part  of 
valour  is — discretion;  in  the  which  better  part,  I 
have  saved  my  life.  'Zounds,  I  am  afraid  of  this 
gunpowder  Percy,  though  he  be  dead:  How  if  he 
should  counterfeit  too,  and  rise?  I  am  afraid,  he 
wonld  prove  the  better  counterfeit.  Therefore  I'll 
make  him  sure:  yea,  and  I'll  swear  I  kill'd  him. 
Why  may  not  he  rise,  as  well  as  I?  Nothing  con- 
futes me  but  eyes,  and  nobody  sees  me.  Therefore, 
sirrah,  [Stabbing  him,']  with  a  new  wound  in  your 
thigh,  come  you  along  with  me. 

[Takes  Hotspur  on  his  lack. 

Re-enter  Prince  Henry  and  Prince  John. 
P.  Hen.    Come,  brother  John,   full    bravely  hast 
thou  flcsh'd 


120  FIRST  PART  OF 

Thy  maiden  sword. 

P.  John.  But,  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 

Upon  the  ground. 

Art  thou  alive?  or  is  it  fantasy 
That  plays  upon  our  eyesight?  I  pr'ythee,  speak  j 
We  will  not  trust  our  eyes,  without  our  ears : — 
Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem'st. 

Fal.  No,  that's  certain ;  I  am  not  a  double  man: 
but  if  I  be  not  Jack  Falstaff,  then  am  I  a  Jack. 
There  is  Percy:  [Throwing  the  lody  down."]  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,  I  can  assure  you. 

P.  Hen.   Why,  Percy  I  kill'd  myself,  and  saw  thee 

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

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


KING  HENRY  IV.  121 

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, 
I'll  gild  it  with  the  happiest  terms  I  have. 

\A  retreat  is  sounded. 
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  Prince  Henry  and  Prince  John, 

Fal.  Ill  follow,  as  they  say,  for  reward.     He  that 

rewards  me,  God  reward  him!  If  I  do  grow  great, 

I'll  grow  less ;  for  I'll  purge,  and  leave  sack,  and  live 

cleanly,  as  a  nobleman  should  do. 

[Exit,  hearing  off  the  lody. 


SCENE    V. 

Another  Part  of  the  Field, 

The  trumpets  sound.  Enter  King  Henry,  Prince 
Henry,  Prince  John,  Westmoreland,  and 
Others,  with  Worcester,  and  Vernon,  pri- 
soners. 

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  would'st  thou  turn  our  offers  contrary  ? 
Misuse  the  tenor  of  thy  kinsman's  trust  ? 


122  FIRST  PART  OF 

Three  knights  upon  our  party  slain  to-day, 
A  noble  earl,  and  many  a  creature  else, 
Had  been  alive  this  hour, 
If,  like  a  christian,  thou  hadst  truly  borne 
BetwiKt  our  armies  true  intelligence. 

Wor.  "What  I  have  done,  my  safety  urg'd  me  to 5 
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  and  Vernon,  guarded. 
How  goes  the  field  ? 

P.  Hen.  The  noble  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, — fled  with  the  restj 
And  falling  from  a  hill,  he  was  so  bruisd, 
That  the  pursuers  took  him.     At  my  tent 
The  Douglas  is;  and  I  beseech  your  grace, 
I  may  dispose  of  him. 

K.  Hen.  With  all  my  heart. 

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


KING  HENRY  IV.  123 

K.  Hen.  Then  this  remains, — that  we  divide  our 
power. — 
You,  son  John,  and  my  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  fair  is  done, 
Let  us  not  leave  till  all  our  own  be  won.      [Exeunt. 


ANNOTATIONS 


UPON 


THE  FIRST  PART  OF  HENRY  IV. 


1  Find  we  a  time  for  frighted  peace  to  pant, 
And  breathe  short-winded  accents — ]     That  is, 
Let  us  soften  peace  to  rest  a  while  without  disturb- 
ance, that  she  may  recover  breath  to  propose  new 
wars.  johnson. 

a  No  more  the  thirsty  Erinnys  of  this  soil 
Shall  daub  her  lips  with  heroivn  children's  blood.'] 
Mr.  M.  Mason  supplied  this  reading,  and  Mr.  Stee- 
vens  adopted  it  in  his  last  edition:  not,  however, 
without  confessing  that  he  looked  upon  it  as  very  far- 
fetch'd;  in  which,  I  believe,  all  his  friends  will  agree 
with  him.  On  a  former  occasion  he  suggested  that 
we  should  read  entrants,  with,  in  my  opinion,  a  far 
greater  appearance  of  plausibility.  Entrance  is  the 
word  in  all  the  old  copies.  It  is  true  this  mode  of 
expression  is  very  licentious,  but  is  it  any  thing 
strange  to  find  licentiousness  of  expression  in  Shak- 
speare  ?  The  passage,  as  it  always  has  stood,  may 
easily  be  construed  into  the  simple  meaning  of  "  no 
longer  shall  the  land  smear  her  mouth  with  the  blood 


12(5  ANNOTATIONS. 

of  her  own  children."  At  all  events,  let  what  read- 
ing may  be  right,  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  persuade 
myself  that  Erinnys  (or  the  Fury  of  Discord)  is  not 
wrong. 

3  —  expedience]  for  expedition. 

4  By  those  Welshwomen  done ]   Thus  Holin- 

shed :  ee  The  shameful  villainy  used  by  the  Welsh- 
"  women  towards  the  dead  carcasses,  was  such  as 
"  honest  ears  would  be  ashamed  to  hear." 

STEEVENS. 

5  — to  demand  that  truly  which  thou  wouldst  truly 
know. — ]  The  prince's  objection  to  the  question  seems 
to  be,  that  Falstarf  had  asked  in  the  night  what  was 
the  time  of  day.  johnson. 

6  — let  not  us,  that  are  squires  of  the  night's  body, 
le  called  thieves  of  the  day's  beauty.]  This  conveys 
no  manner  of  idea  to  me.  How  could  they  be  called 
thieves  of  the  day's  beauty  ?  They  robbed  by  moon- 
shine; they  could  not  steal  the  fair  day-light.  I  have 
ventured  to  substitute  booty ;  and  this  I  take  to  be 
the  meaning.  Let  us  not  be  called  thieves,  the  pur- 
loiners  of  that  booty,  which,  to  the  proprietors,  was 
the  purchase  of  honest  labour  and  industry  by  day. 

THEOBALD. 

7  — my  old  lad  of  the  castle;]  Mr.  Rowe  took  no- 
tice of  a  tradition,  that  this  part  of  FalstafFwas  written 
originally  under  the  name  of  Oldcastle.  An  inge- 
nious correspondent  hints  to  me,  that  the  passage 
above  quoted  from  our  author  proves  wmat  Mr.  Rowe 
tells  us  was  a  tradition.     Old  lad  of  the  castle  seems 


ANNOTATIONS.  127 

to  have  a  reference  to  Oldcastle.  Besides,  if  this  had 
not  been  the  tact,  why,  in  the  epilogue  to  The  Second 
Part  of  Henry  IV.  where  our  author  promises  to  con- 
tinue his  story  with  Sir  John  in  it,  should  he  say, 
"  Where,  for  any  thing  I  know,  FalstafF  shall  die  of 
f<  a  sweat,  unless  already  he  be  killed  with  your  hard 
"  opinions  j  for  Oldcastle  died  a  martyr,  and  this  is 
"  not  the  man."  This  looks  like  declining  a  point 
that  had  been  made  an  objection  to  him.  I'll  give  a 
farther  matter  in  proof,  which  seems  almost  to  iix  the 
charge.  I  have  read  an  old  play,  called,  The  famous 
victories  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  containing  the  honour- 
able battle  of  Agincourt. The  action  of  this  piece 

commences  about  the  14th  year  of  K.  Henry  the 
Fourth's  reign,  and  ends  with  Henry  the  Fifth's  mar- 
rying princess  Catharine  of  France.  The  scene  opens 
with  prince  Henry's  robberies.  Sir  John  Oldcastle  is 
one  of  the  gang,  and  called  Jockiej  and  Ned  and 

Gadshill  are  two  other  comrades. From  this  old 

imperfect  sketch,  I  have  a  suspicion,  Shakspeare 
might  form  his  two  parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  and 
his  history  of  Henry  the  Fifth ;  and  consequently  it 
is  not  improbable,  that  he  might  continue  the  men- 
tion of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  till  some  descendants  of 
that  family  moved  queen  Elizabeth  to  command  him 
to  change  the  name.  Theobald. 

my  old  lad  of  the  castle  j]  This  alludes  to 

the  name  Shakspeare  first  gave  to  this  buffoon  cha- 
racter, which  was  Sir  John  Oldcastle ;  and  when  he 
changed  the  name  he  forgot  to  strike  out  this  expres- 


]2S  ANNOTATIONS. 

sion  that  alluded  to  it.  The  reason  of  the  change 
was  this;  one  Sir  John  Oldcastle  having  suffered  in 
the  time  of  Henry  the  Fifth  for  the  opinions  of  Wick- 
liffe,  it  gave  offence,  and  therefore  the  poet  altered  it 
to  Falstaff,  and  endeavours  to  remove  the  scandal  in 
the  epilogue  to  The  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.  Ful- 
ler takes  notice  of  this  matter  in  his  Church  His- 
tory  "  Stage- poets   have  themselves   been   very 

"  bold  with,  and  others  very  merry  at,  the  memory 
"  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  whom  they  have  fancied  a 
fC  boon  companion,  a  jovial  royster,  and  a  coward  to 
<(  boot.  The  best  is,  Sir  John  FalstafF  hath  relieved 
ff  the  memory  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  and  of  late  is 
<e  substituted  buffoon  in  his  place."  Book  4.  p.  l6b. 
But,  to  be  candid,  I  believe  there  was  no  malice  in 
the  matter.  Shakspeare  wanted  a  droll  name  to  his 
character,  and  never  considered  whom  it  belonged 
to :  we  have  a  little  instance  in  The  Merry  Jlrivcs  of 
Windsor,  where  he  calls  his  French  quack,  Caius,  a 
name  at  that  time  very  respectable,  as  belonging  to 
an  eminent  and  learned  physician,  one  of  the  foun- 
ders of  Caius  College  in  Cambridge.     Wareurton-. 

The  propriety  of  this  note  the  reader  will  find  con- 
tested at  the  beginning  of  Henry  V.  Sir  John  Old- 
castle was  not  a  character  ever  introduced  by  Shak- 
speare, nor  did  he  ever  occupy  the  place  of  Falstaff. 
The  play  in  which  Oldcastle's  name  occurs  was  not 
the  work  of  our  poet.  steevens. 

8  — a  buff  jerkin  a  most  siveet  role  of  durance?"] 
To  understand  the  propriety  of  the  prince's  answer, 


ANNOTATIONS.  129 

it  must  be  remarked  that  the  sheriff's  officers  were 
formerly  clad  in  buff.  So  that  when  Falstaff  asks, 
whether  his  hostess  is  not  a  sweet  wench,  the  prince 
asks  in  return,  whether  it  will  not  le  a  sweet  thing 
to  go  to  prison  by  running  in  debt  to  this  sweet 
wench.  Johnson. 

9  For  obtaining  suits  ?]  Suit,  spoken  of  one  that 
attends  at  court,  means  a  petition ;  used  with  respect 
to  the  hangman,  means  the  clothes  of  the  offender. 

JOHNSON. 

10 — gib  cat,"]  Gib  cat  is  he  cat.  As  melancholy  as 
a  gib  cat,  is  a  proverb  in  Ray's  collection. 

11  — damnable  iteration — ]  For  iteration  Sir  T. 
Hanmer  and  Dr.  Warburton  read  attraction,  of  which 
the  meaning  is  certainly  more  apparent  j  but  an  edi- 
tor is  not  always  to  change  what  he  does  not  under- 
stand. In  the  last  speech  a  text  is  very  indecently 
and  abusively  applied,  to  which  Falstaff  answers, 
thou  hast  damnable  iteration,  or,  a  wicked  trick  of 
repeating  and  applying  holy  texts.  This  I  think  is 
the  meaning.  johnson. 

12  In  former  editions: 

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

Enter  Poins. 

Poins.  Now  shall  we  know,  if '  Gadshill  have  set  a 
match.']  Mr.  Pope  has  given  us  one  signal  obsen  ation 
in  his  preface  to  our  authors  works.  "  Throughout 
"  his  plays"  says  he,  "  had  all  the  speeches  been 

VOL.  VII.  K 


130  ANNOTATIONS. 

"  printed  without  the  very  names  of  the  persons,  I 
"  believe  one  might  have  applied  them  with  cer- 
"  tainty  to  every  speaker."  But  how  fallible  the 
most  sufficient  critic  may  be,  the  passage  in  contro- 
versy is  a  main  instance.  As  signal  a  blunder  has 
escaped  all  the  editions  here,  as  any  through  the 
whole  set  of  plays.  Will  any  one  persuade  me,  Shak- 
speare  could  be  guilty  of  such  an  inconsistency,  as  to 
make  Poins  at  his  first  entrance  want  news  of  Gads- 
hill,  and  immediately  after  to  be  able  to  give  a  full 
account  of  him? — No;  Falstaff,  seeing  Poins  at  hand, 
turns  the  stream  of  his  discourse  from  the  prince,  and 
says,  '*  Now  shall  we  know,  whether  Gadshill  has 
"  set  a  match  for  us 3"  and  then  immediately  falls 
into  railing  and  invectives  against  Poins.  How  ad- 
mirably is  this  in  character  for  Falstaff!  And  Poins, 
who  knew  well  his  abusive  manner,  seems  in  part  to 
overhear  him:  and  so  soon  as  he  has  returned  the 
princes  salutation,  cries,  by  way  of  answer,  "  What 
"  says  Monsieur  Remorse  ?  What  says  Sir  Jack  Sack- 
"  and-Sugar?"  Theobald. 

Mr.  Theobald  has  fastened  on  an  observation  made 
by  Mr.  Pope,  hyperbolical  enough,  but  not  contra- 
dicted by  the  erroneous  reading  in  this  place,  the 
speech,  like  a  thousand  others,  not  being  so  charac- 
teristic as  to  be  infallibly  applied  to  the  speaker. 
Theobald's  triumph  over  the  other  editors  might  have 
been  abated  by  a  confession,  that  the  first  edition 
gave  him  at  least  a  glimpse  of  the  emendation. 

JOHNSON. 


ANNOTATIONS.  131 

13  ~-for  the  nonce,,]  That  is,  as  I  conceive,  for  the 
occasion.  This  phrase,  which  was  very  frequently, 
though  not  always  very  precisely,  used  by  our  old 
writers,  I  suppose  to  have  been  originally  a  corrup- 
tion of  corrupt  Latin.  From  pro-nunc,  I  suppose, 
cameybr  the  nunc,  and  so  for  the  nonce-,  just  as  from 
ad-nunc  came  a-non.  The  Spanish  entonces  has 
been  formed  in  the  same  manner  from  in-tunc. 

TYRRWHITT. 

14  This  speech  is  very  artfully  introduced  to  keep 
the  prince  from  appearing  vile  in  the  opinion  of  the 
audience ;  it  prepares  them  for  his  future  reformation  j 
and,  what  is  yet  more  valuable,  exhibits  a  natural 
picture  of  a  great  mind  offering  excuses  to  itself,  and 
palliating  those  follies  which  it  can  neither  justify  nor 
forsake.  johxson. 

15  I  will  from  henceforth  rather  be  myself, 
Mighty,  and  to  be  fear  d,  than  my  condition,] 

i.  e.  I  will  from  henceforth  rather  put  on  the  cha- 
racter that  becomes  me,  and  exert  the  resentment  of 
an  injured  king,  than  still  continue  in  the  inactivity 
and  mildness  of  my  natural  disposition. 

16 — Frontier — ]  was  anciently  used  fox  forehead. 
So  Stubbs,  in  his  Anatomy  of  Abuses,  15Q5.  "  Then 
"  on  the  eds;es  of  their  bolster' d  hair,  which  standeth 
"  crested  round  their  frontiers,  and  hanging  over 
(i  their  faces,"  &c.  stejlvens. 

17  — pouncet-box — ]  A  small  box  for  musk  or  other 
perfumes  then  in  fashion :  the  lid  of  which,  being  cut 


132  ANNOTATIONS. 

with  openwork,  gave  it  its  name  5  from  poinsoner,  to 
prick,  pierce,  or  engrave.  warburton. 

iS  Took  it  in  snuff:]  Snvff  is  equivocally  used  for 
anger  and  a  powder  taken  up  the  nose. 

19 an  eye  of  death,']  That  is,  an  eye  menacing 

death.  Hotspur  seems  to  describe  the  king  as  trem- 
bling with  rage  rather  than  fear.  johnson. 

20  — this  canker,  Bolingbroke?]  This  canker,  i.e. 
this  canker-rose,  or  wild-rose.  The  canker-rose  is 
the  dog  rose,  the  flower  of  the  Cynosbaton. 

21  On  the  unsteadfast  footing  of  a  spear.~\  On  a 
bridge  laid  across,  of  no  more  width  of  tread,  than 
the  thickness  of  a  spear. 

zz  By  heaven,  vie  thinks,  &c]  Gildon,  a  critic  of 
the  size  of  Dennis,  calls  this  speech,  without  any 
ceremony,  "  a  ridiculous-  rant  and  absolute  madness." 
Mr.  Theobald  talks  in  the  same  strain.  The  French 
critics  had  taught  these  people  just  enough  to  under- 
stand where  Shakspeare  had  transgressed  the  rules  of 
the  Greek  tragic  writers j  and,  on  those  occasions, 
they  are  full  of  the  poor  frigid  cant  of  fable,  senti- 
ment, diction,  unities,  &c.  But  it  is  another  thing 
to  get  to  Shakspeare's  sense:  to  do  this  required  a 
little  of  their  own.  For  want  of  which,  they  could 
not  see  that  the  poet  here  uses  an  allegorical  covering 
to  express  a  noble  and  very  natural  thought. — Hot- 
spur, all  on  fire,  exclaims  against  huckstering  and  bar- 
tering for  honour,  and  dividing  it  into  shares.  O! 
says  he,  could  I  be  sure  that  when  I  had  purchased 


ANNOTATIONS.  J  33 

honour  I  should  wear  her  dignities  without  a  rival — 
what  then  ?  Why  then, 

By  heav'n,  methinks  it  were  an  easy  leap 
To  pull  bright  honour  from  the  pale- fac  d  moon: 
i  e.  though  some  great  and  shining  character,  in  the 
most  elevated  orb,  was  already  in  possession  of  her, 
yet  it  would,  methinks,  be  easy  by  greater  acts,  to 
eclipse  his  glory,  and  pluck  all  his  honours  from  him] 
Or  dive  into  the  lottom  of  the  deepy 
And  pluck  up  drowned  honour  by  the  locks : 
i.  e.  or  what  is  still  more  difficult,  though  there  were 
in  the  world  no  great  examples  to  incite  and  fire  my 
emulation,  but  that  honour  was  quite  sunk  and  bu- 
ried in  oblivion,  yet  would  I  bring  it  back  into  vogue, 
and  render  it  more  illustrious  than  ever.  So  that  we 
see,  though  the  expression  be  sublime  and  daring, 
yet  the  thought  is  the  natural  movement  of  an  heroic 
mind.  Euripides  at  least  thought  so,  when  he  put 
the  very  same  sentiment,  in  the  same  words,  into  the 
mouth  of  Eteocles,  "  1  will  not,  madam,  disguise 
(t  my  thoughts  5  I  would  scale  heaven,  I  would  de- 
"  scend  to  the  very  entrails  of  the  earth,  if  so  be  that 
"  by  that  price  I  could  obtain  a  kingdom." 

WARBURTOX. 

Though  I  am  very  far  from  condemning  this  speech 
with  Gildon  and  Theobald,  as  absolute  madness,  yet 
I  cannot  find  in  it  that  profundity  of  reflection  and 
beauty  of  allegory  which  the  learned  commentator 
has  endeavoured  to  display.  This  sally  of  Hotspur 
may  be,  I  think,  soberly  and  rationally  vindicated  as 


134  ANNOTATIONS. 

the  violent  eruption  of  a  mind  inflated  with  ambition 
and  fired  with  resentment ;  as  the  boasted  clamour  of 
a  man  able  to  do  much,  and  eager  to  do  more ;  as  the 
hasty  motion  of  turbulent  desire)  as  the  dark  expres- 
sion of  indetermined  thoughts.  The  passage  from 
Euripides  is  surely  not  allegorical,  yet  it  is  produced, 
and  properly,  as  parallel.  johnson. 

7,3  — ly  raising  of  a  head:]  A  head  is  a  body  of 
forces. 

a+  The  king  will  always,  &c.~]  This  is  a  natural 
description  of  the  state  of  mind  between  those  that 
have  conferred,  and  those  that  have  received,  obliga- 
tions too  great  to  be  satisfied. 

That  this  would  be  the  event  of  Northumberland's 
disloyalty  was  predicted  by  king  Richard  in  the  for- 
mer play.  JOHNSON. 

25 out  of  all  cess  ]     The  Oxford  Editor  not 

understanding  this  phrase,  has  altered  it  to — out  of  all 
case.  As  if  it  were  likely  that  a  blundering  tran- 
scriber should  change  so  common  a  word  as  case  for 
cess :  which ,  it  is  probable,  he  understood  no  more 
than  this  critic ;  but  it  means  out  of  all  measure:  the 
phrase  being  taken  from  a  cess,  tax,  or  subsidy j 
which  being  by  regular  and  moderate  rates,  when 
any  thing  was  exorbitant,  or  out  of  measure,  it  was 
said  to  be,  out  of  all  cess,  warburton. 

2,6  — clank — ]  i.  e.  wet,  rotten. 

*7  — two  razes  of  ginger — ]  As  our  author  in  seve- 
ral passages  mentions  a  race  of  ginger,  I  thought  pro- 
per to  distinguish  it  from  the  raze  mentioned  here. 


ANNOTATIONS.  135 

The  former  signifies  no  more  than  a  single  root  of 
it:  but  a  raze  is  the  Indian  term  for  a  bale  of  it. 

THEOBALD. 

i8  St.  Nicholas'  darks, ]  St.  Nicholas  was  the 

patron  saint  of  Scholars:  and  Nicholas,,  or  Old  Nick, 
is  a  cant  name  for  the  devil.  Hence  he  equivocally 
calls  robbers,  St.  Nicholas's  darks,     warburton. 

Highwaymen  or  robbers  were  so  called,  or  St.  Ni- 
cholas's knights. 

"  A  mandrake  grown  under  some  heavy  tree, 

"  There,  where  St.  Nicholas's  knights  not  long 

before 
u  Had  dropt  their  fat  axungia  to  the  lee." 

Glareanns  Fadianus's  Panegyric  upon 
Tom.  Coryat, 

DR.  GRAY. 

In  the  old  tragedy  of  Soliman  and  Perseda  I  met 
with  the  following,  passage,  which  confirms  Dr. 
Gray's  observation.  Piston,  a  servant,  who  is  taken 
in  the  act  of  picking  a  dead  man's  pocket,  apologizes 
for  himself  in  this  manner: 

"  through  pure  good  will, 

"  Seeing  he  was  going  towards  heaven,  I  thought 
"  To  see  if  he  had  a  passport  from  St.  Nicholas  or 
not." 
Again  in  Shirley's  Match  at  Midnight,  1033. 

"  I  think  yonder  come  prancing  down  the  hills  from 
"  Kingston,  a  couple  of  St,  Nicholas's  darks." 
Aerain  in  The  Hollander, 

— "  to  wit,  divers  books,  and  St.  Nicholas's  darks." 


136  ANNOTATIONS. 

So  in  A  Christian  turn'd  Turk,  l6l2. 
— "  We  are  prevented; — 
"  St.  Nicholas  s  clerks  are  stepp'd  up  before  us." 

STEEVENS. 

a9 lur go-masters,  and  great  oneyers;]  "  Per- 

"  haps,  oneraires,  trustees,  or  commissioners;"  says 
Mr.  Pope.  But  how  this  word  comes  to  admit  of  any 
such  construction,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know.  To  Mr. 
Pope's  second  conjecture,  "  of  cunning  men  that  look 
"  sharp  and  aim  well,"  I  have  nothing  to  reply  se- 
riously :  but  choose  to  drop  it.  The  reading  which  I 
have  substituted,  I  owe  to  the  friendship  of  the  inge- 
nious Nicholas  Hardinge,  Esq.  A  moneyer  is  an  offi- 
cer of  the  mint,  which  makes  coin,  and  delivers  out 
the  king's  money.  Moneyers  are  also  taken  for  ban- 
quers,  or  those  that  make  it  their  trade  to  turn  and 
return  money.  Either  of  these  acceptations  will  ad- 
mirably square  with  our  author's  context. 

THEOBALD. 

This  is  a  very  acme  and  judicious  attempt  at  emen- 
dation, and  is  not  undeservedly  adopted  by  Dr.  War- 
burton.  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads  great  owners, 
not  without  equal  or  greater  likelihood  of  truth.  I 
know  not  however  whether  any  change  is  necessary; 
Gads-hill  tells  the  chamberlain  that  he  is  joined  with 
no  mean  wretches,  but  with  burgomasters  and  great 
ones,  or  as  he  terms  them  in  merriment  by  a  cant 
termination,  great  oneyers,  or  grealone-cers,  as  we 
say  privateer,  auctioneer,  circuiieer.  This  is  I  fancy 
the  whole  of  the  matter.  johnson. 


ANNOTATIONS.  137 

30  — we  have  the  receipt  of  fern-seed, — ]  Fern  is 
one  of  those  plants  which  have  their  seed  on  the  back 
of  the  leaf  so  small  as  to  escape  the  sight.  Those  who 
perceived  that  fern  was  propagated  by  semination, 
and  yet  could  never  see  the  seed,  were  much  at  a  loss 
for  a  solution  of  the  difficulty ;  and  as  wonder  ahvays 
endeavours  to  augment  itself,  they  ascribed  to  fern- 
seed  many  strange  properties,  some  of  which  the 
rustick  virgins  have  not  yet  forgotten  or  exploded. 

JOHNSON. 

31  — mammets — ]  Puppets. 

32  — Corinthian — ]  A  wencher. 

33  — under -skinher — ]  A  tapster j  an  under-drawer. 
Skink  is  drink,  and  a  skinker  is  one  that  serves  drink 
at  table.  johnson. 

33  — nott-pated — ]  Means  having  the  hair  cut 
round  and  short.  Such  oxen  and  sheep  are  called 
nott  in  some  counties,  as,  by  nature,  have  no  horns. 

35  — puke-stocking — ]  In  Barret's  Alvearie,  an  old 
Latin  and  English  dictionary,  printed  1580,  I  find 
a  puke  colour  explained  as  being  a  colour  between 
russet  and  black,  and  is  rendered  in  Latin  pullus. 

36  Caddis-g-arter — ]  Caddis  was,  1  believe,  a  kind 
of  coarse  ferret.  The  garters  of  Shakspeare's  time 
were  worn  in  sight,  and  consequently  were  expen- 
sive. He  who  would  submit  to  wear  a  coarser  sort, 
was  probably  called  by  this  contemptuous  distinction, 
which  I  meet  with  again  in  Glapthorne's  Wit  in  a 
Constable,  10"3<). 


J  38  ANNOTATIONS. 

" dost  hear, 

(t  My  honest  caddis- garters." 
This  is  an  address  to  a  servant.  steevens. 

For  a  proof  that  Mr.  Steevens  is  right,  in  saying 
Caddis  signified  coarse  ferret,  one  instance  may  still 
be  brought.  The  charity  boys  at  Exeter  call  by  the 
name  of  a  Caddis,  the  string  of  green  or  red  ferret 
which  is  tied  round  their  blue  caps  as  a  distinction  of 
the  two  schools. 

37  Rivo  says  the  drunkard.']  This  was  a  cant 
word  of  the  English  taverns. 

3S  Didst  thou  never  see  Titan,  &c. — that  melted  at 
the  siveet  tale  of  the  son!]  The  former  editions  read 
sun:  in  either  way  the  sense  is  obscure.  This  ab- 
surd reading  possesses  all  the  copies  in  general ;  and 
though  it  has  passed  through  such  a  number  of  im- 
pressions, is  nonsense  -,  which  we  may  pronounce  to 
have  arisen  at  first  from  the  inadvertence,  either  of 
transcribers,  or  the  compositors  at  press.  'Tis  well 
known,  Titan  is  one  of  the  poetical  names  of  the  sun ; 
but  we  have  no  authority  from  fable  for  Titan's  melt- 
ing away  at  his  own  sweet  tale,  as  Narcissus  did  at 
the  reflection  of  his  own  form.  The  poet's  meaning 
was  certainly  this  :  Falstaff  enters  in  a  great  heat, 
after  having  been  robbed  by  the  Prince  and  Poins  in 
disguise:  and  the  Prince  seeing:  him  in  such  a  sweat, 
makes  the  following  simile  upon  him  :  "  Do  but  look 
"  upon  that  compound  of  grease ; — his  fat  drips  away 
fC  with  the  violence  of  his  motion,  just  as  lutter  does 


ANNOTATIONS.  139 

"  with  the  heat  of  the  sun-beams  darting  full  upon 

*<  it."  THEOBALD. 

Didst  thou  never  see  Titan  kiss  a  disk  of  butter? 
pitiful- hearted  Titan!  that  melted  at  the  sweet  tale 
of  the  sun  ?]  This  perplexes  Mr.  Theobald  j  he  calls 
it  nonsense,  and,  indeed,  having  made  nonsense  of  it, 
changes  it  to  pitiful-hearted  butter.  But  the  com- 
mon reading  is  right:  and  all  that  wants  restoring  is 
a  parenthesis,  into  which  (pitiful- hearted  Titan!) 
should  be  put.  Pitiful-hearted  means  only  amorous, 
which  was  Titan's  character:  the  pronoun  that  refers 
to  butter.  But  the  Oxford  Editor  goes  still  further, 
and  not  only  takes,  without  ceremony,  Mr.  Theo- 
bald's bread  and  butter,  but  turns  tale  into  face;  not 
perceiving  that  the  heat  of  the  sun  is  figuratively  re- 
presented as  a  love-tale,  the  poet  having  before  called 
him  pitiful-hearted,  or  amorous.       warburton. 

I  have  left  this  passage  as  I  found  it,  desiring  only 
that  the  reader,  who  inclines  to  follow  Dr.  Warbur- 
ton's  opinion,  will  furnish  himself  with  some  proof 
that  pitiful-hearted  was  ever  used  to  signify  amorous, 
before  he  pronounces  this  emendation  to  be  just.  I 
own  I  am  unable  to  do  it  for  him;  and  though  I 
ought  not  to  decide  in  favour  of  any  violent  proceed- 
ings against  the  text,  must  own,  that  the  reader  who 
looks  for  sense  as  the  words  stand  at  present,  must  be 
indebted  for  it  to  Mr.  Theobald. 

Shall  I  offer  a  bolder  alteration  ?  In  the  oldest  copy 
the  contested  part  of  this  passage  appears  thus : 
at  the  sweet  tale  of  the  sonnes. 


140  ANNOTATIONS. 

The  author  might  have  written  pitiful-hearted  Titan, 
who  melted  at  the  sweet  taleofhisson,  i.e.  of  Phaeton, 
who  by  a  fine  story  won  on  the  easy  nature  of  his  fa- 
ther so  far,  as  to  obtain  from  him  the  guidance  of  his 
own  chariot  for  a  day.  steevens. 

39  I  would  I  were  a  weaver;  /  could  sing  psalms, 
or  any  thing.']  In  the  persecutions  of  the  protestants 
in  Flanders  under  Philip  II.  those  who  came  over  into 
England  on  that  occasion,  brought  with  them  the 
woollen  manufactory.  These  were  Calvinists,  who 
"were  always  distinguished  for  their  love  of  psalmody. 

WARBURTON. 

40  Their  points  being  broken — Down  Jell  their 
hose.]  To  understand  Poins's  joke,  the  double  mean- 
ing of  point  must  be  remembered,  which  signifies  the 
sharp  end  of  a  weapon,  and  the  lace  of  a  garment. 
The  cleanly  phrase  for  letting  down  the  hose,  ad 
levandum  alvum,  was  to  untruss  a  point.    Johnson. 

41  Kendal- Green — ]  Kendal  in  Westmoreland,  as 
I  have  been  told,  is  a  place  famous  for  dying  cloths, 
C5c.  with  several  very  bright  colours. 

4*  T allow -\eech — ]  In  some  parts  of  the  kingdom 
a  cake  or  mass  of  wax  or  tallow  is  called  a  keech. 

4i  — as  much  as  will  make  him  a  royal  man, — ]  I 
believe  here  is  a  kind  of  jest  intended.  He  that,  re- 
ceived a  nolle  was,  in  cant  laneuasie,  called  a  noble- 
man  :  in  this  sense  the  prince  catches  the  word,  and 
bids  the  landlady  give  him  as  much  as  will  make  him 
a  royal  man,  that  is,  a  real  or  royal  man,  and  send 
him  away.  johnson. 


ANNOTATIONS.  141 

The  nolle,  as  Mr.Tyrwhitt  observes,  is  of  the  value 
of  6s.  8d.  the  real  or  royal  10s. 

44 bombast?]   Is  the  stuffing  of  clothes. 

JOHNSON. 

45 pistol—]   Shakspeare  never  has  any  care  to 

preserve  the  manners  of  the  time.  Pistols  were  not 
known  in  the  age  of  Henry.  Pistols  were,  I  believe, 
about  our  author's  time,  eminently  used  by  the  Scots. 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  somewhere  makes  mention  of  a 
Scottish  pistol.  JOHNSON. 

46 blue-caps—']   A  name  of  ridicule  given  to 

the  Scots  from  their  blue  bonnets.  Johnson. 

47  — You  may  buy  land  now,  &c]  In  former  times 
the  prosperity  of  the  nation  was  known  by  the  value 
of  land,  as  now  by  the  price  of  stocks.  Before  Henry 
the  Seventh  made  it  safe  to  serve  the  king  regnant,  it 
was  the  practice  at  every  revolution,  for  the  con- 
queror to  confiscate  the  estates  of  those  that  opposed, 
and  perhaps  of  those  who  did  not  assist  him.  Those, 
therefore,  that  foresaw  a  change  of  government,  and 
thought  their  estates  in  danger,  were  desirous  to  sell 
them  in  haste  for  something  that  mis;ht  be  carried 
away.  johnson. 

43  Well,  here's  my  leg,]  i.e.  my  obeisance  to  my 
father. 

49  — a  mitcher,]  i.  e.  a  truant.  The  word  is  still 
in  use  in  Devonshire. 

50  — rabbet-sucker, — ]  is,  I  suppose,  a  sucki?ig  rab- 
bet. The  jest  is  in  comparing  himself  to  something 
thin  and  little.     So  a  poulterers  hare;  a  hare  hung 


142  ANNOTATIONS. 

up  by  the  hind  legs  without  a  skin,  is  long  and 
slender.  johnson. 

51 bolting-hutch — ]  To  bolt  is  to  separate  the 

flower  from  the  bran.  The  large  wooden  trough 
into  which  the  flour  passes  from  the  loiter  is  called 
the  hutch. 

52  Manning-tree  ox — ]  Manning- tree  in  Essex, 
and  the  neighbourhood  of  it,  is  famous  for  the  rich- 
ness of  the  pastures.  The  farms  thereabouts  are 
chiefly  tenanted  by  graziers.  Some  ox  of  an  unusual 
size  was,  I  suppose,  roasted  there  on  an  occasion  of 
public  festivity.  steevens. 

53  Go  hide  thee  behind  the  arras. — ]  The  bulk  of 
Falstaff  made  him  not  the  fittest  to  be  concealed  be- 
hind the  hangings,  but  every  poet  sacrifices  some- 
thing to  the  scenery  j  if  Falstaff  had  not  been  hidden 
he  could  not  have  been  found  asleep,  nor  had  his 
pockets  searched.  johnson. 

In  old  houses  there  were  always  large  spaces  left 
between  the  arras  and  the  walls,  sufficient  to  contain 
even  one  of  Falstaff 's  bulk.  Such  are  those  which 
Fantome  mentions  in  The  Drummer.       steevens. 

54  The  man,  I  do  assure  you,  is  not  here,~\  Every 
reader  must  regret  that  Shakspeare  would  not  give 
himself  the  trouble  to  furnish  prince  Henry  with 
some  more  pardonable  excuse  for  the  absence  of  Fal- 
staff, than  by  obliging  him  to  have  recourse  to  an 
absolute  falsehood,  and  that  too  uttered  under  the 
sanction  of  so  strong  an  assurance.  steevens. 

55  /  know  his  death  will  be  a  march  of  twelve- 


ANNOTATIONS.  143 

score,]  i.e.  it  will  kill  him  to  march  so  far  as  twelve- 
score  yards. 

56 at  my  nativity,  &c]  Most  of  these  prodi- 
gies appear  to  have  been  invented  by  Shakspeare. 
Holinshed  says  only,  "  Strange  wonders  happened  at 
"  the  nativity  of  this  man  j  for  the  same  night  he  was 
V  born,  all  his  father's  horses  in  the  stable  were 
"  found  to  stand  in  blood  up  to  their  bellies." 

STEEVENS. 

57  Diseased  naiure — ]  The  poet  has  here  taken, 
from  the  perverseness  and  contrariousness  of  Hot- 
spur's temper,  an  opportunity  of  raising  his  charac- 
ter, by  a  very  rational  and  philosophical  confutation 
of  superstitious  error.  Johnson. 

58  — a  Irazen  canstich — ]  Candlestick  was  an- 
ciently written  canstick.  Heywood  and  several  of  the 
old  writers,  constantly  spell  it  in  this  manner. 

59 of  the  moldwarp  and  the  ant,~]  This  alludes 

to  an  old  prophecy,  which  is  said  to  have  induced 
Owen  Glendower  to  take  arms  against  king  Henry. 
See  Hall's  Chronicle,  fo.  20.  pope. 

So,  in  The  Mirror  of  Magistrates,  written  by 
Phaer,  the  old  translator  of  Virgil,  Owen  Glendower 
is  introduced  speaking  of  himself, 

"  And  for  to  set  us  hereon  more  ao;o£, 
"  A  prophet  came  (a  vengeance  take  them  all !) 
"  Amrmingf  Henry  to  be  Gogmas-osr, 
"  Whom  Merlin  doth  a  mouldwarpe  ever  call, 
l<  Accurs'd  of  God,  that  must  be  brought  in 
thrall, 


144  ANNOTATIONS. 

"  By  a  wolfe,  a  dragon,  and  a  Hon  strong, 

"  Which  should  divide  his  kingdom  them  among." 

STEEVENS. 

60 profited 

In  strange  concealments  y\  Skilled  in  wonderful 
secrets. 

61  Upon  the  wanton  rushes  lay  you  down.']  It  was 
anciently  the  custom  to  cover  the  rooms  with  rushes 
as  we  now  do  with  carpets. 

6Z — velvet  guards, — ]  "The  cloaks,  doublets," 
&c.  (says  Stubbs,  in  his  Anatomie  of  Abuses)  "  were 
<e  guarded  with  velvet  guards,  or  else  laced  with 
"  costly  lace."  Speaking  of  women's  gowns,  he  says, 
(i  they  must  be  guarded  with  great  guards  of  velvet, 
"  every  guard  four  or  six  fingers  broad  at  the  least." 
So  in  a  comedy  called  Histriomastix,  1(5 10, 
€t  Out  on  these  velvet  guards,  and  black-lac'd 

"  sleeves, 
"  These  simpering  fashions  simply  followed." 

STEEVENS. 

63  'Tis  the  next  way  to  turn  tailor  or  red  breast 
teacher, ,]  Mr.  Barrington  says  that  proud  tailor  is  still 
a  name  in  Warwickshire  for  the  goldfinch.  The 
meaning  then  of  this  passage  is  that  Percy,  to  express 
his  contempt  for  singing,  as  he  had  done  before  for 
music,  says,  '  it  is  the  next  way,'  or  it  is  but  one  step 
removed  from  the  employment  of  those  who  teach 
birds  to  whistle. 

64  — bavin — ]  is  brushwood,  which,  fired,  burns 
fiercely,  but  is  soon  out. 


ANNOTATIONS.  145 

65 1; reiver's  horse.']  I  suppose  a  brewer's  horse 

was  apt  to  be  lean  with  hard  work.         johnson. 

A  brewer  s  horse  does  not,  perhaps,  mean  a  dray- 
horsey  but  the  cross-beam  on  which  beer-barrels  are 
carried  into  cellars,  &:c.  Perhaps  the  allusion  is  to 
the  taper  form  of  this  machine.  steevens. 

66  —the  knight  of  the  burning  lamp.]  This  is  a 
natural  picture.  Every  man  who  feels  in  himself  the 
pain  of  deformity,  however,  like  this  merry  knight, 
he  may  affect  to  make  sport  with  it  among  those 
whom  it  is  his  interest  to  please,  is  ready  to  revenge 
any  hint  of  contempt  upon  one  whom  he  can  use 
with  freedom.  johnson. 

67 dame  Partlet — ]  Dame  Partlet  is  the  name 

given  to  a  hen,  in  the  old  story  book  of  Reynard  the 
Fox. 

cs  — a  stew 'd  prune — ]  Dr.  Lodge,  in  his  pamphlet 
called  Wit's  Miserie,  or  the  World's  Madnesse,  15QO, 
describes  a  bawd  thus:  "  This  is  shee  that  laies  wait 
"  at  all  the  carriers  for  wenches  new  come  up  to 
"  London ;  and  you  shall  know  her  dwelling  by  a 
"  dish  of  stew'd  prunes  in  the  window,  and  two  or 
"  three  fleering  wenches  sit  knitting  or  sowing  in 
"  her  shop." 

t9  — drawn-fox — ]  The  hunters  draw  a  dead  fox 
over  the  ground  to  exercise  their  hounds ;  hence  the 
allusion  of  the  poet:  because  when  the  dogs  have 
tried  their  uttermost  they  cannot  find  the  animal  they 
were  hunting  after. 

70 maid  Marian — ]    Maid  Marian  is  a  man 

VOL.  VII.  L 


J  46  ANNOTATIONS. 

dressed  like  a  woman,  who  attends  the  dancers  of  the 
morris.  johnson. 

In  the  ancient  Songs  of  Rob  in  Hood  frequent  men- 
tion is  made  of  maid  Marian,  who  appears  to  have 
been  his  concubine.  I  could  quote  mny  passages 
in  my  old  MS.  to  this  purpose,  but  shall  produce 
only  one : 

t(  Good  Robin  Hood  was  living  then, 

"  Which  now  is  quite  forgot, 
"  And  so  was  fayre  maid  Marian,'"  &rc. 

PERCY. 

71  — imlossed — ]  is  swoln,  puffy-        johnson. 

72  — you  will  not  pocket  up  wrong:']  Some  part  of 
this  merry  dialogue  seems  to  have  been  lost.  I  sup- 
pose Falstaff  in  pressing  the  robbery  upon  his  hostess, 
had  declared  his  resolution  not  to  pocket  up  ivrongs  or 
injuries,  to  which  the  prince  alludes.      johnson. 

73  — list — ]  is  the  boundary  or  extreme  edge. 

74  — hair  of  our  attempt.']  The  hair  seems  to  be 
the  complexion,  the  character.  The  metaphor  ap- 
pears harsh  to  us,  but,  perhaps,  was  familiar  in  our 
author's  time.  We  still  say,  something  is  against 
the  hair,  as  against  the  grain,  that  is,  against  the 
natural  tendency.  johnson. 

In  an  old  comedy  call'd  The  Family  of  Love,  I 
meet  with  an  expression  which  very  well  supports 
Dr.  Johnson's  first  explanation. 

w  They  say,  I  am  of  the  right  hair,  and 

"  indeed  they  may  stand  to't." 
Again,  in  The  Coxcomb  of  B.  and  Fletcher, 


ANNOTATIONS.  14? 

" since  he' will  be 

"  An  ass  against  the  hair.         steevexs. 

75  — we  qf  the  offering  side — ]  The  offering  side 
may  signify  that  party,  which,  acting  in  opposition 
to  the  Jaw,  strengthens  itself  only  by  offers-,  increases 
its  numbers  only  by  pro mises.  The  king  can  raise 
an  army,  and  continue  it  by  threats  of  punishment; 
but  those,  whom  no  man  is  under  any  obligation  to 
obey,  can  gather  forces  only  by  offers  of  advantage  : 
and  it  is  truly  remarked,  that  they,  whose  influence 
arises  from  offers,  must  keep  danger  out  of  sight. 

76  The  nimlle-footed  map. cap  prince  of  TFales.~\ 
Shakspeare  rarely  bestows  his  epithets  at  random. 
Stowe  says  of  the  prince,  "  he  was  passing  swift  in 
(<  running,  insomuch  that  he  with  two  other  of  his 
"  lords,  without  hounds,  bow,  or  other  engine,  would 
"  take  awild-duck,ordoe,  ina  large  park."  steevens. 

77  All  phurid  like  estridges,]  All  dressed  like  the 
the  prince  himself,  the  ostrich  feather  being  the  cog- 
nizance of  the  prince  of  Wales.  gray. 

7i  — souced  gurnet. — ]  This  is  a  dish  mentioned  in 
that  very  laughable  poem  call'd  The  Counter-scuffle, 
1658, 

"  Stuck  thick  with  cloves  upon  the  back, 
"  Well  stuff' d  with  sage,  and  for  the  smack 
tf  Daintily  strew'd  with  pepper  black, 

"  Soucd  gurnet.'''    ■ 
Soucd  gurnet  is  an  appellation  of  contempt  very 
frequently  employed   in  the  old   comedies.     So  in 
Decker's  Honest  Whore,  16J5. 


148  ANNOTATIONS, 

"Punk!  you  soucd  gurnet .'"        steevens. 

"9  — a  struck  fowl.,  or  a  hurt  wild  duck.']  The 
repetition  of  the  same  image  disposed  Sir  Thomas 
Hanmer,  and  after  him  Dr.  Warburton,  to  read,,  in 
opposition  to  all  the  copies,  a  struck  deer,  which  is 
indeed  a  proper  expression,  but  not  likely  to  have 
been  corrupted.  Shakspeare,  perhaps,  wrote  a  struck 
sorel,  which,  being  negligently  read  by  a  man  not 
skilled  in  hunters  language,  was  easily  changed  to 
struck  fowl.  Sorel  is  used  in  Love's  Labour  s  lost  for 
a  young  deer-}  and  the  terms  of  the  chace  were,  in 
our  author's  time,  familiar  to  the  ears  of  every  gen- 
tleman. JOHNSON. 

£o — an  old-faced  ancient:'}  is  an  old  standard 
mended  with  a  different  colour.  steevens. 

81  — this  sealed  brief,]  brief  is  letter,  German. 

82  Peace,  chewet,  peace,]  a  chewet,  Mr.  Theobald 
says,  is  a  noisy,  chattering  bird,  a  pie. 

83  As  that  ungentle  gull,  the  cuckoos  bird — ]  The 
cuckow's  chicken,  who,  being  hatched  and  fed  by  the 
sparrow,  in  whose  nest  the  cuckow's  egg  was  laid, 
grows  in  time  able  to  devour  her  nurse,    johnson. 

c+  — and  bestride  me — ]  In  the  battle  of  Agin- 
court,  Henry,  when  king,  did  this  act  of  friendship 
for  his  brother  the  duke  of  Gloucester,     steevens. 

85  — Esperance!—]  This  was  the  word  of  battle 
on  Percy's  side.     See  Halts  Chronicle,  folio  22. 

POPE. 

86  — here's  no  vanity  I — ]  In  our  author's  time  the 
negative,  in  a  common  speech,  was  used  to  design, 


ANNOTATIONS.  149 

ironically,  the  excess  of  a  thing.     Thus  Ben  Jonson, 
in  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  says, 
"  O  here's  no  foppery! 
"  'Death,  I  can  endure  the  stocks  better." 
Meaning,  as  the  passage  shews,  that  the  foppery  was 
excessive.     And  so  in  many  other  places.     But  the 
Oxford  Editor  not  apprehending  this,  has  altered  it  to 
there's  vanity.  warburton. 

S7  Turk  Gregory — ]  Meaning  Gregory  the  Seventh, 
called  Hildebrand.  This  furious  friar  surmounted 
almost  invincible  obstacles  to  deprive  the  emperor  of 
his  right  of  investiture  of  bishops,  which  his  prede- 
cessors had  long  attempted  in  vain.  Fox,  in  his  his- 
tory, had  made  this  Gregory  so  odious,  that  I  don't 
doubt  but  the  good  Protestants  of  that  time  were  well 
pleased  to  hear  him  thus  characterized,  as  uniting  the 
attributes  of  their  two  great  enemies,  the  Turk  and 
Pope,  in  one.  warburton. 

88  — so  fat  a  deer — ]  The  reading  of  the  first 
edition,  and  of  the  other  quartos,  is  fair,  the  first  folio 
has  fat,  which  was  followed  by  all  the  editors. 

There  is  in  these  lines  a  very  natural  mixture  of 
the  serious  and  ludicrous,  produced  by  the  view  of 
Percy  and  FalstafF.  I  wish  all  play  on  words  had 
been  forborn.  johnson. 


KIXG   HENRY   IV. 


PART  ir. 


BY 


WILLIAM   SHAKSPEARE. 


VOL.  VII. 


M 


REMARKS 


ON  THE 


SECOND  PART  OF  HENRY  IV. 


The  transactions,  comprised  in  this  history,  take  up 
about  nine  years.  The  action  commences  with  the 
account  of  Hotspur's  being  defeated  and  killed,  and 
closes  with  the  death  of  K.  Henry  IV.  and  the  coro* 
nation  of  Henry  V.  Theobald. 

Mr.  Upton  thinks  these  two  plays  improperly  called 
The  First  and  Second  Parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth* 
The  first  play  ends,  he  says,  with  the  peaceful  settle- 
ment of  Henry  in  the  kingdom,  by  the  defeat  of  the 
rebels.  This  is  hardly  true,  for  the  rebels  are  not  yet 
finally  suppressed.  The  second,  he  tells  us,  shews 
Henry  the  Fifth  in  the  various  lights  of  a  good- 
natured  rake,  till,  on  his  father's  death,  he  assumes  a 
more  manly  character.  This  is  true,  but  this  re- 
presentation gives  us  no  idea  of  a  dramatic  action. 
These  two  plays  will  appear  to  every  reader,  who 
shall  peruse  them  without  ambition  of  critical  disco- 
veries, to  be  so  connected  that  the  second  is  merely  a 
sequel  to  the  first  5  to  be  two  only  because  they  are 
too  long  to  be  one. 


154 

None  of  Shakspeare's  plays  are  more  read  than  the 
First  and  Second  Parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth.  Per- 
haps no  author  has  ever  in  two  plays  afforded  so 
much  delight.  The  great  events  are  interesting,  for 
the  fate  of  kingdoms  depends  upon  them;  the  slighter 
occurrences  are  diverting,  and,  except  one  or  two, 
sufficiently  probable;  the  incidents  are  multiplied 
with  wonderful  fertility  of  invention,  and  the  charac- 
ters diversified  with  the  utmost  nicety  of  discernment, 
and  the  profoundest  skill  in  the  nature  of  man. 

The  prince,  who  is  the  hero  both  of  the  comic  and 
tragic  part,  is  a  young  man  of  great  abilities  and  vio- 
lent passions,  whose  sentiments  are  right,  though  his 
actions  are  wrong;  whose  virtues  are  obscured  by 
negligence,  and  whose  understanding  is  dissipated  by 
levity.  In  his  idle  hours  he  is  rather  loose  than 
wicked;  and  when  the  occasion  forges  out  his  latent 
qualities,  he  is  great  without  effort,  and  brave  with- 
out tumult.  The  trifler  is  roused  into  a  hero,  and 
the  hero  again  reposes  in  the  trifler.  This  character 
is  great,  original,  and  just. 

Percy  is  a  rugged  soldier,  choleric,  and  quarrel- 
some, and  has  only  the  soldiers  virtues,  generosity, 
and  courage. 

But  Falstaff  unimitated,  unimitable  Falstaff,  how 
shall  I  describe  thee  ?  Thou  compound  of  sense  and 
vice;  of  sense  which  may  be  admired,  but  not 
esteemed;  of  vice  which  maybe  despised,  but  hardly 
detested.  Falstaff  is  a  character  loaded  with  faults, 
and  with  those  faults  which  naturally  produce  con- 


155 

tempt.  He  is  a  thief  and  a  glutton,  a  coward  and  a 
boaster,  always  ready  to  cheat  the  weak,  and  prey 
upon  the  poor;  to  terrify  the  timorous,  and  insult 
the  defenceless.  At  once  obsequious  and  malig- 
nant, he  satirizes  in  their  absence  those  whom  he 
lives  by  flattering.  He  is  familiar  with  the  prince 
only  as  an  agent  of  vice,  but  of  this  familiarity  he  is 
so  proud  as  not  only  to  be  supercilious  and  haughty 
with  common  men,  but  to  think  his  interest  of  im- 
portance to  the  duke  of  Lancaster.  Yet  the  man 
thus  corrupt,  thus  despicable,  makes  himself  neces- 
sary to  the  prince  that  despises  him,  by  the  most 
pleasing  of  all  qualities,  perpetual  gaiety,  by  an  un- 
failing power  of  exciting  laughter,  which  is  the  more 
freely  indulged;  as  his  wit.  is  not  of  the  splendid  or 
ambitious  kind,  but  consists  in  easy  escapes  and  sal- 
lies of  levity,  which  make  sport,  but  raise  no  envy. 
It  must  be  observed,  that  he  is  stained  with  no  enor- 
mous or  sanguinary  crimes,  so  that  his  licentiousness 
is  not  so  offensive  but  that  it  may  be  borne  for  his 
mirth. 

The  moral  to  be  drawn  from  this  representation  is, 
that  no  man  is  more  dangerous  than  he  that,  with  a 
will  to  corrupt,  hath  the  power  to  please;  and  that 
neither  wit  nor  honesty  ought  to  think  themselve3 
safe  with  such- a  companion  when  they  see  Henry 
seduced  by  Falstafr.  johnson. 


Persons  Represented* 

King  Henry  the  Fourth. 

Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  King" 
Henry  V. 

Thomas,  Duke  of  Clarence. 

Prince  John    of  Lancaster,   afterwards  > his  Sons. 
(2  Henry  V.)  Duke  of  Bedford. 

Prince  Humphrey  of  Glocester, afterwards 
(2  Henry  V.)  Duke  of  Glocester. 

Earl  of  Warwick.  ~\ 

Earl  of  Westmoreland,  \  of  the  Kings  Party. 

Gower.     Harcourt,         J 

Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's  Bench. 

A  Gentleman  attending  on  the  Chief  Justice. 

Earl  of  Northumberland)  -\ 

Scroop,  Archbishop  of  York ;  I  Enemies  to 

Lord  Mowbray  ;  Lord  Hastings;       j    the  King. 

Lord  Bardolph;  Sir JohnColevile;J 

Travers  and  Morton;  Domesticks  of  Northum- 
berland. 

Falstaff,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  and  Page. 

Poins  and  Peto;  Attendants  on  Prince  Henry. 

Shallow  and  Silence;   Country  Justices. 

Davy,   Servant  to  Shallow. 

Mouldy,  Shadow,  Wart,  Feeele,  and  Bull- 
calf;   Recruits. 

Fang  and  Snare;   Sheriff's  Officers. 

Rumour.     A  Porter. 

A  Dancer;  Speaker  of  the  Epilogue. 

Lady  Northumberland.     Lady  Percy. 
Hostess  Quickly.     Doll  Tear-Sheet. 

Lords  and  other  Attendants :  Officers,  Soldiers,  Mes- 
sengers, Drawers,  Beadles,  Grooms,  £sfc. 

SCENE,  England. 


INDUCTION. 


IFarkworth.     Before  Northumberland's  Castle. 

Enter  Rumour1,,  painted  full  of Tongues2 '. 

Rum.  Open  your  ears ;  For  which  of  you  will  stop 
The  vent  of  hearing,  when  loud  Rumour  speaks? 
I,  from  the  orient  to  the  drooping  west, 
Making  the  wind  my  posthorse,  still  unfold 
The  acts  commenced  on  this  ball  of  earth: 
Upon  my  tongues  continual  slanders  ride: 
The  which  in  every  language  I  pronounce, 
Stuffing  the  ears  of  men  with  false  reports. 
I  speak  of  peace,  while  covert  enmity, 
Under  the  smile  of  safety,  wounds  the  world; 
And  who  but  Rumour,  who  but  only  I, 
Make  frarful  musters,  and  prepar'd  defence  5 
Whilst  the  big  year,  swol'n  with  some  other  grief, 
Is  thought  with  child  by  the  stern  tyrant  war, 
And  so  much  matter3  ?  Rumour  is  a  pipe 
Blown  by  surmises,  jealousies,  conjectures ; 
And  of  so  easy  and  so  plain  a  stop, 
That  the  blunt  monster  with  uncounted  heads, 
The  still  discordant  wavering  multitude, 
Can  play  upon  it.     But  what  need  I  thus 
My  well-known  body  to  anatomize 
Among  my  household  ?  Why  is  Rumour  here! 


158  INDUCTION. 

I  run  before  king  Harry's  victory ; 

Who,  in  a  bloody  field  by  Shrewsbury, 

Hath  beaten  down  young  Hotspur,  and  his  troops, 

Quenching  the  flame  of  bold  rebellion 

Even  with  the  rebels'  blood.     But  what  mean  I 

To  speak  so  true  at  first  ?  my  office  is 

To  noise  abroad, — that  Harry  Monmouth  fell 

Under  the  wrath  of  noble  Hotspur's  sword  -, 

And  that  the  king  before  the  Douglas'  rage 

Stoop'd  his  anointed  head  as  low  as  death. 

This  have  I  rumour'd  through  the  peasant  towns 

Between  that  royal  field  of  Shrewsbury 

And  this  worm-eaten  hold  of  ragged  stone  4, 

Where  Hotspur's  father,  old  Northumberland, 

Lies  crafty  sick:  the  posts  come  tiring  on, 

And  not  a  man  of  them  brings  other  news 

Than   they   have   learn'd   of  me 3    From   Rumour's 

tongues 
They  bring  smooth  comforts  false,  worse  than  true 

wrongs.  [Exit. 


SECOND  PART   OP 


KING   HENRY  IV. 


ACT  I.     SCENE  I. 

The  same.     The  Porter  lefore  the  Gate. 
Enter  Lord  Bardolph. 

Bard.  Who  keeps  the  gate  here,  ho? — Where  ii 
the  earl  ? 

Port.  What  shall  I  say  you  are  ? 

Bard.  Tell  thou  the  earl, 

That  the  lord  Bardolph  doth  attend  him  here. 

Port.  His  lordship  is  walk'd  forth  into  the  orchard; 
Please  it  your  honour,  knock  but  at  the  gate, 
And  he  himself  will  answer. 

Enter  Northumberland. 

Bard.  Here  comes  the  earl. 

North.  What  news,  lord  Bardolph  ?  every  minute 
now 
Should  be  the  father  of  some  stratagem : 
The  times  are  wild  j  contention,  like  a  horse 

VOL.  VII.  N 


TOO  SECOND  PART  OF 

Full  of  high  feeding,  madly  hath  broke  loose 
And  bears  down  all  before  him. 

Bard.  Noble  earl, 

I  bring  you  certain  news  from  Shrewsbury. 

North.  Good,  an  heaven  will ! 

Bard.  As  good  as  heart  can  wish  :  — 

The  king  is  almost  wounded  to  the  death ; 
And,  in  the  fortune  of  my  lord  your  son, 
Prince  Harry  slain  outright ;  and  both  the  Blunts 
Kill'd  by  the  hand  of  Douglas  :  young  prince  John, 
And  Westmoreland,  and  Stafford,  fled  the  field  j 
And    Harry    Monmouth's    brawn,    the    hulk    sir 

John, 
Is  prisoner  to  your  son :  O,  such  a  day, 
So  fought,  so  follow'd,  and  so  fairly  won, 
Came  not,  till  now,  to  dignify  the  times, 
Since  Caesar's  fortunes! 

North.  How  is  this  deriv'd  ? 

Saw  you  the  field  ?  came  you  from  Shrewsbury  ? 

Bard.  I  spake  with  one,  my  lord,  that  came  from 
thence ; 
A  gentleman  well  bred,  and  of  good  name, 
That  freely  render' d  me  these  news  for  true. 

North.  Here  comes  my  servant  Travers,  whom  I 
sent 
On  Tuesday  last  to  listen  after  news. 

Bard.  My  lord,  I  over-rode  him  on  the  way; 
And  he  is  furnish'd  with  no  certainties, 
More  than  he  haply  may  retail  from  me. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  161 

Enter  Travers. 

North.  Now,   Travers,  what  good  tidings  come 

with  you  ? 
Tra.  My  lord,  sir  John  Umfrevile  turn'd  me  back 
"With  joyful  tidings ;  and,  being  better  hors'd, 
Out-rode  me.     After  him,  came,  spurring  hard, 
A  gentleman  almost  forespent  with  speed, 
That  stopp'd  by  me  to  breathe  his  bloodied  horse : 
He  ask'd  the  way  to  Chester;  and  of  him 
I  did  demand,  what  news  from  Shrewsbury. 
He  told  me,  that  rebellion  had  bad  luck, 
And  that  young  Harry  Percy's  spur  was  cold : 
With  that  he  gave  his  able  horse  the  head, 
And,  bending  forward,  struck  his  armed  heels 
Against  the  panting  sides  of  his  poor  jade 
Up  to  the  rowel-head5;  and,  starting  so, 
He  seem'd  in  running  to  devour  the  way, 
Staying  no  longer  question. 

North.  Ha! Again. 

Said  he,  young  Harry  Percy's  spur  was  cold? 
Of  Hotspur,  coldspur  ?  that  rebellion 
Had  met  ill  luck  ? 

Bard,  My  lord,  I'll  tell  you  what; — 

If  my  young  lord  your  son  have  not  the  day, 
Upon  mine  honour,  for  a  silken  point 
I'll  give  my  barony :  never  talk  of  it. 

North.  Why  should  the  gentleman,  that  rode  by 
Travers, 
Give  then  such  instances  of  loss  ? 


1(32  SECOND  PART  OF 

Bard.  Who,  he  ? 

He  was  some  hilding  fellow6,  that  had  stol'n 
The  horse  he  rode  on;  and,  upon  my  life, 
Spoke  at  a  venture.     Look,  here  comes  more  news. 

Enter  Morton. 

North.  Yea,  this  man's  brow7,  like  to  a  title-leaf, 
Foretells  the  nature  of  a  tragic  volume : 
So  looks  the  strond,  whereon  the  imperious  flood 

Hath  left  a  witness'd  usurpation. 

Say,  Morton,  did'st  thou  come  from  Shrewsbury  ? 

Mor.  I  ran  from  Shrewsbury,  my  noble  lord  ; 
Where  hateful  death  put  on  his  ugliest  mask, 
To  fright  our  party. 

North.  How  doth  my  son,  and  brother  ? 

Thou  tremblest ;  and  the  whiteness  in  thy  cheek 
Is  apter  than  thy  tongue  to  tell  thy  errand. 
Even  such  a  man,  so  faint,  so  spiritless, 
So  dull,  so  dead  in  look8,  so  woe-begone, 
Drew  Priam's  curtain  in  the  dead  of  night, 
And  would  have  told  him,  half  his  Troy  was  burn  d : 
But  Priam  found  the  fire,  ere  he  his  tongue, 
And  I  my  Percy's  death,  ere  thou  report'st  it. 
This  thou  would' st  say, — Your  son  did  thus,  and 

thus; 
Your  brother,  thus;  so  fought  the  noble  Douglas} 
Stopping  my  greedy  ear  with  their  bold  deeds : 
But  in  the  end,  to  stop  mine  ear  indeed, 
Thou  hast  a  sigh  to  blow  away  this  praise, 
Ending  with — brother,  son,  and  all  are  dead. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  i6i 

Mor.  Douglas  is  living,  and  your  brother,  yet: 
But,  for  my  lord  your  son, 

North.  Why,  he  is  dead. 

See,  what  a  ready  tongue  suspicion  hath ! 
He,  that  but  fears  the  thing  he  would  not  know, 
Hath,  by  instinct,  knowledge  from  others'  eyes, 
That  what  he  fear'd  is  chanced.    Yet  speak,  Morton  -7 
Tell  thou  thy  earl,  his  divination  lies  5 
And  I  will  take  it  as  a  sweet  disgrace, 
And  make  thee  rich  for  doing  me  such  wrong. 

Mor.  You  are  too  great  to  be  by  me  gainsaid: 
Your  spirit  is  too  true9,  your  fears  too  certain. 

North,  lret,  for  all  this,  say  not  that  Percy's  dead ,0. 
I  see  a  strange  confession  in  thine  eye: 
Thou  shak'st  thy  head  3  and  hold'st  it  fear,  or  sin, 
To  speak  a  truth.     If  he  be  slain,  say  so; 
The  tongue  offends  not,  that  reports  his  death : 
And  he  doth  sin,  that  doth  belie  the  dead] 
Not  he,  which  says  the  dead  is  not  alive. 
Yet  the  first  bringer  of  unwelcome  news 
Hath  but  a  losing  office ;  and  his  tongue 
Soilnds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell, 
Remember' d  knolling  a  departing  friend. 

Bard.  I  cannot  think,  my  lord,  your  son  is  dead. 

Mor.  I  am  sorry,  I  should  force  you  to  believe 
That,  which  I  would  to  heaven  I  had  not  seen : 
But  these  mine  eyes  saw  him  in  bloody  state, 
Rend' ring  faint  quittance,  wearied  and  out-breath'd, 
To  Harry  Monmouth ;  whose  swift  wrath  beat  down 
The  never-daunted  Percy  to  the  earth, 


1(54  SECOND  PART  OF 

From  whence  with  life  he  never  more  sprang  up. 
In  few,  his  death,  (whose  spirit  lent  a  fire 
Even  to  the  dullest  peasant  in  his  camp,) 
Being  bruited  once,  took  fire  and  heat  away 
From  the  best  temper'd  courage  in  his  troops: 
For  from  his  metal  was  his  party  steel'd; 
Which  once  in  him  abated,  all  the  rest 
Turn'd  on  themselves,  like  dull  and  heavy  lead. 
And  as  the  thing  that's  heavy  in  itself, 
Upon  enforcement,  flies  with  greatest  speed; 
So  did  our  men,  heavy  in  Hotspur's  loss, 
Lend  to  this  weight  such  lightness  with  their  fear, 
That  arrows  fled  not  swifter  toward  their  aim, 
Than  did  our  soldiers,  aiming  at  their  safety, 
Fly  from  the  field  :  Then  was  that  noble  Worcester 
Too  soon  ta'en  prisoner;  and  that  furious  Scot, 
The  bloody  Douglas,  whose  well-labouring  sword 
Had  three  times  slain  the  appearance  of  the  king, 
'Gan  vail  his  stomach11,  and  did  grace  the  shame 
Of  those  that  turn'd  their  backs ;  and,  in  his  flight, 
Stumbling  in  fear,  was  t^ok.     The  sum  of  all 
Is, — that  the  king  hath  won,  and  hath  sent  out 
A  speedy  power,  to  encounter  you,  my  lord, 
Under  the  conduct  of  young  Lancaster, 
And  Westmoreland:   this  is  the  news  at  full. 

North.  For  this  I  shall  have  time  enough  to  mourn. 
In  poison  there  is  physick ;  and  these  news, 
Having  been  well,  that  would  have  made  me  sick, 
Being  sick,  have  in  some  measure  made  me  well: 
And  as  the  wretch,  whose  fever-weaken'd  joints, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  ifo 

Like  strengthless  hinges,  buckle  under  life  '% 
Impatient  of  his  fit,,  breaks  like  a  lire 
Out  of  his  keeper's  arms ;  even  so  my  limbs, 
Weaken'd  with  grief,  being  now  enrag'd  with  grief, 
Are  thrice  themselves :  hence  therefore,  thou  nice 

crutch ; 
A  scaly  gauntlet  now,  with  joints  of  steel, 
Must  glove  this  hand:  and  hence,  thou  sickly  quo  if ; 
Thou  art  a  guard  too  wanton  for  the  head, 
Which  princes,  flesh'd  with  conquest,  aim  to  hit. 
Now  bind  my  brows  with  iron;  And  approach 
The  ragged'st  hour13  that  time  and  spite  dare  bring, 
To  frown  upon  the  enrag'd  Northumberland  ! 
Let  heaven  kiss  earth !   Now  let  not  nature's  hand 
Keep  the  wild  flood  confin'd !  let  order  die ! 
And  Jet  this  world  no  longer  be  a  stage, 
To  feed  contention  in  a  lingering  act ; 
But  let  one  spirit  of  the  first-born  Cain 
Reign  in  all  bosoms,  that,  each  heart  being  set 
On  bloody  courses,  the  rude  scene  may  end, 
And  darkness  be  the  burier  of  the  dead  I4! 

Tra.  This  strained  passion  doth  you  wrong,  my 
lord. 

Bard.  Sweet  earl,  divorce  not  wisdom  from  your 
honour. 

Mor.  The  lives  of  all  your  loving  complices 
Lean  on  your  health  3  the  which,  if  you  give  o'er 
To  stormy  passion,  must  perforce  decay. 
You15  cast  the  event  of  war,  my  noble  lord, 
And  summ'dthe  account  of  chance,  before  you  said,— 


]66  SECOND  PART  OF 

Let  us  make  head.     It  was  your  presurmise, 
That,  in  the  dole  of  blows,  your  son  might  drop : 
You  knew,  he  walk'd  o'er  perils,  on  an  edge, 
More  likely  to  fall  in,  than  to  get  o'er : 
You  were  advis'd,  his  flesh  was  capable 
Of  wounds,  and  scars j   and  that  his  forward  spirit 
Would  lift  him  where  most  trade  of  danger  rang'dj 
Yet  did  you  say, — Go  forth}  and  none  of  this, 
Though  strongly  apprehended,  could  restrain 
The  stiff-borne  action  :   What  hath  then  befallen, 
Or  what  hath  this  bold  enterprize  brought  forth, 
More  than  that  being  which  was  like  to  be? 

Bard.  We  all  that  are  engaged  to  this  loss, 
Knew  that  we  ventur'd  on  such  dangerous  seas, 
That,  if  we  wrought  out  life,  'twas  ten  to  one) 
And  yet  we  ventur'd,  for  the  gain  propos'd 
Chok'd  the  respect  of  likely  peril  fear'dj 
And,  since  we  are  o'erset,  venture  again. 
Come,  we  will  all  put  forth ;  body  and  goods. 

Mor.  'Tis  more  than  time :  And,  my  most  noble 
lord, 

I  hear  for  certain,  and  do  speak  the  truth, 

The  l6  gentle  archbishop  of  York  is  up, 
With  well-appointed  powers  j  he  is  a  man, 
Who  with  a  double  surety  binds  his  followers. 
My  lord  your  son  had  only  but  the  corps, 
But  shadows,  and  the  shows  of  men,  to  fight: 
For  that  same  word,  rebellion,  did  divide 
The  action  of  their  bodies  from  their  souls  j 
And  they  did  fight  with  queasiness,  constrain'd, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  167 

As  men  drink  potions ;  that  their  weapons  only 

Seem'd  on  our  side,  but,  for  their  spirits  and  souls, 

This  word,  rebellion,  it  had  froze  them  up, 

As  fish  are  in  a  pond:  But  now  the  bishop 

Turns  insurrection  to  religion : 

Suppos'd  sincere  and  holy  in  his  thoughts, 

He's  follow'd  both  with  body  and  with  mind ; 

And  doth  enlarge  his  rising  with  the  blood 

Of  fair  king  Richard,  scrap'd  from  Pomfret  stones : 

Derives  from  heaven  his  quarrel,  and  his  cause ; 

Tells  17  them,  he  doth  bestride  a  bleeding  land, 

Gasping  for  life  under  great  Bolingbrokej 

And  more,  and  less,  do  flock  to  follow  him. 

North.  I  knew  of  this  before  ;  but,  to  speak  truth, 
This  present  grief  had  wip'd  it  from  my  mind. 
Go  in  with  me  3  and  counsel  every  man 
The  aptest  way  for  safety,  and  revenge : 
Get  posts,  and  letters,  and  make  friends  with  speed ; 
Never  so  few,  and  never  yet  more  need.       [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

London.     A  Street. 

Enter  Sir  John  Falstaff,  with  his  Page  hearing 
his  sword  and  luckier. 

Fal.  Sirrah,  you  giant,  what  says  the  doctor  to  my 
water  ,8? 


168  SECOND  PART  OF 

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

Fa/.  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  I  invent,  or  is  invented  on  me:  I  am  not  only 
witty  in  myself,  but  the  cause  that  wit  is  in  other 
men.  I  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 
whoreson  mandrake 19,  thou  art  fitter  to  be  worn  in 
my  cap,  than  to  wait  at  ray  heels.  I  was  never 
mann'd  with  an  agate  till  now  20:  but  I  will  set  you 
neither  in  gold  nor  silver,  but  in  vile  apparel,  and 
send  you  back  again  to  your  master,  for  a  jewel ;  the 
juvenal,  the  prince  your  master,  whose  chin  is  not 
yet  fledg'd.  I  will  sooner  have  a  beard  grow  in  the 
palm  of  my  hand,  than  he  shall  get  one  on  his  cheek ; 
and  yet  he  will  not  stick  to  say,  his  face  is  a  face- 
royal:  God  may  finish  it  when  he  will,  it  is  not  a 
hair  amiss  yet :  he  may  keep  it  still  as  a  face-royal, 
for  a  barber  shall  never  earn  sixpence  out  of  it ;  and 
yet  he  will  be  crowing,  as  if  he  had  writ  man  ever 
since  his  father  was  a  bachelor.  He  may  keep  his 
own  grace,  but  he  is  almost  out  of  mine,  I  can  assure 

him. What   said   master  Dumbleton   about   the 

sattin  for  my  short  cloak,  and  slops? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  169 

Page.  He  said,  sir,  you  should  procure  him  better 
assurance  than  Bardolph:  he  would  not  take  his  bond 
and  yours  5  he  liked  not  the  security. 

FaL  Let  him  be  damned  like  the  glutton !  may  his 
tongue  be  hotter! — A  whoreson  Architophel!  a  ras- 
cally yea- forsooth  knave !  to  bear  a  gentleman  in 
hand  2I,  and  then  stand  upon  security! — The  whore- 
son smooth-pates  do  now  wear  nothing  but  high 
shoes,  and  bunches  of  keys  at  their  girdles ;  and  if  a 
man  is  thorough  with  them  in  honest  taking  up22, 
then  they  must  stand  upon — security.  I  had  as  lief 
they  would  put  ratsbane  in  my  mouth,  as  offer  to 
stop  it  with  security.  I  look'd  he  should  have  sent 
me  two  and  twenty  yards  of  sattin,  as  I  am  a  true 
knight,  and  he  sends  me  security.  Well,  he  may 
sleep  in  security ;  for  he  hath  the  horn  of  abundance, 
and  the  lightness  of  his  wife  shines  through  it:  and 
yet  cannot  he  see,  though  he  have  his  own  lantern  to 
light  him. — Where's  Bardolph  ? 

Page.  He's  gone  into  Smithfield  to  buy  your  wor- 
ship a  horse. 

FaL  zz  I  bought  him  in  Paul's,  and  he'll  buy  me  a 
horse  in  Smithfield :  an  I  could  get  me  but  a  wife  in 
the  stews,  I  were  mann'd,  horsed,  and  wived. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  and  an  Attendant. 

Page.  Sir,  here  comes  the  nobleman  that  com- 
mitted the  prince  for  striking  him  about  Bardolph. 
Lai.  Wait  close,  I  will  not  see  him. 
Ch.  Just.  What's  he  that  goes  there  ? 


1/0  SECOND  PART  OF 

Atten.  Falstaff,  an't  please  your  lordship. 

Ch.  Just.  He  that  was  in  question  for  the  robbery  ? 

Atten.  He,  my  lord :  but  he  hath  since  done  good 
service  at  Shrewsbury :  and,  as  I  hear,  is  now  going 
with  some  charge  to  the  lord  John  of  Lancaster. 

Ch.  Just.  What,  to  York?  Call  him  back  again. 

Atten.  Sir  John  Fal staff! 

Fal.  Boy,  tell  him,  I  am  deaf. 

Page.  You  must  speak  louder,  my  master  is  deaf. 

Ch.  Just.  I  am  sure,  he  is,  to  the  hearing  of  any 
thing  good. — Go,  pluck  him  by  the  elbow  j  I  must 
speak  with  him. 

Atten.  Sir  John, 

Fal.  What!  a  young  knave,  and  beg!  Is  there  not 
wars?  Is  there  not  employment?  Doth  not  the  king 
lack  subjects?  do  not  the  rebels  need  soldiers  ?  Though 
it  be  a  shame  to  be  on  any  side  but  one,  it  is 
worse  shame  to  beg  than  to  be  on  the  worst  side, 
were  it  worse  than  the  name  of  rebellion  can  tell  how 
to  make  it. 

Atten.  You  mistake  me,  sir. 

Fal.  Why,  sir,  did  I  say  you  were  an  honest  man? 
setting  my  knighthood  and  my  soldiership  aside,  I 
had  lied  in  my  throat  if  I  had  said  so. 

Atten.  I  pray  you,  sir,  then  set  your  knighthood 
and  your  soldiership  aside;  and  give  me  leave  to  tell 
you,  you  lie  in  your  throat,  if  you  say  I  am  any 
other  than  an  honest  man. 

Fal.  I  give  thee  leave  to  tell  me  so !  I  lay  aside 
that  which  grows  to  me!  If  thou  get'st  any  leave  of 


KING  HENRY  IV.  l/l 

me,  hang  me ;  if  thou  takest  leave  thou  wert  better 
be  hang'd :  You  hunt-counter,  hence !  avaunt ! 
Allen.  Sir,  my  lord  would  speak  with  you. 
Ch.  Just.  Sir  John  Falstaff,  a  word  with  you. 
Fal.  My  good  lord ! — God  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,  though 
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  reve- 
rend care  of  your  health. 

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

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

Ch.  Just.  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. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  heaven  mend  him  !  I  pray,  let  me 
speak  with  you. 

Fal.  This  apoplexy  is,  as  I  take,  it,  a  kind  of 
lethargy,  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  j  it  is  a  kind  of 
deafness. 


1/2  SECOND  PART  OF 

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 :  rather,  an't 
please  you,  it  is  the  disease  of  not  listening,  the  ma- 
lady of  not  marking,  that  I  am  troubled  withal. 

Ch.  Just.  To  punish  you  by  the  heels,  would 
amend  the  attention  of  your  ears  :  and  I  care  not,  if 
I  do  become  your  physician. 

Fal.  I  am  as  poor  as  Job,  my  lord;  but  not  so  pa- 
tient: your  lordship  may  minister  the  potion  of  im- 
prisonment to  me,  in  respect  of  poverty ;  but  how  I 
should  be  your  patient  to  follow  your  prescriptions, 
the  wise  may  make  some  dram  of  a  scruple,  or,  in- 
deed, a  scruple  itself. 

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,  I  did  not  come. 

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

Fal.  He  that  buckles  him  in  my  belt,  cannot  live 
in  less. 

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

Fal.  I  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  hath  misled  me:  I  am  the 
fellow  with  the  great  belly,  and  he  my  dog. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  I  am  loth  to  gall  a  new-heal'd 


KING  HENRY  IV.  173 

wound;  your  day's  service  at  Shrewsbury  hath  a  little 
gilded  over  your  night's  exploit  on  Gads-hill :  you 
may  thank  the  unquiet  time  for  your  quiet  o'er-post- 
ing  that  action. 

Fal  My  lord  ? 

Ch.  Just.  But  since  all  is  well,  keep  it  so:  wake 
not  a  sleeping  wolf. 

Fal.  To  wake  a  wolf,  is  as  bad  as  to  smell  a  fox. 

Ch.Just.  What!  you  are  as  a  candle,  the  better 
part  burnt  out. 

Fal.  24  A  wassel  candle,  my  lord;  all  tallow  :  If  I 
did  say  of  wax,  my  growth  would  approve  the  truth. 

Ch.  Just.  There  is  not  a  white  hair  on  your  face, 
but  should  have  his  effect  of  gravity. 

Fal.  His  effect  of  gravy,  gravy,  gravy. 

Ch.  Just.  You  follow  the  young   prince  up  and 
down,  like  his  ill  angel25. 

Fal.  Not  so,  my  lord;  your  ill  angel  is  light;  but, 
I  hope,  he  that  looks  upon  me,  will  take  me  without 
weighing ;  and  yet,  in  some  respects,  I  grant,  I  can- 
not go,  I  cannot  tell26:  Virtue  is  of  so  little  regard 
in  these  coster-monger  times27,  that  true  valour  is 
turn'd  bear-herd :  Pregnancy  is  made  a  tapster,  and 
hath  his  quick  wit  wasted  in  giving  reckonings:  all 
the  other  gifts  appertinent  to  man,  as  the  malice  of 
this  age  shapes  them,  are  not  worth  a  gooseberry. 
You,  that  are  old,  consider  not  the  capacities  of  us 
that  are  young ;  you  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. 


1/4  SECOND  PART  OF 

Ch.  Just.  Do  you  set  down  your  name  in  the  scroll; 
of  youth,  that  are  written  down  old  with  all  the  cha-ji 
racters  of  age  ?  Have  you  not  a  moist  eye  ?  a  dryj 
hand?  a  yellow  cheek?  a  white  beard?  a  decreasin 
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,*  fie,  sir 
John  1 

Fal.  My  lord,  I  was  born  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 
youth  further,  I  will  not :  the  truth  is,  I  am  only  old  in 
judgment  and  understanding ;  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  like  a  rude  prince, 
and  you  took  it  like  a  sensible  lord.  I  have  check'd 
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. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  the  king  hath  sever'd  you  and 
prince  Harry :  I  hear,  you  are  going  with  lord  John 
of  Lancaster,  against  the  archbishop,  and  the  earl  of 
Northumberland. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  175 

Fal.  Yea  j  I  thank  your  pretty  sweet  wit  for  it. 
But  look  you  pray,  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  me,  and  I 
mean  not  to  sweat  extraordinarily :  if  it  be  a  hot  day, 
an  I  brandish  any  thing  but  my  bottle,  I  would  I 
might  never  spit  white  again  zs.  There  is  not  a  dan- 
gerous action  can  peep  out  his  head,  but  I  am  thrust 
upon  it:  Well,  I  cannot  last  for  ever:  But  it  was 
always  yet  the  trick  of  our  English  nation,  if  they 
have  a  good  tiling,  to  make  it  too  common.  If  you 
will  needs  say,  I  am  an  old  man,  you  should  give  me 
jest.  I  would  to  God,  my  name  were  not  so  terrible 
to  the  enemy  as  it  is.  I  were  better  to  be  eaten  to 
death  with  rust,  than  to  be  scour' d  to  nothing  with 
perpetual  motion. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  be  honest,  be  honest;  And  God 
bless  your  expedition! 

Fal.  Will  your  lordship  lend  me  a  thousand  pound, 
to  furnish  me  forth? 

Ch.  Just.  Not  a  penny,  not  a  penny;  you  are  too 
impatient  to  bear  crosses  29.  Fare  you  well:  Com- 
mend me  to  my  cousin  Westmoreland. 

[Exeunt  Chief  Justice  and  Attendant. 

Fal.  If  I  do,  fillip  me  with  a  three-man  beetle :;°.1 — 
A  man  can  no  more  separate  age  and  covetousness, 
than  he  can  part  young  limbs  and  lechery:  but  the 
gout  galls  one,  and  the  pox  pinches  the  other;  and  so 
both  the  degrees  prevent  my  curses. — Boy  I 

Page.  Sir? 
VOL.  vii.  o 


1/6  SECOND  PART  OF 

Feci.  What  money  is  in  my  purse? 

Page.  Seven  groats  and  two-pence. 

Fa  I.  I  can  get  ns  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  I 
perceived  the  first  white  hair  on  my  chin:  About  it; 
you  know  where  to  find  me.  [  Exit  Page.']  A  pox 
of  this  gout !  or,  a  gout  of  this  pox !  for  the  one,  or 
the  other,  plays  the  rogue  with  my  great  toe.  It  is 
no  matter,  if  I  do  halt;  I  have  the  wars  for  my  co- 
lour, and  my  pension  shall  seem  the  more  reasonable : 
A  good  wit  will  make  use  of  any  tiling;  I  will  turn 
diseases  to  commodity.  [Exit. 


SCENE   III. 

York.     A  Room  in  the  Archbishop's  Palace. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  York,  the  Lords  Hastings, 
Mowbray,  and  Bardolph. 

Arch.  Thus  have  you  heard  our  cause,  and  known 
our  means; 
And,  my  most  noble  friends,  I  pray  you  all, 
Speak  plainly  your  opinions  of  our  hopes :  — 
And  first,  lord  marshal,  what  say  you  to  it? 

Mowb.  I  well  allow  the  occasion  of  our  arms; 


KING  HENRY  IV.  177 

But  gladly  would  be  better  satisfied, 
How,  in  our  means,  we  should  advance  ourselves, 
To  look  with  forehead  bold  and  big  enough 
Upon  the  power  and  puissance  of  the  king. 

Hast.  Our  present  musters  grow  upon  the  file 
To  five  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. 

Bard.  The  question  then,  lord  Hastings,  standeth 
thus  3— 
Whether  our  present  five  and  twenty  thousand 
May  hold  up  head  without  Northumberland. 

Hast.  With  him  we  may. 

Bard.  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. 

Arch.  Tis  very  true,  lord  Bardolph;  for,   indeed, 
It  was  young  Hotspur's  case  at  Shrewsbury. 

Bard.  It  was,  my  lord;  who  lin'd  himself  with 
hope, 
Eating  the  air  on  promise  of  supply, 
Flattering  himself  with  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/ 


173  SECOND  PART  OF 

And,  winking,  leap'd  into  destruction. 

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

Bard.  Yes,  in  this  present  quality  of  war ; — 
Indeed  the  instant  action,  (a  cause  on  foot,) 
Lives  so  in  hope,  as  in  an  early  spring 
We  see  the  appearing  buds  ;  which,  to  prove  fruit, 
Hope  gives  not  so  much  warrant,  as  despair, 
That  frosts  will  bite  them.     When  we  mean  to  build, 
We  first  survey  the  plot,  then  draw  the  model ; 
And  when  we  see  the  figure  of  the  house, 
Then  must  we  rate  the  cost  of  the  erection  : 
Which  if  we  find  outweighs  ability, 
What  do  we  then,  but  draw  anew  the  model 
Jn  fewer  offices;  or,  at  least,  desist 
To  build  at  all  ?  Much  more,  in  this  great  work, 
(Which  is,  almost,  to  pluck  a  kingdom  down, 
And  set  another  up,)  should  we  survey 
The  plot  of  situation,  and  the  model; 
Consent  upon  a  sure  foundation ; 
Question  surveyors;  know  our  own  estate, 
How  able  such  a  work  to  undergo, 
To  weigh  against  his  opposite;  or  else, 
We  fortify  in  paper,  and  in  figures, 
Using  the  names  of  men  instead  of  men: 
Like  one,  that  draws  the  model  of  a  house 
Beyond  his  power  to  build  it;  who,  half  through, 
Gives  o'er,  and  leaves  his  part-created  cost 
A  naked  subject  to  the  weeping  clouds, 
And  waste  for  churlish  winter's  tyranny. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  179 

Hast.  Grant,  that  our  hopes  (yet  likely  of  fair 
birth,) 
Should  be  stillborn,  and  that  we  now  possess'd 
The  utmost  man  of  expectation ; 
I  think,  we  are  a  body  strong  enough, 
Even  as  we  are,  to  equal  with  the  king. 

Bard.  What !    is  the  king  but  live  and  twenty 
thousand  ? 

Hast.  To  us,  no  more;  nay,  not  so  much,  lord 
Bardoiph. 
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 :   So  is  the  unfirm  king 
In  three  divided;  and  his  coffers  sound 
"With  hollow  poverty  and  emptiness. 

Arch.  That  he  should  draw  his  several  strengths 
together, 
And  come  against  us  in  full  puissance, 
Need  not  be  dreaded. 

Hast.  If  he  should  do  so, 

He  leaves  his  back  unarm' d,  the  French  and  Welsh 
Baying  him  at  the  heels :  never  fear  that. 

Bard.  Who,  is  it  like,  should  lead  his  forces  hi- 
ther? 

Hast.  The  duke  of  Lancaster,  and  Westmoreland : 
Against  the  Welsh,  himself,  and  Harry  Monmouth  : 
But  who  is  substituted  'gainst  the  French, 
I  have  no  certain  notice. 

Arch.  3I  Let  us  on 5 


ISO  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  publish  the  occasion  of  our  arms. 

The  commonwealth  is  sick  of  their  own  choice, 

Their  over-greedy  love  hath  surfeited: — 

An  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  Bolingbroke, 

Before  he  was  what  thou  would'st  have  him  be? 

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. 

So,  so,  thou  common  dog,  didst  thou  disgorge 

Thy  glutton  bosom  of  the  royal  Richard ; 

And  now  thou  would'st  eat  thy  dead  vomit  up, 

And  howl'st  to  find  it.    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  through  proud  London  he  came  sighing  on 

After  the  admired  heels  of  Bolingbroke, 

Cry'st  now,  0  earth,  give  us  that  king  again. 

And  take  thou  this!  O  thoughts  of  men  accurst! 

Past,  and  to  come,  seem  best 5  things  present,  worst. 

Mowb.  Shall  we  go  draw  our  numbers,  and  set 
on? 

Hast.  We  are  time's  subjects,  and  time  bids  be 
gone.  [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  1S1 

ACT  II.     SCENE  I. 

London.     A  Street. 

Enter  Hostess  j  Fang,  and -his  boy,  with  her;  and 
.  Snare  following. 

Host.  Master  Fang,  have  you  enter'd  the  action  ? 

Fang,  It  is  enter'd. 

Host.  Where  is  your  yeoman  ?  Is  it  a  lusty  yeo- 
man ?  will  a'  stand  to't  ? 

Fang.  Sirrah,  where's  Snare? 

Host.  O  lord,  ay j  good  master  Snare. 

Snare.  Here,  here. 

Fang.  Snare,  we  must  arrest  sir  John  FalstafT. 

Host.  Yea,  good  master  Snare  j  I  have  enter'd 'him 
and  all. 

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

Host.  Alas  the  day!  take  heed  of  him:  he  stabb'd 
me  in  mine  own  house,  and"that  most  beastly:  in 
good  faith,  a'  cares  not  what  mischief  he  doth,  if  his 
weapon  be  out:  he  will  foin  like  any  devil;  he  will 
spare  neither  woman,  man,  nor  child. 

Fang.  If  I  can  close  with  him,  I  care  not  for  his 
thrust. 

Host.  No,  nor  I  neither  3  I'll  be  at  your  elbow. 

Fang.  An  I  but  fist  him  once;  an  a'  come  but 
within  my  vice  32j 


j  82  SECOND  PART  OF 

Host.  I  am  undone  by  his  going ;  I  warrant  yon, 
he's  an  infinitive  thing  upon  my  score : — Good  mas- 
ter Fang,  hold  him  sure: — good  master  Snare,  let 
him  not  '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  Lumbert- 
street,  to  master  Smooth's  the  silkman :  I  pray  ye, 
since  my  exion  is  enter' d,  and  my  case  so  openly 
known  to  the  world,  let  him  be  brought  in  to  his 
answer.  A  hundred  mark  is  a  long  loan  for  a  poor 
lone  woman  to  bear :  and  I  have  borne,  and  borne, 
and  borne ;  and  have  been  fnb'd  off,  and  fub'd  off, 
and  fub'd  off,  from  this  day  to  that  day,  that  it  is  a 
shame  to  be  thought  on.  There  is  no  honesty  in 
such  dealing  j  unless  a  woman  should  be  made  an 
ass,  and  a  beast,  to  bear  every  knave's  wrong. 

Enter  Sir  John  Falstaff,  Page,  and  Bardolph. 

Yonder  he  comesj  and  that  arrant  malmsey-nose 
knave,  Bardolph,  with  him.  Do  your  offices,  do 
your  offices,  master  Fang,  and  master  Snare  5  do  me, 
do  me,  do  me  your  offices, 

Fal.  How  now?  whose  mare's  dead?  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?  I'll  throw  thee 
in  the  channel.     Wilt  thou?  wilt  thou?  thou  bas- 


A,-  ./ttt/'/)  fuftflt/J  tftl/ 
nfo  (/ti-if~/ii/'i-?//y  n/J/i.(..>'. 


-J>arh 


KING  HENRY  IV.  1S3 

tardly  rogue! — Murder,  murder!  O  thou  honey- 
suckle villain !  wilt  thou  kill  God's  officers,  and  the 
king's!  O  thou  honey-seed  rogue33!  thou  art  a  honey- 
seed  j  a  man-queller,  and  a  woman-queller. 

Fal.  Keep  them  off,  Bardolph. 

Fang.  A  rescue !  a  rescue ! 

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

Fal.  Away,  you  scullion!  you  rampallion;  you 
fustilarian !  I'll  tickle  your  catastrophe. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  attended. 

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

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

Ch.  Just.    How  now,   sir  John?    what,   are  you 
brawling  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 3  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. 

Ch.  Just.  For  what  sum? 

Host.  It  is  more  than  for  some,  my  lord ;  it  is  for 
all,  all  I  have :  he  hath  eaten  me  out  of  house  and 


184  SECOND  PART  OF 

home;  he  hath  put  all  ray  substance  into  that  fat 
belly  of  his: — but  I  will  have  some  of  it  out  again, 
or  I'll  ride  thee  o'nights,  like  the  mare. 

Fal.  I  think,  I  am  as  like  to  ride  the  mare,  if  I 
have  any  vantage  of  ground  to  get  up. 

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  poor 
widow  to  so  rough  a  course  to  come  by  her  own  ? 

Fal.  What  is  the  gross  sum  that  I  owe  thee  ? 

Host.  Marry  if  thou  wert  an  honest  man,  thyself, 
and  the  money  too.  Thou  didst  swear  to  me  upon  a 
parcel. gilt  goblet34,  sitting  in  my  Dolphin-chamber, 
at  the  round  table,  by  a  sea-coal  fire,  upon  Wednes- 
day in  Whitsun-week,  when  the  prince  broke  thy 
head  for  liking  his  father  to  a  singing- man  of  Wind- 
sor ;  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?  coming  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  were  ill  for  a  green  wound  ?  And  didst  thou  not, 
when  she  was  gone  down  stairs,  desire  me  to  be  no 
more  so  familiarity  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  shil- 
lings? I  put  thee  now  to  thy  book-oath;  deny  it,  if 
thou  canst 


KING  HENRY  IV.  155 

FaL  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  hath  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 
of  words  that  come  with  such  more  than  impudent 
sauciness  from  you,  can  thrust  me  from  a  level  con- 
sideration ;  you  have,  as  it  appears  to  me,  practised 
upon  the  easy-yielding  spirit  of  this  woman,  and  made 
her  serve  your  uses  both  in  purse  and  person. 

Host.  Yea,  in  troth,  my  lord. 

Ch.  Just.  Pr'ythee,  peace: — Pay  her  the  debt  you 
owe  her,  and  unpay  the  villainy  you  have  done  with 
her 5  the  one  you  may  do  with  sterling  money,  and 
the  other  with  current  repentance. 

FaL  My  lord,  I  will  not  undergo  this  sneap  3S 
without  reply.  You  call  honourable  boldness,  im- 
pudent sauciness :  if  a  man  will  make  court' sy,  and 
say  nothing,  he  is  virtuous:  No,  my  lord,  my  humble 
duty  remember' d,  I  will  not  be  your  suitor;  I  say  to 
you,  I  do  desire  deliverance  from  these  officers,  being 
upon  hasty  employment  in  the  king's  affairs. 

Ch.  Just.  You  speak  as  having  power  to  do  wrong : 
but  answer  in  the  effect  of  your  reputation,  and  sa- 
tisfy the  poor  woman. 

Fal.  Come  hither,  hostess.  [Taking  her  aside. 


ISO  SECOND  PART  OF 


Enter  Gower. 


Ch.  Just.  Now,  master  Gower  ;  What  news  ? 

Gow.  The  king,  my  lord,  and  Harry  prince  of  Wales 
Are  near  at  hand :   the  rest  the  paper  tells. 

Fal.  As  I  am  a  gentleman; 

Host.  Nay,  you  said  so  before. 

Fal.  As  I  am  a  gentleman; Come,  no  more 

words  of  it. 

Host.  By  this  heavenly  ground  I  tread  on,  I  must 
be  fain  to  pawn  both  my  plate,  and  the  tapestry  of 
my  dining-chambers. 

Fal.  Glasses,  glasses,  is  the  only  drinking :  and  for 
thy  walls, — a  pretty  slight  drollery,  or  the  story  of 
the  prodigal,  or  the  German  hunting  in  water- work36, 
is  worth  a  thousand  of  these  bed-hangings,  and  these 
fly-bitten  tapestries.  Let  it  be  ten  ponnd,  if  thou 
canst.  Come,  an  it  were  not  for  thy  humours,  there 
is  not  a  better  wench  in  England.  Go,  wash  thy 
face,  and  'draw  thy  action :  Come,  thou  must  not  be 
in  this  humour  with  me;  dost  not  know  me?  Come, 
come,  I  know  thou  wast  set  on  to  this. 

Host.  Fray  thee,  sir  John,  let  it  be  but  twenty 
nobles ;  i'faith  I  am  loth  to  pawn  my  plate,  in  good 
earnest,  la. 

Fal.  Let  it  alone;  I'll  make  other  shift :  you'll  be 
a  fool  still. 

Host.  Well,  you  shall  have  it,  though  I  pawn  my 
gown.  I  hope,  you'll  come  to  supper:  You'll  pay 
me  all  together  ? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  187 

Fal.  Will  I  live?— Go,  with  her,  with  her;  [To 
Bardo/ph.']  hook  on,  hook  on. 

Host.  Will  you  have  Doll  Tear-sheet  meet  you  at 
supper? 

Fal.  No  more  words  j  let's  have  her. 

[Exeunt  Hostess,  Bardolph,  Officers,  and  Boy. 

Ch.  Just.  I  have  heard  better  news. 

Fal.  What's  the  news,  my  good  lord  ? 

Ch.  Just.  Where  lay  the  king  last  night  ? 

Gow.  At  Basingstoke,  my  lord. 

Fal.  I  hope,  my  lord,  all's  well :  What's  the  news, 
my  lord  ? 

Ch.  Just.  Come  all  his  forces  back? 

Gow.    No:    fifteen   hundred   foot,   five   hundred 
horse, 
Are  march'd  up  to  my  lord  of  Lancaster, 
Against  Northumberland,  and  the  archbishop. 

Fal.  Comes  the  king  back  from  Wales,  my  noble 
lord? 

Ch.  Just.  You  shall  hare  letters  of  me  presently -t 
Come,  go  along  with  me,  good  master  Gower. 

Fal.  My  lord! 

Ch.  Just.  What's  the  matter? 

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

Gow.  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. 

Fal.  Will  you  sup  with  me,  master  Gower  ? 


188  SECOND  PART  OF 

Ch.  Just.  What  foolish  master  tausfht  you  these 
manners,  sir  John  ? 

Fa  I.  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. 


SCENE  II. 

The  same.     Another  Street. 

Enter  Prince  Henry  and  Poins. 

P.  Hen.  Trust  me,  I  am  exceeding  weary. 

Poins.  Is  it  come  to  that?  I  had  thought,  weari- 
ness durst  not  have  attach'd  one  of  so  high  blood, 

P.  Hen.  'Faith,  it  does  me;  though  it  discolours 
the  complexion  of  my  greatness  to  acknowledge  it. 
Doth  it  not  show  vilely  in  me,  to  desire  small  beer? 

Poins.  Why,  a  prince  should  not  be  so  loosely 
studied,  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.  But,  indeed  these  humble  con- 
siderations make  me  out  of  love  with  my  greatness. 
What  a  disgrace  is  it  to  me,  to  remember  thy  name  ? 
or  to  know  thy  face  to-morrow  ?  or  to  take  note  how 
many  pair  of  silk  stockings  thou  hast;  viz.  these,  and 
those  that  were  the  peach-colour'd  ones?  or  to  bear 
the  inventory  of  thy  shirts;  as,  one  for  superfluity, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  isg 

and  one  other  for  use? — but  that,  the  tennis-court 
keeper  knows  better  than  I;  for  it  is  a  low  ebb  of 
linen  with  thee,  when  thou  keepest  not  racket  there; 
as  thou  hast  not  done  a  great  while,  because  the  rest 
of  thy  low-countries  have  made  a  shift  to  eat  up  thy 
holland:  and  God  knows,  whether  those  that  bawl 
out  the  ruins  of  thy  linen,  shall  inherit  his  kingdom  : 
but  the  mid  wives  say,  the  children  are  not  in  the 
fault ;  whereupon  the  world  increases,  and  kindreds 
are  mightily  strengthen'd. 

Poins.  How  ill  it  follows  after  you  have  labour'd 
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? 

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

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

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

P.  Hen.  Why,  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  Falstaff,  for  obduracy 
and  persistency:  Let  the  end  try  the  man.  But  I 
tell  thee, — my  heart  bleeds  inwardly,  that  my  father 


1Q0  SECOND  PART  OF 

is  so  sick :  and  keeping  such  vile  company  as  tbou. 
art,  hath  in  reason  taken  from  me  all  ostentation  of 
sorrow. 

Poins.  The  reason? 

P.  Hen.  What  would'st  thou  think  of  me,  if  I 
should  weep? 

Poins.  I  would  think  thee  a  most  princely  hypo- 
crite. 

P.  Hen.  It  would  be  every  man's  thought :  and 
thou  art  a  blessed  fellow  to  think  as  every  man  thinks  5 
never  a  man's  thought  in  the  world  keeps  the  road- 
way better  than  thine :  every  man  would  think  me  an 
hypocrite  indeed.  And  what  accites  your  most  wor- 
shipful thought,  to  think  so  ? 

Poins.  Why,  because  you  have  been  so  lewd,  and 
so  much  engrafted  to  FalstafF. 

P.  Hen.  And  to  thee. 

Poins.  By  this  light,  I  am  well  spoken  of,  I  can 
hear  it  with  mine  own  ears:  the  worst  that  they  can 
say  of  me  is,  that  I  am  a  -second  brother,  and  that  I 
am  a  proper  fellow  of  my  hands;  and  those  two 
things,  I  confess,  I  cannot  help.  By  the  mass,  here 
comes  Bardolph. 

P.  Hen.  And  the  boy  that  I  gave  FalstarT:  he  had 
him  from  me  christian;  and  look,  if  the  fat  villain 
have  not  transform' d  him  ape. 

Enter  Bardolph  and  Page. 

Bard.  'Save  your  grace  ! 

P.  Hen.  And  yours,  most  noble  Bardolph! 


KING  HENRY  IV.  ig\ 

Bard.  Come,  you  virtuous  ass,  [7b  the  Page.]  you 
bashful  fool,  must  you  be  blushing?  wherefore  blush 
you  now?  What  a  maidenly  man  at  arms  are  you 
become?  Is  it  such  a  matter,  to  get  a  pottle-pot's 
maidenhead  ? 

Page.  He  call'd  me  even  now,  my  lord,  through 
a  red  lattice,  and  I  could  discern  no  part  of  his  face 
from  the  window:  at  last,  I  spied  his  eyes;  and,  me- 
thought,  he  had  made  two  holes  in  the  ale-wife's  new 
petticoat,  and  peep'd  through. 

P.  Hen.  Hath  not  the  boy  profited  ? 

Bard.  Away,  you  whoreson  upright  rabbit,  away! 

Page.  Away,  you  rascally  Althea's  dream 37,  away ! 

P.  Hen.  Instruct  us,  boy:  What  dream,  boy? 

Page.  Marry,  my  lord,  Althea  dream'd  she  was 
delivered  of  a  fire-brand ;  and  therefore  I  call  him 
her  dream. 

P.  Hen.  A  crown's  worth  of  good  interpretation. — 
There  it  is,  boy.  [Gives  him  money. 

Poins.  O,  that  this  good  blossom  could  be  kept  from 
cankers! — Well,  there  is  sixpence  to  preserve  thee. 

Bard.  An  you  do  not  make  him  be  hang'd  among 
you,  the  gallows  shall  have  wrong. 

P.  Hen.  And  how  doth  thy  master,  Bardolph? 

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

P.  Hen.  Deliver'd  with  good  respect. — And  how 
doth  the  martlemas 3S,  your  master? 

Bard.  In  bodily  health,  sir. 

Poins.  Marry,  the  immortal  part  needs  a  physi- 
vol  vii,  r 


192  SECOND  PART  OF 

cian:  but  that  moves  not  him  5  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  Falstaff,  knight, Every 

man  must  know  that,  as  oft  as  he  has  occasion  to 
name  himself.  Even  like  those  that  are  kin  to  the 
king;  for  they  never  prick  their  finger,  but  they 
say,  There  is  some  of  the  kings  blood  spilt:  Hoiv 
comes  that?  says  he,  that  takes  upon  him  not  to  con- 
ceive: the  answer  is  as  ready  as  a  borrowers  cap;  / 
am  the  king's  poor  cousin,  sir. 

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

Poins.  Sir  John  Falstaff,  knight,  to  the  son  of  the 
king,  nearest  his  father,  Harry  prince  of 'Wales,  greet- 
ing.— Why,  this  is  a  certificate. 

P.  Hen.  Peace! 

Poins.  I  will  imitate  the  honourable  Roman20  in 
brevity: — he  sure  means  brevity  in  breath;  short- 
winded. — I  commend  me  to  thee,  I  commend  thee,  and 
I  leave  thee.  Be  not  too  familiar  with  Yo\m;for  he 
misuses  thy  favours  so  much,  that  he  swears,  thou  art 
to  marry  his  sister  Nell.  Repent  at  idle  times  as  thou 
7naifst,  and  so  farewell. 

Thine,  by  yea  and  no,  (which  is  as  much  as 
to  say,  as  thou  usest  him,)  Jack  Falstalt, 
with  my  familiars ;  Jolm,zvithmy  brothers 
and  sisters;  and  sir  John;  with  all  Europe. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  193 

My  lord,  I'll  steep  this  letter  in  sack,  and  make  him 
eat  it. 

P.  Hen.  That's  to  make  him  eat  twenty  of  his 
words.  But  do  you  use  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.  Yes,  my  lord. 

P.  Hen.  Where  sups  he?  doth  the  old  boar  feed 
in  the  old  frank  4°  ? 

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

P.  Hen.  What  company  ? 

Page.  Ephesians,  my  lord;  of  the  old  church. 

P.  Hen.  Sup  any  women  with  him? 

Page.  None,  my  lord,  but  old  mistress  Quickly, 
and  mistress  Doll  Tear-sheet. 

P.  Hen.  What  pagan  may  that  be? 

Page.  A  proper  gentlewoman,  sir,  and  a  kins- 
woman of  my  master's. 

P.  Hen.  Even  such  kin,  as  the  parish  heifers  are 
to  the  town  bull. — Shall  we  steal  upon  them,  Ned, 
at  supper? 

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

P.  Hen.  Sirrah,  you  boy, — and  Bardolph  ; — no 
word  to  your  master,  that  I  am  yet  come  to  town : 
There's  for  your  silence. 


IQ4  SECOND  PART  OF 

Bard.   I  have  no  tongue,  sir. 

Page.  And  for  mine,  sir, — I  will  govern  it. 

P.  Hen.  Fare  ye  well;  go.  [Exeunt  Bardolph 
and  Page.~\ — This  Doll  Tear-sheet  should  be  some 
road. 

Poins.  I  warrant  you,  as  common  as  the  way  be- 
tween saint  Albans  and  London. 

P.  Hen.  How  might  we  see  Falstaff  bestow  him- 
self to  night  in  his  true  colours,  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  god  to  a  bull?  a  heavy  descen- 
sion  !  it  was  Jove's  case.  From  a  prince  to  a  pren- 
tice ?  a  low  transformation  !  that  shall  be  mine :  for, 
in  every  thing,  the  purpose  must  weigh  with  the 
folly.     Follow  me,  Ned.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  in. 

IFarkworth.     Before  the  Castle. 

Enter  Northumberland,    Lady    Northumber- 
land, and  Lady  Percy. 

North.  I  pray  thee,  loving  wife,  and  gentle  daughter, 
Give  even  way  unto  my  rough  affairs  : 
Put  not  you  on  the  visage  of  the  times, 
And  be,  like  them,  to  Percy  troublesome. 

Lady  N.  I  have  given  over,  I  will  speak  no  more  : 


KING  HENRY  IV.  195 

Do  what  you  will  5  your  wisdom  be  your  guide. 

North.  Alas,  sweet  wife,  my  honour  is  at  pawn; 
And,  but  my  going,  nothing  can  redeem  it. 

Lady  P.  O,  yet  for  God's  sake,  go  not  to  these 


wars ! 


The  time  was,  father,  that  you  broke  your  word, 

When  you  were  more  endear'd  to  it  than  now; 

When  your  own  Percy,  when  my  heart's  dear  Harry, 

Threw  many  a  northward  look,  to  see  his  father 

Bring  up  his  powers;  but  he  did  long  in  vain. 

Who  then  persuaded  you  to  stay  at  home  ? 

There  were  two  honours  lost;  yours,  and  your  son's. 

For  yours, — may  heavenly  glory  brighten  it ! 

For  his, — it  stuck  upon  him,  as  the  sun 

In  the  grey  vault  of  heaven:  and,  by  his  light, 

Did  all  the  chivalry  of  England  move 

To  do  brave  acts;  he* was,  indeed,  the  glass 

Wherein  the  noble  youth  did  dress  themselves. 

He  had  no  legs,  that  practised  not  his  gait: 

And  speaking  thick,  which  nature  made  his  blemish, 

Became  the  accents  of  the  valiant; 

For  those  that  could  speak  low',  and  tardily, 

Would  turn  their  own  perfection  to  abuse, 

To  seem  like  him:   So  that,  in  speech,  in  gait, 

In  diet,  in  affections  of  delight, 

In  military  rules,  humours  of  blood, 

He  was  the  mark  and  glass,  copy  and  book, 

That    fashiond   others.      And    him, — O   wondrous 

him ! 
O  miracle  of  men! — him  did  you  leave, 


)(j6  SECOND  PART  OF 

(Second  to  none,  unseconded  by  you,) 
To  look  upon  the  hideous  god  of  war 
In  disadvantage ;   to  abide  a  field, 
Where  nothing  but  the  sound  of  Hotspur's  name 
Did  seem  defensible: — so  you  left  him: 
Never,  O  never,  do  his  ghost  the  wrong, 
To  hold  your  honour  more  precise  and  nice 
With  others,  than  with  him  ;  let  them  alone; 
The  marshal,  and  the  archbishop,  are  strong: 
Had  my  sweet  Harry  had  but  half  their  numbers, 
To-day  might  I,  hanging  on  Hotspur's  neck, 
Have  talk'd  of  Monmouth's  grave. 

Korth.  Beshrew  your  heart, 

Fair  daughter !  you  do  draw  my  spirits  from  me, 
With  new  lamenting  ancient  oversights. 
But  I  must  go,  and  meet  with  danger  there; 
Or  it  will  seek  me  in  another  place, 
And  find  me  worse  provided. 

Lady  N.  O,  fly  to  Scotland, 

Till  that  the  nobles,  and  the  armed  commons, 
Have  of  their  puissance  made  a  little  taste. 

Lady  P.  If  they  get  ground  and  vantage  of  the 
king, 
Then  join  you  with  them,  like  a  rib  of  steel, 
To  make  strength  stronger;  but,  for  all  our  loves, 
First  let  them  try  themselves:   So  did  your  son; 
He  was  so  suffer'd;  so  came  I  a  widow; 
And  never  shall  have  length  of  life  enough, 
To  rain  upon  remembrance  with  mine  eyes, 
That  it  may  grow  and  sprout  as  high  as  heaven, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  197 

For  recordation  to  my  noble  husband. 

North.  Come,  come,  go  in  with  me :   'tis  with  my 
mind, 
As  with  the  tide  swell'd  up  unto  its  height, 
That  makes  a  still-stand,  running  neither  way. 
Fain  w-ould  I  go  to  meet  the  archbishop, 

But  many  thousand  reasons  hold  me  back: 

I  will  resolve  for  Scotland  j  there  am  I, 

Till  time  and  vantage  crave  my  company.     [Exeunt. 

SCENE   IF. 

London.     A  Room  in  the  Boars  Head  Tavern,  in 

East cheap. 

Enter  tivo  Drawers. 

1  Draw.  What  the  devil  hast  thou  brought  there? 
apple- Johns  ?  thou  know'st  sir  John  cannot  endure  an 
apple-John. 

2  Draw.  Mass,  thou  say'st  true :  The  prince  once 
set  a  dish  of  apple- Johns  before  him,  and  told  him, 
there  were  five  more  sir  Johns :  and,  putting  off  his 
hat,  said,  I  will  now  take  my  leave  of  these  six  dry, 
round,  old,  wither  d  hiights.  It  anger'd  him  to  the 
heart  j  but  he  hath  forgot  that. 

1  Draw.  Why  then,  cover,  and  set  them  down : 
And  see  if  thou  canst  rind  out  Sneak's  noise  4I  j  mis- 
tress Tear-sheet  would  fain  hear  some  musick.  Des- 
patch:—The  room  where  they  supp'd,  is  too  hotj 
they'll  come  in  straight. 


Ip3  SECOND  TAUT  OF 

2  Draw.  Sirrah,  here  will  be  the  prince,  and  mas- 
ter Poins  anon :  and  they  will  put  on  two  of  our  jer- 
kins, and  aprons;  and  sir  John  must  not  know  of  it: 
Bardolph  hath  brought  word. 

1  Draw.  By  the  mass,  here  will  be  old  utis42:  It 
will  be  an  excellent  stratagem. 

2  Draw.  I'll  see,  if  I  can  find  out  Sneak.     [Exit. 

Enter  Hostess  and  Doll  Tear-sheet. 

Host.  I'faith,  sweet  heart,  methinks  now  you  are 
in  an  excellent  good  temperality :  your  pulsidge  beats 
as  extraordinarily  as  heart  would  desire ;  and  your 
colour,  I  warrant  you,  is  as  red  as  any  rose:  But, 
i'faith,  you  have  drunk  too  much  canaries ;  and 
that's  a  marvellous  searching  wine,  and  it  perfumes 
the  blood  ere  one  can  say, — What's  this?  How  do 
you  now  ? 

Dol.  Better  than  I  was.     Hem ! 

Host.  Why,  that's  well  said;  a  good  heart's  worth 
gold.     Look,  here  comes  sir  John. 

Enter  Falstaff,  singing. 

Fal.  When  Arthur  first  in  court — Empty  the  Jor- 
dan.— And  was  a  worthy  king:  [Exit  Draiver.~\ 
How  now,  Mrs.  Doll  ? 

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

FjL  So  is  all  her  sect 3  an  they  be  once  in  a  calm, 
they  are  sick. 

Dol.  You  muddy  rascal,  is  that  all  the  comfort 
jrou  give  me  ? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  199 

Fal.  You  make  fat  rascals,  mistress  Doll. 

Dol.  I  make  themf  gluttony  and  diseases  make 
them  5  I  make  them  not. 

Fal.  If  the  cook  help  to  make  the  gluttony,  you 
help  to  make  the  diseases,  Doll :  we  catch  of  you, 
Doll,  we  catch  of  you;  grant  that,  my  poor  virtue, 
grant  that. 

Dol.  Ay,  marry;  our  chains,  and  our  jewels. 

Fal.  Your  brooches,  pearls,  and  owches  43 : — for  to 
serve  bravely,  is  to  come  halting  off,  you  know: 
To  come  off  the  breach  with  his  pike  bent  bravely, 
and  to  surgery  bravely ;  to  venture  upon  the  charg'd 
chambers  bravely : 

Doll.  Hang  yourself,  you  muddy  conger,  bang 
yourself! 

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  rheumatick  as  two  dry 
toasts;  you  cannot  one  bear  with  another's  confirmi- 
ties.  What  the  good  year!  one  must  bear,  and  that 
must  be  you:  [To  Do/.]  you  are  the  weaker  vessel, 
as  they  say,  the  emptier  vessel. 

Dol.  Can  a  weak  empty  vessel  bear  such  a  huge 
full  hogshead  ?  there's  a  whole  merchant's  venture  of 
Bourdeaux  stuff  in  him;  you  have  not  seen  a  hulk 
better  stuff 'd  in  the  hold. —  Come,  I'll  be  friends  with 
thee,  Jack:  thou  art  going  to  the  wars;  and  whe- 
ther I  shall  ever  see  thee  again,  or  no,  there  is  no- 
body cares. 


200  SECOND  PART  OF 

Be- enter  Drawer. 

Draw.  Sir,  ancient  Pistol's  below,  and  would 
speak  with  you. 

Dol.  Hang  him,  swaggering  rascal!  let  him  not 
come  hither :  it  is  the  foul-mouth'dst  rogue  in  England . 

Host.  If  he  swagger,  let  him  not  come  here :  no, 
by  my  faith 5  I  must  live  amongst  my  neighbours) 
I'll  no  swaggerers:  I  am  in  good  name  and  fame 
with  the  very  best : — Shut  the  door  j — there  comes  no 
swaggerers  here !  I  have  not  lived  all  this  while,  to 
have  swaggering  now :   shut  the  door,  I  pray  you. 

Fal.  Dost  thou  hear,  hostess  ? — 

Host.  Pray  you,  pacify  yourself,  sir  John}  there 
comes  no  swaggerers  here. 

Fal.  Dost  thou  hear?  it  is  mine  ancient. 

Host.  Tiily-fally,  sir  John,  never  tell  me ;  your 
ancient  swaggerer  comes  not  in  my  doors.  I  was  be- 
fore master  Tisick,  the  deputy,  the  other  day)  and., 
as  he  said  to  me, — it  was  no  longer  ago  than  Wed- 
nesday last, — Neighbour  Quickly,  says  he ; — master 
Dumb,  our  minister,  was  by  then: — Neiglihour 
Quickly,  says  he,  receive  those  that  are  civil;  for, 
saith  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,  770  swag- 
gering companions. There  comes  none  here; — 

you  would  bless  you  to  hear  what  he  said: — no,  I'll 
no  swaggerers. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  201 

Fal.  He's  no  swaggerer,  hostess;  a  tame  cheater  <^ 
he;  you  may  stroke  him  as  gentle  as  a  puppy  grey- 
hound :  he  will  not  swagger  with  a  Barbary  hen,  if 
her  feathers  turn  back  in  any  show  of  resistance. — 
Call  him  up,  drawer. 

Host.  Cheater,  call  you  him?  I  will  bar  no  honest 
man  my  house,  nor  no  cheater :  But  I  do  not  love 
swaggering ;  by  my  troth,  I  am  the  worse,  when  one 
sayS — swagger:  feel,  masters,  how  I  shake;  look 
you,  I  warrant  you. 

Dol.  So  you  do,  hostess. 

h'cst.  Do  I?  yea,  in  very  truth,  do  I,  an  'twere  an 
a.spen  leaf:   I  cannot  abide  swaggerers. 

Enter  Pistol,  Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Pist.  'Save  you,  sir  John ! 

Fal.  Welcome,  ancient  Pistol.  Here,  Pistol,  I 
charge  you  with  a  cup  of  sack:  do  you  discharge 
upon  mine  hostess. 

Pist.  I  will  discharge  upon  her,  sir  John,  witli 
two  bullets. 

Fal.  She  is  pistol-proof,  sir;  you  shall  hardly 
offend  her. 

Host.  Come,  I'll  drink  no  proofs,  nor  no  bullets; 
I'll  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?  I  scorn  you,  scurvy  compa- 
nion.    What!    you  poor,   base,   rascally,   cheating, 


202  SECOND  PART  OF 

lack-linen  mate!  Away,  you  mouldy  rogue,  away!  I 
am  meat  for  your  master. 

Pist.  I  know  you,  mistress  Dorothy. 

Dol.  Away,  you  cut-purse  rascal!  you  filthy  bung, 
away!  by  this  wine,  I'll  thrust  my  knife  in  your 
mouldy  chaps,  an  you  play  the  saucy  cuttle  with  me45. 
Away,  you  bottle-ale  rascal!  you  basket-hilt  stale 
juggler,  you!  — Since  when,  I  pray  you,  sir? — What) 
with  two  points  on  your  shoulder?  much! 

Pist.  I  will  murder  your  ruff  for  this. 

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

Host.  No,  good  captain  Pistol  j  not  here,,  sweet 
captain. 

Dol.  Captain!  thou  abominable  damn'd  cheater, 
art  thou  not  ashamed  to  be  call'd — captain  ?  If  cap- 
tains were  of  my  mind,  they  would  truncheon  you 
out,  for  taking  their  names  upon  you  before  you  have 
earn  d  them.  You  a  captain,  you  slave!  for  what  ? 
for  tearing  a  poor  whore's  ruff  in  a  bawdy-house?  — 
He  a  captain?  Hang  him,  rogue!  He  lives  upon 
mouldy  stew'd  prunes-,  and  dried  cakes.  A  captain ! 
these  villains  will  make  the  word  captain  as  odious  as 
the  word  occupy  ;  which  was  an  excellent  good  word 
before  it  was  ill  sorted:  therefore  captains  had  need 
look  to  it. 

Bard.  Pray  thee,  go  down,  good  ancient. 

Fal.  Hark  thee  hither,  mistress  Doll. 

Pist.  Not  I :  I  tell  thee  what,  corporal  Bardolph; — 
I  could  tear  her: — I'll  be  reveng'd  on  her. 


KIXG  HENRY  IV.  205 


Page.  Pray  thee,  go  down. 

Pist.  I'll  see  her  damn'd  first ; — to  Pluto's  damned 
lake,  to  the  infernal  deep,  with  Erebus  and  tortures 
vile  also.  Hold  hook  and  line,  say  I.  Down!  down, 
dogs !  down  faitors !   Have  we  not  Hiren  here  46  ? 

Host.  Good  captain  Peesel,  be  quiet ;  it  is  very  late, 
i'faith :  I  beseek  yon  now,  aggravate  your  choler. 

Pist.  These  be  good  humours,  indeed  i  Shall  pack- 
horses, 
And  hollow  pamper'd  jades  of  Asia  +7, 
Which  cannot  go  but  thirty  miles  a  day, 
Compare  with  Caesars,  and  with  Cannibals, 
And  Trojan  Greeks?  nay,  rather  damn  them  with 
King  Cerberus  j  and  let  the  welkin  roar. 
Shall  we  fall  foul  for  toys? 

Host.  By  my  troth,  captain,  these  are  very  bitter 
words. 

Bard.  Be  gone,  good  ancient:  this  will  grow  to  a 
brawl  anon. 

Pist.  Die  men,  like  dogs ;  give  crowns  like  pins; 
Have  we  not  Hiren  here? 

Host.  O'  my  word,  captain,  there's  none  such  here. 
What  the  good-year!  do  you  think,  I  would  deny 
her?   for  God's  sake,  be  quiet. 

Pist.  Then,  feed,  and  be  fat,  my  fair  Calipolis  +" : 
Come,  give's  some  sack. 

Sifortuna  me  tormenta,  sperato  me  contenta. — 
Fear  we  broadsides?  no,  let  the  fiend  give  fire: 
Give  me  some  sack  5 — and,  sweetheart,  lie  thou  there. 

[Laying  down  his  sicord. 


204  SECOND  PART  OF 

Come  we  to  full  points  here  $  and  are  et  cetera  s  no- 
thing-} 

Fal.  Pistol,  I  would  be  quiet. 

Pist.  Sweet  knight,  I  kiss  thy  neif«:  What!  we 
have  seen  the  seven  stars. 

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

Pist.  Thrust  him  down  stairs !  know  we  not  Gal- 
loway nags  ? 

Fal.  Quoit  him  down,  Bardolph,  like  a  shove- 
groat  shilling:  nay,  if  he  do  nothing  but  speak  no- 
thing, he  shall  be  nothing  here. 

Bard.  Come,  get  you  down  stairs. 

Pist.  What!   shall  we  have  incision?  shall  we  im- 
brue?   [Snatching  up  his  sword. 

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

Host.  Here's  goodly  stuff  toward! 

Fal.  Give  me  my  rapier,  boy. 

Dol.  I  pray  thee,  Jack,  I  pray  thee,  do  not  draw. 

Fal.  Get  you  down  stairs. 

[Drawing,  and  driving  Pistol  out. 

Host.  Here's  a  goodly  tumult!  I'll  forswear  keep- 
ing house,  afore  I'll  be  in  these  tirrits  and  frights. 

So j   murder,  I  warrant  now. Alas,  alas!  put  up 

your  naked  weapons,  put  up  your  naked  weapons. 

[Exeunt  Pistol  and  Bardolph. 

Dol.  I  pray  thee,  Jack,  be  quiet;  the  rascal  is 
gone.     Ah,  you  whoreson  little  valiant  villain,  you. 


tin* J  In  T.  Jtrdiard  RA. 


FrurmrJt*  C  trgutrrn?. 


• 


KING  HENRY  IY  205 

.  .re  you  not  hart  ftfee  groin:  meiboog 
he  made  a  shrc       thrust  at  your  beh 

Re-enter  B  ardolph. 

7       j  lire  you  turn'd  him  out  of  doc: 
Bard.  Y  The   ::   ._    =    _:.... 

hart  him,  sir,  in  the  shoulder. 
F.      .rascal!  to  brave  me! 
i  eet  little  rogue,  you!  Alas,  poor 

ape,  how  thou  sweat'st?   Come  let  me  wipe  thy 
-:  — c:~e   ..  .  ;  -  — Ah.  :  _v 

ih.  I  i:  •  :  :kee.     Tk:a  in  is  xi.:::  _:«  as  H:  ::: 
- : "  T  worth  fare  of  Agamemnon,  and  ten  times 

better  than  the  nine  worthies:  Ah,  villain! 

FmI.  A  rascal  I  wui  toss  the  rogue  in  a 

.kt: 

I         7  "      .'     -     -  .:"-...: a   "..  -v 

jee  between  a  pair  of  shee 

Enter  Musi 
The  musick  is  come 

Del.  ai  bragging  si  :    pie  fled  from 

ae  quicksilver. 
Dol.  Ir'aiti,  and  thou  folic  him  like  a  church. 

Thou  whoreson  little  tidy  Bartholomew  boar- 
:hou  leave  fighting  .  and  foil 

le  old  body 
he 


200  SECOND  PART  OF 

Enter  behind,  Prince  Henry  and  Poins,  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  fellow:  he  would  have 
made  a  good  pander,  he  would  have  chipp'd  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  mustard50}  there  is  no  more 
conceit  in  him,  than  is  in  a  mallet. 

Dol.  Why  does  the  prince  love  him  so  then? 

Fal.  Because  their  legs  are  both  of  a  bigness ;  and 
he  plays  at  quoits  well :  and  eats  conger  and  fennel51  j 
?nd  drinks  off  candles'  ends  for  fiapdragons;  and 
rides  the  wild  mare  with  the  boys;  and  jumps  upon 
joint-stools;  and  swears  with  a  good  grace;  and  wears 
his  boot  very  smooth,  like  unto  the  sign  of  the  leg; 
and  breeds  no  bate  with  telling  of  discreet  stories: 
and  such  other  gambol  faculties  he  hath,  that  shew  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 
averdupois. 

P.  Hen.  Would  not  this  nave  of  a  wheel 5Z  have 
his  ears  cut  off? 

Poins.  Let's  beat  him  before  his  whore. 


r 


KING  HENRY  IV.  207 

P.  Hen.  Look,  if  the  wither'd  elder  hath  not  his 
poll  claw'd  like  a  parrot. 

Poins.  Is  it  not  strange,  that  desire  should  so  many 
years  outlive  performance? 

Fal.  Kiss  me,  Doll. 

P.  Hen.  Saturn  and  Venus  this  year  in  conjunc- 
tion! what  says  the  almanack  to  that? 

Poins.  And,  look,  whether  the  fiery  Trigon53,  his 
man,  be  not  lisping  to  his  master's  old  tables}  his 
note  book,  his  counsel-keeper. 

Fal.  Thou  dost  give  me  flattering  busses. 

Dol.  Nay,  truly 5  I  kiss  thee  with  a  most  constant 
heart. 

Fal.  I  am  old,  I  am  old. 

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

Fal.  What  stuff  wilt  have  a  kirtle  of?  I  shall 
receive  money  on  Thursday:  thou  shalt  have  r. 
cap  to-morrow.  A  merry  song,  come:  it  grows 
late,  we'll  to  bed.  Thou'lt  forget  me,  when  I  am 
gone. 

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

Fal.  .Some  sack,  Francis. 

P.  Hen.  Poins.  Anon,  anon,  sir.  [Advancing. 

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? 

vol.  vir.  a 


208  SECOND  TART  OF 

Fal.  A  better  than  thou ;  lama  gentleman,  thou 
art  a  drawer. 

P.  Hen.  Very  true,  sir ;  and  I  come  to  draw  you 
out  by  the.  ears. 

Host.  O,  the  Lord  preserve  thy  good  grace!  by 
my  troth,  welcome  to  London.— Now  the  Lord  bless 
that  sweet  face  of  thine!  O  Jesu,  are  you  come  from 
Wales? 

Fal.  Thou  whoreson  mad  compound  of  majesty, — 
by  this  light  flesh  and  corrupt  blood,  thou  art  wel- 
come.   -  [Leaning  his  hand  upon  Doll. 

Dol.  How!  you  fat  fool,  I  scorn  you. 

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

P.  Hen.  You  whoreson  candle-mine  s+,  you,  how 
vilely  did  you  speak  of  me  even  now,  before  this 
honest,  virtuous,  civil  gentlewoman? 

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

Fal.  Didst  thou  hear  me  ? 

P.  Hen.  Yes ;  and  you  knew  me,  as  you  did  when 
you  ran  away  by  Gads-hill:  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  hearing. 

P.  Hen.  I  shall  drive  you  then  to  confess  the  wil- 
ful abuse;  and  then  I  know  how  to  handle  you. 

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


KING  HENRY  IV.  209 

P.  Hen.  Not !  to  dispraise  me;  and  call  me — pant- 
ler,  and  bread-chipper,  and  I  know  not  what  ? 

Fal.  No  abuse,  Hal. 

Poins.  No  abuse ! 

Fal.  No  abuse,  Ned,  in  the  world 3  honest  Ned, 
none.  I  dispraise  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  ?  Or  is  the  boy  of 
the  wicked?  Or  honest  Bardolph,  whose  zeal  burns 
in  his  nose,  of  the  wicked  ? 

Poins.  Answer,  thou  dead  elm,  answer. 

Fal.  The  fiend  hath  prick' d  down  Bardolph  irre- 
coverable; and  his  face  is  Lucifer's  privy-kitchen, 
where  he  doth  nothing  but  roast  malt-worms.  For 
the  boy, — there  is  a  good  angel  about  him;  but  the 
devil  outbids  him  too. 

P.  Hen.  For  the  women, 

Fal.  For  one  of  them, — she  is  in  hell  already,  and 
burns,  poor  soul!  For  the  other, — I  owe  her  money; 
and  whether  she  be  damn'd  for  that,  I  know  not. 

Host.  No,  I  warrant  you. 

Fal.  No,  I  think  thou  art  not;  I  think,  thou  art 
quit  for  that :    Marry,  there  is  another  indictment 


210  SECOND  PART  OF 

upon  thee,  for  suffering  flesh  to  be  eaten  in  thy  house, 
contrary  to  the  law:  for  the  which,  I  think,  thou 
wilt  howl. 

Host.  All  victuallers  do  so;  What's  a  joint  of 
mutton  or  two,  in  a  whole  Lent? 

P.  Hen.  You,  gentlewoman, — 

Dol.  What  says  your  grace  ? 

Fal.  His  grace  says  that  which  his  flesh  rebels 
against. 

Host.  Who  knocks  so  loud  at  door?  look  to  the 
door  there,  Francis. 

Enter  Peto. 

P.  Hen.  Peto,  how  now  ?  what  news  ? 
Peto.  The  king  your  father  is  at  Westminster  j 
And  there  are  twenty  weak  and  wearied  posts, 
Come  from  the  north :  and,  as  I  came  along, 
I  met  and  overtook,  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  P.  Henry,  Poins,  Peto,  and  Bard. 
Fal.  Now  comes  in  the  sweetest  morsel  of  the 


KING  HENRY  IV.  211 

night,  and  we  must  hence,  and  leave  it  unpick'd. 
[Knocking  heard.']  More  knocking  at  the  door? 

Re-enter  Bardolph. 

How  now?  what's  the  matter? 

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

Fal.  Pay  the  musicians,  sirrah.  [To  the  Page.]  — 
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 
call'd  on.  Farewell,  good  wenches: — If  I  be  not 
sent  away  post,  I  wilt  see  you  again  ere  I  go. 

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

Fal.  Farewell,  farewell. 

[Exeunt  FalstaJJ'  and  Bardolph. 

Host.  Well,  fare  thee  well:  I  have  known  thee 
these  twenty-nine  years,  come  peascod-time;  but  an 
honester,  and  a  truer-hearted  man, — Well,  fare  thee 
well. 

Bard.  [JFithin.~]  Mistress  Tear-sheet, 

Host.  What's  the  matter  ? 

Bard.  Bid  mistress  Tear-sheet  come  to  my  master. 

Host.  O  run,  Doll,  run;  run,  good  Doll.  [Exeunt. 


212  SECOND  PART  OF 

ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 

A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry  in  his  nightgown,  with  a  Page. 

K.  Hen.  Go,  call  the  earls  of  Surrey  and  of  War- 
wick ; 
But,  ere  they  come,  bid  them  o'er-read  these  letters, 

And  well  consider  of  them:  Make  good  speed. 

[Exit  Page. 
How  many  thousand  of  my  poorest  subjects 
Are  at  this  hour  asleep! — Sleep,  gentle  sleep, 
Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee, 
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  lull'd  with  sounds  of  sweetest  melody  ? 
O  thou  dull  god,  why  liest  thou  with  the  vile, 
In  loathsome  bedsj  and  leav'st  the  kingly  couch, 
A  watch-case,  or  a  common  'larum  bell 55  ? 
Wilt  thou  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast 
Seal  up  the  shipboy's  eyes,  and  rock  his  brains 
In  cradle  of  the  rude  imperious  surge ; 
And  in  the  visitation  of  the  winds, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  213 

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  ? 
Can'st  thou,  O  partial  sleep !  give  thy  repose 
To  the  wet  seaboy  in  an  hour  so  rude ; 
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  Warwick  and  Surrey. 

War.  Many  good  morrows  to  your  majesty ! 

K.  Hen.  Is  it  good  morrow,  lords? 

War.  'Tis  one  o'clock,  and  past. 

K.  Hen.  Why  then,  good  morrow  to  you  all,  my 
lords. 
Have  you  read  o'er  the  letters  that  I  sent  you? 

War.  We  have,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  Then  you  perceive,  the  body  of  our  king- 
dom 
How  foul  it  is  :  what  rank  diseases  grow, 
And  with  what  danger,  near  the  heart  of  it. 

War.  It  is  but  as  a  body,  yet,  distemper'd ; 
Which  to  his  former  strength  may  be  restor'd, 

With  good  advice,  and  little  medicine: 

My  lord  Northumberland  will  soon  be  cool'd. 

A'.  Hen.  O  heaven!  that  one  might  read  the  book 
of  fate ; 
And  see  the  revolution  of  the  times 


214  SECOND  PART  OF 

Make  mountains  level,  and  the  continent 

(Weary  of  solid  firmness,)  melt  itself 

Into  the  sea!  and,  other  times,  to  see 

The  beachy  girdle  of  the  ocean 

Too  wide  for  Neptune's  hips;  how  chances  mock, 

And  changes  fill  the  cup  of  alteration 

With  divers  liquors!  O,  if  this  were  seen, 

The  happiest  youth, — viewing  his  progress  through. 

What  perils  past,  what  crosses  to  ensue,— 

Would  shut  the  book,  and  sit  him  down  and  die. 

'Tis  not  ten  years  gone, 

Since  Richard,  and  Northumberland,  great  friends, 

Did  feast  together,  and,  in  two  years  after, 

Were  they  at  wars :    It  is  but  eight  years,  since 

This  Percy  was  the  man  nearest  my  soul ; 

Who  like  a  brother  toild  in  my  affairs, 

And  laid  his  love  and  life  under  my  foot; 

Yea,  for  my  sake,  even  to  the  eyes  of  Richard, 

Gave  him  defiance.     But  which  of  you  was  by  s'5, 

(You,  cousin  Nevil,  as  I  may  remember,) 

[To  Warwick. 
When  Richard, — with  his  eye  brim-fuil  of  tears, 
Then  check'd  and  rated  by  Northumberland, — 
Did  speak  these  words,  now  prov'd  a  prophecy? 
Northumberland,  thou  ladder,  ly  the  which 
My  cousin  Bolinglroke  ascends  my  throne; — 
Though  then,  heaven  knows,  I  had  no  such  intent; 
But  that  necessity  so  bow'd  the  state, 

That  I  and  greatness  were  compell'd  to  kiss: 

The  tune  shall  come,  thus  did  he  follow  it, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  21.5 

The  time  will  come,  that  foul  sin,  gathering  head, 
Shall  Ireak  into  corruption: — so  went  on, 
Foretelling  this  same  time's  condition, 
And  the  division  of  our  amity. 

War.  There  is  a  history  in  all  men's  lives, 
Figuring  the  nature  of  the  times  deceas'd: 
The  which  observ'd,  a  man  may  prophecy, 
With  a  near  aim,  of  the  main  chance  of  things 
As  yet  not  come  to  life ;   which  in  their  seeds, 
And  weak  beginnings,  lie  intreasured. 
Such  things  become  the  hatch  and  brood  of  time) 
And,  by  the  necessary  form  of  this, 
King  Richard  might  create  a  perfect  guess, 
That  great  Northumberland,  then  false  to  him, 
Would ,  of  that  seed,  grow  to  a  greater  falseness ; 
Which  should  not  rind  a  ground  to  root  upon, 
Unless  on  you. 

K.  Hen.  Are  these  things  then  necessities? 

Then  let  us  meet  them  like  necessities : — 
And  that  same  word  even  now  cries  out  on  us; 
They  say,  the  bishop  and  Northumberland 
Are  fifty  thousand  strong. 

War.  It  cannot  be,  my  lordj 

Rumour  doth  double,  like  the  voice  and  echo, 
The  numbers  of  the  fear'd : — Please  it  your  grace, 
To  go  to  bed ;  upon  my  life,  my  lord, 
The  powers  that  you  already  have  sent  forth, 
Shall  bring  this  prize  in  very  easily. 
To  comfort  you  the  more,  I  have  receiv'd 
A  certain  instance,  that  Glendower  is  dead. 


216  SECOND  PART  OF 

Your  majesty  hath  been  this  fortnight  illj 
And  these  unseason'd  hours,  perforce,  must  add 
Unto  your  sickness. 

K  Hen.  I  will  take  your  counsel: 

And,  were  these  inward  wars  once  out  of  hand, 
We  would,  dear  lords,  unto  the  Holy  Land.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

Court  leforc  Justice  Shallow's  House  in  Gloucester- 
shire. 

Enter  Shallow  and  Silence,  meeting;  Mouldy, 
Shadow,  Wart,  Feeble,  Bullcalf,  and  Ser- 
vants, I  e  hind. 

Skal.  Come  on,  come  on,  come  on  :  give  me  your 
hand,  sir,  give  me  your  hand,  sir  5  an  early  stirrer, 
by  the  rood 57.  And  how  doth  my  good  cousin 
Silence  ? 

Sil.  Good  morrow,  good  cousin  Shallow. 

Shal.  And  how  doth  my  cousin,  your  bedfellow  ? 
and  your  fairest  daughter,  and  mine,  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 3  to  my  cost. 

Shal.  He  must  then  to  the  inns  of  court  shortly: 


KING  HENRY  IV.  217 

I  was  once  of  Clement's-inn  3  where,  I  think,  they 
will  talk  of  mad  Shallow  yet. 

Sil.  You  were  call'd — lusty  Shallow,  then,  cousin. 

Shal.  By  the  mass,  I  was  call'd  any  thing;  and  I 
would  have  done  any  thing,  indeed,  and  roundly  too. 
There  was  I,  and  little  John  Doit  of  Staffordshire, 
and  black  George  Bare,  and  Francis  Pickbone,  and 
Will  Squele,  a  Cotswold  man, — you  had  not  four 
such  swinge-bucklers 5i  in  all  the  inns  of  court  again: 
and,  I  may  say  to  you,  we  knew  where  the  bona- 
robas  were  3  and  had  the  best  of  them  all  at  com- 
mandment. Then  was  Jack  FalstafT,  now  sir  John, 
a  boy  j  and  page  to  Thomas  Mowbray,  duke  of 
Norfolk. 

Sil.  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 
did  I  fight  with  one  Sampson  Stockfish,  a  fruiterer, 
behind  Gray's-inn.  O,  the  mad  days  that  I  have 
spent!  and  to  see  how  many  of  mine  old  acquaint- 
ance are  dead ! 

Sil.  We  shall  all  follow,  cousin. 

Shal.  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 


lair 


Sil.  Truly,  cousin,  I  was  not  there. 


218  SECOND  PART  OF 

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

Si  I.  Dead,  sir. 

Shal.  Dead! — See,  see  ! — he  drew  a  good  bow ; — 
And  dead  ! — he  shot  a  fine  shoot: — 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 
score59 ;  and  carry 'd  you  a  forehand  shaft  a  fourteen 
and  fourteen  and  a  half60,   that  it  would  have  done 

a  man's  heart  good  to  see. How  a  score  of  ewes 

now  ? 

Sil.  Thereafter  as  thev  be:  a  score  of  o-ood  ewes 
may  be  worth  ten  pounds. 

Shal.  And  is  old  Double  dead! 

Enter  Bardolph,  and  one  with  him. 

Sil.  Here  come  two  of  sir  John  FalstafF's  men,  as 
I  think. 

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

Shal.  I  am  Robert  Shallow,  sir;  a  poor  esquire 
of  this  county,  and  one  of  the  king's  justices  of  the 
peace:   What  is  your  good  pleasure  with  me? 

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

Shal.  He  greets  me  well,  sir;  I  knew  him  a  good 
backsword  man:  How  doth  the  good  knight?  may  I 
ask,  how  my  lady  his  wife  doth  ? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  219 

Bard.  Sir,  pardon j  a  soldier  is  better  accommo- 
dated 6l,  than  with  a  wife. 

Shal.  It  is  well  said,  in  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  accommodn :  very  good ;  a  good  phrase. 

Bard.  Pardon  me,  sir;  I  have  heard  the  word. 
Phrase,  call  you  it?  By  this  good  day,  I  know  not 
the  phrase :  but  I  will  maintain  the  word  with  my 
sword,  to  be  a  soldierlike  word,  and  a  word  of  ex- 
ceeding good  command.  Accommodated;  That  is, 
when  a  man  is,  as  they  say,  accommodated :  or,  when 
a  man  is, — being, — whereby, — he  may  be  thought 
to  be  accommodated;  which  is  an  excellent  thing. 

Enter  Falstaff. 

Shal.  It  is  very  just: — Look,  here  comes  good  sir 
John. — Give  me  your  good  hand,  give  me  your  wor- 
ship's good  hand  :  By  my  troth,  you  look  well,  and 
bear  your  years  very  well :  welcome,  good  sir  John. 

Fa  I.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well,  good  master  Ro- 
bert Shallow  : — Master  Sure-card,  as  I  think. 

Shal.  No,  sir  John;  it  is  my  cousin  Silence,  in 
commission  with  me. 

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,  ha\e 
you  provided  me  here  half  a  dozen  sufficient  men? 


220  SECOND  PART  OF 

Shal.  Marry,  have  we,  sir.     Will  you  sit? 

Fal.  Let  me  see  them,  I  beseech  you. 

Shal.  Where's  the  roll?  where's  the  roll?  where's 
the  roll? — Let  me  see,  let  me  see.  So,  so,  so,  so: 
Yea,  marry,  sir: — Ralph  Mouldy: — let  them  appear 

as  I  call;  let  them  do  so,  let  them  do  so. Let  me 

see j  Where  is  Mouldy? 

Moid.  Here,  an't  please  you. 

Shal.  What  think  you,  sir  John  ?  a  good  limb'd 
fellow :  young,  strong,  and  of  good  friends. 

Fal.  Is  thy  name  Mouldy? 

Moul.  Yea,  an't  please  you. 

Fal.  Tis  the  more  time  thou  wert  used. 

Shal.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  most  excellent,  i'faith!  things, 
that  are  mouldy,  lack  use :  Very  singular  good ! — 
In  faith,  well  said,  sir  John  ;  very  well  said. 

Fal.  Prick  him.  [To  Shallow. 

Moul.  I  was  prick'd  well  enough  before,  an  you 
could  have  let  me  alone:  my  old  dame  will  be  un- 
done now,  for  one  to  do  her  husbandry,  and  her 
drudgery  r  you  need  not  to  have  prick'd  me ;  there 
are  other  men  fitter  to  go  out  than  I. 

Fal.  Go  to  j  peace,  Mouldy,  you  shall  go.  Mouldy, 
it  is  time  you  were  spent. 

Moul.  Spent! 

Shal.  Peace,  fellow,  peace;  stand  aside;  Know 
you  where  you  are? — For  the  other,  sir  John: — let 
me  see; — Simon  Shadow! 

Fal.  Ay  marry,  let  me  have  him  to  sit  under :  he's 
like  to  be  a  cold  soldier. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  22 1 

Shal.  Where's  Shadow? 

Shad.  Here,  sir. 

Fal.  Shadow,  whose  son  art  thou? 

Shad.  My  mother's  son,  sir. 

Fal.  Thy  mother's  son!  like  enough 3  and  thy  fa. 
ther's  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. 

Shal.  Do  you  like  him,  Sir  John? 

Fal.  Shadow  will  serve  for  summer, — prick  him j 
— for  we  have  a  number  of  shadows  to  fill  up  the 
muster- book. 

Shal  Thomas  Wart! 

Fal.  Where's  he  ? 

Wart.  Here,  sir. 

Fal.  Is  thy  name  Wart  ? 

Wart.  Yea,  sir. 

Fal.  Thou  art  a  very  ragged  wart. 

Shal.  Shall  I  prick  him,  sir  John. 

Fal.  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! 

Fee.  Here,  sir. 

Fal.  What  trade  art  thou,  Feeble  ? 

Fee.  A  woman's  tailor,  sir. 

Shal.  Shall  I  prick  him,  sir? 

Fal.  You  may:  but  if  he  had  been  a  man's  tailor, 
he  would  have  prick'd  you.-—  Wilt  thou  make  as 


222  SECOND  PART  OF 

many  holes  in  an  enemy's  battle,  as  thou  hast  done 
in  a  woman's  petticoat  ? 

Fee.  I  will  do  my  good  will,  sir  5  you  can  have  no 
more. 

Fal.  Well  said,  good  woman's  tailor!  well  said, 
courageous  Feeble  !  Thou  wilt  be  as  valiant  as  the 
wrathful  dove,  or  most  magnanimous  mouse.  — Prick 
the  woman's  tailor  well,  master  Shallow ;  deep,  master 
Shallow. 

Fee.  I  would,  Wart  might  have  gone,  sir. 

Fal.  I  would,  thou  wert  a  man's  tailor  j  that  thou 
might' st  mend  him,  and  make  him  fit  to  go.  I  cannot 
put  him  to  a  private  soldier,  that  is  the  leader  of 
so  many  thousands :  Let  that  suffice,  most  forcible 
Feeble. 

Fee.  It  shall  suffice,  sir. 

Fal.  I  am  bound  to  thee,  reverend  Feeble. — Who 
is  next? 

Shal.  Peter  Bull-calf  of  the  green ! 

Fal.  Yea,  marry,  let  us  see  Bull-calf. 

Bull.  Here,  sir. 

Fal.  'Fore  God,  a  likely  fellow! — Come,  prick  mc 
Bull-calf,  till  he  roar  ngain. 

Bull.  O  lord!  good  my  lord  captain,— 

Fal.  What  dost  thou  roar  before  thou  art  prick'd? 

Bull.  O  lord,  sir!   I  am  a  diseas'd  man. 

Fal.  What  disease  hast  thou? 

Bull.  A  whoreson  cold,  sir  ;  a  cough,  sir ;  which 
I  caught  with  ringing  in  the  king's  affairs,  upon  his 
coronation  day,  sir. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  223 

Fal.  Come,  thou  shalt  go  to  the  wars  in  a  gown  ; 
we  will  have  away  thy  cold ;  and  I  will  take  such 
order,  that  thy  friends  shall  ring  for  thee. — Is  here 
all? 

Shal.  Here  is  two  more  call'd  than  your  numberj 
you  must  have  but  four  here,  sir; — and  so,  I  pray 
you,  go  in  with  me  to  dinner. 

Fal.  Come,  I  will  go  drink  with  you,  but  I  can- 
not tarry  dinner.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  in  good 
troth,  master  Shallow. 

Shal.  O,  sir  John,  do  you  remember  since  we  lay 
all  night  in  the  windmill  in  Saint  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? 

Fal.  She  lives,  master  Shallow. 
Shal.  She  never  could  away  with  me. 
Fal.  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  6z.  Doth  she  hold  her  own 
well? 

Fal.  Old,  old,  master  Shallow. 
Shal.  Nay,  she  must  be  old;  she  cannot  choose 
but  be  old;  certain,  she's  old;  and  had  Robin  Night- 
work  by  old  Night-work,  before  I  came  to  Cle- 
ment's-inn. 

Sil.  That's  fifty-five  year  ago. 

Shal.  Ha,  cousin  Silence,  that  thou  hadst  seen  that 

VOL.   VII.  R 


224  SECOND  PART  OF 

that  this  knight  and  I  have  seen! — Ha,  sir  John,  said 
I  well? 

Fal.  We  have  heard  the  chimes  at  midnight, 
master  Shallow. 

Shal.  That  we  have,  that  we  have,  that  we  have; 
in  faith  sir  John,  we  have;  our  watch-word  was, 
Hem,  boys! — Come,  let's  to  dinner;  come,  let's  to 
dinner:— O,  the  days  that  we  have  seen! — Come, 
come. 

[Exeunt  Falstaff,  Shallow,  and  Silence. 

Bull.  Good  master  corporate  Bardolph,  stand  my 
friend;  and  here  is  four  Harry  ten  shillings  in  French 
crowns  for  you.  In  very  truth,  sir,  I  had  as  lief  be. 
hang'd,  sir,  as  go :  and  yet,  for  mine  own  part,  sir,  I 
do  not  care;  but,  rather,  because  I  am  unwilling, 
and  for  mine  own  part,  have  a  desire  to  stay  with 
my  friends;  else,  sir,  I  did  not  care,  for  mine  own 
part,  so  much. 

Bard.  Goto;  stand  aside. 

Moid.  And  good  master  corporal  captain,  for  my 
old  dame's  sake,  stand  my  friend:  she  has  nobody  to 
do  any  thing  about  her,  when  I  am  gone;  and  she  is 
old,  and  cannot  help  herself:  you  shall  have  forty,  sir. 

Bard.  Goto;  stand  aside. 

Fee.  By  my  troth  I  care  not; — a  man  can  die  but 
once  ; — we  owe  God  a  death! — I'll  ne'er  bear  a  base 
mind : — an't  be  my  destiny,  so;  an't  be  not,  so:  No 
man's  too  good  to  serve  his  prince;  and,  let  it  go 
which  way  it  will,  he  that  dies  this  year,  is  quit  for 
the  next. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  225 

Bard.  Well  said ;  thou'rt  a  good  fellow. 
Fee.  'Faith  I'll  bear  no  base  mind. 

Re-enter  Falstaff,  and  Justices. 

Fal.  Come,  sir,  which  men  shall  I  have? 

Shal.  Four,  of  which  you  please. 

Bard.  Sir,  a  word  with  you :— I  have  three  pound 
to  free  Mouldy  and  Bull-calf 63. 

Fal.  Go  to ;  well. 

Shal.  Come,  sir  John,  which  four  will  you  have? 

Fal.  Do  you  choose  for  me. 

Shal.  Marry  then,— Mouldy,  BulUalf,  Feeble, 
and  Shadow. 

Fal.  Mouldy,  and  Bull-calf: — For  you,  Mouldy, 
stay  at  home  still ;  you  are  past  service:— and,  for 
your  part,  Bull-calf, — grow  till  you  come  unto  it; 
I  will  none  of  you. 

Shal.  Sir  John  sir,  John,  do  not  yourself  wrong ; 
they  are  your  likeliest  men,  and  I  would  have  you 
serv'd  with  the  best. 

Fal.  Will  you  tell  me,  master  Shallow,  how  to 
choose  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  pcw- 
terer's  hammer ;  come  off,  and  on,  swifter  than  he 
that  gibbets  on  the  brewer's  bucket c+.  And  this 
same  half-faced  fellow,  Shadow, — give  me  this  m.  a ; 
he  presents  no  mark  to  the  enemy;  the  foeman  may 


220  SECOND  PART  OF 

with  as  great  aim  level  at  the  edge  of  a  penknife: 
And,  for  a  retreat,  how  swiftly  will  this  Feeble,  the 
woman's  tailor,  run  off?  O,  give  me  the  spare  men, 
and  spare  me  the  great  ones. — Pat  me  a  caliver  65  into 
Wart's  hand,  Bardolph. 

Bard.  Hold,  Wart,  traverse ;  thus,  thus,  thus. 

Fal.  Come,  manage  me  your  caliver.  So: — very 
well: — go  to: — very  good: — exceeding  good. — O, 
give  me  always  a  little,  lean,  old,  chapp'd,  bald 
shot. — Well  said,  i'faith  Wart ;  thou  rt  a  good  scab : 
hold,  there's  a  tester  for  thee. 

Shal.  He  is  not  his  craft's- master,  he  doth  not 
do  it  right.  I  remember  at  Mile-end  green,  (when 
I  lay  at  Clement" s  inn, — I  was  then  sir  Dagonet  in 
Arthur's  show  66,)  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,  tah,  tah,  would  'a  say;  bounce,  would 
a  say;  and  away  again  would  'a  go,  and  again  would 
'a  come: — I  shall  never  see  such  a  fellow. 

Fal.  These  fellows  will  do  well,  Master  Shallow. 
—God  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  to-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. 

Fal.  I  would  you  would,  master  Shallow. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  227 

Shal.  Go  to;  I  have  spoke,  at  a  word.     Fare  you 
well.  [Exeunt  Shallow  and  Silence. 

Fal.  Fare  you  well,  gentle  gentlemen.  On,  Bar- 
dolph;  lead  the  men  away.  [Exeunt  Bardolph,  Re- 
cruits, &c.~\  As  I  return,  I  will  fetch  off  these  jus- 
tices :  I  do  see  the  bottom  of  justice  Shallow.  Lord, 
lord,  how  subject  we  old  men  are  to  this  vice  of 
lying!  This  same  starv'd  justice  hath  done  nothing 
but  prate  to  me  of  the  wildness  of  his  youth,  and  the 
feats  he  hath  done  about  Turnbull  street 67;  and  every 
third  word  a  lie,  duer  paid  to  the  hearer  than  the 
Turk's  tribute.  I  do  remember  him  at  Clemen  t's- 
inn,  like  a  man  made  after  supper  of  a  cheese-paring: 
when  he  was  naked,  he  was,  for  all  the  world,  like  a 
fork'd  radish,  with  a  head  fantastically  carved  upon  it 
with  a  knife  :  he  was  so  forlorn,  that  his  dimensions 
to  any  thick  sight  were  invisible :  he  was  the  very 
Genius  of  famine;  yet  lecherous  as  a  monkey,  and  the 
whores  call'd  him — mandrake :  he  came  ever  in  the 
rearward  of  the  fashion  ;  and  sung  those  tunes  to  the 
over-scutch'd  huswifes  that  he  heard  the  carmen 
whistle,  and  sware — they  were  his  fancies,  or  his 
good-nights t8.  And  now  is  this  Vice's  dagger  be- 
come a  squire69;  and  talks  as  familiarly  of  John  of 
Gaunt,  as  if  he  had  been  sworn  brother  to  him  :  and 
I'll  be  sworn  he  never  saw  him  but  once  in  the  Tilt- 
yard;  and  then  he  burst  his  head,  for  crowding 
among  the  marshal's  men.  I  saw  it;  and  told  John 
of  Gaunt,  he  beat  his  own  name :  for  you  might  have 
truss'd  him,  and  all  his  apparel,  into  an  eel-skin;  the 


228  SECOND  PART  OF 

case  of  a  treble  hautboy  was  a  mansion  for  him,  a  courtj 
and  now  has  he  land  and  beeves.  Well  5  I  will  be 
acquainted  with  him,  if  I  return:  and  it  shall  go 
hard,  but  I  will  make  him  a  philosopher's  two  stones 
to  me  :  If  the  young  dace  be  a  bait  for  the  old  pike,  I 
see  no  reason,  in  the  law  of  nature,  but  I  may  snap 
at  him.     Let  time  shape,  and  there  an  end.  [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  229 


ACT  IF.     SCENE  /. 

A  Forest  in  Yorkshire. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  York,  Mowbray,  Hast- 
ings, and  others. 

Arch.  What  is  this  forest  call'd  ? 

Hast.  Tis  Gaultree  forest,  an't  shall  please  your 
grace. 

Arch.  Here  stand,  my  lords  5  and  send  discoverers 
forth, 
To  know  the  numbers  of  our  enemies. 

Hast.  We  have  sent  forth  already. 

Arch.  'Tis  well  done. 

My  friends,  and  brethren  in  these  great  affairs, 
I  must  acquaint  you  that  I  have  receiv'd 
New-dated  letters  from  Northumberland ; 
Their  cold  intent,  tenour  and  substance,  thus: — 
Here  doth  he  wish  his  person,  with  such  powers 
As  might  hold  sortance  with  his  quality, 
The  which  he  could  not  levy  j  whereupon 
He  is  retir'd,  to  ripe  his  growing  fortunes, 
To  Scotland  :  and  concludes  in  hearty  prayers, 
That  your  attempts  may  overlive  the  hazard, 
And  fearful  meeting  of  their  opposite. 

Mowb.  Thus  do  the  hopes  we  have  in  him  touch 
ground, 


230  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  dash  themselves  to  pieces. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Hast.  Now,  what  news? 

Mess.  West  of  this  forest,  scarcely  off  a  mile, 
In  goodly  form  comes  on  the  enemy : 
And,  by  the  ground  they  hide,  I  judge  their  number 
Upon,  or  near,  the  rate  of  thirty  thousand. 

Mowh.  The  just  proportion  that  we  gave  them 
out. 
Let  us  sway  on,  and  face  them  in  the  field. 

Enter  Westmoreland. 

Arch.  What  well-appointed  leader  fronts  us  here  ? 

Moivb.  I  think,  it  is  my  lord  of  Westmoreland. 

West.  Health  and  fair  greeting  from  our  general, 
The  prince,  lord  John  and  duke  of  Lancaster. 

Arch.  Say  on,  my  lord  of  Westmoreland,  in  peace  j 
What  doth  concern  your  coming  ? 

West.  Then,  my  lord, 

Unto  your  grace  do  I  in  chief  address 
The  substance  of  my  speech.     If  that  rebellion 
Came  like  itself,  in  base  and  abject  routs, 
Led  on  by  bloody  youth,  guarded  with  rage, 
And  countenanc'd  by  boys,  and  beggary  j 
I  say,  if  damn'd  commotion  so  appear'd, 
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 


KING  HENRY  IV.  231 

With  your  fair  honours.     You,  lord  archbishop, — 
Whose  see  is  by  a  civil  peace  maintained 
Whose  beard  the  silver  hand  of  peace  hath  touch'd; 
Whose  learning  and  good  letters  peace  hath  tutor'dj 
Whose  white  investments  figure  innocence, 
The  dove  and  very  blessed  spirit  of  peace, — 
Wherefore  do  you  so  ill  translate  yourself, 
Out  of  the  speech  of  peace,  that  bears  such  grace, 
Into  the  harsh  and  boist'rous  tongue  of  war  ? 
Turning  your  books  to  graves  7°,  your  ink  to  blood, 
Your  pens  to  lances;  and  your  tongue  divine 
To  a  loud  trumpet,  and  a  point  of  war? 

Arch.  Wherefore  do  I  this  ? — so  the  question  stands. 
Briefly  to  this  end: — We  are  all  diseas'd; 
And,  with  our  surfeiting,  and  wanton  hours, 
Have  brought  ourselves  into  a  burning  fever, 
And  we  must  bleed  for  it:   of  which  disease 
Our  late  king,  Richard,  being  infected,  died. 
But,  my  most  noble  lord  of  Westmoreland, 
I  take  not  on  me  here  as  a  physician ; 
Nor  do  I,  as  an  enemy  to  peace, 
Troop  in  the  throngs  of  military  men  : 
But,  rather,  show  awhile  like  fearful  war, 
To  diet  rank  minds,  sick  of  happiness; 
And  purge  the  obstructions,  which  begin  to  stop 
Our  very  veins  of  life.     Hear  me  more  plainly. 
I  have  in  equal  balance  justly  weigh'd 
What  wrongs  our  arms  may  do,  what  wrongs  we 

suffer, 
And  find  our  griefs  heavier  than  our  offences. 


232  SECOND  PART  OF 

"We  see  which  way  the  stream  of  time  doth  run, 

And  are  enforc'd  from  our  most  quiet  sphere 

By  the  rough  torrent  of  occasion: 

And  have  the  summary  of  ail  our  griefs, 

"When  time  shall  serve,  to  show  in  articles; 

Which,  long  ere  this,  we  orlerd  to  the  king, 

And  might  by  no  suit  gain  our  audience: 

When  we  are  wrong'd,  and  would  unfold  our  griefs, 

We  are  denied  access  unto  his  person, 

Even  by  those  men  that  most  have  done  us  wrong. 

The  dangers  of  the  days  but  newly  gone, 

(Whose  memory  is  written  on  the  earth 

With  yet-appearing  blood,)  and  the  examples 

Of  every  minute's  instance,  (present  now,) 

Have  put  us  in  these  ill-beseeming  arms : 

Not  to  break  peace,  or  any  branch  of  it} 

But  to  establish  here  a  peace  indeed, 

Concurring  both  in  name  and  quality. 

West.  When  ever  yet  was  your  appeal  deny'd  ? 
Wherein  have  you  been  galled  by  the  king? 
What  peer  hath  been  suborn'd  to  grate  on  you  ? 
That  you  should  seal  this  lawless  bloody  book 
Of  forg'd  rebellion  with  a  seal  divine, 
And  consecrate  commotion's  bitter  edge  ? 

Arch.  7I  My  brother  general,  the  commonwealth, 
To  brother  born  an  household  cruelty, 
I  make  my  quarrel  in  particular. 

West.  There  is  no  need  of  any  such  redress ; 
Or,  if  there  were,  it  not  belongs  to  you. 

Mowb.  Why  not  to  him,  in  part;  and  to  us  all, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  233 

That  feel  the  bruises  of  the  days  before  j 
And  suffer  the  condition  of  these  times 
To  lay  a  heavy  and  unequal  hand 
Upon  our  honours  ? 

West.  O  my  good  lord  Mowbray, 

Construe  the  times  to  their  necessities, 
And  you  shall  say  indeed, — it  is  the  time, 
And  not  the  king,  that  doth  you  injuries. 
Yet,  for  your  part,  it  not  appears  to  me, 
Either  from  the  king,  or  in  the  present  time, 
That  you  should  have  an  inch  of  any  ground 
To  build  a  grief  on:  Were  you  not  restor'd 
To  all  the  duke  of  Norfolk's  signories, 
Your  noble  and  right-well-remember'd  father's? 

Mowl\  What  thing,  in  honour,  had  my  father  lost, 
That  need  to  be  reviv'd,  and  breath'd  in  me  ? 
The  king,  that  lov'd  him,  as  the  state  stood  then, 
Was,  force  perforce,  compell'd  to  banish  him: 
And  then,  when  Harry  Bolingbroke,  and  he, — 
Being  mounted,  and  both  roused  in  their  seats, 
Their  neighing  coursers  daring  of  the  spur, 
Their  armed  staves  in  charge,  their  beavers  down, 
Their  eyes  of  fire  sparkling  through  sights  of  steel, 
And  the  loud  trumpet  blowing  them  together ; 
Then,  then,  when  there  was  nothing  could  have  staid 
My  father  from  the  breast  of  Bolingbroke, 
O,  when  the  king  did  throw  his  warder  down, 
His  own  life  hung  upon  the  staff  he  threw: 
Then  threw  he  down  himself;  and  all  their  lives., 
That,  by  indictment,  and  by  dint  of  sword, 


234  SECOND  PART  OF 

Have  since  miscarried  under  Bolingbroke. 

West.  You  speak,  lord  Mowbray,  now  you  know 
not  what : 
The  earl  of  Hereford  was  reputed  then 
Jn  England  the  most  valiant  gentleman  ; 
Who  knows,  on  whom  fortune  would  then   have 

smil'd? 
But,  if  your  father  had  been  victor  there, 
He  ne'er  had  borne  it  out  of  Coventry: 
For  all  the  country,  in  a  general  voice, 
Cry'd  hate  upon  him ;    and  all  their  prayers,    and 

love, 
Were  set  on  Hereford,  whom  they  doated  on, 
And  bless'd,  and  grac'd  indeed,  more  than  the  king. 
But  this  is  mere  digression  from  my  purpose. — 
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  orT, 
That  might  so  much  as  think  you  enemies. 

Mowh.  But  he  hath  forc'd  us  to  compel  this  ofFcr; 
And  it  proceeds  from  policy,  not  love. 

West.  Mowbray,  you  overween,  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, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  235 

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. 

Mowb.    Well,  by  my  will,  we    shall  admit   no 

parley. 
West.  That  argues  but  the  shame  of  your  offence: 
A  rotten  case  abides  no  handling. 

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? 

West.  That  is  intended  in  the  general's  name: 
I  muse,  you  make  so  slight  a  question. 

Arch.  Then  take,  my  lord  of  Westmoreland,  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,  consign'd ; 
We  come  within  our  awful  banks  again, 
And  knit  our  powers  to  the  arm  of  peace. 

West.  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! 
Or  to  the  place  of  difference  call  the.  swords 
Which  must  decide  it. 


230  SECOND  PART  OF 

Arch.  My  lord,  we  will  do  so. 

[Exit  West. 

Mowb.  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  our 
peace 
Upon  such  large  terms,  and  so  absolute, 
As  our  conditions  shall  consist  upon, 
Our  peace  shall  stand  as  firm  as  rocky  mountains. 

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  rou°:h  a  wind, 
That  e*en  our  corn  shall  seem  as  light  as  chaff, 
And  good  from  bad  find  no  partition. 

Arch.  No,  no,  my  lord ;  Note  this,— the  king  is 
weary 
Of  dainty  and  such  picking  grievances72: 
For  he  hath  found, — to  end  one  doubt  by  death, 
Revives  two  greater  in  the  heirs  of  life. 
And  therefore  will  he  wipe  his  tables  clean; 
And  keep  no  telltale  to  his  memory, 
That  may  repeat  and  history  his  loss 
To  new  remembrance :  For  full  well  he  knows. 
He  cannot  so  precisely  weed  this  land, 
As  his  misdoubts  present  occasion : 
His  foes  are  so  enrooted  with  his  friends, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  237 

That,  plucking  to  unfix  an  enemy, 
He  doth  unfasten  so,  and  shake  a  friend. 
So  that  this  land,  like  an  offensive  wife, 
That  hath  enrag'd  him  on  to  offer  strokes,. 
As  he  is  striking,  holds  his  infant  up, 
And  hangs  resolv'd  correction  in  the  arm 
That  was  uprear'd  to  execution. 

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  a  fangless  lion, 
May  offer,  but  not  hold. 

Arch.  'Tis  very  true;  — 

And  therefore  be  assur'd,  my  good  lord  marshal, 
If  we  do  now  make  our  atonement  well, 
Our  peace  will,  like  a  broken  limb  united, 
Grow  stronger  for  the  breaking. 

Mowl.  Be  it  so. 

Here  is  return'd  my  lord  of  Westmoreland. 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

West.  The  prince  is  here  at  hand :  Pleaseth  your 

lordship, 
To  meet  his  grace  just  distance  'tween  our  armies  ? 
Alowb.  Your  grace  of  York,  in  God's  name  then 

set  forward. 
Arch.  Before,  and  greet  his  grace: — my  lord,  we 

come.  [Exeunt. 


238  SECOND  PART  OF 

SCENE  II. 

Another  Part  of  the  Forest. 

Enter  from  one  side  Mowbray,  the  Archbishop, 
Hastings,  and  others :  from  the  other  side,  Prince 
John  ^Lancaster,  Westmoreland,  Officers, 
and  Attendants. 

P.  John.  You  are  well  encounter'd  here,  my  cousin 
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  yon,  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. 
That  man,  that  sits  within  a  monarch's  heart, 
And  ripens  in  the  sunshine  of  his  favour, 
Would  he  abuse  the  countenance  of  the  king, 
Alack,  what  mischiefs  might  he  set  abroach, 
In  shadow  of  such  greatness !  With  you,  lord  bishop, 
It  is  even  so : — Who  hath  not  heard  it  spoken, 
How  deep  you  were  within  the  books  of  God? 
To  us,  the  speaker  in  his  parliament ; 
To  us,  the  imagin'd  voice  of  God  himself; 


KING  HENRY  IV.  23Q 

The  very  opener,  and  intelligencer, 
Between  the  grace,  the  sanctities  of  heaven, 
And  our  dull  workings:   O,  who  shall  believe, 
But  you  misuse  the  reverence  of  your  place  3 
Employ  the  countenance  and  grace  of  heaven, 
As  a  false  favourite  doth  his  prince's  name, 
In  deeds  dishonourable  ?  You  have  taken  up, 
Under  the  counterfeited  zeal  of  God, 
The  subjects  of  his  substitute,  my  father; 
And,  both  against  the  peace  of  heaven  and  him, 
Have  here  up-swarm'd  them. 

Arch.  Good  my  lord  of  Lancaster, 

I  am  not  here  against  your  father's  peace : 
But,  as  I  told  my  lord  of  Westmoreland, 
The  time  misorder'd  doth,  in  common  sense73, 
Crowd  us,  and  crush,  us,  to  this  monstrous  form, 
To  hold  our  safety  up.     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  born : 
Whose  dangerous  eyes  may  well  be  charm'd  asleep, 
With  grant  of  our  most  just  and  right  desires; 
And  true  obedience,  of  this  madness  cur'd, 
Stoop  tamely  to  the  foot  of  majesty. 

Mowh.  If  not.  we  ready  are  to  try  our  fortunes 
To  the  last  man. 

Hast.  And  though  we  here  fall  down, 

We  have  supplies  to  second  our  attempt; 
If  they  miscarry,  theirs  shall  second  them: 

VOL,  VII.  s 


210  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  so,  success  of  mischief  shall  be  bom7*; 
And  heir  from  heir  shall  hold  this  quarrel  up, 
Whiles  England  shall  have  generation. 

P.  John.  You  are  too  shallow,  Hastings,  much  too 
shallow, 
To  sound  the  bottom  of  the  after-times. 

West.  Pleaseth  your  grace,  to  answer  them  directly, 
How  far- forth  you  do  like  their  articles  ? 

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  lord,  these  griefs  shall  be  with  speed  redress1  d ; 
Upon  my  soul,  they  shall.     If  this  may  please  you, 
Discharge  your  powers  unto  their  several  counties, 
As  we  will  ours;  and  here,  between  the  armies, 
Let's  drink  together  friendly,  and  embrace; 
That  all  their  eyes  may  bear  those  tokens  home, 
Of  our  restored  love,  and  amity. 

Arch.   I  take  your  princely  word  for  these  re- 
dresses. 

P.  John.  I  give  it  you,  and  will  maintain  my  word: 
And  thereupon  I  drink  unto  your  grace. 

Hast.  Go,  captain,  [to  an  Officer."]  and  deliver  to 
the  army 
This  news  of  peace ;  let  them  have  pay,  and  part : 
I  know  it  will  well  please  them ;  Hie  thee,  captain. 

[Exit  Officer, 

Arch.  To  you,  my  noble  lord  of  Westmoreland. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  241 

West.  I  pledge  your  grace :  And,  if  you  knew  what 
pains 
I  have  bestow'd,  to  breed  this  present  peace, 
Ycu  would  drink  freely :  but  my  love  to  you 
Shall  show  itself  more  openly  hereafter. 
Arch.  I  do  not  doubt  you. 
West.  I  am  glad  of  it. — 

Health  to  my  lord,  and  gentle  cousin,  Mowbray. 

Moivb.  You  wish  me  health  in  very  happy  season  j 
For  I  am,  on  the  sudden,  something  ill. 

Arch.  Against  ill  chances,  men  are  ever  merry  5 
But  heaviness  foreruns  the  good  event. 

West.  Therefore  be  merry,  coz;  since  sudden  sor- 
row- 
Serves  to  say  thus, — Some  good  thing  comes  to- 
morrow. 
Arch.  Believe  me,  I  am  passing  light  in  spirit. 
Mowl.  So  much  the  worse,  if  your  own  rule  be 
true.  [Shouts  within. 

P.John.  The  word  of  peace  is  render  dj    Hark, 

how  they  shout! 
Moid,  This  had  been  cheerful,  after  victory. 
Arch.  A  peace  is  of  the  nature  of  a  conquest ; 
For  then  both  parties  nobly  are  subdued, 
And  neither  party  loser. 

P.  John.  Go,  my  lord, 

And  let  our  army  be  discharged  too. — 

[Exit  Westm  id. 

And,  good  my  lord,  so  please  you,  let  our  trains 
March  by  us  3  that  we  may  peruse  the  men 


242  SECOND  PART  OF 

We  should  have  cop'd  withal, 

Arch.  Go,  good  lord  Hastings, 

And,  ere  they  be  dismiss'd,  let  them  march  by. 

[Exit  Hastings. 
P.  John.  I  trust,  lords,  we  shall  lie  to-night  to- 
together. — 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

Now,  cousin,  wherefore  stands  our  army  still  ? 

West.   The  leaders,  having  charge  from  you  to 
stand, 
Will  not  go  off  until  they  hear  you  speak. 

P.  John.  They  know  their  duties. 

Re-enter  Hastings. 

Hast.  My  lord,  our  army  is  dispers'd  already: 
Like  youthful  steers  unyok'd,  they  take  their  courses 
Fast,  west,  north,  south;  or  like  a  school  broke  up, 
Each  hurries  toward  his  home,  and  sporting-place. 

West.    Good  tidings,  my  lord  Hastings ;  for  the 
which 
I  do  arrest  thee,  traitor,  of  high  treason: — 
And  you,  lord  archbishop, — and  you,  lord  Mow- 
bray,— 
Of  capital  treason  I  attach  you  both. 

Mowb.  Is  this  proceeding  just  and  honourable? 

West.  Is  your  assembly  so  ? 

Arch.  Will  you  thus  break  your  faith  ? 

P.  John.  I  pawn'd  thee  none: 

I  promis'd  you  redress  of  these  same  grievances, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  249 

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. 
Most  shallowly  did  you  these  arms  commence, 
Fondly  brought  here,  and  foolishly  sent  hence. — 
Strike  up  our  drums,  pursue  the  scatter'd  strays 
Heaven,  and  not  we,  hath  safely  fought  to-day. — 
Some  guard  these  traitors  to  the  block  of  death  5 
Treason's  true  bed,  and  yielder  up  of  breath. 

{Exeunt1- . 

SCENE   I  IT. 

Another  Part  of  the  Forest. 

Alarums.    Excursions.   Enter  Falstaff  and  Cole- 
vile,  meeting. 

Fal.  What's  your  name,  sir?  of  what  condition 
are  you;  and  of  what  place,  I  pray? 

Cole.  I  am  a  knight,  sir 3  and  my  name  is — Cole- 
vile  of  the  dale. 

Fal.  Well  then,  Colevile  is  your  name  ;  a  knight 
is  your  degree ;  and  your  place,  the  dale:  Colevile 
shall  still  be  your  name;  a  traitor  your  degree;  and 
the  dungeon  your  place, — a  place  deep  enough;  so 
shall  you  still  be  Colevile  of  the  dale. 

Cole.  Are  not  you  sir  John  Falstaff? 

Fal.  As  good  a  man  as  he,  sir,  whoe'er  I  am.  Do 
ye  yield,  sir  ?  or  skill  I  sweat  for  you  ?   If  I  do  sweat* 


2  U  SECOND  PART  OF 

they  are  drops  of  thy  lovers,  and  they  weep  for  thy 
death  :  therefore  rouse  up  fear  and  trembling,  and  do 
observance  to  my  mercy. 

Cole.  I  think  you  are  sir  John  Falstaff;  and,  in 
that  thought,  yield  me. 

Fal.  I  have  a  whole  school  of  tongues  in  this  belly 
of  mine ;  and  not  a  tongue  of  them  all  speaks  any 
other  word  but  my  name.  An  I  had  but  a  belly  of 
any  indifferency,  I  were  simply  the  most  active  fel- 
low in  Europe:  My  womb,  my  womb,  my  womb 
undoes  me. — Here  comes  our  general. 

Enter  Prince  John   of  Lancaster,    Westmore- 
land, and  others. 

P.  John.  The  heat  is  past  ?6,  follow  no  further 
now ; — 
Call  in  the  powers,  good  cousin  "Westmoreland. — 

[Exit  West. 
Now,  Falstaff,  where  have  you  been  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?  have  I,  in  my  poor  and  old 
motion,  the  expedition  of  thought  ?  I  have  speeded 
hither  with  the  very  extremest  inch  of  possibility ;  I 
have  feunder'd  nine-score  and  odd  posts:  and  here, 
travel- tainted  as  I  am,  have  in  my  pure  and  imma- 


KING  HENRY  IV.  245 

culate  valour,  taken  sir  John  Colevile  of  the  dale,  a 
most  furious  knight,  and  valorous  enemy:  But  what 
of  that?  he  saw  me;  and  yielded  ;  that  I  may  justly 

say  with  the  hook-nosed  fellow  of  Rome, 1  came, 

saw,  and  overcame. 

P.  John.  It  was  more  of  his  courtesy  than  your 
deserving. 

Fal.  I  know  not,  here  he  is,  and  here  I  yield  him : 
and  I  beseech  your  grace,  let  it  be  book'd  with  the 
rest  of  this  day's  deeds;  or,  by  the  lord,  I  will  have 
it  in  a  particular  ballad  else,  with  mine  own  picture 
on  the  top  of  it,  Colevile  kissing  my  foot:  To  the 
which  course  if  I  be  enforced,  if  you  do  not  all  show 
like  gilt  two-pences  to  me;  and  I,  in  the  clear  sky  of 
fame,  o'ershine  you  as  much  as  the  full  moon  doth 
the  cinders  of  the  element,  which  show  like  pins' 
heads  to  her;  believe  not  the  word  of  the  noble: 
Therefore  let  me  have  right,  and  let  desert  mount. 

P.  John.  Thine's  too  heavy  to  mount. 

Fal.  Let  it  shine  then. 

P.  John.  Thine's  too  thick  to  shine. 

Fal.  Let  it  do  something,  my  good  lord,  that  may 
do  me  good,  and  call  it  what  you  will. 

P.  John.  Is  thy  name  Colevile  ? 

Cole.  It  is,  my  lord. 

P.  John.  A  famous  rebel  art  thou,  Colevile. 

Fal.  And  a  famous  true  subject  took  him. 

Cole.  I  am,  my  lord,  but  as  my  betters  are, 
That  led  me  hither:  had  they  been  rul'd  by  me, 
You  should  have  won  them  dearer  than  you  have. 


246  SECOND  PA11T  OF 

Fal  I  know  not  how  they  sold  themselves :  but 
thou,  like  a  kind  fellow,  gavest  thyself  away  5  and  I 
thank  thee  for  thee. 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

P.  John.  Now,  have  you  left  pursuit  ? 
West.  Retreat  is  made,  and  execution  stay'd. 
P.  John.  Send  Colevile,  with  his  confederates, 
To  York,  to  present  execution:  — 
Blunt,  lead  him  hence  5  and  see  you  guard  him  sure. 

\Exeinit  some  with  Colevile. 
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. 

Fal.  My  lord,  I  beseech  you,  give  me  leave  to  go 
through  Gloster^hire:  and,  when  you  come  to  court, 
stand77  my  good  lord,  'pray,  in  your  good  report. 
P.  John.  Fare  you  well,   Falstaff:  I,  in  my  con- 
dition, 
Shall  better  speak  of  you  than  you  deserve.       [Exit. 
Fal   I  would,  you  had  but  the  wit;  'twere  better 
than  your  dukedom. — Good  faith,  this  same  young 
sober-blooded  boy  doth  not  love  me;  nor  a  man  can- 
not make  him  laugh78; — but  that's  no  marvel,  he 
drinks  no  wine.     There's  never  any  of  these  demure 
boys  come  to  any  proof;  for  thin  drink  doth  so  over- 
cool  their  blood,  and  making  many  fish-meals,  that 
they  fall  into  a  kind  of  male  green-sickness;   and 


KING  HENRY  IV.  247 

then,  when  they  marry,  they  get  wenches :  they  are 
generally  fools  and  cowards; — which  some  of  us 
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 
apprehensive,  quick,  forgetive 79,  full  of  nimble,  fiery, 
and  delectable  shapes;  which  deliver'd  o'er  to  the 
voice,  (the  tongue,)  which  is  the  birth,  becomes  ex- 
cellent wit.  The  second  property  of  your  excellent 
sherds  is, — the  warming  of  the  blood;  which,  be- 
fore cold  and  settled,  left  the  liver  white  and  pale, 
which  is  the  badge  of  pusillanimity  and  cowardice: 
but  the  sherris  warms  it,  and  makes  it  course  from 
the  inwards  to  the  paits  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  inland  petty  spirits,  muster 
me  all  to  their  captain,  the  heart;  who,  great,  and 
puff'd  up  with  this  retinue,  doth  any  deed  of  cou- 
rage; and  this  valour  comes  of  sherris:  So  that  skill 
in  the  weapon  is  nothing,  without  sack ;  for  that  sets 
it  a- work:  and  learning,  a  mere  hoard  of  gold  kept 
by  a  devil;  till  sack  commences  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  en- 
deavour of  drinking  good,  and  good  store  of  fertile 
sherris;  that  he  is  become  very  hot,  and  valiant.     If 


243  SECOND  PART  OF 

I  had  a  thousand  sons,  the  first  human  principle  I 
would  teach  them,  should  be,— to  forswear  thin  po- 
tations, and  addict  themselves  to  sack. 

Enter  Bardolph. 

How  now,  Bardolph? 

Bard.  The  army  is  discharged  all,  and  gone. 

Fal.  Let  them  go.     I'll  through  Glostershire;  and 

there  will  I  visit  master  Robert  Shallow,  esquire:  I 

have  him  already  tempering  between  my  finger  and 

my  thumb so,  and  shortly  will  I  seal  with  him.   Come 

away.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IF. 

Westminster,     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Clarence,  Prince  Humphrey, 
Warwick,  and  others. 

K.  Hen.  Now,  lords,  if  heaven  doth  give  success- 
ful end 
To  this  debate  that  bleedeth  at  our  doors, 
We  will  our  youth  lead  on  to  higher  fields, 
And  draw  no  swords  but  what  are  sanctify'd. 
Our  navy  is  address'd,  our  power  collected, 
Our  substitutes  in  absence  well  invested, 
And  every  thing  lies  level  to  our  wish : 
Only,  we  want  a  little  personal  strength ; 
And  pause  us,  till  these  rebels,  now  afoot, 
Come  underneath  the  yoke  of  government. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  249 

War.  Both  which,,  we  doubt  not  bat  ycur  ma- 
jesty 
Shall  soon  enjoy. 

K.  Hen.  Humphrey,  my  son  of  Gloster, 

Where  is  the  prince  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? 
P.  Humph.  No>  my  good  lord  5   he  is  in  presence 

here. 
Cla.  What  would  my  lord  and  father? 
K.  Hen.  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 j 
Thou  hast  a  better  place  in  his  affection, 
Than  ail  thy  brothers  :  cherish  it,  my  boyj 
And  noble  offices  thou  may'st  effect, 
Of  mediation,  after  I  am  dead, 
Between  his  greatness  and  thy  other  brethren: 
Therefore,  omit  him  not ;  blunt  not  his  love: 
Nor  lose  the  good  advantage  of  his  grace, 
By  seeming  cold,  or  careless  of  his  will. 
For  he  is  gracious,  if  he  be  observ'dj 
He  hath  a  tear  for  pity,  and  a  hand 
Open  as  day  for  melting  charity: 


250  SECOND  PART  OF 

Yet  notwithstanding,  being  incens'd,  he's  flint  j 
As  humorous  as  winter SI,  and  as  sudden 
As  flaws  congealed  in  the  spring  of  day 82. 
His  temper,  therefore,  must  be  well  observ'd : 
Chide  him  for  faults,  and  do  it  reverently, 
When  you  perceive  his  blood  inclin'd  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,  Tho  - 

mas, 
And  thou  shalt  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. 

Cla.   I  shall  observe  him  with  all  care  and  love. 

K.  Hen.  Why  art  thou  not  at  Windsor  with  him, 
Thomas  ? 

Cla.  He  is  not  there  to-day ;  he  dines  in  London. 

K.Hen.  And  how  accompanied  ?  can'st  thou  tell 
that  ? 

Cla.   With  Poins,  and   other  his   continual   fol- 
lowers. 

K.  Hen.  Most  subject  is  the  fattest  soil  to  weeds.: 
And  he,  the  noble  image  of  my  youth, 
Is  overspread  with  them  :  Therefore  my  grief 
Stretches  itself  beyond  die  hour  of  death  3 
The  blood  weeps  from  my  heart,  when  I  do  shape, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  251 

In  forms  imaginary,  the  unguided  days, 
And  rotten  times,  that  you  shall  look  upon 
When  I  am  sleeping  with  my  ancestors. 
For  when  his  headstrong  riot  hath  no  curb, 
When  rage  and  hot  blood  are  his  counsellors, 
When  means  and  lavish  manners  meet  together, 
O,  with  what  wings  shall  his  affections  fly 
Towards  fronting  peril  and  oppos'd  decay ! 

War.    My  gracious  lord,  you  look  beyond  him 
quite: 
The  prince  but  studies  his  companions, 
Like  a  strange  tongue)  wherein,   to  gain  the  lan- 
guage, 
'Tis  needful,  that  the  most  immodest  word 
Be  look'd  upon,  and  learn'dj  which  once  attain'd, 
Your  highness  knows,  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  3 
Turning  past  evils  to  advantages. 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  seldom,  when  the  bee  doth  leave  her 
comb 
In  the  dead  carrion. — Who's  here?  Westmoreland? 

Enter  Westmoreland. 

West.  Health  to  my  sovereign !  and  new  happi- 
ness 
Added  to  that  that  I  am  to  deliver! 


252  SECOND  PART  OF 

Prince  John,  your  son,  doth  kiss  your  grace's  hand: 
Mowbray,  the  bishop  Scroop,  Hastings,  and  all, 
Are  brought  to  the  correction  of  your  law; 
There  is  not  now  a  rebel's  sword  unsheath'd, 
But  peace  puts  forth  her  olive  every  where. 
The  manner  how  this  action  hath  been  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 
1  he  lifting  up  of  day.     Look!  here's  more  news. 

Enter  Harcourt. 

Har.  From  enemies  heaven  keep  your  majesty; 
And,  when  they  stand  against  you,  may  they  fall 
As  those  that  I  am  come  to  tell  you  of! 
The  earl  Northumberland,  and  the  lord  Bardolph, 
With  a  great  power  of  English,  and  of  Scots, 
Are  by  the  sheriff  of  Yorkshire  overthrown  : 
The  manner  and  true  order  of  the  fight, 
This  packet,  please  it  you,  contains  at  large. 

K.  Hen.  And  wheiefore  should  these  good  news 
make  me  sick  ? 
Will  fortune  never  come  with  both  hands  full, 
But  write  her  fair  words  still  in  foulest  letters  ? 
She  either  gives  a  stomach,  and  no  food, — 
Such  are  the  poor,  in  health:  or  else  a  feast, 
And  takes  away  the  stomach, — such  are  the  rich, 
That  have  abundance,  and  enjoy  it  not. 
I  should  rejoice  now  at  this  happy  news; 


KING  HENRY  IV.  253 

And  now  my  sight  fails,  and  my  brain  is  giddy : 
O  me!  come  near  me,  now  I  am  much  ill.  [Swoons. 
P.  Humph.  Comfort,  your  majesty !     . 
Cla.  O  my  royal  father ! 

West.  My  sovereign  lord,  cheer  up  yourself,  look 

up! 
War.  Be  patient,  princes  j  you  do  know,  these  fits 
Are  with  his  highness  very  ordinary. 
Stand  from  him,  give  him  air;  he'll  straight  be  well. 
Cla.  No,  no  j  he  cannot  long  hold  out  these  pangs : 
The  incessant  care  and  labour  of  his  mind 
Hath  wrought  the  mure  S3,  that  should  confine  it  in, 
So  thin,  that  life  looks  through,  and  will  break  out. 
P.  Humph.  The  people  fear  mej  for  they  do  ob- 
serve 
Unfather'd  heirs8*,  and  loathly  births  of  nature: 
The  seasons  change  their  manners,  as  the  year 
Had  found  some  months  asleep,  and  leap'd  them  over. 
Cla.   The  river   hath  thrice  flow'd,  no  ebb  be- 
tween : 
And  the  old  folk,  time's  doting  chronicles, 
Say,  it  did  so,  a  little  time  before 
That  our  great  grandsire,  Edward,  sick'd.and  died. 
War.  Speak  lower,  princes,  for  the  king  recovers. 
P.  Humph.  This  apoplex  will,  certain,  be  his  end. 
K.  Hen.  I  pray  you,  take  me  up,  and  bear  me 
hence 
Into  some  other  chamber:  softly,  'pray. 

[They  convey  the  King  to  an  inner  part  qftiie 
room,  and  place  him  on  a  led. 


254  SECOND  PART  OF 

Let  there  be  no  noise  made,  my  gentle  friends; 
Unless  some  dull  and  favourable  hand 
Will  whisper  musick  to  my  weary  spirit. 

War.  Call  for  the  musick  in  the  other  room. 

K.  Hen.  Set  me  the  crown  upon  my  piilow  here. 

Cla.  His  eye  is  hollow,  and  he  changes  much. 

War.  Less  noise,  less  noise. 

Enter  Prince  Henry. 

P.  Hen.  ■   Who  saw  the  duke  of  Clarence  ? 

Cla.  I  am  here,  brother,  full  of  heaviness. 

P.  Hen.  How  now!  rain  within  doors,  and  none 
abroad ! 
How  doth  the  king? 

P.  Humph.  Exceeding  ill. 

P.  Hen.  Heard  he  the  good  news  yet? 

Tell  it  him. 

P. Humph.  He  alter  d  much  upen  the  hearing  it. 

P.  Hen.  If  he  be  sick 
With  joy,  he  will  recover  without  physick. 

War.  Not  so  much  noise,  my  lords : — sweet  prince, 
speak  low ; 
The  king  your  father  is  dispos'd  to  sleep. 

Cla.  Let  us  withdraw  into  the  other  room. 

War.  Will't  please  your  grace  to  go  along  with 
us  ? 

P.  Hen.    No  j  I  will  sit  and  watch  here  by  the 
king.  [Exeunt  all  but  Prince  Henry. 

Why  doth  the  crown  lie  there  upon  his  pillow, 
Being  so  troublesome  a  bedfellow  ? 


KING  HENRY  IV.  25 


J.  JO 


O  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  ! 
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  tills  golden  rigol Ss  hath  divorc'd 
So  many  English  kings.     Thy  due,  from  me, 
Is  tears,  and  heavy  sorrows  of  the  blood  j 
Which  nature,  love,  and  filial  tenderness, 
Shall,  O  dear  father,  pay  thee  plenteously : 
My  due,  from  thee,  is  this  imperial  crown ; 
Which,  as  immediate  from  thy  place  and  blood, 
Derives  itself  to  me.     Lo,  here  it  sits, — 

[Putting  it  on  his  head. 
Which  heaven   shall   guard  :    And  put  the  world's 

whole  strength 
]nto  one  giant  arm,  it  shall  not  force 
This  lineal  honour  from  me:  This  from  thee 
Will  I  to  mine  leave,  as  'tis  left  to  me.  [Eont. 

K.  Hen.  Warwick!   Gloster!  Clarence! 


VOL.  VII. 


256  SECOND  PART  OF 

He-enter  Warwick,  and  the  rest. 

Cla.  Doth  the  king  call  ? 

War.  What  would  your  majesty  ?  How  fares  your 

grace  ? 
K.  Hen.  Why  did  you  leave  me  here  alone,  my 

lords  ? 
Cla.  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?  let 
me  see  him : 
He  is  not  here. 

War.  This  door  is  open;  he  is  gone  this  way. 
P.  Humph.    He  came  not  through  the  chamber 

where  we  stay'd. 
K.Hen.  Where  is  the  crown?  who  took  it  from 

my  pillow? 
War.  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  doth  suppose 

My  sleep  my  death  ? 

Find  him,  my  lord  of  Warwick;  chide  him  hither. 

[Exit  Warwick. 
This  part  of  his  conjoins  with  my  disease, 
And  helps  to  end  me. — See,  sons,  what  things  you 

are! 
How  quickly  nature  falls  into  revolt, 
When  gold  becomes  her  object! 


KING  HENRY  IV.  25/ 

For  this  the  foolish  over-careful  fathers 

Have  broke  their  sleep  with  thoughts,  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  pack'd  with  wax,  our  mouths  with  honey, 
We  bring  it  to  the  hive;  and,  like  the  bees, 
Are  murder'd  for  our  pains.     This  bitter  taste 
Yield  his  engrossments  to  the  ending  father. — 

Pie-enter  Warwick. 

Now,  where  is  he  that  will  not  stay  so  long 
Till  his  friend  sickness  hath  determin'd  me? 

War.  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,  by  beholding  him,  have  wash'd  his  knife 
With  gentle  eye-drops.     He  is  coming  hither. 

K.  Hen.    But  wherefore  did   he   take  away   the 
crown  ? 

Re-enter  Prince  Henry. 
Lo,  where  he  comes.— Come  hither  to  me,  Harry: — 


25S  SECOND  PART  OF 

Depart  the  chamber,  leave  us  here  alone. 

[Exeunt  Clarence,  Prince  Humphrey , 
Lords,  &c. 

P.  Hen.  I  never  thought  to  hear  you  speak  again. 

K.  Hen.    Thy  wish  was  father,   Harry,   to   that 
thought : 
I  stay  too  long  by  thee,  I  weary  thee. 
Dost  thou  so  hunger  for  my  empty  chair, 
That  thou  wilt  needs  invest  thee  with  mine  honours 
Before  thy  hour  be  ripe  ?  O  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,  which,  after  some  few  hours, 
Were  thine  without  offence;  and,  at  my  death, 
Thou  hast  seal'd  up  my  expectation86: 
Thy  life  did  manifest,  thou  lov'dst  me  not, 
And  thou  wilt  have  me  die  assured  of  it. 
Thou  hid'st  a  thousand  daggers  in  thy  thoughts; 
"Which  thou  hast  whetted  on  thy  stony  heart, 
To  stab  at  half  an  hour  of  my  life. 
What!  canst  thou  not  forbear  me  half  an  hour  ? 
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. 
Let  all  the  tears  that  should  bedew  my  hearse, 
Be  drops  of  balm,  to  sanctify  thy  head : 
Only  compound  me  with  forgotten  dust; 
Give  that,  which  gave  thee  life,  unto  the  worms. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  25g 

Thick  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! 
And  to  the  English  court  assemble  now, 

From  every  region,  apes  of  idleness ! 

Now,  neighbour  confines,  purge  you  of  your  scum  : 

Have  you  a  ruffian,  that  will  swear,  drink,  dance, 

Revel  the  night ;  rob,  murder,  and  commit 

The  oldest  sins  the  newest  kind  of  ways  ? 

Be  happy,  he  will  trouble  you  no  more : 

England  shall  double  gild  his  treble  guilt SJ ; 

England  shall  give  him  office,  honour,  might: 

For  the  fifth  Harry  from  curb'd  licence  plucks 

The  muzzle  of  restraint,  and  the  wild  dog 

Shall  flesh  his  tooth  in  every  innocent. 

0  my  poor  kingdom,  sick  with  civil  blows  ! 
When  that  my  care  could  not  withhold  thy  riots, 
What  wilt  thou  do,  when  riot  is  thy  care? 

O,  thou  wilt  be  a  wilderness  again, 
Feopled  with  wolves,  thy  old  inhabitants! 

P.  Hen.  O,  pardon  me,  my  liege!  but  for  my  tears, 

[Kneeling. 
The  moist  impediments  unto  my  speech, 

1  had  forestall'd  this  dear  and  deep  rebuke, 
Ere  you  with  grief  had  spoke,  and  I  had  heard 
The  course  of  it  so  far.     There  is  your  crown; 
And  he  that  wears  the  crown  immortally, 
Long  guard  it  yours!  If  I  affect  it  more, 
Than  as  your  honour,  and  as  your  icnown, 


260  SECOND  PART  OF 

Let  me  no  more  from  this  obedience  rise, 

(Which  my  most  true  and  inward-duteous  spirit 

Teacheth,)  this  prostrate  and  exterior  bending ! 

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  I  do  feign, 

O,  let  me  in  my  present  wildness  die j 

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  the  crown,  as  having  sense, 

And  thus  upbraided  it.     The  care  on  thee  depending, 

Hath  fed  upon  the  body  of  my  father ; 

Therefore,  thcru,  lest  of  gold,  art  worst  of  gold. 

Other,  less  fine  in  carat,  is  more  precious, 

Preserving  life  in  med cine  potable88 : 

But  thou,  most  fine,  most  honour  d,  most  renown  d, 

Hast  eat  thy  bearer  up.     Trhis,  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  affection  of  a  welcome, 

Give  entertainment  to  the  might  of  it, 

Let  God  for  ever  keep  it  from  my  head ! 

And  make  me  as  the  poorest  vassal  is, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  201 

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,  the  very  latest  counsel 
That  ever  I  shall  breathe.     Heaven  knows,  my  son, 
By  what  by-paths,  and  indirect  crook'd  ways, 
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  £oes 
With  me  into  the  earth.     It  seem'd  in  me, 
But  as  an  honour  snatch'd  with  boisterous  hand  j 
And  I  had  many  living,  to  upbraid 
My  gain  of  it  by  their  assistances ; 
Which  daily  grew  to  quarrel,  and  to  bloodshed, 
Wounding  supposed  peace  8s> :  all  these  bold  fears, 
Thou  see'st,  with  peril  I  have  answered : 
For  all  my  reign  hath  been  but  as  a  scene 
Acting  that  argument;  and  now  my  death 
Changes  tne  mode:  for  what  in  me  was  purchased, 
Falls  upon  thee  in  a  more  fairer  sort ; 
So  thou  the  garland  wear'st  successively. 
Yet,  though  thou  stand'st  more  sure  than  I  could  do, 
Thou  art  not  firm  enough,  since  griefs  are  green ; 
And  all  thy  friends90,  which  thou  must  make  thy 
friends, 


262  SECOND  PART  OF 

Have  but  their  stings  and  teeth  newly  ta'en  out) 

By  whose  fell  working  I  was  first  advanc'd, 

And  by  whose  power  I  well  might  lodge  a  fear 

To  be  again  displac'd :  which  to  avoid, 

I  cut  them  off91 ;  and  had  a  purpose  now 

To  lead  out  many  to  the  Holy  Land; 

Lest  rest,  and  lying  still,  might  make  them  look 

Too  near  unto  my  state.     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  denied  me. 

sZ  How  I  came  by  the  crown,  O  God,  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  o/Lancaster,  Warwick, 
Lords,  and  others. 

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  wings  is  flown 


KING  HENRY  IV.  263 

From  this  bare,  wither'd  trunk :   upon  thy  sight, 

My  worldly  business  makes  a  period. 

Where  is  my  lord  of  Warwick  ? 

P.  Hen.  My  lord  of  Warwick ! 

K.  Hen.  Doth  any  name  particular  belong 
Unto  the  lodging  where  I  first  did  swoon  ? 

War.  Tis  call'd  Jerusalem,  my  noble  lord. 

K.Hen.  Laud  be  to  God! — even  there  my  life 
must  end. 
It  hath  been  prophesied  to  me  many  years, 
I  should  not  die  but  in  Jerusalem; 
Which  vainly  I  suppos'd,  the  Holy  Land: — 
But,  bear  me  to  that  chamber 5  there  I'll  lie; 
In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die.  [Exeunt. 


264  SECOND  PART  OF 


ACT  V.    SCENE  I. 
Glocestershire.     A  Hall  in  Shallow's  House. 

Enter  Shallow,  Falstaff,  Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Shal.  93  By  cock  and  pye,  sir,  you  shall  not  away 
to-night. What,  Davy,  I  say! 

Fal.  You  must  excuse  me,  master  Robert  Shallow. 

Shal.  I  will  not  excuse  yous>*;  you  shall  not  be 
excused;  excuses  shall  not  be  admitted;  there  is 
no  excuse  shall  serve;  you  shall  not  be  excused. — 
Why  Davy! 

Enter  Davy. 

Davy,  Here,  sir. 

Shal.  Davy,  Davy,  Davy, — let  me  see,  Davy;  let 
me  see  : — yea,  marry,  William  cook,  bid  him  come 
hither. — Sir  John,  you  shall  not  be  excused. 

Davy.  Marry,  sir,  thus; — those  precepts  cannot 
be  served:  and,  again,  sir,  —  Shall  we  sow  the  head- 
land with  wheat? 

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. 

Davy.  Now,  sir,  a  new  link  to  the  bucket  must 


KING  HENRY  IV.  '265 

needs  be  had: — And,  sir,  do  you  mean  to  stop  any 
of  William's  wages,  about  the  sack  he  lost  the  other 
day  at  Hinckley  fair? 

Shal.  He  shall  answer  it : 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.  Use  his 
men  well,  Davy;  for  they  are  arrant  knaves,  and  will 
backbite. 

Davy.  No  worse  than  they  are  back-bitten,  sir; 
for  they  have  marvellous  foul  linen. 

Shal.  Well  conceited,  Davy.  About  thy  business, 
Davy. 

Davy.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  to  countenance  Wil- 
liam 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,  God  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  serv'd  your  worship  truly, 
sir,  this  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. 


266  SECOND  PART  OF 

The  knave  is  mine  honest  friend,  sir;  therefore,  I 
beseech  your  worship,  let  him  be  countenanced. 

Shal.  Go  to 3  I  say,  he  shall  have  no  wrong.  Look 
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.  [Exit  Shallow. 

Fal.  I'll  follow  you,  good  master  Robert  Shallow. 
Bardolph,  look  to  our  horses.    [Exeunt  Bardolph  and 
Page."]     If  I  were  saw'd  into  quantities,   I  should 
make  four  dozen  such   bearded  hermit's- staves  as 
master  Shallow.     It  is  a  wonderful  thing,  to  see  the 
semblable  coherence   of  his  men's   spirits  and   his : 
They,  by  observing  him,   do  bear  themselves  like 
foolish  justices j    he,  by  conversing  with   them,   is 
turn'd  into  a  justice-like  serving- man:   their  spirits 
are  so  married  in  conjunction  with  the  participation 
of  society,  that  they  flock  together  in  consent,  like  so 
many  wild  geese.     If  I  had  a  suit  to  master  Shallow, 
I  would  humour  his  men,  with  the  imputation  of 
being  near  their  master:  if  to  his  men,  I  would  curry 
with  master  Shallow,  that  no  man  could  better  com- 
mand  his  servants.      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  out 
of  this  Shallow,  to  keep  prince  Harry  in  continual 


KING  HENRY  IV.  267 

laughter,  the  wearing-out  of  six  fashions,  (which  is 
four  terms,  or  two  actions,)  and  he  shall  laugh  with- 
out inter  Valiums.  O,  it  is  much,  that  a  lie,  with  a 
slight  oath,  and  a  jest  with  a  sad  brow,  will  do  with 
a  fellow  that  never  had  the  ache  in  his  shoulders!  O, 
you  shall  see  him  laugh,  till  his  face  be  like  a  wet 
cloak  ill  laid  up. 

Shal.   \_Within.~]   Sir  John! 

Fal.  I  come,  master  Shallow}  I  come,  master  Shal- 
low. [Exit  FalstaJJ\ 

SCENE  II. 
Westminster.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Warwick,  and  the  Lord  Chief  Justice. 

War.  How  now,  my  lord  chief  justice?  whither 

away  ? 
Ch.  Just.  How  doth  the  king? 
War.  Exceeding  well ;  his  cares  are  now  all  ended. 
Ch.  Just.  I  hope,  not  dead. 
War.  He's  walk'd  the  way  of  nature ; 

And,  to  our  purposes,  he  lives  no  more. 

Ch.  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. 

War.  Indeed,  I  think,  the  young  king  loves  you 

not. 
Ch.  Just.  I  know,  he  doth  not;  and  do  arm  myself, 


268  SECOND  PART  OF 

To  welcome  the  condition  of  the  time  5 
Which  cannot  look  more  hideously  upon  me 
Than  I  have  drawn  it  in  my  fantasy. 

Enter  Prince  John,  Prince  Humphrey,  Clarence, 
"Westmoreland,  and  others. 

War.  Here  come  the  heavy  issue  of  dead  Harry : 
O,  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 ! 

Ch.  Just.  Alas !  I  fear,  all  will  be  overturn'd. 

P.  John.  Good  morrow,  cousin  Warwick. 

P.  Humph.   Cla.  Good  morrow,  cousin. 

P.  John.  We  meet  like  men  that  had  forgot  to 
speak. 

War.  We  do  remember ;  but  our  argument 
Is  all  too  heavy  to  admit  much  talk. 

P.  John.  Well,  peace  be  with  him  that  hath  made 
us  heavy! 

Ch.  Just.  Peace  be  with  us,  lest  we  be  heavier! 

P.  Humph.  O,   good   my  lord,   you   have   lost  a 
friend,  indeed: 
And  I  dare  swear,  you  borrow  not  that  face 
Of  seeming  sorrow ;  it  is  sure,  your  own. 

P.John.  Though  no  man  be  assur'd  what  grace 
to  find, 
You  stand  in  coldest  expectation: 
I  am  the  sorrier;  'would,  'twere  otherwise. 

Cla.  Well,  you  must  now  speak  sir  John  Falstaff  fair, 


KING  HENRY  IV.  269 

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  I  will  beg 
A  ragged  and  forestall'd  remission  95. — 
If  truth  and  upright  innocency  fail  me, 
I'll  to  the  king  my  master  that  is  dead, 
And  tell  him  who  hath  sent  me  after  him. 

War.  Here  comes  the  prince. 

Enter  King  Henry  V. 

Ch.Just.  Good  morrow ;   and  heaven  save  your 
majesty ! 

King.  This  new  and  gorgeous  garment,  majesty, 
Sits  not  so  easy  on  me  as  you  think. — 
Brothers,  you  mix  your  sadness  with  some  fearj 
This  is  the  English,  not  the  Turkish  court 9<5  j 
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, 
Than  a  joint  burden  laid  upon  us  all. 
For  me,  by  heaven,  I  bid  you  be  assur'd, 
I'll  be  your  father  and  your  brother  too ; 
Let  me  but  bear  your  love,  I'll  bear  your  cares. 
Yet  weep,  that  Harry's  dead  j  and  so  will  I : 


2/0  SECOND  PART  OF 

But  Harry  lives,  that  shall  convert  those  tears, 
By  number,  into  hours  of  happiness. 

P.  John,  &c.  We  hope  no  other  from  your  ma- 
jesty. 

King.  You  all  look  strangely  on  me: — and  you 
most;  [To  the  Ch.  Just. 

You  are,  I  think,  assur'd  I  love  you  not. 

Ch.  Just.  I  am  assur'd,  if  I  be  measur'd  rightly, 
Your  majesty  hath  no  just  cause  to  hate  me. 

Kin^ .  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  wash'd  in  Lethe,  and  forgotten  ? 

Ch.  Just.  1  then  did  use  the  person  of  your  father; 
The  image  cf  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.     If  the  deed  were  ill, 
Be  you  contented,  wearing  now  the  garland, 
To  have  a  son  set  your  decrees  at  nought ; 
To  pluck  down  justice  from  your  awful  bench ; 
To  trip  the  course  of  law,  and  blunt  the  sword 


XING  HENRY  IV.  2;  I 

That  guards  the  peace  and  safety  of  your  person : 
Nay,  more  j  to  spurn  at  your  most  royal  image, 
And  mock  your  workings  in  a  second  body. 
Question  your  royal  thoughts,  make  the  case  yours  ; 
Be  now  the  father,  and  propose  a  son : 
Hear  your  own  dignity  so  much  profan'd, 
See  your  most  dreadful  laws  so  loosely  slighted, 
Behold  yourself  so  by  a  son  disdain'd; 
And  then  imagine  me  taking  your  part. 
And,  in  your  power,  soft  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. 

King.  You  are  right,  justice,  and  you  weigh  this 
well} 
Therefore  still  bear  the  balance,  and  the  sword: 
And  I  do  wish  your  honours  may  increase, 
Till  you  do  live  to  see  a  son  of  mine 
Offend  you,  and  obey  you,  as  I  did. 
So  shall  I  live  to  speak  my  father's  words ; 
Happy  am  I,  that  have  a  man  so  hold, 
That  dares  do  justice  on  my  proper  son: 
And  not  less  happy,  having  such  a  son, 
That  would  deliver  up  his  greatness  so 
Into  the  hands  of  justice. — You  did  commit  me: 
For  which,  I  do  commit  into  your  hand 
The  unstain  d  sword  that  you  have  us'd  to  bear} 
With  this  remembrance, — That  you  use  the  same 
With  the  like  bold,  just,  and  impartial  spirit, 

VOL.  VII.  u 


2/2  SECOND  PART  OF 

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 3 
And  I  will  stoop  and  humble  my  intents 

To  your  well-practis'd,  wise  directions. 

And,  princes  all,  believe  me,  I  beseech  you; — 
My  father  is  gone  wild  into  his  grave, 
For  in  his  tomb  lie  my  affections : 
And  with  his  spirit  sadly  I  survive, 
To  mock  the  expectation  of  the  world  ; 
To  frustrate  prophecies  ;  and  to  raze  out 
Rotten  opinion,  who  hath  writ  me  down 
After  my  seeming.     The  tide  of  blood  in  me 
Hath  proudly  fiow'd  in  vanity,  till  now; 
Now  doth  it  turn,  and  ebb  back  to  the  sea; 
"Where  it  shall  mingle  with  the  state  of  floods, 
And  flow  henceforth  in  formal  majesty. 
Now  call  we  our  high  court  of  parliament: 
And  let  us  choose  such  limbs  of  noble  counsel, 
That  the  great  body  of  our  state  may  go 
In  equal  rank  with  the  best-govern' 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  the  Lord  Chief  Justice. 
Our  coronation  done,  we  will  accite, 
As  I  before  remember'd,  all  our  state: 
And  (God  consigning  to  my  good  intents,) 
No  prince,  nor  peer,  shall  have  just  cause  to  say, — 
Heaven  shorten  Harry's  happy  life  one  day.  [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  2£3 


SCENE  III. 

Glostershire,     The  Garden  of  Shallow's  House. 

Enter  Falstaff,  Shallow,  Silence,  Bardolph, 
the  Page,  and  Davy. 

Shal.  Nay,  you  shall  see  mine  orchard}  where,  in 
an  arbour,  we  will  eat  a  last  year's  pippin  of  my  own 
grassing,  with  a  dish  of  caraways  97,  and  so  forth  3— 
come,  cousin  Silence  3 — and  then  to  bed. 

Fal.  'Fore  God,  you  have  here  a  goodly  dwelling, 
and  a  rich. 

Shal.  Barren,  barren,  barren  j  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  husbandman. 

Shal.  A  good  varlet,  a  good  varlet,  a  very  good 
varlet,  sir  John. — By  the  mass,  I  have  drunk  too 
much  sack  at  supper:— a  good  varlet.  Now  sit 
down,  now  sit  down: — come,  cousin. 

Sil.  Ah,  sirrah !  quoth-a, — we  shall 

Do  nothing  hut  eat,  and  make  good  cheer,  [Singing. 

And  praise  heaven  for  the  merry  year; 

When  flesh  is  cheap  and  females  dear, 

And  lusty  lads  roam  here  and  there, 
So  merrily, 
And  ever  among  so  merrily. 


274  SECOND  PART  OF 

Fal.  There's  a  merry  heart! — Good  master  Si- 
lence, I'll  give  you  a  health  for  that  anon. 

Shal.  Give  master  Bardolph  some  wine,  Davy. 

Davy.  Sweet  sir,  sit  j  [Seating  Bardolph  and  the 
Page  at  another  table."]     I'll  be  with  you  anon: — 

most  sweet  sir,  sit. Master  page,  good  master 

page,  sit :  proface  9i !   What  you  want  in  meat  we  11 
have  in  drink.     But  you  must  bear 3  The  heart's  all. 

[Exit. 

Shal.  Be  merry,  master  Bardolph; — and  my  little 
soldier  there,  be  merry. 

Sil.  Be  merry,  he  merry,  my  wife's  as  all;  [Singing. 

For  women  are  shrews,  loth  short  and  tall: 

'Tis  merry  in  hall,  when  leards  wag  all, 
And  welcome  merry  shrove-tide. 

Be  merry,  he  merry,  &c. 

Fal.  I  did  not  think,  master  Silence  had  been  a 
man  of  this  mettle. 

Sil.  Who  I  ?  I  have  been  merry  twice  and  once, 
ere  now. 

Re-enter  Davy. 

Davy.  There  is  a  dish  of  leather-coats  "  for  you. 

[Setting  them  before  Bardolph. 
ShaL  Davy, — 

Davy.  Your  worship? — I'll  be  with  you  straight. 
[To  Bard.~\ — A  cup  of  wine,  sir? 

Sil.  A  cup  of  wine,  that's  Irisk  and  fine,  [Singing. 
And  dr'mk  unto  the  leman  mine-, 

And  a  merry  heart  lives  long- a. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  2;5 

Fal.  Well  said,  master  Silence. 
Sil.  And  we  shall  be  merry ; — now  comes  in  the 
sweet  of  the  night. 

Fal.  Health  and  long  life  to  you,  master  Silence! 
Sil.   Fill  the  cup,  and  let  it  come ; 
Fll  pledge  you  a  mile  to  the  bottom. 
Shal.  Honest  Bardolph,  welcome :   If  thou  want'st 
any  thing,  and  wilt  not  call,  beshrew  thy  heart. — 
Welcome,  my  little  tiny  thief  ?    [To  the  Page.]  and 
welcome,  indeed,  too. — I'll  drink  to  master  Bardolph, 
and  to  all  the  cavaleroes  about  London. 

Davy.  I  hope  to  see  London  once  ere  I  die. 
Bard.  An  I  might  see  you  there,  Davy, — 
Shal.  By  the  mass,  you'll  crack  a  quart  together. 
Ha !  will  you  not,  master  Bardolph  ? 
Bard.  Yes,  sir,  in  a  pottle  pot. 
Shal.  I  thank  thee: — The  knave  will  stick   bv 
thee,  I  can  assure  thee  that :  he  will  not  out;  he  is 
true  bred. 

Bard.  And  I'll  stick  by  him,  sir. 
Shal.  Why,  there  spoke  a  king.     Lack  nothing: 
be  merry.    [Knocking  heard."]    Look  who's  at  door 
there:  Ho!  who  knocks!  [Exit  Davy. 

Fal.  Why,  now  you  have  done  me  right. 

[To  Silence,  who  drinks  a  lumper. 
Sil.  Do  me  right,  [Singing. 

And  dub  me  knight. 

Samingo  I0°. 
Is't  not  so? 
Fal.  'Tis  so. 


'> 


76  SECOND  PART  OF 


Sil.  Ts'tso?   Why,  then  say,  an  old  man  can  do 
somewhat. 

He  erAcr  Davy. 

Davy.  An  it  please  your  worship,  there's  one  Pistol 
come  from  the  couri  with  news. 

Fal.  From  the  court?  let  him  come  in. — 

Enter  Pistol. 

How  now,  Pistcl  ? 

Pist.  God  save  you,  sir  John! 

Fal.  What  v. ii :d  blew  you  hither,  Pistol? 

Pist,  Not  the  ill  wind  which  blows  no  man  to 
good.— Sweet  knight,  thou  art  now  one  of  the  greatest 
men  in  the  realm. 

Sil.  B'yt  lady;  I  think  'a  be;  but  goodman  Puff 
ofBatson101. 

Fist.  Puff? 
Puff  in  thy  teeth,  most  recreant  coward  base! — 
Sir  John,  I  am  thy  Pistol,  and  thy  friend, 
And  helter-sl      er  have  I  rode  to  thee? 
And  tidings  do  I  bring,  and  lucky  joys, 
And  g  Iden  times,  and  happy  news  of  price. 

Fal.  I  pr'ythee  now,  deliver  them  like  a  man  of 
this  world. 

Pist.  A  foutra  for  the  world,  and  worldlings  base! 
I  speak  of  Africa,  and  golden  joys. 

Fal.  O  base  Assyrian  knight,  what  is  thy  news? 
Let  king  Cophetua  know  the  truth  thereof. 

Sil.  And  Robin  Hood,  Scarlet,  and  John.    [Sings. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  2/7 

Pist.  Shall  dunghill  curs  confront  the  Helicons? 
And  shall  good  news  be  baffled? 
Then,  Pistol,  lay  thy  head  in  Furies'  lap. 

Sil.  Honest  gentleman,  I  know  not  your  breeding. 

Pist.  Why  then,  lament  therefore. 

Shal.  Give  me  pardon,  sir  5 — If,  sir,  you  come 
with  news  from  the  court,  I  take  it,  there  is  but  two 
waysj  either  to  utter  them,  or  to  conceal  them.  I 
am,  sir,  under  the  king,  in  some  authority. 

Pist.  Under  which  king,  Bezonian?  speak,  or  die. 

Shal.  Under  king  Harry. 

Pist.  Harry  the  fourth  ?  or  fifth  ? 

Shal.  Harry  the  fourth. 

Pist.  A  foutra  for  thine  office!— 

Sir  John,  thy  tender  lambkin  now  is  king ; 
Harry  the  fifth's  the  man.     I  speak  the  truth . 
When  Pistol  lies,  do  this  5  and  fig  me,  like 
The  bragging  Spaniard. 

Fal.  What !  is  the  old  king  dead  ? 

Pist.  As  nail  in  door:  the  things  I  speak,  are  just. 

Fal.  Away,  Bardolph;  saddle  my  horse. — Master 
Robert  Shallow,  choose  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. 

Pist.  What?  I  do  bring  good  news? 

Fal.  Carry  master  Silence  to  bed. — Master  Shal- 
low, my  lord  Shallow,  be  what  thou  wilt,  I  am  for- 
tune's steward.     Get  on  thy  boots  j   we'll  ride  all 


273  SECOND  PART  OF 

night: — O,  sweet  Pistol: — Away,  Bardolph.  [Exit 
Bard.] —  Come,  Pistol,  utter  more  to  me ;  and,  withal, 
devise  something  to  do  thyself  good. — Boot,  boot, 
master  Shallow  j  1  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! 

Pist.  Let  vultures  vile  seize  on  his  lungs  also! 
Where  is  the  life  that  late  I  led,  say  they : 
Why,  here  it  is  ;  Welcome  these  pleasant  days. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  IF. 

London.     A  Street. 

Enter  Beadles,  dragging  in   Hostess  Quickly,    and 

Doll  Tear-sheet. 

Host.  No,  thou  arrant  knave ;  I  would  I  might 
die,  that  I  might  have  thee  hang'd:  thou  hast  drawn 
my  shoulder  out  of  joint. 

1  Bead.  The  constables  have  deliver'd  her  over 
to  me  j  and  she  shall  have  whipping- cheer  enough,  I 
warrant  her :  There  hath  been  a  man  or  two  lately 
kill'd  about  her. 

Dol.  Nut-hook,  nut-hook,  you  lie102.  Come  on; 
111  tell  thee  what,  thou  damn'd  tripe-visag'd  rascal; 
an  the  child  I  now  ^o  with,  do  miscarry,  thou  hadst 


KING  HENRY  IV.  279 

better  thou  hadst  struck  thy  mother,  thou  paper-faced 
villain. 

Host.  O  the  lord,  that  sir  John  were  come !  he 
would  make  this  a  bloody  day  to  somebody.  But  I 
pray  God,  the  fruit  of  her  womb  miscarry! 

1  Bead.  If  it  do,  you  shall  have  a  dozen  of  cushions 
again 3  you  have  but  eleven  now.  Come,  I  charge 
you  both  go  with  me;  for  the  man  is  dead,  that  you 
and  Pistol  beat  among  you. 

Dol.  I'll  tell  thee  what,  thou  thin  man  in  a  cen- 
ser I03!  I  will  have  you  as  soundly  swinged  for  this, 
you  blue-bottled-rogueIO+;  you  filthy  famish'd  cor- 
rectioner !  if  you  be  not  swinged,  I'll  forsv/ear  half- 
kirtles105. 

J  Bead.  Come,  come,,  you  she  knight-errant;  come. 

Host.  O,  that  right  should  thus  overcome  might! 
Well ;  of  sufferance  comes  ease. 

Dol.  Come,  you  rogue,  come;  bring  me  to  a  justice. 

Host.  Ay;  come,  you  starved  blood-hound. 

Dol.  Goodman  death !  goodman  bones  ! 

Host.  Thou  atomy  thou ! 

Dol.  Come,  you  thin  thing;  come  you  rascal ! 

]  Bead.  Very  well.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   V. 

A  public  Place  near  Westminster  Alley. 

Enter  two  Grooms,  strewing  rushes. 

1  Groom.  More  rushes,  more  rushes. 

2  Groom.  The  trumpets  have  sounded  twice. 


2S0  SECOND  PART  OF 

1  Groom.  It  will  be  two  o'clock  ere  they  come 
from  the  coronation :  Despatch,  despatch. 

[Exeunt  Grooms. 

Enter  Falstaff,  Shallow,  Pistol,  Bardolph, 

and  the  Page. 

Fal.  Stand  here  by  me,  master  Robert  Shallow; 
I  will  make  the  king  do  )rou  grace  :  I  will  leer  upon 
him,  as  'a  comes  by;  and  do  but  mark  the  coun- 
tenance that  he  will  give  me. 

Pist.  God  bless  thy  lungs,  good  knight! 

Fal.  Come  here,  Pistol ;  stand  behind  me, — O,  if 
I  had  had  time  to  have  made  new  liveries,  I  would 
have  bestow'd  the  thousand  pound  I  borrow  d  of 
you.  [To  Shallow.']  But  'tis  no  matter;  this  poor 
show  doth  better^  this  doth  infer  the  zeal  I  had  to 
see  him. 

Shal.  It  doth  so. 

Fal.  It  shows  my  earnestness  of  affection. 

Shal.  It  doth  so. 

Fal.  My  devotion. 

Shal.  It  doth,  it  doth,  it  doth. 

Fal.  As  it  were,  to  ride  day  and  night 5  and  not 
to  deliberate,  not  to  remember,  not  to  have  patience 
to  shift  me. 

Shal.  It  is  most  certain. 

Fal.  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. 


KING  HENRY  IV.  281 

Pist.  Tis  semper  idem,  for  absque  hoc  nihil  est : 
'Tis  all  in  every  part. 

Shal.  'Tis  so,  indeed. 

Pist.  My  knight,  I  will  inflame  thy  noble  liver, 
And  make  thee  rage. 

Thy  Doll,  and  Helen  of  thy  noble  thoughts, 
Is  in  base  durance,  and  contagious  prison ; 
Hauld  thither 

By  most  mechanical  and  dirty  hand :  — 
Rouze  up  revenge  from  ebon  den  with  fell  Alecto*s 

snake, 
For  Doll  is  in;  Pistol  speaks  nought  but  truth. 

Fal.  I  will  deliver  her. 

[Shouts  within,  and  the  trumpets  sound. 

Pist.  There  roar'd  the  sea,  and  trumpet-clangor 
sounds. 

Enter  the  King,   and  his  train,  the  Chief  Justice 

among  them. 

Fal.  God  save  thy  grace,  king  Hal!  my  royal  Hal. 
Pist.  The  heavens  thee  guard  and  keep,  most  royal 
imp  of  fame! 

Fal.  God  save  thee,  my  sweet  boy  ! 

King.  My  lord  chief  justice,  speak  to  that  vain 

man. 
Ch.  Just.  Have  you  your  wits  ?  know  you  what 

'tis  you  speak  ? 
Fal.  My  king!    my  Jove!   I  speak  to  thee,    my 

heart ! 
King.  I  know  thee  not,  old  man :  Fall  to  thy  prayers  j 


2S2  SECOND  PART  OF 

How  ill  white  hairs  become  a  fool,,  and  jester! 

I  have  long  dream'd  of  such  a  kind  of  man, 

So  surfeit-swell'd,  so  old,  and  so  profane; 

But,  being  awake,  I  do  despise  my  dream. 

Make  less  thy  body,  hence,  and  more  thy  grace; 

Leave  gormandizing:  know,  the  grave  doth  gape 

For  thee  thrice  wider  than  for  other  men : — 

Reply  not  to  me  with  a  *bol-born  jest; 

Presume  not,  that  I  am  the  thing  I  was : 

For  heaven  doth  know,  so  shall  the  world  perceive, 

That  I  have  turn'd  away  my  former  self; 

So  will  I  those  that  kept  me  company. 

When  thou  dost  hear  I  am  as  I  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  mile 106. 

For  competence  of  life,  I  will  allow  you; 

ThcV  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. — 

Set  on.  [Exeunt  King,  and  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 


KING  HENRY  IV.  283 

to  him :  look  you,  he  must  seem  thus  to  the  v/crld. 
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  be- 
seech you,  good  sir  John,  let  me  have  five  hundred 
of  my  thousand. 

Fal.  Sir,  I  will  be  as  good  as  my  v/ord :  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,  lieutenant  Pistol; — come,  Bardolph: — I  shall 
be  sent  for  soon  at  night. 

Re-enter  Prince  John,  the  Chief  Justice,  Officers,  &c, 

Ch.  Just.  Go,  carry  sir  John  Falstaff  to  the  Fleet; 
Take  all  his  company  along  with  him. 
Fal.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

Ch.  Just,    I  cannot  now  speak:   I  will  hear  you 
soon. 
Take  them  away. 

Pist.  Sifortuna  me  tormenta,  spero  me  contenta  1Qi. 
[Exeunt  Fal.  Shal.  Pist.  Bard.  Page,  and 
Officers. 
P.John.  I  like  this  fair  proceeding  of  the  king's: 
He  hath  intent,  his  wonted  followers 
Shall  all  be  very  well  provided  for; 
But  all  are  banish'd,  till  their  conversations 
Appear  more  wise  and  modest  to  the  world. 


281        SECOND  PART  OF  K.  HEN.  IV. 

Ch.  Just.  And  so  they  are. 

P.  John.  The  king  hath  call'd  his  parliament,  my 
lord. 

Ch.  Just.  He  hath. 

P.  John.  I  will  lay  odds, — that,  ere  this  year  ex- 
pire, 
We  bear  our  civil  swords,  and  native  fire, 
As  far  as  France  :  I  heard  a  bird  so  sing, 
"Whose  musick,  to  my  thinking,  pieas'd  the  king. 
Come  will  you  hence108?  [Exeunt. 


2S5 


EPILOGUE 

Spoken  ly  a  Dancer. 


First,  my  fear;  then,  my  court'sy:  last,  my  speech. 
My  fear  is  your  displeasure;  my  court'sy,  my  duty; 
and  my  speech,  to  beg  your  pardons.  If  you  look  for 
a  good  speech  now,  you  undo  me :  for  what  I  have 
to  say,  is  of  mine  own  making;  and  what,  indeed,  I 
should  say,  will,  I  doubt,  prove  mine  own  marring. 
But  to  the  purpose,  and  so  to  the  venture. — Be  it 
known  to  you,  (as  it  is  very  well,)  I  was  lately  here 
in  the  end  of  a  displeasing  play,  to  pray  your  patience 
for  it,  and  to  promise  you  a  better.  I  did  mean,  in- 
deed, to  pay  you  with  this;  which,  if,  like  an  ill  ven- 
ture, it  come  unluckily  home,  I  break,  and  you,  my 
gentle  creditors,  lose.  Here,  I  promised  you,  I 
would  be,  and  here  I  commit  my  body  to  your  mer- 
cies :  bate  me  some,  and  I  will  pay  you  some,  and, 
as  most  debtors  do,  promise  you  infinitely. 

If  my  tongue  cannot  entreat  you  to  acquit  me,  will 
you  command  me  to  use  my  legs  ?  and  yet  that  were 
but  light  payment, — to  dance  out  of  your  debt.  But 
a  good  conscience  will  make  any  possible  satisfaction, 
and  so  will  I.  All  the  gentlewomen  here  have  for- 
given me;   if  the  gentlemen  will  not,  then  the  gen- 


28(5  EPILOGUE. 

tlemen  do  not  agree  with  the  gentlewomen,  which 
was  never  seen  before  in  such  an  assembly. 

One  word  more,  I  beseech  you.  If  you  be  not  too 
much  cloy'd  with  fat  meat,  our  humble  author  will 
continue  the  story,  with  Sir  John  in  it,  and  make  you 
merry  with  fair  Katharine  of  France:  where,  for  any 
thing  I  know,  FalstafF  shall  die  of  a  sweat,  unless 
already  he  be  kill'd  with  your  hard  opinions ;  for  Old- 
castle  died  a  martyr,  and  this  is  not  the  man.  My 
tongue  is  weary  j  when  my  legs  are  too,  I  will  bid 
you  good  night:  and  so  kneel  down  before  you \ — but, 
indeed,  to  pray  for  the  queen. 


ANNOTATIONS 


UPON 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF  HENRY  IV. 


INDUCTION. 

1  Enter  Rumour — ]  This  speech  of  Rumour  is  not 
inelegant  or  unpoetical,  but  is  wholly  useless,  since 
we  are  told  nothing  which  the  first  scene  does  not 
clearly  and  naturally  discover.  The  only  end  of 
such  prologues  is  to  inform  the  audience  of  some  facts 
previous  to  the  action,  of  which  they  can  have  no 
knowledge  from  the  persons  of  the  drama. 

JOHNSON. 

Enter  Rumour,  painted  full  of  tongues.]  This 
the  author  probably  drew  from  Holinshed's  Descrip- 
tion of  a  Pageant,  exhibited  in  the  court  of  Henry  VIII. 
with  uncommon  cost  and  magnificence. 

"  Then  entered  a  person  called  Report,  apparelled 

"  In  crimson  sattin,/?///  of  toongs,  or  chronicles." 
Vol.  3.  p.  805.     This  however  might  be  the  common 
way  of  representing  this  personage  in  masques,  which 
were  frequent  in  his  own  times.  warton. 

Stephen  Hawes,    in  his  Pastime  of  Pleasure,  had 

VOL    VII.  X 


288  ANNOTATIONS. 

long  ago  exhibited  her  (Rumour)  in  the  same  man- 
ner : 

"  A  goodly  lady,  envyroned  about 

11  With  tongues  of  fyre." 

And   so  had  Sir  Thomas  Moore,  in  one  of  his 
Pageants, 

"  Fame  I  am  called,  mervayle  you  nothing 
"  Thoughe  with  tonges  I  am  compassed  all 
arounde." 
Not  to  mention  her  elaborate  portrait  by  Chaucer, 
in  The  Boole  of  Fame;  and  by  John  Higgins,  one 
of  the  assistants  in  The  Mirror  for  Magistrates,  in 
his  Legend  of  King  Albanacte.  farmer. 

a  —painted  full  of  tongues.]  This  direction,  which 
is  only  to  be  found  in  the  first  edition  in  quarto  of 
1600,  explains  a  passage  in  what  follows,  otherwise 
obscure.  pope. 

3  Rumour  is  a  pipe — ]  Here  the  poet  imagines 
himself  describing  R.umour,  and  forgets  that  Rumour 
is  the  speaker.  johnson. 

*  And  this  worm-eaten  hole  of  ragged  stone,~\  Nor- 
thumberland had  retired  and  fortified  himself  in  his 
castle,  a  place  of  strength  in  those  times,  though  the 
building  might  be  impaired  by  its  antiquity  j  and, 
therefore,  I  believe  our  poet  wrote, 

And  this  worm-eaten  hold  of  ragged  stone. 

THEOBALD. 

5  — rowel  head — ]  I  think  that  I  have  observed 
in  old  prints  the  rowel  of  those  times  to  have  been 
only  a  single  spike.  johnson. 


ANNOTATIONS.  280 

6  —  some  hildiog  fellow — ]  For  hilderling,  i.e. 
bsse,  degenerate,  pope. 

7  — like  to  a  title-leaf,]  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  ob- 
serve, that  in  the  time  of  our  poet,  the  title-page  to 
an  elegy,  as  well  a3  every  intermediate  leaf,  was  to- 
tally black.  I  have  several  in  my  possession,  written 
by  Chapman,  the  translator  of  Homer,  and  orna- 
mented in  this  manner.  steevens. 

8  — so  woe- be- gone,"]  The  word  was  common 
enough  amongst  the  old  Scotish  and  English  poets, 
as  G.Douglas,  Chaucer,  lord  Buckhurst,  Fairfax j 
and  signifies,  far  gone  in  woe.  warburton. 

g  Your  spirit — ]  The  impression  upon  your  mind, 
by  which  you  conceive  the  death  of  your  son. 

JOHNSON. 

10  Yet,  for  all  this,  say  not  that  Percy  s  dead.'] 
The  contradiction  in  the  first  part  of  this  speech 
might  be  imputed  to  the  distraction  of  Northumber- 
land's mind ;  but  the  calmness  of  the  reflection,  con- 
tained in  the  last  lines,  seems  not  much  to  counte- 
nance such  a  supposition,  I  will  venture  to  distribute 
this  passage  in  a  manner  which  will,  I  hope,  seem 
more  commodious ;  but  do  not  wish  the  reader  to 
forget,  that  the  most  commodious  is  not  always  the 
true  reading. 

Bard.   Yet  for  all  this,  say  not  that  Percy  s  dead. 
North.  I  see  a  strange  confession  in  thine  eye; 

Thou  shall  st  thy  head,  and  holdst  it  fear,  or  sin, 

To  speak  a  truth.     If  he  be  slain,  say  so. 

The  tongue  offends  not,  that  reports  his  death; 


290  ANNOTATIONS. 

And  he  doth  sin,  that  doth  belie  the  dead, 
Not  he  that  saith  the  dead  is  not  alive. 

Morton.  Yet  the  first  bringer  of  unwelcome  news 
Hath  but  a  losing  office,  and  his  tongue 
Sounds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell. 
Remember  d,  tolling  a  departing  friend. 
Here  is  a  natural  interposition  of  Bardolph  at  the 
beginning,  who  is  not  pleased  to  hear  his  news  con- 
futed, and  a  proper  preparation  of  Morton  for  the 
tale  which  he  is  unwilling*  to  tell.  Johnson. 

11  'Gan  vail  his  stomach,']  To  vail  is  to  lower,  to 
let  down. 

12  — buckle  under  life.~\  Buckle  is  to  bend  or  yield 
to  pressure. 

13  The  ragged'st  hour  that  time  and  spite  dare  bring 
To  frown,  &c]  There  is  no  consonance  of  me- 
taphors betwixt  ragged  and  frown  ;  nor,  indeed,  airy- 
dignity  in  the  image.  On  both  accounts,  therefore, 
I  suspect  our  author  wrote,  as  I  have  reformed  the 
text, 

The  rugge&st  hour,  Sec.  theobald. 

14  And  darkness  be  the  burier  of  the  dead.~]  The 
conclusion  of  this  noble  speech  is  extremely  striking. 
There  is  no  need  to  suppose  it  exactly  philosophical ; 
darkness,  in  poetry,  may  be  absence  of  eyes,  as  well 
as  privation  of  light.  Yet  we  may  remark,  that  by 
an  ancient  opinion  it  has  been  held,  that  if  the  human 
race,  for  whom  the  world  was  made,  were  extirpated, 
the  whole  system  of  sublunary  nature  would  cease. 

JOHNSON. 


ANNOTATIONS.  291 

'5-You  cast  the  event  of  war— ]  The  fourteen 
lines  from  hence  to  Bardolph's  next  speech,  are  not 
to  be  found  in  the  first  editions  till  that  in  folio  of 
1623.  A  very  great  number  of  other  lines  in  this 
play  arc  inserted  after  the  first  edition  in  like  manner, 
but  of  such  spirit  and  mastery  generally,  that  the  in- 
sertions are  plainly  by  Shakspeare  himself,     pope. 

To  this  note  I  have  nothing  to  add,  but  that  the 
editor  speaks  of  more  editions  than  I  believe  him  to 
have  seen,  there  having  been  but  one  edition  yet 
discovered  by  me  that  precedes  the  first  folio. 

JOHNSON. 

16  The  gentle  archbishop — ]  These  one  and  twenty 
lines  were  added  since  the  first  edition. 

17  Tells  them,  he  cloth  bestride  a  bleeding  land,"] 
That  is,  stands  over  his  country  to  defend  her  as  she 
lies  bleeding  on  the  ground.  So  Falstaff  before  says 
to  the  prince,  If  thou  see  me  down,  Hal,  and  be- 
stride me,  so-,  it  is  an  office  of  friendship. 

JOHNSON. 

lS  JFhat  says  the  doctor  to  my  water?]  The  me- 
thod of  investigating  diseases  by  the  inspection  of 
urine  only,  was  once  so  much  the  fashion,  that  Caius, 
the  founder  of  the  college  in  Warwick-lane,  formed 
a  statute  to  restrain  apothecaries  from  carrying  the 
water  of  their  patients  to  a  physician,  and  afterwards 
giving  medicines  in  consequence  of  the  opinions  they 
received  concerning  it.  This  statute  was,  soon  aftor, 
followed  by  another,  which  forbade  the  doctors  them- 


2p2  ANNOTATIONS. 

selves  to  pronounce  on  any  disorder  from  9uch  an  un- 
certain diagnostic. 

John  Day,  the  author  of  a  comedy  called  Law 
Tricks,  or  Who  icould  have  thought  it?  1608,  de- 
scribes an  apothecary  thus: 

" his  house  is  set  round  with  patients  twice 

<c  or  thrice  a  day,  and  because  they'll  be  sure  not  to 
"  want  drink,  every  one  brings  his  own  water  in  an 
"  urinal  with  him." 

Again,  in  B.  and  Fletcher's  Scornful  Lady  : 
"  I'll  make  her  cry  so  much,  that  the  physician, 
"  If  she  fall  sick  upon  it,  sha-1  want  urine 
"  To  find  the  cause  by."  steevens. 

19  Thou  whoreson  mandrake,]  Mandrake  is  a  root 
supposed  to  have  the  shape  of  a  man 5  it  is  now  coun- 
terfeited with  the  root  of  briony.  johnson. 

20  /  was  never  mann'd  ivith  an  agate  ''till  new ;] 
Alluding  to  the  little  figures  cut  in  agates,  and  other 
hard  stones,  for  seals ;  and  therefore  he  says,  /  ivill 
set  you  neither  in  gold  nor  silver.  The  Oxford  Editor 
alters  this  to  aglet,  a  tag  to  the  points  then  in  use  (a 
word  indeed  which  our  author  uses  to  express  the 
same  thought) :  but  aglets,  though  they  were  some- 
times of  gold  or  silver,  were  never  set  in  those  me- 
tals. WARBURTON. 

ax  To  bear  a  gentleman  in  hand — ]  Doctor  Johnson 
says,  to  bear  in  hand,  is,  to  keep  in  expectation. 

"  — if  a  man  is  thorough  with  them  in  honest 
taking  up,]  That  is,  if  a  man  ly  taking  up  goods  is 


ANNOTATIONS;  293 

in  their  debt.     To  be  thorough  seems  to  be  the  same 
with  the  present  phrase  to  be  in  ivith  a  tradesman. 

JOHNSON. 

*3  /  lough t  him  in  PauFs, — ]  At  that  time  the 
resort  of  idle  people,  cheats,  and  knights  of  the  post. 


o 

WARBURTON. 


In  an  old  Collection  of  Proverls,  I  find  the  fol- 
lowing : 

' *  Who  goes  to  Westminster  for  a  wife,  to  St.  Paul's 
"  for  a  man,  and  to  Smithfield  for  a  horse,  may  meet 
"  with  a  whore,  a  knave,  and  a  jade."      steevens. 

44  A  wassel  candle,  &c]  A  ivassel  candle  is  a 
large  candle  lighted  up  at  a  feast.  There  is  a  poor 
quibble  upon  the  word  wax,  which  signifies  increase 
as  well  as  the  matter  of  the  honey-comb. 

JOHNSON. 

25  — like  his  ill  angel.]  What  a  precious  collator 
has  Mr.  Pope  approved  himself  in  this  passage!  Be- 
sides, if  this  were  the  true  reading,  Falstaif  could  not 
have  made  the  witty  and  humorous  evasion  he  has 
done  in  his  reply.  I  have  restored  the  reading  of  the 
oldest  quarto.  The  Lord  Chief  Justice  calls  Falstaff  the 
prince's  ill  angel  or  genius:  which  Falstaff  turns  off 
by  saying,  an  ill  angel  (meaning  the  coin  called  an 
angel)  is  light;  but,  surely,  it  cannot  be  said  that  he 
wants  weight:  ergo — the  inference  is  obvious.  Now 
money  may  be  called  ill,  or  lad;  but  it  is  never  called 
evil,  with  regard  to  its  being  under  weight.  This  Mr. 
Pope  will  facetiously  call  restoring  lost  puns:  but  if 
the  author  wrote  a  pun,  and  it  happens  to  be  lost  in 


294  ANNOTATIONS. 

an  editor's  indolence,,  I  shall,  in  spite  of  his  grimace, 
venture  at  bringing  it  back  to  light.      theobald. 

"  As  light  as  a  dipt  angel,"  is  a  comparison  fre- 
quently used  in  the  old  comedies.  steevens. 

2.6  I  cannot  tell: — ]  I  cannot  pass  current.  I  can- 
not be  told,  or  reckoned  as  valuable. 

2.7  — coster-monger  times, — ]  In  these  times  when 
the  prevalence  of  trade  has  produced  that  meanness 
that  rates  the  merit  of  every  thing  by  money. 

JOHNSON. 

as  never  spit  white  again.~\  i.  e.  May  I  never  have 

my  stomach  heated  again  with  liquor j  for,  to  spit 

ivhite  is  the  consequence  of  inward  heat. 

So  in  Mother  Bomlie,  a  comedy,  159 J, 

"  They  have  sod  their  livers  in  sack  these  forty 

"  years  5  that  makes  them  spit  white  broth  as  they 

"  do."  STEEVENS. 

2,9  — yon  are  too  impatient  to  bear  crosses.]  I  be- 
lieve a  quibble  was  here  intended.  Falstaffhas  just 
asked  his  lordship  to  lend  him  a  thousand  pound, 
and  he  tells  him  in  return,  that  he  is  not  to  be  en- 
trusted with  money.  A  cross  is  coin  so  called,  be- 
cause stamped  with  a  cross. 

So  in  Loves  Labour  lost,  act  i.  scene  3. 

(C crosses  love  him  not." 

So  in  As  you  tike  it, 

"  If  I  should  bear  you,  I  should  bear  no  cross" 
And    in    Heywood's   Epigrams    upon  Proverbs, 
Jo6'2. 

u  Of  mahyng  a  Crosse. 


ANNOTATIONS.  295 

"  I  will  make  a  crosse  upon  this  gate,  ye  crosse  on 
"  Thy  crosses  be  on  gates  all,  in  thy  purse  none." 

STEEVENS. 

3°  — a  three-man  beetle."]  A  beetle  wielded  by  three 
men.  pope. 

31  Let  us  on,  &c]  This  excellent  speech  of  York 
was  one  of  the  passages  added  by  Shakspeare  after  his 
first  edition.  pope. 

3i  — within  my  vice.]  Vice  or  grasp ;  a  metaphor 
taken  from  a  smith's  vice:  there  is  another  reading 
in  the  old  edition,  vie*w,  which  I  think  not  so  good. 

POPE. 

33  — honey-suckle  villain — honey- seed  rogue! — ] 
The  landlady's  corruption  of  homicidal  and  homicide. 

THEOBALD. 

34  — a  parcel-gilt  gollet,']  A  parcel-gilt  goblet  is  a 
goblet  only  gilt  over,  not  of  solid  gold. 

55  — this  sneap — ]  A  Yorkshire  word  for  rebuke. 

POPE. 

Sneap  signifies  to  check;  as  children  easily  sneaped; 
herbs  and  fruits  sneaped  with  cold  weather.  See 
Ray's  Collection.  steevens. 

36  German  hunting  in  water-work,]  i.  e.  in  water- 
colours. 

37  Althea  dream' d — ]  Shakspeare  is  here  mistaken 
in  his  mythology,  and  has  confounded  Althea's  fire- 
brand with  Hecuba's.  The  firebrand  of  Althea  was 
real:  but  Hecuba,  when  she  was  big  with  Paris, 
dreamed  that  she  was  delivered  of  a  firebrand  that 
consumed  the  kingdom.  johnson. 


2QG  ANNOTATIONS. 

3s  — the  Martlemas,  your  master  ?]  That  is,  the 
autumn,  or  rather  the  latter  spring.  The  old  fellow 
with  juvenile  passions.  johnson. 

39  — the  honourable  Roman  in  brevity.']  The  old 
copy  reads  Romans,  which  Dr.  Warburton  very  pro- 
perly corrected,  though  he  is  wrong  v/hen  he  appro- 
priates the  character  to  M.  Brutus,  who  affected  great 
brevity  of  stile.  I  suppose  by  the  honourable  Roman 
is  intended  Julias  Caesar,  whose  vein,  vid'i,  vici 
seems  to  be  alluded  to  in  the  beginning  of  the  letter. 
/  commend  me  to  thee,  I  commend  thee,  and  I  leave 
thee.  The  very  words  of  Caesar  are  afterwards 
quoted  by  Falstaff.  r'bvisal. 

40  —frank — ]   Frank  is  stye. 

41  —the  Sneak's  noise: — ]  Sneak  was  a  street  min- 
strel, and  therefore  the  drawer  goes  out  to  listen  if 
he  can  hear  him  in  the  neighbourhood,     johnson. 

A  noise  of  musicians  anciently  signified  a  concert 
or  company  of  them.  In  the  old  play  of  Henry  V. 
(not  that  of  Shakspeare)  there  is  this  passage : 

«  . there  came  the  young  prince,  and  two  or 

"  three  more  of  his  companions,  and  called  for  wine 
"  good  store,  and  then  they  sent  for  a  noyse  ofmusi- 
"  tians,"  &c. 

Falstaff  addresses  them  as  a  company  in  the  tenth 
scene  of  this  play. 

So  again  in  The  Blind  Beggar  of  Alexandria,  a 
comedy,  printed  1598,  the  count  says, 

"  Oh  that  we  had  a  noise  of  musicians,  to  play  to 
"  this  antick  as  we  go." 


(  c 
tc 


tt 

(C 


ANNOTATIONS.  2o; 

Again  in  The  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton. 

"  Why,  Sir  George  send  for  Spindle's  noise 
lc  presently." 
Again  in  the  Comedy  of  All  Fools,  by  Chapman., 
J602, 

you  must  get  us  music  too, 

Call   in  a  cleanly  noise,   the   rogues  grow 
l<  lousy." 
Again  in  Westward  Hoe,  by  Decker  and  Webster, 
1607, 

All  the  noise  that  went  with  him,  poor  fel- 
lows, have  had  their  riddJe-cases  pull'd  over  their 
"  ears."  steevens. 

«  — litis: — ]  Utis,  an  old  word  yet  in  use  in  some 
countries,  signifying  a  merry  festival,  from  the  French 

huit,  octo,  ab  A.  S.  Gahta.    Octavo?  festi  alicujus. 

Skinner.  tope. 

43  You r  brooches,  pearls,  and  owches:]  Brooches 
were  chains  of  gold  that  women  wore  formerly  abou^ 
their  necks.  Owches  were  bosses  of  gold  set  with 
diamonds.  pope. 

I  believe  Falstaff  gives  these  splendid  names  as  we 
give  that  of  carl  uncle,  to  something  very  different 
from  gems  and  ornaments :  but  the  passage  deserves 
not  a  laborious  research.  Johnson. 

4+ — a  tame  cheater, — ]  Gamester  and  cheater  were, 
in  Shakspeare's  age,  synonimous  terms.  Ben  Jonsoii 
has  an  epigram  on  Captain  Hazard  the  cheater. 

STEEVENS. 

45  If  you  play  the  saucy  cuttle  with  ?«e.]  It  appears 


2QQ  ANNOTATIONS. 

from  Greene's  Art  of  Conny- catching,  thdt  cuttle  and 
cuttle-loung  were  the  cant  terms  for  the  knife  with 
which  the  sharpers  of  that  age  cut  out  the  bottoms  of 
purses,  which  were  then  worn  hanging  at  the  girdle. 

STEEVENS. 

I6  Have  ive  not  Hiren  here?']  I  have  been  told, 
that  the  words — have  we  not  Hiren  here,  are  taken 
from  a  very  old  play,  entitled,  Hiren,  or  the  Fayre 
Greehe,  and  are  spoken  by  Mahomet  when  his  Bassas 
upbraided  him  with  having  lost  so  many  provinces 
through  an  attachment  to  effeminate  pleasures.  Pistol, 
with  some  humour,  is  made  to  repeat  them  before 
Falstaff  and  his  messmates,  as  he  points  to  Doll  Tear- 
sheet,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  Turkish  monarch 
pointed  to  Hiren  (Irene)  before  the  whole  assembled 
divan.  This  dramatic  piece  I  have  never  seen;  and 
it  is  mentioned  only  in  that  very  useful  and  curious 
book  The  Companion  to  the  Play-house,  as  the  work 
of  W.  Barkstead,  published  in  ]6ll.  Of  this  play, 
however,  I  suppose  there  must  have  been  some  earlier 
edition. 

In  an  old  comedy,  1608,  called  Law  Tricl:s;  or, 
Who  would  have  thought  it?  the  same  quotation  is 
likewise  introduced,  and  on  a  similar  occasion.  The 
prince  Polymetes  says, 

(<  What  ominous  news  can  Polymetes  daunt  ? 
"  Have  ive  not  Hyren  here  ?" 

Again,  in  Massinger's  Old  Law, 

<(  Clown.     No  dancing  for  me,  we  have  Siren 
"  here. 


ANNOTATIONS.  299 

"  Cook,   Syren!    'twas  Hircn  the  fair  Greek, 
"  man."  steevens. 

The  part  of  Pistol  is  made  up,  almost  entirely,  of 
scraps  of  old,  absurd  and  bombastic  plays.  Mr. 
Steevens,  whose  industry  of  research  was  unwearied, 
has  succeeded  in  discovering  a  number  of  the  origi- 
nals. Where,  however,  he  was  prevented  by  time 
and  the  moths,  the  stile  of  Pistol  is  sufficient  evidence 
how  much  of  his  speeches  are  quotations.  It  must 
have  been  matter  of  inexpressible  delight  to  the  giant 
mind  of  Shakspeare,  to  amend,  imperceptibly  almost, 
the  sentiments  and  expressions  of  his  countrymen, 
by  holding  up  to  ridicule  these  contemptible  per- 
formances. 

47  And  hollow-pamper' d  jades  of  Asia. ~\  These 
lines  are  in  part  a  quotation  out  of  an  old  play,  en- 
titled, Tamhurlains  Conquests)  or,  The  Scythian 
Shepherd.  theobald. 

43  —feed,  and  he  fat,  my  fair  Calipolis:']  This  is 
a  burlesque  on  a  line  in  an  old  play  called  The  Battel 
of  Alcazar,  8cc.  printed  in  1594,  in  which  Muley 
Mahomet  enters  to  his  wife  with  lyon's  flesh  on  his 
sword : 

<c  Feed  then,  and  faint  not,  my  fair  Calypolis-." 

And  again,  in  the  same  play, 

"  Hold   thee,    Calipolis,    feed,   and  faint   no 
"  more."  steevens. 

49  — thy  neif:]    Neif  is  the  fist. 

50  Tewksbury  mustard — ]  Tewksbury  is  a  market 
town  in  the  county  of  Gloucester,  formerly  noted 


ANNOTATIONS. 

for  mustard-bails  made  there,  and  sent  into  other 
parts.  gray. 

51  Eats  conger  and  fennel.]  Conger  with  fennel 
was  formerly  regarded  as  a  provocative.  It  is  men- 
tioned by  B.  Jonson  in  his  Bartholomew-fair, — "  like 
"  a  long-lac'd  conger  with  green  fennel  in  the  joll 
"  of  it." 

52  — this  nave  of  a  ivheel — ]  Nave  and  knave  are 
easily  reconciled,  hut  "why  nave  of  a  wheel?  I  sup- 
pose from  his  roundness.  He  was  called  round  man 
in  contempt  before.  Johnson. 

53  — the  fiery  Trigon — ]  William  Bulleyne,  in  his 
Dialogue  loth  pleasant  and  pietifull,  published  in 
1504,  Fays,  ec  Aries,  Leo,  and  Sagittarius,  are  hotte, 
drie,  bitter,  and  cholerike,  governing  hot  and  drie 
thingc  s,  and  this  is  called  thejierie  triplicitie."  The 
prince,  in  the  former  speech,  had  introduced  astro- 
logy by  remarking  (on  seeing  Doll  kiss  Falstarf)  what 
Ficinus  says  never  happens,  "  Saturn  and  Venus  are 
<c  in  conjunction."  Bardolph's  red  face  could  not 
here  be  permitted  to  escape.  Poins  compares  it  to 
the  Trigon,  or  the  meeting  of  the  planets  in  one  of 
the  iiery  houses. 

5^ — candle-mine — ]  Thou  inexhaustible  maga- 
zine of  tallow  I 

ss  A  tvatch-case,  &c.]  This  alludes  to  the  watch- 
man set  in  garrison-towns  upon  some  eminence  at- 
tending upon  an  alarum-bell,  which  he  was  to  ring 
out  in  case  of  fire,  or  any  approaching  danger.  He 
had  a  case  or  box  to  shelter  him  from  the  weather, 


ANNOTATIONS.  301 

bat  at  liis  utmost  peril  he  was  not  to  sleep  whilst  he 
was  upon  duty.  These  alarum-bells  are  mentioned 
in  several  other  places  of  Stiakspeare.        hanmer. 

56  — which  of  you  was  by — ]  He  refets  to  King 
Richard,  act  v.  scene  2.  But  whether  the  king's 
or  the  author's  memory  fails  him,  so  it  was,  that 
Warwick  was  not  present  at  that  conversation. 

JOHNSON. 

57  — ty  tiie  rood,]  i.  e.  the  cross. 

53  —swinge- bucklers — ]        Swinge- bucklers    and 

swash-bucklers  were  words  implying  rakes  or  rioters 
in  the  time  of  Shakspeare. 

Nash,  addressing  himself  to  his  old  opponent  Ga- 
briel Harvey,  1598,  says,  "  Turpe  senex  miles,  'tis 
<c  time  for  such  an  olde  foole  to  leave  playing  the 
"  swash-buckler." 

So  in   The  Devil*   Charter,  1C07,  CarafFa  says, 

<f when  I  was  a  scholar  in  Padua,  faith,  then  I 

"  could  have  swing  d  a  sword  and  luckier,"  &c. 

STEEVENS. 

59  — he  would  have  clapp'd  i'the  clout — ]  i.  e.  Hit 
the  white  mark. 

60  —a  fourteen  and  fourteen  and  half]  That  is-, 
fourteen  score  of  yards. 

61  — accommodated — ]  Accommodate  was  a  modish 
term  of  that  time,  as  Ben  Jonson  informs  us  :  tl  You 
"  are  not  to  cast  or  wring  for  the  perfumed  terms  of 
"  the  time,  as  accommodation,  complement,  spirit, 
"  &c.  but  use  them  properly  in  their  places  as  others." 
Discoveries.     Hence  Bardolph  calls  it  a  word  of  ex- 


302  ANNOTATIONS. 

ceeding  good  command.  His  definition  of  it  is  ad- 
mirable, and  highly  satirical:  nothing  being  more 
common  than  for  inaccurate  speakers  or  writers, 
when  they  should  define,  to  put  their  hearers  off  with 
a  synonimous  term;  or,  for  want  of  that,  even  with 
the  same  term  differently  accommodated-,  as  in  the 
instance  before  us.  warburton. 

The  same  word  occurs  in  Jonson's  Every  Man  in- 
his  Humour, 

"  Hostess,   accommodate  us  with  another  bed- 

"  staff: 

ri  The  woman  does  not  understand  the  words  of 
"  action." 

ca  — hona-roba — ]  Bona-roba  was,  in  our  author's 
time,  the  common  term  for  a  strumpet.     It  is  used 
in  that  sense  by  B.  Jonson  in  his  Every  Man  out  of 
his  Humour,  and  by  many  others.  steevens. 

63  /  have  three  pound  to  free  Mouldy  and  Bull- 
calf]  Here  seems  to  be  a  wrong  computation.  He 
had  forty  shillings  for  each.  Perhaps  he  meant  to 
conceal  part  of  the  profit.  johnson. 

6*  — }ie  that  gibbets  on  the  brewers  bucket.']  Swifter 
than  he  that  carries  beer  from  the  vat  to  the  barrel, 
in  buckets  hung  upon  a  gibbet  or  beam  crossing  his 
shoulders.  johnson. 

65  — a  caliver — ]  A  hand-gun. 

C6  I  was  then  Sir  Dagonet  in  Arthur's  show.]  The 
only  intelligence  I  have  gleaned  of  this  worthy  wight 
Sir  Dagonet,  is  from  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  in  their 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle: 


ANNOTATIONS.  30.; 


cc 


<< 


Boy.  Besides,  it  will  shew  iil-favouredly  to  have 
"  a  grocer's  prentice  to  court  a  king's  daughter. 

Cit.  Will  it  so,  Sir?  You  are  well  read  in  his- 
tories; I  pray  you,  what  was  Sir  Dagonet?  Was 
i(  he  not  prentice  to  a  grocer  in  London  ?  Read  the 
"  play  of  The  Four  Prentices  of  London,  where  they 
*'  toss  their  pikes  so,"  &c.  Theobald. 

The  story  of  Sir  Dagonet  is  to  be  found  in  La 
Mori  d  Arthur  e,  an  old  Romance  much  celebrated  in 
our  author's  time,  or  a  little  before  it.  "  When  pa- 
<(  pistry,"  says  Ascham  in  his  School-master,  "  as  a 
"  standing  pool,  overflowed  all  England,  few  books 
"  were  read  in  our  tongue  saving  certain  books  of 
ff  chivalry,  as  they  said,  for  pastime  and  pleasure; 
<l  which  books,  as  some  say,  were  made  in  monas- 
"  teries  by  idle  monks.  As  one  for  example,  La 
"  Mort  d'Arthure."  In  this  romance  Sir  Dagonet  is 
king  Arthur's  fool.  Shakspeare  would  not  have 
shewn  his  justice  capable  of  representing  any  higher 
character.  johnson. 

Arthur's  show  seems  to  have  been  a  theatrical  re- 
presentation made  out  of  the  old  romance  of  Moris 
Arthure,  the  most  popular  one  of  our  author's  age. 
Sir  Dagonet  is  king  Arthur's  squire. 

Theobald  remarks  on  this  passage,  "  The  only  in- 
"  telligence  I  have  gleaned  of  this  worthy  knight 
"  (Sir  Dagonet)  is  from  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  in 
"  their  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle.'' 

The  commentators  on  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle  have  not  observed  that 

VOL.  VII.  Y 


304  ANNOTATIONS . 

the  design  of  that  play  is  founded  upon  a  comedy 
called  The  Four  Prentices  of  London,  with  the  Con- 
quest of  Jerusalem -y  as  it  hath  been  diverse  Times 
acted  at  the  Red  Bull,  by  the  Queen's  Majesty's  Ser- 
vants. Written  by  Tho.  Hey  wood,  1612.  For  as 
in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  play,  a  grocer  in  the 
Strand  turns  knight-errant,  making  his  apprentice  his 
squire,  fcfc.  so  in  Heywood's  play  four  apprentices 
accoutre  themselves  as  knights,  and  go  to  Jerusalem 
in  quest  of  adventures.  One  of  them,  the  most  im- 
portant character,  is  a  goldsmith,  another  a  grocer, 
another  a  mercer,  and  a  fourth  an  haberdasher.  But 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  play,  though  founded  upon 
it,  contains  many  satirical  strokes  against  Heywood's 
comedy  5  the  force  of  which  is  entirely  lost  to  those 
who  have  not  seen  that  comedy. 

Thus  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  prologue,  or  first 
scene,  a  citizen  is  introduced  declaring  that,  in  the 
play,  he  "  will  have  a  grocer,  and  he  shall  do  ad- 
"  mirable  things." 

Again,  act  i.  scene  J.  Rafe  says,  "  Amongst  all 
' l  the  worthy  books  of  achievements,  I  do  not  call  to 
"  mind  that  I  have  yet  read  of  a  grocer- errant:  I 
"  will  be  the  said  knight.  Have  you  heard  of  any 
"  that  hath  wandered  unfurnished  of  his  squire  and 
u  dwarf!  My  elder  brother  Tim  shall  be  my  trusty 
"  squire,  and  George  my  dwarf." 

In  the  following  passage  the  allusion  to  Hey- 
wood's comedy  is  demonstrably  manifest,  act  iv, 
scene  1. 


<e 


ANNOTATIONS.  305 

u  Boy.  It  will  shew  ill-favouredly  to  have  a  gro- 
cer's prentice  court  a  king's  daughter. 
"  Cit.  Will  it  so,  Sir?  You  are  well  read  in  his- 
'*  tories;  I  pray  you  who  was  Sir  Dagonet?  Was  he 
"  not  prentice  to  a  grocer  in  London?  Read  the  play 
"  of  The  Four  Prentices,  where  they  toss  their  pike* 
"  so." 

In  Hey  wood's  comedy,  Eustace  the  grocer's  pren- 
tice is  introduced  courting  the  daughter  of  the  kinir 
of  France  j  and  in  the  frontispiece  the  four  prentices 
are  represented  in  armour  tilting  with  javelins.  Im- 
mediately before  the  last  quoted  speeches  we  have 
the  following  instances  of  allusion. 

"  Cit.  Let  the  Sophy  of  Persia  come,  and  christen 
"  him  a  child. 

"  Boy.  Believe  me,  Sir,  that  will  not  do  so  well; 
f?  'tis  flat;  it  has  been  before  at  the  Red  Bull." 

A  circumstance  in  Heywood's  comedy  5  which,  as 
has  been  already  specified,  was  acted  at  the  Red  Bull. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  play  is  pure  burlesque. 
Heywood's  is  a  mixture  of  the  droll  and  serious,  and 
was  evidently  intended  to  ridicule  the  reigning  fashion 
of  reading  romances.  warton. 

67  Turnbull- Street — ]  Nash,  in  Pierce  Penniless* 
his  Supplication,  commends  the  sisters  of  Turnlull- 
street  to  the  patronage  of  the  devil. 

68  — fancies — goodnights — ]  Fancies  and  Good- 
nights  were  the  titles  of  little  poems.  One  of  Gas- 
coigne's  Goodnights  is  published  among  his  Flowers. 

ST  SEVENS. 


600  ANNOTATIONS. 

65  Flees  dagger — ]  By  vice  here  the  poet  means 
that  droll  character  in  the  old  plays  (which  I  have 
several  times  mentioned  in  the  course  of  these  notes) 
equipped  with  asses  ears  and  a  wooden  dagger.  It 
was  very  satirical  in  Falstaff  to  compare  Shallow's 
activity  and  impertinence  to  such  a  machine  as  a 
wooden  dagger  in  the  hands  and  management  of  a 

buffoon.  THEOBALD. 

79  Turning  'your  Looks  to  graves,]  For  graves  Dr. 
Warburton  very  plausibly  reads  glaves,  and  is  fol- 
lowed by  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer.  johnson. 

71  My  brother-general,  the  commonwealth,  &c] 
The  sense  is  this,  "  My  brother  general,  the  comraon- 
"  wealth,  which  ought  to  distribute  its  benefits 
"  equally,  is  become  an  enemy  to  those  of  his  own 
"  house,  to  brothers  born,  by  giving  some  all,  and 
"  others  none;  and  this  (says  he)  I  make  my  quarrel 
"  or  grievance  that  honours  are  unequally  distri- 
"  butedj"  the  constant  birth  of  male-contents,  and 
source  of  civil  commotions.  warburton'. 

In  the  first  folio  the  second  line  is  omitted,  yet 
that  reading,  unintelligible  as  it  is,  has  been  followed 
by  Sir  T.  Hanmer.     How  difficultly  sense  can  be 
drawn  from  the  best  reading  the  explication  of  Dr. 
Warburton  may  show.     I  believe  there  is  an  error 
in  the  first  line,  which  perhaps  may  be  rectified  thus, 
My  quarrel  general,  the  common-wealth, 
To  brother  born  an  household  cruelty, 
I  make  my  quarrel  in  particular. 
That  is,  my  general  cause  of  discontent  is  public  mis- 


ANNOTATIONS.  30/ 

management ;  my  particular  cause  a  domestic  in- 
jury done  to  my  natural  brother,  who  had  been  be- 
headed by  the  king's  order.  johnsox. 

I  cannot  agree  with  Dr.  Johnson  that  the  second 
line  has  any  relation  to  the  beheading  of  the  lord 
Scroop.  J t  must  be  confessed,  indeed,  that  to  have 
complained  of  this  murder  would  have  been  very  na- 
tural in  the  archbishop}  but  I  am  convinced,  by  the 
answer  of  Westmoreland  and  the  retort  of  Mowbray, 
that  he  did  not  do  it. 

West. it  not  belongs  to  you. 

Mowlt,  Why  not  to  him  in  part,  and  to  us  all? 
Surely  if  Scroop  made  the  death  of  a  brother  the 
cause  of  his  quarrel,  it  was  the  height  of  insolence  in 
an  opponent  to  say  it  was  not  his  concern,  and  the 
height  of  folly  in  a  friend  to  say  it  concerned  him  in 
part,  with  the  rest  of  the  natron.  I  do  not  know  that 
the  critics  will  be  satisfied  with  my  emendation,  but 
as  I  have  pleased  myself  by  the  alteration  of  a  single 
letter,  I  will,  at  least,  run  the  risk  of  submitting  it  to- 
their  judgment. 

My  brother  general,  the  commonwealth, 
(To  brother  born  as  household  cruelty,) 
I  make  my  quarrel  in  particular. 
That  is,  r  As  an  act  of  cruelty  [or  injustice]  to  one 
brother  becomes  cause  of  complaint  [or  quarrel]  to 
another  brother  :  so  [cruelty  or]  injustice  to  the  com- 
monwealth at  large,  every  member  of  which  is,  in  a 
political  sense,  my  brother,  I  take  upon  myself,  as 
my  particular  [quarrel  or]  grievance.' 


.;GS  ANNOTATIONS. 

lx  Of  vanity  and  such  picking  grievances."]  Pick' 
ing  means  piddling,  insignificant. 

75  — in  common  sense ,]  I  believe  Shakspeare  wrote 
common  fence,  i.  e.  drove  by  self-defence. 

WARBURTON. 

Common  sense  is  the  general  sense  of  general 
danger.  johnson. 

74  — success  of  mischief — ]  for  succession  of  mis- 
chiefs. 

75  Exeunt."]  It  cannot  but  raise  some  indigna- 
tion to  find  this  horrible  violation  of  faith  passed  over 
thus  slightly  by  the  poet,  without  any  note  of  censure 
or  detestation.  johnson. 

76  The  heat  is  past — ]  i.  e.  the  violence  of  resent- 
ment, the  eagerness  of  revenge. 

77  — stand,  my  good  lord,  in  your  good  report.] 
We  must  either  read,  pray  let  me  stand,  or,  by  a 
construction  somewhat  harsh,  understand  it  thus: 
Give  me  leave  to  go — and — stand.  To  stand  in  a 
report,  referred  to  the  reporter,  is  to  persist ;  and 
FalstafF  did  not  ask  the  prince  to  persist  in  his  pre- 
sent opinion.  johnson. 

73  — a  man  cannot  make  him  laugh ; — ]  Falstnff 
speaks  here  like  a  veteran  in  life.  The  young  prince 
did  not  love  him,  and  he  despaired  to  gain  his  affec- 
tion, for  he  could  not  make  him  laugh.  Men  only 
become  friends  by  community  of  pleasures.  He 
who  cannot  be  softened  into  gaiety  cannot  easily  be 
melted  into  kindness.  johnson. 

79  — forgetive— ]Fiomforge-j  inventive, imaginative. 


ANNOTATIONS.  309 

£C  1  have  him  already  tempering  letiueen  my  finger 
and  thumb.']  A  very  pleasant  allusion  to  the  old  use 
of  sealing  with  soft  wax.  warburton. 

Sl  As  humorous  as  winter — ]  That  is,  changeable 
as  the  weather  of  a  winter's  day.  Dryden  says  of 
Almanzor,  that  he  is  humorous  as  wind,     johnson. 

8a  As  flaws  congealed  in  the  spring  of  day.~\  Al- 
luding to  the  opinion  of  some  philosophers,  that  the 
vapours  being  congealed  in  the  air  by  cold  (which  is 
most  intense  towards  the  morning)  and  being  after- 
wards rarified  and  let  loose  by  the  warmth  of  the 
sun,  occasion  those  sudden  and  impetuous  gusts  of 
wind  which  are  called  flaws.  warburton. 

So  Ben  Jonson,  in  the  Case  is  alter  d,  1(309, 

"  Still  wrack'd  with  winds  more  foul  and  con- 

"  trary 
"  Than  any  northern  gust,  or  southern^aw.'." 

feTEEVENS. 

g3  — the  mure — ]  The  mure,  is,  the  wall.  French, 
mur. 

8+  Unfatherd  heirs — ]  That  is,  Equivocal  births; 
animals  that  had  no  animal  progenitors;  productions 
not  brought  forth  according  to  the  stated  laws  of  ge- 
neration. JOHNSON. 

gs  — rigol — ]  Pi'/gol  means  a  circle.  It  is  still  used 
about  Exeter. 

86  Thou  hast  scald  up  my  expectation  :]  Thou 
hast  confirmed  my  opinion  of  thee. 

s7  — shall  double  gild  his  treble  guilt;]  Evidently 
the  nonsense  of  some  foolish  player:  for  we  must 


310  ANNOTATIONS. 

make  a  difference  between  what  Shakspeare  might 
be  supposed  to  have  written  off  hand,  and  what  he 
had  corrected.  These  scenes  are  of  the  latter  kind; 
therefore  such  lines  by  no  means  to  be  esteemed  his. 
But  except  Mr.  Pope  (who  judiciously  threw  out  this 
line)  not  one  of  Shakspeare's  editors  seem  ever  to 
have  had  so  reasonable  and  necessary  a  rule  in  their 
heads,  when  they  set  upon  correcting  this  author. 

WARBURTON. 

I  know  not  why  this  commentator  should  speak 
with  so  much  confidence  what  he  cannot  know,  or  de- 
termine so  positively  what  so  capricious  a  writer  as  our 
poet  might  either  deliberately  or  wantonly  produce. 
This  line  is  indeed  such  as  disgraces  a  few  that  pre- 
cede and  follow  it,  but  it  suits  well  enough  with  the 
daggers  hid  in  thought,  and  whetted  on  the  flinty 
hearts ;  and  the  answer  which  the  prince  makes,  and 
which  is  applauded  for  wisdom,  is  not  of  a  strain 
much  higher  than  this  ejected  line.         Johnson. 

88  — medicine  potable — ]  There  has  long  prevailed 
an  opinion  that  a  solution  of  gold  has  great  medicinal 
virtues,  and  that  incorruptibility  of  gold  might  be 
communicated  to  the  body  impregnated  with  it. 
Some  have  pretended  to  make  potable  gold  among 
other  frauds  practised  on  credulity.  johnson. 

S9  — wounding  supposed  peace — ]  Supposed  for. 
undermined. 

50  And  all  thy  friends  ivhich  thou  must  make  thy 

friends,"]  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  suggests  that  we  should  read, 

And  all  my  friends  which   thou   must   make   thy 


ANNOTATIONS.  311 

friends.  This  emendation  is  plausible,  and,  perhaps, 
is  the  true  reading :  the  passage,  however,  is  intel- 
ligible as  it  stands  at  present.  All  those  whom  1  leave 
disposed  to  he  thy  friends,  and  whom  it  will  he  thy 
interest  to  preserve  so  by  circumspection  and  acts  of 
policy. 

91  /  cut  them  off—  ]  Mr.  M.  Mason's  remark  is 
very  proper  in  this  place.  The  king  is  advising  the 
prince,  as  the  passage  stands,  to  make  those  men  his 
friends  whom  he  has  already  cut  off.  His  emenda- 
tion is,  "  I  cut  some  off." 

92  How  I  came  by  the  crown,  &c]  This  is  a  true 
picture  of  a  mind  divided  between  heaven  and  earth. 
He  prays  for  the  prosperity  of  guilt  while  he  depre- 
cates its  punishment.  johnson. 

93  By  cock  and  pye — ]  This  adjuration,  which 
seems  to  have  been  very  popular,  is  used  in  Soliman 
and  Perseda,  15Qg,  as  well  as  by  Shakspeare  in  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor.     Ophelia  likewise  says, 

*' By  cock  they  are  to  blame." 

Cock  is  only  a  corruption  of  the  Sacred  Name,  as  ap- 
pears from  many  passages  in  the  old  interludes,  Gam- 
mer Gur ton's  Needle,  &c.  viz.  Cocks-bones,  cocks- 
ivounds,  by  cock's  mother,  and  some  others.  The  pie 
is  a  table  or  rule  in  the  old  Roman  offices,  shewing, 
in  a  technical  way,  how  to  find  out  the  service  which 
is  to  be  read  upon  each  day.  What  was  called  The 
Pie  by  the  clergy  before  the  reformation,  was  called 
by  the  Greeks  ILva£,  or  the  index.  Though  the 
word  D;ya?  signifies  a  plank  in  its  original,  yet  in  its 


33  2  ANNOTATIONS. 

metaphorical  sense  it  signifies  cccvig  sg&ypa^iLsvrj,  a 
painted  table  or  picture;  and  because  indexes  or 
tables  of  books  were  formed  into  square  figures,  re- 
sembling pictures  or  painter's  tables  hung  up  in  a 
frame,  these  likewise  were  called  Uivaxs;,  01%  being 
marked  only  with  the  first  letter  of  the  word,  Hi's  or 
Pies.  All  other  derivations  of  the  word  are  mani- 
festly erroneous. 

In  a  second  preface  Concerning  the  Service  of  the 
Church,  prefixed  to  the  Common  Prayer,  this  table 
is  mentioned  as  follows, — <{  Moreover,  the  number 
"  and  hardness  of  the  rules  called  the  Pie,  and  the 
"  manifold  changes,"  &c.  ridley. 

54  I  will  not  excuse  you — ]  The  sterility  of  justice 
Shallow's  wit  is  admirably  described,  in  thus  making 
him,  by  one  of  the  finest  strokes  of  nature,  so  often 
vary  his  phrase,  to  express  one  and  the  same  thing, 
and  that  the  commonest.  wakburton. 

ss  A  ragged  and  forestall'd  remission— ]  Ragged 
has  no  sense  here.     We  should  read, 

A  rated  and  forestalled  remission. 
i.  e.  A  remission  that  must  be  sought  for,  and  bought 
with  supplication.  warburton. 

Different  minds  have  different  perplexities.  I  am 
more  puzzled  with  forestall'd  than  with  ragged;  for 
ragged,  in  our  author's  licentious  diction,  may  easily . 
signify  beggarly,  mean,  base,  ignominious ;  but  fore- 
stalled I  know  not  how  to  apply  to  remission  in  any 
sense  primitive  or  figurative.  I  should  be  glad  of 
another  word,  but  cannot  find  it.     Perhaps  by  fore- 


ANNOTATIONS.  3J3 

stall' d  remission,  he  may  mean  a  pardon  begged  by  a 
voluntary  confession  of  offence,  and  anticipation  of 
the  charge.  johnson. 

96  This  is  the  English,  not  the  Turkish  court.']  Not 
the  court  where  the  prince  who  mounts  the  throne 
puts  his  brothers  to  death.  In  Shakspeare's  time,  as 
Knolles  relates,  this  act  of  cruelty  was  committed  on 
his  brethren  by  Mahomet  the  son  of  Amurath,  em- 
peror of  the  Turks. 

97  — a  dish  of  carraways — ]  Dr.  Warburton  says 
there  was  a  comfit  or  confection,  in  our  author's  time, 
called  by  this  name;  and  Goldsmith  says,  it  was  the 
name  of  an  apple.  Cogan,  however,  an  old  writer 
contemporary  with  our  poet,  informs  us  in  his  Haven 
of  Health,  that  with  apples  and  other  windy  fruits, 
it  was  the  custom  to  eat  a  quantity  of  carraivays. 

9S  — proface — ]  Italian,  profaccia ;  that  is,  much 
good  may  it  do  you. 

99  — leather  coats — ]  Apples ;  the  same  as  rus- 
setines.  henley. 

ico  — Sainingo."]  In  one  of  Nash's  plays,  intitled, 
Summers  last  Will  and  Testament,  lfJ04,  Bacchus 
sings  the  following  catch : 

"  Monsieur  Mingo,  for  quaffing  doth  surpass 
e(  In  cup,  in  can,  or  glass; 
"  God  Bacchus  do  me  right 
"  And  dub  me  kniprht. 

"  Domingo." 
Perhaps  Domingo  is  only  the  burthen  of  some  old 

SOng.  STEEVENS. 


314  ANNOTATIONS. 

ior  —goodman  Puff  of Bar son. .]  Bars  ton  is  a  vil- 
lage in  Warwickshire,  lying  between  Coventry  and 
Solyhull. 

102  Nut-hook—']  A  nut-hook  was,  I  believe,  a  per- 
son who  stole  linen,  &c.  out  at  windows  by  means 
of  a  pole  with  a  hook  at  the  end  of  it.  Greene,  in 
his  Arte  of  Conny -catching,  has  given  a  very  par- 
ticular account  of  this  kind  of  fraud;  so  that  nut- 
hook  was  probably  as  common  a  term  of  reproach  as 
rogue  is  at  present.  In  an  old  comedy,  intitled, 
Match  me  in  London,  1631,  I  find  the  following  pas- 
sao-e — "  She's  the  king's  nut-hook,  that  when  any  fil- 
"  bert  is  ripe,  pulls  down  the  bravest  bows  to  his 
"  hand."  steevens. 

i°3  — thin  man  in  a  censer — ]  These  old  censers 
of  thin  metal  had  generally  on  the  lid  the  figure  of 
some  saint  raised  up  with  a  hammer,  in  a  barbarous 
kind  of  imbossed  or  chased  work.  The  hunger- 
starved  beadle  is  compared,  in  substance,  to  one  of 
these  thin  raised  figures,  by  the  same  kind  of  humour 
that  Pistol,  in  The  Merry  Wives,  calls  Slender,  a 
Iaten  lilhoe. 

*<h  — blue-bottled  rogue — ]  The  llue-lotth  is  the 
flesh  fly.  Dr.  Johnson  supposes  the  name  to  be  given 
to  the  beadle  from  the  colour  of  his  livery. 

l0s  — half- kir ties — ]  A  half-kirtle  was,  I  suppose, . 
the  same  kind  of  thing  as  we  call  at  present  a  short- 
gowrn,  or  a  bed-gown.     There  is  a  proverbial  expres- 
sion  now  in  use  which   may   serve   to   confirm   it. 
When  a  person  is  loosely  dress'd  they  say — Such  a 


ANNOTATIONS.  315 

one  looks  like  a  w in  a  bed-gown.  See  West- 
ward Hoe,  by  Decker  and  Webster,  1012—"  forty 
"  shillings  I  lent  her  to  redeem  two  half-silk  kirtles" 

STEEVENS. 

106  Not  to  come  near  our  person  ly  ten  miles.'] 
Mr.  Rowe  observes,  that  many  readers  lament  to  see 
FalstafF  so  hardly  used  by  his  old  friend.  But  if  it 
be  considered,  that  the  fat  knight  has  never  uttered 
one  sentiment  of  generosity,  and  with  all  his  power 
of  exciting  mirth,  has  nothing  in  him  that  can  be 
esteemed,  no  great  pain  will  be  suffered  from  the  re- 
flection that  he  is  compelled  to  live  honestly,  and 
maintained  by  the  king,  with  a  promise  of  advance- 
ment when  he  shall  deserve  it. 

I  think  the  poet  more  blameable  for  Poins,  who  is 
always  represented  as  joining  some  virtues  with  his 
vices,  and  is  therefore  treated  by  the  prince  with  ap- 
parent distinction,  yet  he  does  nothing  in  the  time  of 
action,  and  though  after  the  bustle  is  over  he  is  again 
a  favourite,  at  last  vanishes  without  notice.  Shak- 
speare  certainly  lost  him  by  heedlessness,  in  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  his  characters,  the  variety  of  his  action, 
and  his  eagerness  to  end  the  play.  johnson. 

The  dismission  of  FalstafT  was  founded  on  a  his- 
torical fact.  Stowe  says,  that  "  K.  Henry,  after  his 
"  coronation,  called  unto  him  all  those  young  lords 
"  and  gentlemen  that  were  the  followers  of  his  young 
"  acts,  to  every  one  of  whom  he  gave  rich  gifts ;  and 
"  then  commanded,  that  as  many  as  would  change 
"  their  manners,  as  he  intended  to  do,  should  abide 


o 


16  ANNOTATIONS. 


"  with  him  in  his  court ;  and  to  all  that  would  per- 
t(  severe  in  their  former  like  conversation,  he  gave 
"  express  commandment,  upon  pain  of  their  heads, 
"  never  after  that  day  to  come  in  his  presence." 

STEEVENS. 

107  si  fortuna  me  tormenta,  spera  me  contenta.~\ 
Sir  Tho.  Hanmer  reads,  "  Si  fortuna  me  tormenta,  il 
"  sperare  me  contenta,"  which  is  undoubtedly  the 
true  reading,  but  perhaps  it  was  intended  that  Pistol 
should  corrupt  it.  johnson. 

Pistol  is  only  a  copy  of  Hannibal  Gonsaga,  who 
vaunted  on  yielding  himself  a  prisoner,  as  you  may 
read  in  an  old  collection  of  tales,  called  Wits,  Fits, 
and  Fancies. 

"  Si  fortuna  me  tormenta 

<(  II  speranza  me  contenta." 
And  Sir  Pochard  Hawkins,  in  his  Voyage  to  the  Soutli 
Sea,  1593,  throws  out  the  same  gingling  distich  on 
the  loss  of  his  pinnace.  farmer. 

108  Come,  will  you  hence?']  I  fancy  every  reader, 
when  he  ends  this  play,  cries  out  with  Desdemona, 
"  O  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion!"  As  this 
play  was  not,  to  our  knowledge,  divided  into  acts  by 
the  author,  I  could  be  content  to  conclude  it  with  the 
death  of  Henry  the  Fourth. 

In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die. 
These  scenes  which  now  make  the  fifth  act  of  Henry 
the  Fourth   might  then   be  the   first  of  Henry  the 
Fifth  -,  but  the  truth  is,  that  they  do  unite  very  com- 
modidusly  to  either  play.     When  these  plays  were 


ANNOTATIONS.  317 

represented,  I  believe  they  ended  as  they  are  now 
ended  in  the  books;  but  Shakspeare  seems  to  have 
designed  that  the  whole  series  of  action  from  the 
beginning  of  Richard  the  Second,  to  the  end  of  Henri/ 
the  Fifth,  should  be  considered  by  the  reader  as  one 
work,  upon  one  plan,  only  broken  into  parts  by  the 
necessity  of  exhibition. 


KING   HENRY  V. 


BY 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE. 


VOL.  VII. 


11  E  M  A  R  K  S 


ON  THE 

PLOT,  THE    FABLE,    AND   CONSTRUCTION 

OF 

KING    HENRY    V. 


Kintg  Henry  V.]  This  play  was  writ  (as  appears 
from  a  passage  in  the  chorus  to  the  fifth  Act)  at  the 
time  of  the  earl  of  Essex's  commanding  the  forces  in 
Ireland  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,,  and  not  till 
after  Henry  the  Sixth  had  been  played,  as  may  be 
seen  by  the  conclusion  of  this  play.  pope. 

The  transactions  comprised  in  this  historical  drama 
commence  about  the  latter  end  of  the  first,  and  ter- 
minate in  the  eighth  year  of  this  king's  reign :  when 
he  married  Katharine  princess  of  France,  and  closed 
up  the  differences  betwixt  England  and  that  crown. 

THEOBALD. 

There  are  two  more  entries  of  a  play  of  Henry  V. 
viz.  between  ]5g6  and  16)5,  and  one  August  14th, 
l6'00.  I  have  two  copies  of  it  in  my  possession  :  one 
without  date  (which  seems  much  the  elder  of  the  two) 
and  another  (apparently  printed  from  it)  dated  1617, 
though  printed  by  Bernard  Alsop  (who  was  printer 
of  the  other  edition)  and  sold  by  the  same  person  and 
at  the  same  place.  Alsop  appears  to  have  been  a 
printer  before  the  year  1600,  and  was  afterwards  one 


-322 

of  the  twenty  appointed  by  decree  of  the  star-chamber 
to  print  for  this  kingdom.  I  believe,  however,  this 
piece  to  have  been  prior  to  that  of  Shakspeare  for 
several  reasons.  First,  because  it  is  highly  probable 
that  it  is  the  very  "  displeasing  play"  alluded  to  in 
the  epilogue  to  the  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  IV— 
for  0  Ideas  tie  died  a  martyr.  Oldcastle  is  the  Fal- 
staff  of  the  piece,  which  is  despicable,  and  fall  of 
ribaldry  and  impiety  from  the  first  scene  to  the  last. 

Secondly,    because  Shakspeare    seems    to  have 

taken  not  a  few  hints  from  it;  for  it  comprehends  in 
some  measure  the  story  of  the  two  parts  of  Henry  IV. 
as  well  as  of  Henry  V:  and  no  ignorance,  I  think, 
could  debase  the  gold  of  Shakspeare  into  such  dross ; 
though  no  chemistry  but  that  of  Shakspeare  could 

exalt  such  base  metal  into  gold. When  the  Prince 

of  Wales  in  Henry  IV.  calls  FalstafT  my  old  lad  of 
the  Castle,  it  is  probably  but  a  sneering  allusion  to 
the  deserved  fate  which  this  performance  met  with; 
for  there  is  no  proof  that  our  poet  was  ever  obliged 
to  change  the  name  of  Oldcastle  into  that  of  Falstarf, 
though  there  is  an  absolute  certainty  that  this  piece 
must  have  been  condemned  by  any  audience  before 
whom  it  was  ever  represented. 

Lastly,  because  it  appears  (as  Dr.  Farmer  has  ob- 
served) from  the  Jests  of  the  famous  comedian  Tarl- 
ton,  4  to.  l6ll,  that  he  had  been  particularly  cele- 
brated in  the  part  of  the  Clown  in  Henry  V.  ftfid 
though  this  character  does  not  exist  in  our  play, 
we  rind  it  in  the  other,  which,  for  the  reasons  al- 


523 

ready  enumerated,  I  suppose  to  have  been  prior  to 
this. 

This  anonymous  play  of  Henry  V.  is  neither  di- 
vided into  acts  or  scenes,  is  uncommonly  short,  and 
has  all  the  appearance  of  having  been  imperfectly 
taken  down  during  the  representation.  As  much  of 
it  appears  to  have  been  omitted,  we  may  suppose 
that  die  author  did  not  think  it  convenient  for  his 
reputation  to  publish  a  more  ample  copy,    steevens. 

This  play  has  many  scenes  of  high  dignity,  and 
many  of  easy  merriment.  The  character  of  the  king- 
is  well  supported,  except  in  his  courtship,  where  he 
has  neither  the  vivacity  of  Hal,  nor  the  grandeur  of 
Henry.  The  humour  of  Pistol  is  very  happily  con- 
tinued :  his  character  has  perhaps  been  the  model  of 
all  the  bullies  that  have  yet  appeared  on  the  English 
stage. 

The  lines  given  to  the  Chorus  have  many  ad- 
mirers; but  the  truth  is,  that  in  them  a  little  may  be 
praised,  and  much  must  be  forgiven;  nor  can  it  be 
easily  discovered  why  the  intelligence  given  by  the 
Chorus  is  more  necessary  in  this  play  than  in  many 
others  where  it  is  omitted.  The  great  defect  of  this 
play  is  the  emptiness  and  narrowness  of  the  last  act, 
which  a  very  little  diligence  might  have  easily 
avoided.  johnson. 


Persons  Represented. 

Xing  Henry  the  Fifth. 

Duke  of  Gloster,  7  ^^  to  the  Ki 

Duke  oj  Bedford,  )  d 

Duke  (/Exeter,   lT7icle  to  the  King, 

Duke  of  York,   Cousin  to  the  King. 

Earls  of  Salisbury,  Westmoreland,  and  War- 
wick. 

Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Bisliop  of  Ely. 

Earl  of  Cambridge,  1 

Lord  Scroop,  >  Conspirators  against  the  King. 

Sir  Thomas  Grey,   ) 

Sir  Thomas  Erfingham,  Gower,  Fluellen, 
Macmorris,  Jamy,  Officers  in  King  Henry's 
Army. 

Bates,  Court,  Williams,  Soldiers  in  the  same. 

Nym,  BMtDOLFu,¥isTOL,f>rmerly  Servants  to?AL- 
staff,  now  Soldiers  in  the  same. 

Boy,  Servant  to  them.     A  Herald.     Chorus. 

Charles  the  Sixth,  King  of  France. 

Lewis,  the  Dauphin. 

Dukes  (/Burgundy,  Orleans,  and  Bourbon. 

The  Constable  of  France. 

Rambures,  and  Grandpree,  French  Lords. 

Governor  o/Hakfleur.  Montjoy,  a  French  Herald. 

A?nlassadors  to  the  King  of  England. 

Isabel,  Queen  of  France. 

Katharine,  Daughter  (/Charles  and  Isabel. 
Alice,  a  Lady  attending  on  the  Princess  Katharine. 
Quickly,  Pistol's  Wife,  and  Hostess. 

Lords,  Ladies,  Officers,  French  and  English  Soldiers, 
Messengers,  and  Attendants. 

The  SCENE,  at  the  Beginning  of  the  Play,  lies  in 
England;  but  qfterivards,  wholly  in  France. 


Enter  Chorus. 

O,  for  a  muse  of  fire,  that  would  ascend 
The  brightest  heaven  of  invention ! 
A  kingdom  for  a  stage,  princes  to  act, 
And  monarchs  to  behold  the  swelling  scene! 
Then  should  the  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 
Assume  the  port  of  Mars ;  and,  at  his  heels, 
Leash'd  in  like  hounds,  should  famine,  sword,  and  fire, 
Crouch  for  employment.     But  pardon,  gentles  all,- 
The  flat  unraised  spirit,  that  hath  dar'd, 
On  this  unworthy  scaffold,  to  bring  forth 
So  great  an  object:  Can  this  cockpit  hold 
The  vasty  fields  of  France?  or  may  we  cram, 
Within  this  wooden  O1,  the  very  casques2, 
That  did  affright  the  air  at  Agincourt? 
O,  pardon !  since  a  crooked  figure  may 
Attest,  in  little  place,  a  million  j 
And  let  us,  cyphers  to  this  great  accompt, 
On  your  imaginary  forces  work3  : 
Suppose,  within  the  girdle  of  these  walls 
Are  now  confin'd  two  misrhty  monarchies, 
Whose  high  upreared  and  abutting  fronts 
The  perilous,  narrow  ocean  parts  asunder. 
Piece  out  our  imperfections  with  your  thoughts; 
Into  a  thousand  parts  divide  one  man, 
And  make  imaginary  puissance4: 


326  CHORUS. 

Think,  when  we  talk  of  horses,  that  you  see  them 
Printing  their  proud  hoofs  i'  the  receiving  earth: 
For  'tis  your  thoughts  that  now  must  deck  our  kings 
Carry  them  here  and  there ;  jumping  o'er  times} 
Turning  the  accomplishment  of  many  years 
Into  an  hourglass  -,  For  the  which  supply, 
Admit  me  chorus  to  this  history  5 
Who,  prologue-like,  your  humble  patience  pray, 
Gently  to  hear,  kindly  to  judge,  onr  play. 


KING   HENRY  V. 


ACT   I.     SCENE  I. 

London.     An  Antichamler  in  the  Kings  Palace. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  Bishop  of 

Ely. 

Cant.  My  lord,  I'll  tell  you, — that  self  bill  is  urg'd, 
Which,  in  the  eleventh  year  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? 

Cant.  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 
Bytestament  have  given  to  thejchurch,^ 
Would  they  strip  from  us;  being  valued  thus,— 
As  much  as  would  maintain,  to  the  king's  honour, 
Full  fifteen  earls,  and  fifteen  hundred  knights; 
Six  thousand  and  two  hundred  good  esquires; 
And,  to  relief  of  lazars,  and  weak  age, 


323  KING  HENRY  V. 

Of  indigent  faint  souls,  past  corporal  toil, 

A  hundred  almshouses,  right  %vell  supply'd; 

And  to  the  coffers  of  the  king,  beside, 

A  thousand  pounds  by  the  year:  Thus  runs  the  bill. 

Ely.  This  would  drink  deep. 

Cant.  'Twould  drink  the  cup  and  all. 

Ely.  But  what  prevention? 

Cant.  The  king  is  full  of  grace,  and  fair  regard. 

Ely.  And  a  true  lover  of  the  holy  church. 

Cant,  The  courses  of  his  youth  promis'd  it  not. 
The  breath  no  sooner  left  his  father's  body, 
But  that  his  wildness,  mortified  in  him, 
Seem'd  to  die  too :  yea,  at  that  very  moment, 
Consideration  like  an  angel  came5, 
And  whipp'd  the  offending  Adam  out  of  him; 
Leaving  his  body  as  a  paradise, 
To  envelop  and  contain  celestial  spirits. 
Never  was  such  a  sudden  scholar  made : 
Never  came  reformation  in  a  flood, 
With  such  a  heady  current,  scouring  faults  j 
Nor  never  Hydra-headed  wilfulness 
So  soon  did  lose  his  seat,  and  all  at  once, 
As  in  this  king. 

Ely.  We  are  blessed  in  the  change. 

Cant.  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  commonwealth  affairs, 
You  would  say, — it  hath  been  all-in-all  his  study: 
List  his  discourse  of  war,  and  you  shall  hear 


KING  HENRY  V.  32§ 

A  fearful  battle  render'd  you  in  musick : 

Turn  him  to  any  cause  of  policy, 

The  Gordian  knot  of  it  he  will  unloose, 

Familiar  as  his  garter  5  that,  when  he  speaks, 

The  air,  a  charter'd  libertine,  is  still  6, 

And  the  mute  wonder  lurketh  in  men's  ears, 

To  steal  his  sweet  and  honey'd  sentences  j 

So  that  the  art  and  practick  part  of  life 

Must  be  the  mistress  to  this  theorick: 

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  fill'd  up  with  riots,  banquets,  sports  j 

And  never  noted  in  him  any  study, 

Any  retirement,  any  sequestration 

From  open  haunts  and  popularity.  ort-i^t 

Ely.  The  strawberry  grows  underneath  the  nettle ; 
And  wholesome  berries  thrive,  and  ripen  best, 
Neighbour'd  by  fruit  of  baser  quality  : 
And  so  the  prince  obscur'd  his  contemplation 
Under  the  veil  of  wildnessj  which,  no  doubt, 
Grew  like  the  summer  grass,  fastest  by  night, 
Unseen,  yet  crescive  in  his  faculty. 

Cant.  It  must  be  so:  for  miracles  are  ceas'dj 
And  therefore  we  must  needs  admit  the  means, 
How  things  are  perfected. 

Ely.  But,  my  good  lord, 

How  now  for  mitigation  of  this  bill 
Urg'd  by  the  commons  ?  Doth  his  majesty 
Incline  to  it,  or  no  ? 


530  KING  HENRY  V. 


Cant.  He  seems  indifferent; 

Or,  rather,  swaying  more  upon  our  part, 
Than  cherishing  the  exhibiters  against  us: 
For  I  have  made  an  offer  to  his  majesty,— 
Upon  our  spiritual  convocation ; 
And  in  regard  of  causes  now  in  hand, 
Which  I  have  open'd  to  his  grace  at  large, 
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  receiv'd,  my  lord? 

Cant.  With  good  acceptance  of  his  majesty; 
Save,  that  there  was  not  time  enough  to  hear 
(As,  I  perceiv'd,  his  grace  would  fain  have  done,) 
7  The  severals,  and  unhidden  passages, 
Of  his  true  titles  to  some  certain  dukedoms; 
And,  generally,  to  the  crown  and  seat  of  France, 
Deriv'd  from  Edward,  his  great  grandfather. 

Ely.  What  was  the  impediment  that  broke  this 
off? 

Cant.  The  French  ambassador,  upon  that  instant, 
Crav'd  audience :  and  the  hour,  I  think,  is  come, 
To  give  him  hearing:   Is't  four  o'clock? 

Ely.  It  is. 

Cant.  Then  go  we  in,  to  know  his  embassy; 
Which  I  could,  with  a  ready  guess,  declare, 
Before  the  Frenchman  speak  a  word  of  it. 

Ely.  I'll  wait  upon  you;   and  I  long  to  hear  it. 

[Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  V.  'XA 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     A  Room  of  State  in  the  sams. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Glo'ster,  Bedford,  Exeter, 
Warwick,  Westmoreland,  and  Attendants. 

K.  Hen.  Where  is  my  gracious  lord  of  Canterbury  ? 

Exe.  Not  here  in  presence. 

A".  Hen.  Send  for  him,  good  uncle. 

West.  s  Shall  we  call  in  the  ambassador,  my  liege? 

K.  Hen.  Not  yet,  my  cousin ;  we  would  be  resolv'd, 
Before  we  hear  him,  of  some  things  of  weight, 
That  task  our  thoughts,  concerning  us  and  France. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,   and  Bishop  of 

Ely. 

Cant.    God,  and  his   angels,  guard   your  sacred 
throne, 
And  make  you  long  become  it ! 

K.  Hen.  Sure,  we  thank  you. 

My  learned  lord,  we  pray  you  to  proceed ; 
And  justly  and  religiously  unfold, 
Why  the  law  Salique,  that  they  have  in  France, 
Or  should,  or  should  not,  bar  us  in  our  claim. 
And  God  forbid,  my  dear  and  faithful  lord, 
That  you  should  fashion,  wrest,  or  bow  your  reading, 
Or  nicely  charge  your  understanding  soul 
With  opening  titles  miscreate9,  whose  right 


332  KING  HENRY  V. 

Suits  not  in  native  colours-  with  the  truth  -, 

For  God  doth  know,  how  many,  now  in  health, 

Shall  drop  their  blood  in  approbation 

Of  what  your  reverence  shall  incite  us  to : 

Therefore  take  heed  how  you  impawn  our  person, 

How  you  awake  the  sleeping  sword  of  war ; 

We  charge  you  in  the  name  of  God,  take  heed : 

For  never  two  such  kingdoms  did  contend, 

Without  much  fall  of  blood;  whose  guiltless  drops 

Are  every  one  a  woe,  a  sore  complaint, 

'Gainst  him,  whose  wrongs  give  edge  unto  the  swords 

That  make  such  waste  in  brief  mortality. 

Under  this  conjuration,  speak,  my  lord: 

And  we  will  hear,  note,  and  believe  in  heart, 

That  what  you  speak  is  in  your  conscience  wash'd 

As  pure  as  sin  with  baptism. 

Cant.   Then  hear  me,  gracious   sovereign, — and 
you  peers, 
That  owe  your  lives,  your  faith,  and  services, 
To  this  imperial  throne; — l0 There  is  no  bar 
To  make  against  your  highness'  claim  to  France, 
But  this,  which  they  produce  from  Pharamond, — 
In  terrain  Salicam  mulieres  ne  succedant, 
No  tv oman  shall  succeed  in  Saliqae  land: 
Which  Salique  land  the  French  unjustly  gloze, 
To  be  the  realm  of  France,  and  Pharamond 
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: 


KING  HENRY  V.  333 

Where  Charles  the  great,  having  subdued  the  Saxons, 

There  left  behind  and  settled  certain  French ; 

Who,  holding  in  disdain  the  German  women, 

For  some  dishonest  manners  of  their  life, 

Establish'd  there  this  law, — to  wit,  no  female 

Should  be  inheritrix  in  Salique  land; 

Which  Salique,  as  I  said,  'twixt  Elbe  and  Sala, 

Is  at  this  day  in  Germany  call'd — Meisen. 

Thus  doth  it  well  appear,  the  Salique  law 

Was  not  devised  for  the  realm  of  France : 

Nor  did  the  French  possess  the  Salique  land 

Until  four  hundred  one  and  twenty  years 

After  defunction  of  king  Pharamond, 

Idly  suppos'd  the  founder  of  this  law; 

Who  died  within  the  year  of  our  redemption 

Four  hundred  twenty-six;  and  Charles  the  great 

Subdued  the  Saxons,  and  did  seat  the  French 

Beyond  the  river  Sala,  in  the  year 

Eight  hundred  five.     Besides,  their  writers  say, 

King  Pepin,  which  deposed  Childerick, 

Did,  as  heir  general,  being  descended 

Of  Blithild,  which  was  daughter  to  king  Clothair, 

Make  claim  and  title  to  the  crown  of  France. 

Hugh  Capet  also, — that  usurp d  the  crown 

Of  Charles  the  duke  of  Lorain,  sole  heir  male 

Of  the  true  line  and  stock  of  Charles  the  great, — 

11  To  fine  his  title  writh  some  show  of  truth, 

(Though,  in  pure  truth,  it  was  corrupt  and  naught,) 

Convey'd  himself  as  heir  to  the  lady  Lingare, 

Daughter  to  CUarlemain,  who  was  the  son 


334  KING  HENRY  V. 

To  Lewis  the  emperor,  and  Lewis  the  son 

Of  Charles  the  great.     Also  king  Lewis  the  tenth, 

Who  was  sole  heir  to  the  usurper  Capet, 

Could  not  keep  quiet  in  his  conscience, 

Wearing  the  crown  of  France,  till  satisfy'd 

That  fair  queen  Isabel,  his  grandmother, 

Was  lineal  of  the  lady  Ermengare, 

Daughter  to  Charles  the  foresaid  duke  of  Lorain : 

By  the  which  marriage,  the  line  of  Charles  the  great 

Was  re-united  to  the  crown  of  France. 

So  that,  as  clear  as  is  the  summer's  sun, 

King  Pepin's  title,  and  Hugh  Capet's  claim, 

King  Lewis  his  satisfaction,  all  appear 

To  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 ; 

And  rather  choose  to  hide  them  in  a  net, 

Than  amply  to  imbare  their  crooked  titles 

Usurp'd  from  you  and  your  progenitors. 

A'.  Hen.  May  I,  with  right  and  conscience,  make, 
this  claim? 

Cant.  The  sin  upon  my  head,  dread  sovereign  ! 
For  in  the  book  of  Numbers  is  it  writ, — 
When  the  son  dies,  let  the  inheritance 
Descend  unto  the  daughter.     Gracious  lord, 
Stand  for  your  own  $  unwind  your  bloody  flag  j 
Look  back  unto  your  mighty  ancestors ; 
Go,  my  dread  lord,  to  your  great  grandsire's  tomb, 
From  whom  you  claim  -,  invoke  his  warlike  spirit. 


KING  HENRY  V.  33J 

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's  whelp 

Forage  in  blood  of  French  nobility. 

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! 

Ely.  Awake  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  youth, 
Ripe  for  exploits  and  mighty  enterprizes. 

Exe.   Your  brother  kings  and  monarchs  of  the 
earth 
Do  all  expect  that  you  should  rouse  yourself, 
As  did  the  former  lions  of  your  blood. 

West.  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  pavilion'd  in  the  fields  of  France. 

Cant.  O,  let  their  bodies  follow,  my  dear  liege, 
With  blood,  and  sword,  and  fire,  to  win  your  right  j 
In  aid  whereof,  we  of  the  spiritualty 

VOL.  VII.  o    a 


336  KING  HENRY  V. 

Will  raise  your  highness  such  a  mighty  sum, 
As  never  did  the  clergy  at  one  time 
Bring  in  to  any  of  your  ancestors. 

K»Hen.   We  must  not  only  arm  to  invade  the 
French  3 
But  lay  down  our  proportions  to  defend 
Against  the  Scot,  who  will  make  road  upon  us 
With  all  advantages. 

Cant.  They  of  those  marches,  gracious  sovereign, 
Shall  be  a  wall  sufficient  to  defend 
Our  inland  from  the  pilfering  borderers. 

K.  Hen.  Wre  do  not  mean  the  coursing  snatchers 
only, 
But  fear  the  main  intendment  of  the  Scot, 
Who  hath  been  still  a  giddy  neighbour  to  us ; 
For  you  shall  read,  that  my  great  grandfather 
Never  went  with  his  forces  into  France, 
But  that  the  Scot  on  his  unfurnish'd  kingdom 
Came  pouring,  like  the  tide  into  a  breach, 
With  ample  and  brim  fulness  of  his  force  j 
Galling  the  gleaned  land  with  hot  essays  -, 
Girding  with  grievous  siege  castles,  and  towns j 
That  England,  being  empty  of  defence, 
Hath  shook,  and  trembled  at  the  ill  neighbourhood. 

Cant.  She  hath  been  then  more  fear'd  than  harm'd, 
my  liege: 
For  hear  her  but  exampled  by  herself, — 
When  all  her  chivalry  hath  been  in  France, 
And  she  a  mourning  widow  of  her  nobles, 
She  hath  herself  not  only  well  defended, 


KING  HENRY  V.  337 

But  taken,  and  impounded  as  a  stray, 

The  king  of  Scots  j  whom  she  did  send  to  France, 

To  fill  king  Edward's  fame  with  prisoner  kings  j 

And  make  your  chronicle  as  rich  with  praise, 

As  is  the  ooze  and  bottom  of  the  sea 

With  sunken  wreck  and  sumless  treasuries. 

West.  But  there's  a  saying,  very  old  and  true, — 
12 If  that  you  will  Finance  win, 
Then  with  Scotland Jirst  begin : 
For  once  the  eagle  England  being  in  prey, 
To  her  unguarded  nest  the  weasel  Scot 
Comes  sneaking,  and  so  sucks  her  princely,  eggs  j 
Playinj£_t.he  mouse,  in. absence  of  the  cat, 
To  spoil  and  havock  more  than  she  can  eat. 

Exe.  It  follows  then,  the  cat  must  stay  at  home : 
Yet  that  is  but  a  curs'd  necessity  5 
Since  we  have  locks  to  safeguard  necessaries, 
And  pretty  traps  to  catch  the  petty  thieves. 
While  that  the  armed  hand  doth  fight  abroad, 
The  advised  head  defends  itself  at  home ; 
For  government,  though  high,  and  low,  and  lower, 
Put  into  parts,  doth  keep  in  one  concent  j 
Congruing  in  a  full  and  natural  close, 
Like  musick. 

Cant.  True;  therefore  doth  heaven  divide 

The  state  of  man  in  divers  functions, 
Setting  endeavour  in  continual  motion  j 
To  which  is  fixed,  as  an  aim  or  butt, 
Obedience :  for  so  work  the  honey  bees ; 
Creatures,  that,  by  a  rule  in  nature,  teach 


338  KING  HENRY  V. 

The  act  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 

They  have  a  king,  and  officers  of  sorts: 

Where  some,  like  magistrates,  correct  at  home-, 

Others,  like  merchants,  venture  trade  abroad} 

Others,  like  soldiers,  armed  in  their  stings, 

Make  boot  upon  the  summer's  velvet  buds; 

Which  pillage  they  with  merry  march  bring  home 

To  the  tent- royal  of  their  emperor: 

Who,  busy'd  in  his  majesty,  surveys 

The  singing  masons  building  roofs  of  gold; 

The  civil  citizens  kneading  up  the  honey13; 

The  poor  mechanick  porters  crowding  in 

Their  heavy  burdens  at  his  narrow  gate  ; 

The  sad-ey'd  justice,  with  his  surly  hum, 

Delivering  o'er  to  executors  pale 

The  lazy  yawning  drone.     I  this  infer, — 

That  many  things,  having  full  reference 

To  one  concent,  may  work  contrariously ; 

As  many  arrows,  loosed  several  ways, 

Fly  to  one  mark; 

As  many  several  ways  meet  in  one  town ; 

As  many  fresh  streams  run  in  one  self  sea; 

As  many  lines  close  in  the  dial's  center; 

So  may  a  thousand  actions,  once  a-foot, 

End  in  one  purpose,  and  be  all  well  borne 

Without  defeat.     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  that  power  left  at  home. 


KING  HENRY  V.  33g 

Cannot  defend  our  own  door  from  the  dog, 
Let  us  be  worried  j  and  our  nation  lose 
The  name  of  hardiness,  and  policy. 

K.  Hen.    Call  in  the  messengers  sent  from   the 
Dauphin. 
[Exit  an  Attendant.   The  King  ascends  his  thrime. 
Now  are  we  well  resolved:  and,— by  God's  help  ; 
And  yours,  the  noble  sinews  of  our  powers- 
France  being  ours,  we'll  bend  it  to  our  awe, 
Or  break  it  all  to  .pieces:  Or  there  we'll  sit, 
Kuiing,  in  large  and  ample  empery, 
O'er  France,  and  all  her  almost  kingly  dukedoms, 
Or  lay  these  bones  in  an  unworthy  urn, 
Tombless,  with  no  remembrance  over  them : 
Either  our  history  shall,  with  full  mouth, 
Speak  freely  of  our  acts ;  or  else  our  grave, 
I/ike  Turkish  mute,  shall  have  a  tongueless  mouth, 
Not  worshipp'd  with  a  waxen  epitaph. 

Enter  Ambassadors  of  France. 

Now  we  are  well  prepar'd  to  know  the  pleasure 
Of  our  fair  cousin  Dauphin ;  for,  we  hear, 
Your  greeting  is  from  him,  not  from  the  king. 

Ami.  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 5 
Unto  whose  grace  our  passion  is  as  subject, 
As  are  our  wretches  fetter'd  in  our  prisons: 


340  KING  HENRY  V. 

Therefore,  with  frank  and  with  uncurbed  plainness, 
Tell  us  the  Dauphin's  mind. 

Amh.  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, — that  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, 
This  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.  14  Tennis-balls,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  We  are  glad,  the  Dauphin  is  so  pleasant 
with  us  j 
His  present  and  your  pains,  we  thank  you  for. 
When  we  have  match'd  our  rackets  to  these  balls, 
We  will,  in  France,  by  God's  grace,  play  a  set, 
Shall  strike  his  father's  crown  into  the  hazard: 
Tell  him,  he  hath  made  a  match  with  such  a  wrangler, 
That  all  the  courts  of  France  will  be  disturb'd 
With  chaces  15.     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  valud  this  poor  seat  of  England; 
And  therefore,  living  hence,  did  give  ourself 


KING  HENRY  V.  341 

To  barbarous  licence ;  As  'tis  ever  common, 
That  men  are  merriest  when  they  are  from  home. 
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 : 
For  that  I  have  laid  by  my  majesty, 
And  plodded  like  a  man  for  working-days ; 
But  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. 
And  tell  the  pleasant  prince, — this  mock  of  his 
Hath  turn'd  his  balls  to  gun-stones16;  and  his  soul 
Shall  stand  sore  charged  for  the  wasteful  vengeance 
That  shall  fly  with  them:  for  many  a  thousand  wi- 
dows 

Shall  this  his  mock  mock  out  of  their  dear  husbands; 

Mock  mothers  from  their  sons,  mock  castles  down; 

And  some  are  yet  ungotten,  and  unborn, 

That  shall  have  cause  to  curse  the  Dauphin's  scorn. 

But  this  lies  all  within  the  will  of  God, 

To  whom  I  do  appeal;  And  in  whose  name, 

Tell  you  the  Dauphin,  1  am  coming  on, 

To  venge  me  as  I  may,  and  to  put  forth 

My  rightful  hand  in  a  well-hallow'd  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  Amlassadcrs. 
Exe.  This  was  a  merry  message. 


342  KING  HENRY  V. 

K.  Hen.  We  hope  to  make  the  sender  blush  at  it. 

[Descends  from  his  throne. 
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  God,  that  run  before  our  business. 
Therefore,  let  our  proportions  for  these  wars 
Be  soon  collected ;   and  all  things  thought  upon, 
That  may,  with  reasonable  swiftness,  add 
More  feathers  to  our  wings:  for,  God  before, 
We'll  chide  this  Dauphin  at  his  father's  door. 
Therefore,  let  every  man  now  task  his  thought, 
That  this  fair  action  may  on  foot  be  brought. 

[Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  V.  343 


ACT   II. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.' Now  all  the  youth  of  England  are  on  fire, 
And  silken  dalliance  in  the  wardrobe  lies; 
Now  thrive  the  armourers,  and  honour's  thought 
Reigns  solely  in  the  breast  of  every  man : 
They  sell  the  pasture  now,  to  buy  the  horse ; 
Following  the  mirror  of  all  Christian  kings, 
With  winged  heels,  as  English  Mercuries. 
For  now  sits  Expectation  in  the  air; 
And  hides  a  sword,  from  hilts  unto  the  point, 
With  crowns  imperial,  crowns,  and  coronets, 
Promis'd  to  Harry,  and  his  followers. 
The  French,  advis'd  by  good  intelligence 
Of  this  most  dreadful  preparation, 
Shake  in  their  fear;  and  with  pale  policy 
Seek  to  divert  the  English  purposes. 
O  England ! — model  to  thy  inward  greatness, 
Like  little  body  with  a  mighty  heart, — 
What  might'st  thou  do,  that  honour  would  thee  do, 
Were  all  thy  children  kind  and  natural ! 
But  see  thy  fault !  France  hath  in  thee  found  out 
A  nest  of  hollow  bosoms,  which  he  fills 
With   treacherous    crowns:     and    three    corrupted 

men,—- 
One,  Richard  earl  of  Cambridge;  and  the  second, 


344  KING  HENRY  V. 

Henry  lord  Scroop  of  Masham ;  and  the  third, 
Sir  Thomas  Grey  knight  of  Northumberland, — 
Have  for  the  gilt  of  France,  (O  guilt,  indeed !) 
Confirm1  d  conspiracy  with  fearful  France ; 
And  by  their  hands  this  grace  of  kings  must  die, 
(If  hell  and  treason  hold  their  promises,) 
Ere  he  take  ship  for  France,  and  in  Southampton. 
Linger  your  patience  on ;  and  well  digest 
The  abuse  of  distance,  while  we  force  a  play. 
The  sum  is  paid;  the  traitors  are  agreed} 
The  king  is  set  from  London;  and  the  scene 
Is  now  transported,  gentles,  to  Southampton : 
There  is  the  playhouse  now,  there  must  you  sit  : 
And  thence  to  France  shall  we  convey  you  safe, 
And  bring  you  back,  charming  the  narrow  seas 
To  give  you  gentle  pass;  for,  if  we  may, 
We'll  not  offend  one  stomach  with  our  play. 
But,  till  the  king  come  forth,  and  not  till  then, 
Unto  Southampton  do  we  shift  our  scene.        [Exit. 


SCENE  I. 
The  same.     Eastcheap. 

Enter  Nym  and  Bardolph. 

Bard.  Well  met,  corporal  Nym. 
Nym.  Good  morrow,  lieutenant  Bardolph  1?. 
Bard.  What,  are  ancient  Pistol  and  you  friends 
vet? 


KING  HENRY  V.  345 

Nym.  For  my  part,  I  care  not:  I  say  little ;  but 
when  time  shall  serve,  there  shall  be  smiles18; — but 
that,  shall  be  as  it  may.  I  dare  not  fight  ;  but  I  will 
wink,  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  we'll  be  all  three  sworn  brothers  to 
France :  let  it  be  so,  good  corporal  Nym. 

Nym.  'Faith,  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 :  that  is  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: 
men  may  sleep,  and  they  may  have  their  throats 
about  them  at  that  time;  and,  some  say,  knives  have 
edges.  It  must  be  as  it  m3y :  though  patience  be  a 
tired  mare,  yet  she  will  plod.  There  must  be  con- 
clusions.    Well,  I  cannot  tell. 

Enter  Pistol  and  Mrs.  Quickly. 

Bard.  Here  comes  ancient  Pistol,  and  his  wife: — 
good  corporal,  be  patient  here. — How  now,  mine 
host  Fistol  ? 

Fist.  Base  tike,  call'st  thou  me — host  ? 
Now,  by  this  hand  I  swear,  I  scorn  the  term ;        , 


346  KING  HENRY  V. 

Nor  shall  my  Nell  keep  lodgers. 

Quick.  No,  by  my  troth,  not  long:  for  we  cannot 
lodge  and  board  a  dozen  or  fourteen  gentlewomen, 
that  live  honestly  by  the  prick  of  their  needles,  but 
it  will  be  thought  we  keep  a  bawdy-house  straight. 
[Nym.  draws  his  sword.']  O  well-a-day,  Lady,  if 
he  be  not  drawn  now!  O  Lord!  here's  corporal 
Nym's— now  shall  we  have  wilful  adultery  and 
murder  committed.  Good  lieutenant  Bardolph, — 
good  corporal,  offer  nothing  here. 

Nym.  Pish! 

Pist.  Pish  for  thee,  Iceland  dog !  thou  prick-ear'd 
cur  of  Iceland  ! 

Quick.  Good  corporal  Nym,  show  the  valour  of  a 
man,  and  put  up  thy  sword. 

AT2/w._  Will  you  shog  off?  I  would  have  you  solus. 

[Sheathing  his  sword. 

Pist.  Solus,  egregious  dog?  O  viper  vile! 
The  solus  in  thy  most  marvellous  face; 
The  solus  in  thy  teeth,  and  in  thy  throat, 
And  in  thy  hateful  lungs,  yea,  in  thy  maw,  perdy ; 
And,  which  is  worse,  within  thy  nasty  mouth  ! 
I  do  retort  the  solus  in  thy  bowels : 
For  I  can  take;  and  Pistol's  cock  is  up, 
And  flashing  fire  will  follow. 

Nym.  I  am  not  Barbason1^;  you  cannot  conjure 
me.  I  have  an  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 :  if  you 
would  walk  off,  I  would  prick  your  guts  a  little, 


KING  HENRY  V.  347 

in  good  terms,  as  I  may 5  and  that's  the  humour  of 

Pist.  O  braggard  vile,  and  damned  furious  wight! 
The  grave  doth  gape,  and  doting  death  is  near ; 
Therefore,  exhale.  [Pistol  and  Nym  draw. 

Bard.  Hear  me,  hear  me  what  I  say: — he  that 
strikes  the  first  stroke,  I'll  run  him  up  to  the  hilts,  as 
I  am  a  soldier.  [Draws. 

Pist.  An  oath  of  mickle  might;    and  fury  shall 
abate. 
Give  me  thy  fist,  thy  fore-foot  to  me  give; 
Thy  spirits  are  most  tall. 

Nym.  I  will  cut  thy  throat,  one  time  or  other,  in 
fair  terms;   that  is  the  humour  of  it. 

Pist.   Coupe  le  gorge,   that's  the  word? — I   thee 
defy  again. 

0  hound  of  Crete,  think' st  thou  my  spouse  to  get  ? 
No;  to  the  spital  go, 

And  from  the  powdering-tub  of  infamy 
Fetch  forth  the  lazar  kite  of  Cressid's  kind, 
Doll  Tear-sheet  she  by  name,  and  her  espouse: 

1  have,  and  I  will  hold,  the  quondam  Quickly 
For  the  only  she;  and — Pauca,  there's  enough. 

Enter  the  Boy. 

Boy.  Mine  host  Pistol,  you  must  come  to  my  mas- 
ter,— and  you,  hostess; — he  is  very  sick,  and  would 
to  bed. — Good  Bardolph,  put  thy  nose  between  his 
sheets,  and  do  the  office  of  a  warming-pan:  'faith, 
he's  very  ill. 


348  KING  HENRY  V. 

Bard.  Away,  you  rogue. 

Quick.  By  my  troth,  he'll  yield  the  crow  a  pud- 
ding one  of  these  days :  the  king  has  kill'd  his  heart. — 
Good  husband,  come  home  presently. 

[Exeunt  Mrs.  Quickly  and  Boy. 

Bard.  Come,  shall  I  make  you  two  friends  ?  We 
must  to  France  together;  Why,  the  devil,  should  we 
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. 

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,  I'll  kill  him ;  by  this  sword,  I  will. 

Pist.  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.     Pr'ythee,  put  up. 

Nym.  I  shall  have  my  eight  shillings,  I  won  of 
you  at  betting  ? 

Pist.  A  noble  shalt  thou  have,  and  present  pay;- 
And  liquor  likewise  will  I  give  to  thee, 
And  friendship  shall  combine,  and  brotherhood : 
I'll  live  by  Nym,  and  Nym  shall  live  by  me; — 
Is  not  this  just? — for  I  shall  sutler  be 


KING  HENRY  V.  34g 

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. 

Re-enter  Mrs.  Quickly. 

Quick.  As  ever  you  came  of  women,  come  in 
quickly  to  sir  John:  Ah,  poor  heart!  he  is  so  shaked 
of  a  burning  quotidian  tertian,  that  it  is  most  la- 
mentable to  behold.     Sweet  men,  come  to  him. 

Nym.  The  king  hath  run  bad  humours  on  the 
knight,  that's  the  even  of  it. 

Pist.  Nym,  thou  hast  spoke  the  right: 
His  heart  is  fracted,  and  corroborate. 

Nym.  The  king  is  a  good  king:  but  it  must  be  as 
it  may  5  he  passes  some  humours,  and  careers. 

Pist.  Let  us  condole  the  knight ;  for,  lambkins, 
we  will  live.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

Southampton.     A  Council- Chamber. 

Enter  Exeter,  Bedford,  and Westmoreland. 

Bed.  'Fore  God,  his  grace  is  bold,  to  trust  these 
traitors. 

Exe.  They  shall  be  apprehended  by  and  by. 

West.  How  smooth  and  even  they  do  bear  them- 
selves! 


350  KING  HENRY  V. 

As  if  allegiance  in  their  bosoms  sat, 
Crowned  with  faith,  and  constant  loyalty. 

Bed.  The  king  hath  note  of  all  that  they  intend, 
By  interception  which  they  dream  not  of. 

Exe.  Nay,  but  the  man  that  was  his  bedfellow, 
Whom  he  hath  cloy'd  and  grac'd  with  princely  fa- 
vours,— 
That  he  should,  for  a  foreign  purse,  so  sell 
His  sovereign's  life  to  death  and  treachery! 

Trumpet   sounds.     Enter  King   Henry,    Sceoop, 
Cambridge,  Grey,  Lords,  and  Attendants. 

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: 
Think  you  not,  that  the  powers  we  bear  with  us, 
Will  cut  their  passage  through  the  force  of  France; 
Doing  the  execution,  and  the  act, 
For  which  we  have  in'head  assembled  them? 

Scroop.  No  doubt,  my  liege,  if  each  man  do  his 

best. 
K.  Hen.  I  doubt  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  us. 


KING  HENRY  V.  3  31 

Cam.  Never  was  monarch  better  fear'd,  and  lov'd, 
Than  is  your  majesty ;  there's  not,  I  think,  a  subject, 
That  sits  in  heart-grief  and  uneasiness 
Under  the  sweet  shade  of  your  government. 

Grey.  Even  those,  that  were  your  father's  ene- 
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 j 
And  shall  forget  the  office  of  our  hand, 
Sooner  than  quittance  of  desert  and  merit, 
According  to  the  weight  and  worthiness. 

Scroop.  So  service  shall  with  steeled  sinews  toil; 
And  labour  shall  refresh  itself  with  hope., 
To  do  your  grace  incessant  services. 

K.  Hen.  We  judge  no  less. — Uncle  of  Exeter, 
Enlarge  the  man  committed  yesterday, 
That  rail'd  against  our  person :  we  consider, 
It  was  excess  of  wine  that  set  him  onj 
And,  on  his  more  advice,  we  pardon  him. 

Scroop.  That's  mercy,  but  too  much  security  t 
Let  him  be  punish'd,  sovereign}  lest  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.  Sir,  you  show  great  mercy,  if  you  give  him 
life, 
After  the  taste  of  much  correction. 

K.  Hen.  Alas,  your  too  much  love  and  care  of  me 
vol.  VII.  2  B 


352  KING  HENRY  V. 

Are  heavy  orisons  'gainst  this  poor  wretch. 
If  little  faults,  proceeding  on  distemper, 
Shall  not  be  wink'd  at,  how  shall  we  stretch  our  eye, 
When  capital  crimes,  chew'd,  swallow'd,  and  di- 
gested, 
Appear  before  us ! — We'll  yet  enlarge  that  man, 
Though  Cambridge,  Scroop,  and  Grey,— in  their  dear 

care, 
And  tender  preservation  of  our  person, — 
Would  have  him  punish'd.     And  now  to  our  French 

causes j 
Who  are  the  late  commissioners  ? 

Cam.  I  one,  my  lord  5 
Your  highness  bade  me  ask  for  it  to-day. 
Scroop.  So  did  you  me,  my  liege. 
Grey.  And  me,  my  royal  sovereign. 
K.  Hen.  Then,  Richard,  earl  of  Cambridge,  there 
is  yours ; — 
There   yours,  lord  Scroop  of  Masham; — and,   sir 

knight, 
Grey  of  Northumberland,  this  same  is  yours: — 
Read  them  j  and  know,  I  know  your  worthiness. — 
My  lord  of  Westmoreland, — and  uncle  Exeter, 
We  will  aboard  to-night. — Why,  how  now,  gentle- 
men? 
What  see  you  in  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  ? 


KING  HENRY  V.  353 

Cam.  I  do  confess  my  fault j 

And  do  submit  me  to  your  highness'  mercy. 

Grey.  Swoop.  To  which  we  all  appeal. 

K.  Hen.  The  mercy,  that  was  quick  in  us  but  late, 
By  your  own  counsel  is  suppress'd  and  kill'd: 
You  must  not  dare,  for  shame,  to  talk  of  mercy; 
For  your  own  reasons  turn  into  your  bosoms, 
As  dogs  upon  their  masters,  worrying  them. — 
See  you,  my  princes,  and  my  noble  peers, 
These  English  monsters!    My  lord  of  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  conspir'd, 
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. — But  O ! 
What  shall  I  say  to  thee,  lord  Scroop  -,  thou  cruel, 
Ingrateful,  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'st  have  coin'd  me  into  gold, 
Would'st  thou  have  practis'd  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?  'tis  so  strange, 
That,  though  the  truth  of  it  stands  off  as  gross 
As  black  from  white,  my  eye  will  scarcely  see  it. 


3.54  KING  HENRY  V. 

Treason,  and  murder,  ever  kept  together, 

As  two  yoke-devils  sworn  to  either's  purpose, 

Working  so  grossly  in  a  natural  cause, 

That  admiration  did  not  hoop  at  them: 

But  thou,  'gainst  all  proportion,  didst  bring  in 

Wonder,  to  wait  on  treason,  and  on  murder : 

And  whatsoever  cunning  fiend  it  was, 

That  wrought  upon  thee  so  preposterously, 

H'ath  got  the  voice  in  hell  for  excellence: 

And  other  devils,  that  suggest  by  treasons, 

Do  botch  and  bungle  up  damnation 

With  patches,  colours,  and  with  forms  being  fetch'd 

From  glistening  semblances  of  piety; 

But  he,  that  tempefd  thee,  bade  thee  stand  up, 

Gave  thee  no  instance  why  thou  should'st  do  treason, 

Unless  to  dub  thee  with  the  name  of  traitor. 

If  that  same  daemon,  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. 

10  O,  how  hast  thou  with  jealousy  infected 

The  sweetness  of  affiance!  Show  men  dutiful  ? 

Why,  so  didst  thou:  Seem  they  grave  and  learned? 

Why,  so  didst  thou :  Come  they  of  noble  family  ? 

Why,  so  didst  thou :  Seem  they  religious  ? 

Why,  so  didst  thou:  Or  are  they  spare  in  diet; 

Free  from  gross  passion,  or  of  mirth,  or  anger ; 

Constant  in  spirit,  not  swerving  with  the  blood; 

Garnish'd  and  deck'd  in  modest  complement; 


KING  HENRY  V.  355 

Not  working  with  the  eye,  without  the  ear, 
And,  but  in  purged  judgment,  trusting  neither? 
Such,  and  so  finely  boulted,  didst  thou  seem: 
And  thus  thy  fall  hath  left  a  kind  of  blot, 
To  mark  the  full-fraught  man,  and  best  indued, 
With  some  suspicion.     I  will  weep  for  thee  5 
For  this  revolt  of  thine,  methinks,  is  like 
Another  fall  of  man. — Their  faults  are  open, 
Arrest  them  to  the  answer  of  the  lawj — 
And  God  acquit  them  of  their  practices! 

Exe.  I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  the  name  of 
Richard  earl  of  Cambridge. 

I  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  God  justly  hath  discover'd; 

And  I  repent  my  fault,  more  than  my  death ; 

Which  I  beseech  your  highness  to  forgive, 

Although  my  body  pay  the  price  of  it. 

Cam.  For  me,  the  gold  of  France  did  not  seduce; 

Although  I  did  admit  it  as  a  motive 

The  sooner  to  effect  what  I  intended : 

But  God  be  thanked  for  prevention  j 

Which  I  in  sufferance  heartily  will  rejoice, 

Beseeching  God,  and  you,  to  pardon  me. 

Grey.  Never  did  faithful  subject  more  rejoice 

At  the  discovery  of  most  dangerous  treason, 

Than  I  do  at  this  hour  joy  o'er  myself, 

Prevented  from  a  damned  enterprize : 


356  KING  HENRY  V. 

My  fault,  but  not  my  body,  pardon,  sovereign11. 
K  Hen.  God  quit  you  in  his  mercy!  Hear  your 
sentence. 
You  have  conspir'd  against  our  royal  person, 
Join'd  with  an  enemy  proclaim'd,  and  from  his  cof- 
fers 
Receiv'd  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  desolation. 
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.     Get  you  therefore  hence, 
Poor  miserable  wretches,  to  your  death : 
The  taste  whereof,  God,  of  his  mercy,  give  you 
Patience  to  endure,  and  true  repentance 
Of  all  your  dear  offences ! — Bear  them  hence. 

[Exeunt  Conspirators,  guarded. 
Now,  lords,  for  France  j  the  enterprize  whereof 
Shall  be  to  you,  as  us,  like  glorious. 
We  doubt  not  of  a  fair  and  lucky  war; 
Since  God  so  graciously  hath  brought  to  light 
This  dangerous  treason,  lurking  in  our  way, 
To  hinder  our  beginnings,  we  doubt  not  now, 
But  every  rub  is  smoothed  on  our  way. 
Then,  forth,  dear  countrymen;  let  us  deliver 
Our  puissance  into  the  hand  of  God, 
Putting  it  straight  in  expedition. 


KING  HENRY  V.  357 

Cheer]  y  to  sea  ;  the  signs  of  war  advance : 

No  king  of  England,  if  not  king  of  France.  [Exeunt. 


^1 


SCENE  III 
London.     Mrs.  Quickly  s  House  in  Eastcheap. 


Enter  Pistol,  Mrs.  Quickly,  Nym,  Bardolph, 

and  Boy. 

Quick.  Pr'ythee,   honey-sweet  husband,   let   me 
bring  thee  to  Staines. 

Pist.  No  -j  for  my  manly  heart  doth  yearn.— 
Bardolph,be  blithe 5— Nym,  rouse  thy  vaunting  veins  j 
Boy,  bristle  thy  courage  up ;  for  Falstaff  he  is  dead, 
And  we  must  yearn  therefore.   ■ 

Bard.  'Would,  I  were  with  him,  wheresome'er  he 
is,  either  in  heaven,  or  in  hell ! 

Quick.  Nay,  sure,  he's  not  in  hell  3  he's  in  Ar- 
thur's bosom,  if  ever  man  went  to  Arthur's  bosom. 
'A  made  a  finer  end,  and  went  away,  an  it  had  been 
any  christom  child2,2, ;  '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,  I  knew  there  was 
but  one  wayj  for  his  nose  was  as  sharp  as  a  pen,  and 
'a  babbled  of  green  fields.     How  now,   sir  John  ? 
quoth  1 :  what,  man!  be  of  good  cheer.     So  'a  cried 
out — God,  God,  God !  three  or  four  times :  now  I, 
to  comfort  him,  bid  him,  'a  should  not  think  of  God; 
I  hoped,  there  was  no  need  to  trouble  himself  with 


358  KING  HENRY  V. 

any  such  thoughts  yet:  So,  'a  bade  me  lay  more 
clothes  on  his  feet :  I  put  my  hand  into  the  bed,  and 
felt  them,  and  they  were  as  cold  as  any  stone5-3  j  then 
I  felt  to  his  knees,  and  so  upward,  and  upward,  and 
all  was  as  cold  as  any  stone. 

Nym.  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  didj  and  said,  they  were  devils 
incarnate. 

Quick.  'A  could  never  abide  carnation ;  'twas  a 
colour  he  never  lik'd. 

Boy.  'A  said  once,  the  devil  would  have  him  about 
women. 

Quick.  'A  did  in  some  sort,  indeed,  handle  wo- 
men: but  then  he  was  rheumatic^  and  talk'd  of  the 
whore  of  Babylon. 

Boy.  Do  you  not  remember,  'a  saw  a  flea  stick 
upon  Bardolph's  nose:  and  'a  said,  it  was  a  black 
soul  burning  in  hell-fire  ? 

Bard.  Well,  the  fuel  is  gone,  that  maintain'd  that 
fire:  that's  all  the  riches  I  got  in  his  service. 

Nym.  Shall  we  shog  off?  the  king  will  be  gone 
from  Southampton. 

Pist.  Come,  let's  away. —My  love,  give  me  thy 
lips. 
Look  to  my  chattels,  and  my  moveables : 
Let  senses  rule 5  the  word  is,  Pitch  and  pay; 
Trust  none  5 


KING  HENRY  V.  359 

For  oaths  are  straws,  men's  faiths  are  wafer-cakes, 
And  hold-fast  is  the  only  dog,  my  duck; 
Therefore,  caveto  be  thy  counsellor. 
Go,  clear  thy  crystals. — Yoke-fellows  in  arms  **., 
Let  us  to  France !  like  horse-leeches,  my  boys ; 
To  suck,  to  suck,  the  very  blood  to  suck ! 

Boy.  And  that  is  but  unwholesome  food,  they  say. 

Pist.  Touch  her  soft  mouth,  and  march. 

Bard.  Farewel,  hostess.  [Kissing  her. 

Nym.  I  cannot  kiss,  that  is  the  humour  of  it;  but 
adieu. 

Pist.  Let  housewifery  appear;  keep  close,  I  thee 
command. 

Quick.  Farewel;  adieu.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV. 

France.     A  B.oom  in  the  French  Kings  Palace. 

Enter  the  French  King  attended',  the  Dauphin,  jhe 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  the  Constable,  and  others. 

Fr.  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, 


360  KING  HENRY  V. 

With  men  of  courage,  and  with  means  defendant : 

For  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, 
(Though  war,  nor  no  known  quarrel,  were  in  ques- 
tion,) 
But  that  defences,  musters,  preparations, 
Should  be  maintain'd,  assembled,  and  collected, 
As  were  a  war  in  expectation. 
Therefore,  I  say,  'tis  meet  %we  all  go  forth, 
To  view  the  sick  and  feeble  parts  of  France : 
And  let  us  do  it  with  no  show  of  fear  j 
No,  with  no  more,  than  if  we  heard  that  England 
Were  busied  with  a  Whitsun  morris-dance: 
For,  my  good  liege,  she  is  so  idly  king'd, 
Her  scepter  so  fantastically  borne 
By  a  vain,  giddy,  shallow,  humorous  youth, 
That  fear  attends  her  not. 

Con.  O  peace,  prince  Dauphin! 

You  are  too  much  mistaken  in  this  king: 
Question  your  grace  the  late  ambassadors,— 
With  what  great  state  he  heard  their  embassy, 
How  well  supplied  with  noble  counsellors, 
How  modest  in  exception,  and,  withal, 


KING  HENRY  V.  36l 

How  terrible  in  constant  resolution,— 
And  you  shall  find,  his  vanities  fore-spent 
Were  but  the  outside  of  the  Roman  Brutus, 
Covering  discretion  with  a  coat  of  folly ; 
As  gardeners  do  with  ordure  hide  those  roots 
That  shall  first  spring,  and  be  most  delicate. 

Dau.  Well,  'tis  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, 
So  the  proportions  of  defence  are  fill'd  5 
Which,  of  a  weak  and  niggardly  projection, 
Doth,  like  a  miser,  spoil  his  coat,  with  scanting 
A  little  cloth. 

Fr.  King.  Think  we  king  Harry  strong; 

And,  princes,  look,  you  strongly  arm  to  meet  him. 
The  kindred  of  him  hath  been  flesh'd  upon  us  5 
And  he  is  bred  out  of  that  bloody  strain, 
That  haunted  us  in  our  familiar  paths : 
Witness  our  too  much  memorable  shame, 
When  Cressy  battle  fatally  was  struck, 
And  all  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  heroical  seed,  and  smil'd  to  see  him 
Mangle  the  work  of  nature,  and  deface 
The  patterns  that  by  God  and  by  French  fathers 
Had  twenty  years  been  made.     This  is  a  stem 


362  KING  HENRY  V. 

Of  that  victorious  stock ;  and  let  us  fear 
The  native  mightiness  and  fate  of  him. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Ambassadors  from  Henry  King  of  England 
Do  crave  admittance  to  your  majesty. 

Fr.  King.    We'll   give    them    present    audience. 
Go,  and  bring  them. 

[Exeunt  Mess,  and  certain  Lords. 
You  see,  this  chase  is  hotly  follow'd,  friends. 

Dau.  Turn  head,  and  stop  pursuit:   for  coward 
dogs 
Most  spend  their  mouths 25,  when  what  they  seem  to 

threaten, 
Runs  far  before  them.     Good  my  sovereign, 
Take  up  the  English  short;  and  let  them  know 
Of  what  a  monarchy  you  are  the  head : 
Self-love,  my  liege,  is  not  so  vile  a  sin, 
As  self-neglecting. 

Re-enter  Lords,  with  Exeter  and  Train. 

Fr.  King.  From  our  brother  England  ? 

Eze.  From  him;  and  thus  he  greets  your  majesty. 
He  wills  you,  in  the  name  of  God  Almighty, 
That  you  divest  yourself,  and  lay  apart 
The  borrow'd  glories,  that,  by  gift  of  heaven, 
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, 


KING  HENRY  V.  303 

Unto  the  crown  of  France.     That  you  may.  know, 

Tis  no  sinister,  nor  no  awkward  claim, 

Pick'd  from  the  worm-holes  of  long-vanish'd  days, 

Nor  from  the  dust  of  old  oblivion  rak'd, 

He  sends  you  this  most  memorable  line, 

[Gives  a  paper. 
In  every  branch  truly  demonstrative; 
Willing  you,  overlook  this  pedigree; 
And,  when  you  find  him  evenly  deriv'd 
From  his  most  fam'd  of  famous  ancestors, 
Edward  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  ? 

Exe.  Bloody  constraint ;  for  if  you  hide  the  crown 
Even  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  will  compel;) 
And  bids  you,  in  the  bowels  of  the  Lord, 
Deliver  up  the  crown;  and  to  take  mercy 
On  the  poor  souls,  for  whom  this  hungry  war 
Opens  his  vasty  jaws :  and  on  your  head 
Turns  he  the  widows'  tears,  the  orphans'  cries, 
The  dead  men's  blood,  the  pining  maidens'  groans, 
For  husbands,  fathers,  and  betrothed  lovers, 
That  shall  be  swallow'd  in  this  controversy. 
This  is  his  claim,  his  threat'ning,  and  my  message ; 
Unless  the  Dauphin  be  in  presence  here, 
To  whom  expressly  I  bring  greeting  too. 


364  KING  HENRY  V. 

Fr.  King.  For  us,  we  will  consider  of  this  further: 
To-morrow  shall  you  bear  our  full  intent 
Back  to  our  brother  of  England. 

Dau.  For  the  Dauphin, 

I  stand  here  for  him;  What  to  him  from  England? 

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  I  desire 
Nothing  but  odds  with  England  j  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, 
Were  it  the  mistress  court  of  mighty  Europe : 
And,  be  assurd,  you'll  find  a  difference, 
(As  we,  his  subjects,  have  in  wonder  found,) 
Between  the  promise  of  his  greener  days, 
And  these  he  masters  now;  now  he  weighs  time, 
Even  to  the  utmost  grain ;  which  you  shall  read 
In  your  own  losses,  if  he  stay  in  France. 

Fr.  King.  To-morrow  shall  you  know  our  mind 
at  full. 


KING  HENRY  V.  365 

Exe.  Despatch  us  with  all  speed,  lest  that  our 
king 
Come  here  himself  to  question  our  delay  5 
For  he  is  footed  in  this  land  already. 

Fr.  King.  You  shall  be  soon  despatch'd,  with  fair 
conditions : 
A  night  is  but  small  breath,  and  little  pause, 
To  answer  matters  of  this  consequence.        [Exeunt. 


366  KING  HENRY  V. 


ACT  III. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Thus  with  imagin'd  wing  our  swift  scene 
flies, 
In  motion  of  no  less  celerity 

Than  that  of  thought.     Suppose,  that  you  have  seen 
The  well-appointed  king  at  Hampton  pier 
Embark  his  royalty j  and  his  brave  fleet 
With  silken  streamers  the  young  Phoebus  fanning. 
Play  with  your  fancies ;  and  in  them  behold, 
Upon  the  hempen  tackle,  shipboys  climbing: 
Hear  the  shrill  whistle,  which  doth  order  give 
To  sounds  confus'd:  behold  the  threaden  sails, 
Born  with  the  invisible  and  creeping  wind, 
Draw  the  huge  bottoms  through  the  furrow'd  sea, 
Breasting  the  lofty  surge:  O,  do  but  think, 
You  stand  upon  the  rivage26,  and  behold 
A  city  on  the  inconstant  billows  dancing  5 
For  so  appears  this  fleet  majestical, 
Holding  due  course  to  Harfleur.     Follow,  follow ! 
Grapple  your  minds  to  sternage  of  this  navy 5 
And  leave  your  England,  as  dead  midnight,  still, 
Guarded  with  grandsires,  babies,  and  old  women, 
Either  past,  or  not  arriv'd  to,  pith  and  puissance: 
For  who  is  he,  whose  chin  is  but  enrich'd 
With  one  appearing  hair,  that  will  not  follow 
These  cull'd  and  choice-drawn  cavaliers  to  France? 


KING  HENRY  V.  367 

Work,  work,  your  thoughts,  and  therein  see  a  siege : 
Behold  the  ordnance  on  their  carriages, 
With  fatal  mouths  gaping  on  girded  Harfleur. 
Suppose,   the  ambassador   from   the  French  comes 

back; 
Tells  Harry — that  the  king  doth  offer  him 
Katharine  his  daughter;  and  with  her,  to  dowry, 
Some  petty  and  unprofitable  dukedoms. 
The  offer  likes  not :  and  the  nimble  gunner 
With  linstock27  now  the  devilish  cannon  touches, 

[Alarum*,  and  chambers  go  off. 
And  down  goes  all  before  them.     Still  be  kind, 
And  eke  out  our  performance  with  your  mind. 

[Exit. 

SCENE   I. 

The  same.     Before  Harfleur. 

Alarums.    Enter  King  Henry,  Exeter,  Bedford, 
Gloster,  and  Soldiers,  with  scaling  ladders. 

K.  Hen.  Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends, 
once  more; 
Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead! 
In  peace,  there's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man, 
As  modest  stillness,  and  humility : 
But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 
Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger; 
Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 
Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favour'd  rage: 

vol.  VII.  2  c 


363  KING  HENRY  V. 

Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  aspect; 
Let  it  pry  through  the  portage  of  the  head23, 
Like  the  brass  cannon  ;  let  the  brow  o'erwhelm  it, 
As  fearfully,  as  doth  a  galled  rock 
O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base29, 
Swill'd  widi  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean. 
Now  set  the  teeth,  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide  : 
Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 
To  his  full  height! — On,  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. 
Dishonour  not  your  mothers;  now  attest, 
That  those,  whom  you  call'd  fathers,  did  beget  you! 
Be  copy  now  to  men  of  grosser  blood, 
And  teach  them  how  to  war! — x\nd  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  5 
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  games  afootj 
Follow  your  spirit:  and,  upon  this  charge, 
Cry — God  for  Harry!  England!  and  saint  George ! 
[Exeunt.     Alarum,  and  chambers  go  ojf. 


KING  HENRY  V.  369 

SCENE  IT. 

The  same. 

Forces  pass  over;    then  enter  Nym,  Bardolph, 
Pistol,  and  Boy. 

Bard.  On,  on,  on,  on,  on !  to  the  breach,  to  the 
breach ! 

Nym.  'Pray  thee,  corporal,  stay  \  the  knocks  are 
too  hotj  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. 

Pist.  The  plain-song  is  most  just;  for  humours  do 
abound} 
Knocks  go  and  comej  God's  vassals  drop  and  die; 
And  sword  and  shield, 
In  bloody  field, 
Doth  win  immortal  fame. 
Boy.  'Would  I  were  in  an  alehouse  in  London! 
I  would  give  all  my  fame  for  a  pot  of  ale,  and 
safety. 

Pist.  And  I : 

If  wishes  would  prevail  with  me, 
My  purpose  should  not  fail  with  me, 
But  thither  would  I  hie. 
Boy.  As  duly,  but  not  as  truly,  as  bird  doth  sing 
on  bough. 


370  KING  HENRY  V. 

Enter  Fluellen". 

Flu.  Got'splood!— Up  to  the  preaches,  you  ras- 
cals! will  you  not  up  to  the  preaches? 

[Driving  them  forward. 

Pist.  Be  merciful,  great  duke,  to  men  of  mould30 ! 
Abate  thy  rage,  abate  thy  manly  rage ! 
Abate  thy  rage,  great  duke! 

Good  bawcock,   bate  thy  rage!    use  lenity,  sweet 
chuck ! 

Nym.  These  be  good  humours !  —your  honour  wins 
bad  humours. 

[Exeunt  Nym,  Pistol,  and  Bardolph,  fol- 
lowed hy  Fluellen. 

Boy.  As  young  as  I  am,  I  have  observed  these 
three  swashers.  I  am  boy  to  them  all  three:  but  all 
they  three,  though  they  would  serve  me,  could  not 
be  man  to  me  5  for,  indeed,  three  such  anticks  do  not 
amount  to  a  man.  For  Bardolph, — he  is  white- 
liver'd,  and  red-faced ;  by  the  means  whereof,  'a 
faces  it  out,  but  fights  not.  For  Pistol,— -he  hath  a 
killing  tongue,  and  a  quiet  sword;  by  the  means 
whereof  'a  breaks  words,  and  keeps  whole  weapons. 
For  Nym, — he  hath  heard,  that  men  of  few  words 
are  the  best  men  5  and  therefore  he  scorns  to  say  his 
prayers,  lest  a'  should  be  thought  a  coward :  but  his 
few  bad  words  are  match'd  with  as  few  good  deeds  j 
for  'a  never  broke  any  man's  head  but  his  own ;  and 
that  was  against  a  post,  when  he  was  drunk.  They 
will  steal  any  thing,  and  call  it, — purchase.     Bar- 


KING  HENRY  V.  371 

dolph  stole  a  lute-case 5  bore  it  twelve  leagues,  and 
sold  it  for  three  halfpence.  Nym,  and  Bardolph,  are 
sworn  brothers  in  filching 5  and  in  Calais  they  stole  a 
fire  shovel :  I  knew,  by  that  piece  of  service,  the 
men  would  carry  coals.  They  would  have  me  as 
familiar  with  men's  pockets,  as  their  gloves  or  their 
handkerchiefs:  which  makes  much  against  my  man- 
hood, if  I  should  take  from  another  pocket,  to  put 
into  mine ;  for  it  is  plain  pocketing  up  of  wrongs.  I 
must  leave  them,  and  seek  some  better  service :  their 
villainy  goes  against  my  weak  stomach,  and  there- 
fore I  must  cast  it  up.  [Exit  Boy, 

Re-enter  Fluellen,  Gower  follow ing. 

Gow.  Captain  Fluellen,  you  must  come  presently 
to  the  mines  3  the  duke  of  Gloster  would  speak  with 
you. 

Flu.  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 
concavities  of  it  is  not  sufficient;  for,  look  you,  th' 
athversary  (you  may  discuss  unto  the  duke,  look 
you,)  is  digt  himself  four  yards  under  the  counter- 
mines31: by  Cheshu,  I  think,  a'  will  plow  up  all,  it 
there  is  not  better  directions. 

Goiv.  The  duke  of  Gloster,  to  whom  the  order 
of  the  siege  is  given,  is  altogether  directed  by  an 
Irishman;  a  very  valiant  gentleman,  i'faith. 

Flu.  It  is  captain  Macmorris,  is  it  not? 

Gow.  I  think;  it  be. 


3/2  KING  HENRY  V. 

Flu.  By  Cheshu,  he  is  an  ass,  as  in  the  'orld:  I 
will  verify  as  much  in  his  peard:  he  has  no  more 
directions  in  the  true  disciplines  of  the  wars,  look  you, 
of  the  Roman  disciplines,  than  is  a  puppy-dog. 

E:Uer  Ma  cm  orris  and  J  amy,  at  a  distance. 

Goiv.  Here  'a  comes ;  and  the  Scots  captain,  cap- 
tain Jamy,  with  him, 

Flu.  Captain  Jamy  is  a  marvellous  falorous  gen- 
tleman, that  is  certain  j  and  of  great  expedition,  and 
knowledge,  in  the  ancient  wars,  upon  my  particular 
knowledge  of  his  directions:  by  Cheshu,  he  will 
maintain  his  argument  as  well  as  any  military  man  in 
the  'orld,  in  the  disciplines  of  the  pristine  wars  of  the 
Romans. 

Jamy.  I  say,  gud-day,  captain  Fluellen. 

Flu.  God-den  to  your  worship,  goot  captain  Jamy. 

Gow.  How,  now,  captain  Macmorris  ?  have  you 
quit  the  mines  ?  have  the  pioneers  given  o'er  ? 

Mac.  By  Chrish  la,  tish  ill  done 5  the  work  ish 
give  over,  the  trumpet  sound  the  retreat.  By  my 
hand,  I  swear,  and  by  my  father's  soul,  the  work  ish 
ill  done;  it  ish  give  over:  I  would  have  blowed  up 
the  town,  so  Chrish  save  me,  la,  in  an  hour.  O,  tish 
ill  done,  tish  ill  done;  by  my  hand,  tish  ill  done! 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  I  peseech  you  now,  will 
you  voutsafe  me,  look  you,  a  few  disputations  with 
you,  as  partly  touching  or  concerning  the  disciplines 
of  the  war,  the  Roman  war?,  in  the  way  of  argument, 
look  you,  and  friendly  communication  j  partly,  to  sa- 


KING  HENRY  V.  373 

tisfy  my  opinion,  and  partly,  for  the  satisfaction,  look 
you,  of  my  mind,  as  touching  the  direction  o'  the 
military  discipline;   that  is  the  point. 

Jamy.  It  sail  be  very  gud,  gud  fcith,  gud  captains 
bath:  and  I  sail  quit  you  with  gud  leve,  as  I  may 
pick  occasion  5  that  sail  I,  marry. 

Mac.  It  is  no  time  to  discourse,  so  Chrish  save 
me :  the  day  is  hot,  and  the  weather,  and  the  wars, 
and  the  king,  and  the  dukes;  it  is  no  time  to  dis- 
course. The  town  is  beseech'd,  and  the  trumpet 
calls  us  to  the  breach;  and  we  talk,  and,  by  Chrish, 
do  nothing;  'tis  shame  for  us  all:  so  God  sa'  me,  'tis 
shame  to  stand  still;  it  is  shame,  by  my  hand:  and 
there  is  throats  to  be  cat,  and  works  to  be  done;  and 
there  ish  nothing  done;  so  Chrish  sa  me,  la. 

Jamy.  By  the  mess,  ere  theise  eyes  of  mine  take 
themselves  to  slumber,  aile  do  gude  service,  or  aile 
ligge  i'the  grund  for  it;  ay,  or  go  to  death;  and  aile 
pay  it  as  valorously  as  I  may,  that  sal  I  surely  do, 
that  is  the  brefF  and  the  long :  Mary,  I  wad  full  fain 
heard  some  question  'tween  you  tway. 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  I  think,  look  you,  under 
your  correction,  there  is  not  many  of  your  nation 

Mac.  Of  my  nation  ?  What  ish  my  nation  ?  ish  a 
villain,  and  a  bastard,  and  a  knave,  and  a  rascal? 
What  ish  my  nation?  Who  talks  of  my  nation? 

Flu.  Look  you,  if  you  take  the  matter  otherwise 
than  is  meant,  captain  Macmorris,  peradventnre,  I 
shall  think  you  do  not  use  me  with  that  affability  as 
in  discretion  you  ought  to  use  me,  look  you;  being 


3/4  KING  HENRY  V. 

as  goot  a  man  as  yourself,  both  in  the  disciplines  of 
wars,  and  in  the  derivation  of  my  birth,  and  in  other 
particularities. 

Mac.  I  do  not  know  you  so  good  a  man  as  my- 
self: so  Chrish  save  me,  I  will  cut  off  your  head. 

Gow.  Gentlemen  both,  you  will  mistake  each 
other. 

Jamy.  Au!  that's  a  foul  fault.  [A  parley  sounded. 

Gow.  The  town  sounds  a  parley. 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  when  there  is  more  better 
opportunity  to  be  required,  look  you,  I  will  be  so 
bold  as  to  tell  you,  I  know  the  disciplines  of  war; 
and  there's  an  end zz.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

The  same.     Before  the  Gates  of  Harfleur. 

The  Governour  and  some  Citizens  on  the  walls;  the 
English  Forces  below.  Enter  King  Henry,  and 
his  Train. 

K.  Hen.  How  yet  resolves  the  governour  of  the 
town? 
This  is  the  latest  parle  we  will  admit  : 
Therefore,  to  our  best  mercy  give  yourselves y 
Or,  like  to  men  proud  of  destruction, 
Defy  us  to  oar  worst :  for,  as  I  am  a  soldier, 
(A  name,  that,  in  my  thoughts,  becomes  me  best,) 
If  I  begin  the  battery  once  again, 
I  will  not  leave  the  half-achieved  Harfleur, 


KING  HENRY  V.  375 

Till  in  her  ashes  she  lie  buried. 

The  gates  of  mercy  shall  be  all  shut  up; 

And  the  flesh'd  soldier, — rough  and  hard  of  heart, — 

In  liberty  of  bloody  hand,  shall  range 

With  conscience  wide  as  hell;  mowing  like  grass 

Your  fresh -fair  virgins,  and  your  flowering  infants. 

What  is  it  then  to  me,  if  impious  war, — 

Array  d  in  flames,  like  to  the  prince  of  fiend?, — 

Do,  with  his  smirch'd  complexion,  all  fell  feats 

Enlink'd  to  waste  and  desolation? 

What  is't  to  me,  when  you  yourselves  are  cause, 

If  your  pure  maidens  fall  info  the  hand 

Of  hot  and  forcing  violation? 

What  rein  can  hold  licentious  wickedness, 

When  down  the  hill  he  holds  his  fierce  career? 

We  may  as  bootless  spend  our  vain  command 

Upon  the  enraged  soldiers  in  their  spoil, 

As  send  precepts  to  the  Leviathan 

To  come  ashore.     Therefore,  you  men  of  Harfleur, 

Take  pity  of  your  town,  and  of  your  people, 

Whiles  yet  my  soldiers  are  in  my  command; 

Whiles  yet  the  cool  and  temperate  wind  of  grace 

O'erblows  the  filthy  and  contagious  clouds 

Of  deadly  murder,  spoil,  and  villainy. 

If  not,  why,  in  a  moment,  look  to  see 

The  blind  and  bloody  soldier  with  foul  hand 

Defile  the  locks  of  your  shrill-shrieking  daughters- 

Your  fathers  taken  by  the  silver  beards, 

And  their  most  reverend  heads  dash'd  to  the  walls; 

Your  naked  infants  spitted  upon  pikes; 


370  KING  HENRY  V. 

Whiles  the  mad  mothers  with  their  howls  confus'd 
Do  break  the  clouds,  as  did  the  wives  of  Jewry 
At  Herod's  bloody-hunting  slaughtermen. 
What  say  you?  will  you  yield,  and  this  avoid? 
Or,  guilty  in  defence,  be  thus  destroy'd  ? 

Gov.  Our  expectation  hath  this  day  an  end: 
The  Dauphin,  whom  of  succour  we  entreated, 
Returns'  us — that  his  powers  are  not  yet  ready 
To  raise  so  great  a  siege.     Therefore,  dread  king, 
We  yield  our  town,  and  lives,  to  thy  soft  mercy : 
Enter  our  gates;  dispose  of  us,  and  ours; 
For  we  no  longer  are  defensible. 

K.  Hen.  Open  your  gates. — Come,  uncle  Exeter, 
Go  you  and  enter  Harfleur;   there  remain, 
And  fortify  it  strongly  'gainst  the  French : 
Use  mercy  to  them  all.     For  us,  dear  uncle, — 
The  winter  coming  on,  and  sickness  growing 
Upon  our  soldiers, — we'll  retire  to  Calais. 
To-night  in  Harfleur  will  we  be  your  guest; 
To-morrow  for  the  march  are  we  addrest. 

[Flourish,     The  King,  &c.  enter  the  town. 

SCENE  IF3\ 
Rouen.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Katharine  and  Alice. 

Kath.  Alice,  tu  as  este  eu  Angleterre,  et  tu  paries 
lien  te  language. 

Alice.   Un  peu  madam e. 


KING  HENRY  V.  3/7 

Kath.  Je  te  prie,  in'enseignez;  il  faut  que  j'ap  - 
prenne  a  parler.     Comment  appellez  vous  la  main, 
en  Anglois? 
■  Alice.  La  main?  elle  est  appellee,  de  hand. 

Kath.  De  hand.     Et  les  doigts? 

Alice.  Les  doigts ?  may  foy,  je  oublie  les  doigts; 
maisje  me  souviendray.  Les  doigts  ?  je  pense,  quils 
sont  appelle  de  fingresj  ouy,  de  fingers. 

Kath.  La  main,  de  hand!  les  doigts,  de  flngres. 
Je  pense,  que  je  suis  le  Ion  escolier.  J'ay  gagnc 
deux  mots  d! Anglois  vistement.  Comment  appellez 
vous  les  ongles  ? 

Alice.  Les  ongles?  les  appellons,  de  nails. 

Kath.  De  nails.  Escoutez;  dites  moy,  &ije  parte 
lien:  de  hand,  de  fingres,  de  nails. 

Alice.  Cest  lien  dit,  madame;  il  est  fort  Ion 
Anglois. 

Kath.  Dites  moy  en  Anglois,  le  Iras. 

Alice.  De  arm,  madam e. 

Kath.  Et  le  coude. 

Alice.  De  elbow. 

Kath.  De  elbow.  Je  men  faitz  la  repetition  de 
tous  les  mots,  que  vous  m'avez  appris  des  a  present. 

Alice.  II  est  trop  difficile,  madame,  commeje  pense. 

Kath.  Excusez  moy,  Alice-,  escoutez:  De  hand, 
de  flngre,.  de  nails,  de  arm,  de  bilbow. 

Alice.  De  elbow,  madame. 

Kath.  O  Seigneur  Dieul  je  men  oublie.  De 
elbow.      Comment  appellez  vous  le  col? 

Alice.  De  neck,  madame. 


3/3  KING  HENRY  V. 

Kath.  De  neck:  Et  le  menton? 

Alice.  De  chin. 

Kath.  De  sin.  Le  col,  de  neck:  le  menton,  de  sin. 

Alice.  Ouy.  Sauf  vostre  honneur;  en  verite, 
vous  prononces  les  mots  aussi  droict  que  les  natifs 
d'Angleterre. 

Kath.  Je  ne  doute  point  d apprendre  par  la  grace 
de  Dieu ;   et  en  peu  de  temps. 

Alice.  N'avez  vous  pas  deja  oublie  ce  que  je  vous 
ay  enseignee  ? 

Kath.  Non,je  reciter  ay  a  vous  promptement.  De 
hand,  de  fingre,  de  mails, — 

Alice.  De  nails,  madams. 

Kath.  De  nails,  de  arme,  de  ilbow. 

Alice.  Sauf  vostre  honneur,  de  elbow. 

Kath.  Ainsi  disje;  de  elbow,  de  neekj  et  de  sin: 
Comment  appellez  vous  le  pieds  et  la  role? 

Alice.  De  foot,  madame ;  et  de  con. 

Kath.  De  foot,  et  de  eon?  O  Seigneur  Dieu! 
ces  sont  mots  de  son  mauvais,  corruptible,  grosse,  et 
impudique,  et  non  pour  les  dames  d'honneur  d'user: 
Je  ne  voudrois  prononcer  ces  mots  dcvant  les  Seig- 
neurs de  France,  pour  tout  le  monde.  Ilfaut  de  foot, 
£ff  de  con,  neant-moins.  Je  reciter  ai  une  autre  fois 
ma  lefon  ensemble:  De  hand,  de  fingre,  de  nails, 
de  arm,  de  elbow,  de  neck,  de  sin,  de  foot,  de  con. 

Alice.  Excellent,  madame  ! 

Kath.  Cest  assez  pour  une  fois  j  allor.s  nous  a 
disner.  [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  V.  3/$ 


SCENE  V. 

The  same.     Another  Room  in  the  same. 

Enter   the   French   King,    the   Dauphin,    Duke    of 
Bourbon,  the  Constable  o/*  France,  and  others. 

Fr.  King.  Tis  certain,  he  hath  pass'd  the  river 
Some. 

Con.  And  if  he  be  not  fought  withal,  my  lord, 
Let  us  not  live  in  France ;  let  us  quit  all, 
And  give  our  vineyards  to  a  barbarous  people. 

Dau.   O  Dieu  vivantl  shall  a  few  sprays  of  us, — 
The  emptying  of  our  fathers'  luxury, 
Our  scions,  put  in  wild  and  savage  stock. 
Spirt  up  so  suddenly  into  the  clouds, 
And  overlook  their  grafters  ? 

Bour.  Normans,  but  bastard  Normans,  Norman 
bastards! 
Mort  de  ma  vie!  if  they  march  along 
Unfought  withal,  but  I  will  sell  my  dukedom, 
To  buy  a  slobbery  and  a  dirty  farm 
In  that  nook-shotten 34  isle  of  Albion. 

Con.    Dieu  de  battailes !    where  have  they  this 
mettle? 
Is  not  their  climate  foggy,  raw,  and  dull? 
On  whom,  as  in  despite,  the  sun  looks  pale, 
Killing  their  fruit  with  frowns?  Can  sodden  water, 
A  drench  for  sur-rein'd  jades,  their  barley  broth, 


3S0  KING  HENRY  V. 

Decoct  their  cold  blood  to  such  valiant  heat? 

And  shall  oar  quick  blood,  spirited  with  wine, 

Seem  frosty  ?  O,  for  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 ; 

Poor — we  may  call  them,  in  their  native  lords. 

Dau.  By  faith  and  honour, 
Our  madams  mock  at  us ;  and  plainly  say, 
Our  mettle  is  bred  out;   and  they  will  give 
Their  bodies  to  the  lust  of  English  youth, 
To  new-store  France  with  bastard-warriors. 

Bour.  They  bid  us — to  the  English  dancing- schools, 
And  teach  lavoltas  high35,  and  swift  corantos; 
Saying,  our  grace  is  only  in  our  heels, 
And  that  we  are  most  lofty  runaways. 

Fr.King.  Where  is  Monrjoy  the  herald?  speed 
him  hence; 
Let  him  greet  England  with  our  sharp  defiance. — 
Up,  princes;  and,  with  spirit  of  honour  edg'd, 
More  sharper  than  your  swrords,  hie  to  the  field: 
Charles  De-la-bret,  high  constable  of  France ; 
You  dukes  of  Orleans,  Bourbon,  and  of  Berry, 
Alencon,  Brabant,  Bar,  and  Burgundy; 
Jaques  Chatillion,  Rambures,  Vaudemont, 
Beaumont,  Grandpre,  Roussi,  and  Fauconberg, 
Foix,  Lestrale,  Bouciqualt,  and  Charolois; 
High  dukesy  great  princes,  barons,  lords,  and  knights, 
For  your  great  seats,  now  quit  you  of  great  shames. 
Bar  Harry  England,  that  sweeps  through  our  land 


KING  HENRY  V.  331 

With  pennons  s6  painted  in  the  blood  of  Harfleur: 
Rash  on  his  host,  as  doth  the  melted  snow 
Upon  the  vallies;  whose  low  vassal  seat 
The  Alps  doth  spit  and  void  his  rheum  upon: 
Go  down  upon  him, — you  have  power  enough,— 
And  in  a  captive  chariot,  into  Rouen 
Bring  him  our  prisoner. 

Con.  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. 

Fr.  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. 

Dan.  Not  so,  I  do  beseech  your  majesty. 

Fr.K.  Be  patient,  for  you  shall  remain  with  us; — 
Now,  forth,  lord  constable,  and  princes  all; 
And  quickly  bring  us  word  of  England's  fall. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE   VI. 

The  English  Camp  in  Picardy. 

Enter  Gower  and  Fluellen. 

Gow.  How  now,  captain  Fluellen  ?  came  you  from 
the  bridge  ? 


682  KING  HENRY  V. 

Flu.  I  assure  you,  there  is  very  excellent  service 
committed  at  the  pridge. 

Gow.  Is  the  duke  of  Exeter  safe? 

Flu.  The  duke  of  Exeter  is  as  magnanimous  as 
Agamemnon  j  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, 
(God  be  praised  and  plessed!)  any  hurt  in  the  'orldj 
but  keeps  the  pridge  most  valiantly,  with  excellent 
discipline.  There  is  an  ensign  there  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  'orldj  but  I  did  see  him  do  gallant  service. 

Gow.  What  do  you  call  him? 

Flu.  He  is  call'd — ancient  Pistol. 

Gow.  I  know  him  not. 

Enter  Pistol. 

Flu.  Do  you  not  know  him?  Here  comes  the  man. 

Pist.  Captain,  I  thee  beseech  to  do  me  favours: 
The  duke  of  Exeter  doth  love  thee  well. 

Flu.  Ay,  I  praise  Got ;  and  I  have  merited  some 
love  at  his  hands. 

Pist.  Bardolph,  a  soldier,  firm  and  sound  of  heart, 
Of  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  muffler  before  her  eyes,  to 


KING  HENRY  V.  383 

signify  to  you  that  fortune  is  plind:  And  she  is 
painted  also  with  a  wheel ;  to  signify  to  you,  which 
is  the  moral  of  it,  that  she  is  turning,  and  inconstant, 
and  variation,  and  mutabilities:  and  her  foot,  look 
you,  is  fixed  upon  a  spherical  stone,  which  rolls,  and 
rolls,  and  rolls  5 — In  good  truth,  the  poet  is  make  a 
most  excellent  description  of  fortune:  fortune,  look 
you,  is  an  excellent  moral. 

Pist.  Fortune  is  Bardolph's  foe,  and  frowns  on  him  j 
For  he  hath  stol'n  a  pix37,  and  hanged  must  'a  be. 
A  damned  death! 

Let  gallows  gape  for  dog,  let  man  go  free, 
And  let  not  hemp  his  wind-pipe  suffocate : 
But  Exeter  hath  given  the  doom  of  death, 
For  pix  of  little  price. 

Therefore,  go  speak,  the  duke  will  hear  thy  voice  j 
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  your 
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,  I  would 
desire  the  duke  to  use  his  goot  pleasure,  and  put  him 
to  executions ;  for  disciplines  ought  to  be  used. 

Pist.  Die  and  be  damn'dj  and  Jigo  for  thy  friend- 
ship ! 

Flu.  It  is  well. 

VOL.  VII.  2    D 


384  KING  HENRY.  V. 

Pist.  The  fig  of  Spain38!  [Exit  Pistol. 

Flu.  Very  good. 

Gow.  Why,  this  is  an  arrant  counterfeit  rascal  j  I 
remember  him  now;  a  bawd ;  a  cutpurse. 

Flu.  I'll  assure  yon,  'a  utter'd  as  prave  'ords  at  the 
pridge,  as  you  shall  see  in  a  summer's  day:  But  it  is 
very  well ;  what  he  has  spoke  to  me,  that  is  well,  I 
warrant  you,  when  time  is  serve. 

Gow.  Why,  'tis  a  gull,  a  fool,  a  rogue ;  that  now 
and  then  goes  to  the  wars,  to  grace  himself,  at  his 
return  into   London,   under  the  form  of  a  soldier. 
And  such  fellows  are  perfect  in  great  commanders* 
names :  and  they  will  learn  you  by  rote,  where  ser- 
vices were  done ; — at  such  and  such  a  sconce,  at  such 
a  breach,  at  such  a  convoy;  who  came  off  bravely, 
who  was  shot,  who  disgraced,  what  terms  the  enemy- 
stood  on ;  and  this  they  con  perfectly  in  the  phrase 
of  war,  which  they  trick  up  with  new-tuned  oaths: 
And  what  a  beard  of  the  general's  cut,  and  a  horrid 
suit  of  the  camp,  will  do  among  foaming  bottles,  and 
ale-wash'd  wits,  is  wonderful  to  be  thought  on !  but 
you  must  learn  to  know  such  slanders  of  the  age,  or 
else  you  may  be  marvellously  mistook. 

Flu.  I  tell  you  what,  captain  Gowerj — 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, 
I  will  tell  him  my  mind.  [Drum  heard.']  Hark 
you,  the  king  is  coming;  and  I  must  speak  with  him 
from  the  pridge. 


KING  HENRY  V.  3S5 

Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  and  Soldiers, 

Flu.  Got  pless  your  majesty ! 

K.Hen.  How  now,  Fluellenr  earnest  thou  from 
the  bridge? 

Flu.  Ay,  so  please  your  majesty.  The  duke  of 
Exeter  has  very  gallantly  maintain  d  the  pridge :  the 
French  is  gone  orf,  look  you ;  and  there  is  gallant 
and  most  prave  passages:  Marry,  th'athversary  was 
have  possession  of  the  pridge  -,  but  he  is  enforced  to 
retire,  and  the  duke  of  Exeter  is  master  of  the  pridge: 
I  can  tell  your  majesty,  the  duke  is  a  prave  man. 

K.  Hen.  What  men  have  you  lost,  Fluellen? 

Flu.  The  perdition  of  th'athversary  hath  been  very 
great,  very  reasonable  great :  marry,  for  my  part,  I 
think  the  duke  hath  lost  never  a  man,  but  one  that 
is  like  to  be  executed  for  robbing  a  church,  one 
Bardolph,  if  your  majesty  know  the  man :  his  face  is 
all  bubukles,  and  whelks,  and  knobs,  and  flames  of 
fire  j  and  his  lips  plows  at  his  nose,  and  it  is  like  a 
coal  of  fire,  sometimes  plue,  and  sometimes  red;  but 
his  nose  is  executed,  and  his  fire's  out. 

K.  Hen.  We  would  have  all  such  offenders  so 
cut  off: — and  we  give  express  charge,  that,  in  our 
marches  through  the  country,  there  be  nothing  com- 
pelled from  the  villages,  nothing  taken  but  paid 
for;  none  of  the  French  upbraided,  or  abused  in 
disdainful  language;  For  when  lenity  and  cruelty 
play  for  a  kingdom,  the  gentler  gamester  \s  the 
soonest  winner. 


3S6  KING  HENRY  V. 

Tucket  sounds.     Enter  Montjoy  39. 

Mont.  You  know  me  by  my  habit. 

K.Hcn.  Well  then,  I  know  thee  5  What  shall  I 
know  of  thee  ? 

Mont.  My  master's  mind. 

A'.  Hen.  Unfold  it. 

Mont.  Thus  says  my  king: — Say  thou  to  Harry 
of  England,  Though  we  seemed  dead,  we  did  but 
sleep;  Advantage  is  a  better  soldier,  than  rashness. 
Tell  him,  we  could  have  rebuked  him  at  Harfleur; 
but  that  we  thought  not  good  to  bruise  an  injury, 
till  it  were  full  ripe :— now  we  speak  upon  our  cue, 
and  our  voice  is  imperial :  England  shall  repent  his 
io\]y,  see  his  weakness,  and  admire  our  sufferance. 
Bid  him,  therefore,  consider  of  his  ransom  ;  which 
must  proportion  the  losses  we  have  borne,  the  sub- 
jects we  have  lost,  the  disgrace  we  have  digested  ; 
which,  in  weight  to  re-answer,  his  pettiness  would 
bow  under.  For  our  losses,  his  exchequer  is  too 
poor;  for  the  effusion  of  our  blood,  the  muster  of  his 
kingdom  too  faint  a  number;  and  for  our  disgrace, 
his  own  person,  kneeling  at  our  feet,  but  a  weak 
and  worthless  satisfaction.  To  this  add — defiance : 
and  tell  him,  for  conclusion,  he  hath  betrayed  his 
followers,  whose  condemnation  is  pronounced.  So 
far  my  king  and  master;   so  much  my  office. 

K.JrJen.  What  is  thy  name?  I  know  thy  quality. 

Mont.  Moutjoy. 

A'.  Hen.  Thou  dost  thy  office  fairly.  Turn  thee  back, 


KrNG  HENRY  V.  387 

And  tell  thy  king,— I  do  not  seek  him  now; 

But  could  be  willing  to  march  on  to  Calais 

Without  impeachment:   for,  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  lessen'd;  and  those  few  I  have, 

Almost  no  better  than  so  many  French; 

"Who  when  they  were  in  health,  I  tell  thee,  herald, 

J  thought,  upon  one  pair  of  English  legs 

Did  march  three  Frenchmen, — Yet,  forgive  me  God, 

That  I  do  brag  thus ! — this  your  air  of  France 

Hath  blown  that  vice  in  me  5  I  must  repent. 

Go,  therefore,  tell  thy  master,  here  I  am; 

My  ransom,  is  thte  frail  and  worthless  trunk ; 

My  army,  but  a  weak  and  sickly  guard ; 

Yet,  God  before,  tell  him  we  will  come  on, 

Though  France  himself,  and  such  another  neighbour, 

Stand  irj  our  way.     There's  for  thy  labour,  Montjoy. 

Go,  bid  thy  master  well  advise  himself:    • 

If  we  may  pass,  we  will ;  if  we  be  hinder'd, 

We  shall  your  tawny  ground  with  your  red  blood 

Discolour:  and  so,  Montjoy,  fare  you  well. 

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. 

Mont.  I  shall  deliver  so.     Thanks  to  your  high- 
ness. [Exit  Montjoy. 

Glo.  I  hope,  they  will  not  come  upon  us  now. 


388  KING  HENRY  V. 

K.  Hen.  We  are  in  God's  hand,  brother,  not  in 
theirs. 
March  to  the  bridge 5  it  now*  draws  toward  night: — 
Beyond  the  river  we'll  encamp  ourselves  5 
And  on  to-morrow  bid  them  march  away.    \Exeunt. 

SCENE  FIT. 

The  French  Camp,  near  Agincourt. 

Enter  ///e  Constable  o/* France,  the  Lord  Ramburls, 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  Dauphin,  and  others. 

Con.  Tat!  I  have  the  best  armour  of  the  world. — 
'Would,  it  were  day! 

Or  I.  You  have  an  excellent  armour ;  but  let  my 
horse  have  his  due. 

Con.  It  is  the  best  horse  of  Europe. 

Orl.  Will  it  never  be  morning? 

Dau.  My  lord  of  Orleans,  and  my  lord  high  con- 
stable, you- talk  of  horse  and  armour, — 

Orl.  You  are  as  well  provided  of  both,  as  any 
prince  in  the  world. 

Dau.  What  a  long  night  is  this! 1  will  not 

change  my  horse  with  any  that  treads  but  on  four 
pasterns.  Ca,  ha !  He  bounds  from  the  earth,  as  if 
his  entrails  were  hairs40 5  le  cheval  volant,  the  Pe- 
gasus, qui  a  les  narines  de  feu  I  When  I  bestride 
him,  I  soar,  I  am  a  hawk:  he  trots  the  air j  the  earth 
sings  when  he  touches  it 5  the  basest  horn  of  his  hoof 
is  more  musical  than  the  pipe  of  Hermes. 


KING  HENRY  V.  389 

Orl.  He's  of  the  colour  of  the  nutmeg. 

Dau.  And  of  the  heat  of  the  ginger.  It  is  a  beast 
for  Perseus:  he  is  pure  air  and  fire;  and  the  dull 
elements  of  earth  and  water  never  appear  in  him, 
but  only  in  patient  stillness,  while  his  rider  mounts 
him:  he  is,  indeed,  a  horse;  and  all  other  jades  you 
may  call — beasts. 

Con.  Indeed,  my  lord,  it  is  a  most  absolute  and 
excellent  horse. 

Dau.  It  is  the  prince  of  palfreys;  his  neigh  is  like 
the  bidding  of  a  monarch,  and  his  countenance  en- 
forces homage. 

Orl.  No  more,  cousin. 

Dau.  Nay,  the  man  hath  no  wit,  that  cannot, 
from  the  rising  of  the  lark  to  the  lodging  of  the  lamb, 
vary  deserved  praise  on  my  palfrey :  it  is  a  theme  as 
fluent  as  the  sea ;  turn  the  sands  into  eloquent  tongues, 
and  my  horse  is  argument  for  them  all:  'tis  a  subject 
for  a  sovereign  to  reason  on,  and  for  a  sovereign's 
sovereign  to  ride  on;  and  for  the  world  (familiar  to 
us,  and  unknown,)  to  lay  apart  their  particular  func- 
tions, and  wonder  at  him.  I  once  writ  a  sonnet  in 
his  praise,  and  began  thus:    Wonder  of  nature, — 

Orl.  I  have  heard  a  sonnet  begin  so  to  one's  mis- 
tress. 

Dau.  Then  did  they  imitate  that  which  I  com- 
posed to  my  courser;  for  my  horse  is  my  mistress. 
Orl.  Your  mistress  bears  well. 
Dau.  Me  well ;  which  is  the  prescript  praise  and 
perfection  of  a  good  and  particular  mistress. 


300  KING  HENRY  V. 

Con.  Ma  foy !  the  other  day,  methought,  your 
mistress  shrewdly  shook  your  back. 

Dau.  So,  perhaps,  did  yours. 

Con.  Mine  was  not  bridled. 

Dau.  O!  then,  belike,  she  was  old  and  gentle; 
and  you  rode,  like  a  kerne  of  Ireland,  your  French 
hose  off,  and  in  your  strait  trossers41. 

Con.  You  have  good  judgment  in  horsemanship. 

Dau.  Be  warn'd  by  me  then:  they  that  ride  so, 
and  ride  not  warily,  fall  into  foul  bogs ;  I  had  rather 
have  my  horse  to  my  mistress. 

Con.  1  had  as  lief  have  my  mistress  a  jade. 

Dau.  I  tell  thee,  constable,  my  mistress  wears  her 
own  hair. 

Con.  I  could  make  as  true  a  boast  of  that,  if  I  had 
a  sow  to  my  mistress. 

Dau.  Le  chien  est  retourne  a  son  propre  vomisse- 
vient,  et  la  truie  lavee  au  lowlier :  thou  makest  use 
of  any  thing. 

Con.  Yet  do  I  not  use  my  horse  for  my  mis- 
tress; or  any  such  proverb,  so  little  kin  to  the  pur- 
pose. 

Ram.  My  lord  constable,  the  armour,  that  I  saw  in 
your  tent  to-night,  are  those  stars,  or  suns,  upon  it? 

Con.  Stars,  my  lord. 

Dau.  Some  of  them  will  fall  to-morrow,  I  hope. 

Con.  And  yet  my  sky  shall  not  want. 

Dau.  That  may  be,  for  you  bear  a  many  super- 
fluously; and  'twere  more  honour,  some  were  away. 

Con.  Even  as  your  horse  bears  your  praises;   who 


KING  HENRY  V.  3Q\ 

would  trot  as  well,  were  some  of  your  brags  dis- 
mounted. 

Dau.  'Would,  I  were  able  to  load  him  with  Ins 
desert!  Will  it  never  be  day?  I  will  trot  to-mor- 
row a  mile,  and  my  way  shall  be  paved  with  English 
faces. 

Con.  I  will  not  say  so,  for  fear  I  should  'be  faced 
out  of  my  way :  But  I  would  it  were  morning,  for 
I  would  fain  be  about  the  ears  of  the  English. 

Ram.  Who  will  go  to  hazard  with  me  for  twenty 
English  prisoners? 

Con.  You  must  first  go  yourself  to  hazard,  ere  you 
have  them. 

Dau.  'Tis  midnight,  I'll  go  arm  myself.       [Exit. 

Orl.  The  Dauphin  longs  for  morning. 

Ram.  He  longs  to  eat  the  English. 

Con.  I  think,  he  will  eat  all  he  kills. 

Orl.  By  the  white  hand  of  my  lady,  he's  a  gallant 
prince. 

Con.  Swear  by  her  foot,  that  she  may  tread  oat 
the  oath. 

Orl,  He  is,  simply,  the  most  active  gentleman  of 
France. 

Con.  Doing  is  activity;  and  he  will  still  be  doing. 

Orl.  He  never  did  harm,  that  I  heard  of. 

Con.  Nor  will  do  none  to  morrow  3  he  will  keep 
that  good  name  still. 

Orl.  I  know  him  to  be  valiant. 

Con.  I  was  told  that,,  by  one  that  knows  him 
better  than  you. 


302  KING  HENRY  V. 

Orl.  What's  he? 

Con.  Marry,  he  told  me  so  himself ;  and  he  said,, 
he  cared  not  who  knew  it. 

Orl.  He  needs  nor,  it  is  no  hidden  virtue  in 
him. 

Con.  By  my  faith,  sir,  but  it  Is  5  never  any 
body  saw  it,  but  his  lacquey:  'tis  a  hooded  valour; 
and  when  it  appears,  it  will  bate42. 

Orl.  Ill  will  never  said  well. 

Con.  I  will  cap  that  proverb  with — There  is  flat- 
tery in  friendship. 

Orl.  And  I  will  take  up  that  with — Give  the  devil 
his  due. 

Con.  Well  placed;  there  stands  your  friend  for  the 
devil :  have  at  the  very  eye  of  that  proverb,  with — 
A  pox  of  the  devil. 

Orl.  You  are  the  better  at  proverbs,  by  how 
much — A  fool's  bolt  is  soon  shot. 

Con.  You  have  shot  over. 

Orl.  Tis  not  the  first  time  you  were  overshot. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord  high  constable,  the  English  lie 
within  fifteen  hundred  paces  of  your  tent. 

Con.  Who  hath  measured  the  ground? 

Mess,  The  lord  Grandpre. 

Con.  A  valiant  and  most  expert  gentleman. — 
Would  it  were  day! — Alas,  poor  Harry  of  England! 
he  longs  not  for  the  dawning,  as  we  do. 

Orl.  What  a  wretched  and  peevish  fellow  is  this 


KING  HENRY  V.  3^3 

king  of  England,  to  mope  with  his  fat-brain  d  fol- 
lowers so  far  out  of  his  knowledge! 

Con.  If  the  English  had  any  apprehension,  they 
would  run  away. 

Orl.  That  they  lack ;  for  if  their  heads  had  any 
intellectual  armour,  they  could  never  wear  such  heavy 
head-pieces. 

Ram.  That  island  of  England  breeds  very  va- 
liant  creatures  5   their  mastiffs   are  of  unmatchable 


courage. 


Orl.  Foolish  curs!  that  run  winking  into  the 
mouth  of  a  Russian  bear,  and  have  their  heads  crush'd 
like  rotten  apples :  You  may  as  well  say, — that's  a 
valiant  flea,  that  dare  eat  his  breakfast  on  the  lip  of 
a  lion. 

Con.  .Just,  just;  and  the  men  do  sympathize  with 
the  mastiffs,  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. 

Orl.  Ay,  but  these  English  are  shrewdly  out  of 
beef. 

Con.  Then  we  shall  find  to-morrow — they  have 
only  stomachs  to  eat,  and  none  to  fight.  Now  is  it 
time  to  arm;  Come,  shall  we  about  it? 

Orl.  It  is  now  two  o'clock  :   but,  let  mc  see, — by 
ten, 
We  shall  have  each  a  hundred  Englishmen.  [Exeunt. 


\Q4  KING  HENRY  V. 


ACT  m 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chorus.     Now  entertain  conjecture  of  a  time, 
When  creeping  murmur,  and  the  poring  dark, 
Fills  the  wide  vessel  of  the  universe43. 
From  camp  to  camp,   through  the  foul  womb  of 

night, 
The  hum  of  either  army  stilly  sounds, 
That  the  fix'd  sentinels  almost  receive 
The  secret  whispers  of  each  other's  watch: 
Fire  answers  fire  5  and  through  their  paly  flames 
Each  battle  sees  the  other  s  umber'd  face : 
Steed  threatens  steed,  in  high  and  boastful  neighs 
Piercing  the  night's  dull  ear ;  and  from  the  tents, 
The  armourers,  accomplishing  the  knights, 
With  busy  hammers  closing  rivets  up, 
Give  dreadful  note  of  preparation. 
The  country  cocks  do  crow,  the  clocks  do  toll, 

And  the  third  hour  of  drowsy  morning  name. 

Proud  of  their  numbers,  and  secure  in  soul, 

The  confident  and  over-lusty  French 

Do  the  low-rated  English  play  at  dice; 

And  chide  the  cripple  tardy-gaited  night, 

Who,  like  a  foul  and  ugly  witch,  doth  limp 

So  tediously  away.     The  poor  condemned  English, 

Like  sacrifices,  by  their  watchful  fires 

Sit  patiently,  and  inly  ruminate 


KING  HENRY  V.  305 

The  morning's  clanger;  and  their  gesture  sad, 

Investing  lank-lean  cheeks,  and  war-worn  coats, 

Presenteth  them  unto  the  gazing  moon 

So  many  horrid  ghosts.     O,  now,  who  will  behold 

The  royal  captain  of  this  ruin'd  band, 

Walking  from  watch  to  watch,  from  tent  to  tent, 

Let  him  cry, — Fraise  and  glory  on  his  head! 

For  forth  he  goes,  and  visits  all  his  host; 

Bids  them  good  morrow,  with  a  modest  smile; 

And  calls  them — brothers,  friends,  and  countrymen. 

Upon  his  royal  face  there  is  no  note, 

How  dread  an  army  hath  enrounded  him; 

Nor  doth  he  dedicate  one  jot  of  colour 

Unto  (he  weary  and  all- watched  night : 

But  freshly  looks,  and  over-bears  attaint, 

With  cheerful  semblance,  and  sweet  majesty  j 

That  every  wretch,  pining  and  pale  before, 

Beholding  him,  plucks  comfort  from  his  looks : 

A  largess  universal,  like  the  sun, 

His  liberal  eye  doth  give  to  every  one, 

Thawing  cold  fear.     Then,  mean  and  gentle  all, 

Behold,  as  may  unworthiness  define, 

A  little  touch  of  Harry  in  the  night : 

And  so  our  scene  must  to  the  battle  fly; 

Where,  (O  for  pity!)  we  shall  much  disgrace — 

With  four  or  five  most  vile  and  ragged  foils, 

Bight  ill  disposd,  in  brawl  ridiculous, — 

The  name  of  Agincourt :   Yet,  sit  and  see ; 

Minding  true  things,  by  what  their  mockeries  be. 

[Exit. 


390  KING  HENRY  V. 

SCENE  I. 

The  English  Camp  at  Agincourt. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Bedford,  and  Gloster. 

K.Hen.  Gloster,   'tis  true,  that  we  are  in  great 
danger ; 
The  greater  therefore  should  our  courage  be.— 
Good  morrow,  brother  Bedford. — God  Almighty*! 
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: 
Besides,  they  are  our  outward  consciences, 
And  preachers  to  us  all  5  admonishing, 
That  we  should  dress  us  fairly  for  our  end. 
Thus  may  we  gather  honey  from  the  weed, 
And  make  a  moral  of  the  devil  himself. 

Enter  Erpingham. 

Good  morrow,  old  sir  Thomas  Erpingham44: 
A  good  soft  pillow  for  that  good  white  head 
Were  better  than  a  churlish  turf  of  France. 

Erp.    Not  so,  my  liege-    this  lodging  likes  me 
better, 
Since  I  may  say — now  lie  I  like  a  king. 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  good  for  men  to  love  their  present 
pains, 


KING  HENRY  V.  :;rj; 

Upon  example;  so  the  spirit  is  eased: 

And,  when  the  mind  is  quicken'd,  out  of  doubt, 

The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before, 

Break  up  their  drowsy  grave,  and  newly  move 

With  casted  slough  and  fresh  legerity. 

Lend  me  thy  cloak,  sir  Thomas. — Brothers  both, 

Commend  me  to  the  princes  in  our  camp; 

Do  my  good  morrow  to  them;  and,  anon, 

Desire  them  all  to  my  pavilion. 

Glo.  We  shall,  my  liege. 

[Exeunt  Gloster  and  Bedford. 

Erp.  Shall  I  attend  your  grace  ? 

K.  Hen.  No,  my  good  knight  ; 

Go  with  my  brothers  to  my  lords  of  England : 
I  and  my  bosom  must  debate  awhile, 
And  then  I  would  no  other  company. 

Erp.  The  Lord  in  heaven  bless  thee,  noble  Harry! 

[Exit  Erpingham. 

K.Hen.   God-a-mercy,  old  heart!    thou  speak'st 
cheerfully. 

Enter  Pistol. 

Pist.  Qui  va  la? 
K.  He/\  A  friend. 

Pist.  Discuss  unto  me;  Art  thou  officer? 
Or  art  thou  base,  common,  and  popular? 
A'.  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. 


3Q8  KING  HENRY  V. 

A^.  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 
J  love  the  lovely  bully.     What's  thy  name  ? 

K.  Hen.  Harry  le  Roy. 

Pist.  Le  Roy !  a  Cornish  name:  art  thou  of  Cornish 
crew? 

K.  Hen.  No,  I  am  a  Welshman. 

Pist.  Know'st  thou  Fluellen  ? 

A".  Hen.  Yes. 

Pist.  Tell  him,  I'll  knock  his  leek  about  his  pate, 
Upon  saint  David's  day. 

K.  Hen.  Do  not  you  wear  your  dagger  in  your  cap 
that  day,  lest  he  knock  that  about  yours. 

Pist.  Art  thou  his  friend? 

K.  Hen.  And  his  kinsman  too. 

Pist.  The  f. go  for  thee  then! 

K.  Hen.  I  thank  you :  God  be  with  you ! 

Pist.  My  name  is  Pistol  call'd.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.  It  sorts  well  with  your  fierceness. 

Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower,  severally. 

Gow.  Captain  Fluellen ! 

Flu.  So;  in  the  name  of  Cheshu  Christ,  speak 
lower.  It  is  the  greatest  admiration  in  the  universal 
'orld,  when  the  true  and  auncient  prerogatifes  and 
laws  of  the  wars  is  not  kept:  if  you  would  take  the 
pains  but  to  examine  the  wars  of  Pomney  the  great, 


KING  HENRY  V.  zgg 

you  shall  find,  I  warrant  you,  that  there  is  no  tiddle 
taddle,  nor  pibble  pabble,  in  Pompey's  camp;  I  war- 
rant you,  you  shall  find  the  ceremonies  of  the  wars, 
and  the  cares  of  it,  and  the  forms  of  it,  and  the  so- 
briety of  it,  and  the  modesty  of  it,  to  be  otherwise. 

Gow.  Why,  the  enemy  is  loud;  you  heard  him 
all  night. 

Flu.  If  the  enemy  is  an  ass  and  a  fool,  and  a  prat- 
ing coxcomb,  is  it  meet,  think  you,  that  we  should 
also,  look  you,  be  an  ass,  and  a  fool,  and  a  prating 
coxcomb;  in  your  own  conscience  now? 

Gow.  I  will  speak  lower. 

Flu.  I  pray  you,  and  beseech  you,  that  you  will. 

[Exeunt  Gower  and  Flucllen. 

K.  Hen.  Though  it  appear  a  little  out  of  fashion, 
There  is  much  care  and  valour  in  this  Welshman. 

Enter  Bates,  Court,  and  Williams. 

Court.  Brother  John  Bates,  is  not  that  the  morn- 
ing which  breaks  yonder  ? 

Bates.  I  think  it  be :  but  we  have  no  great  cause 
to  desire  the  approach  of  day. 

Will.  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. 

Will.  Under  what  captain  serve  you  ? 
K.  Hen.  Under  sir  Thomas  Erpingham. 
Will.  A  good  old  commander,  and  a  most  kind 
gentleman:  I  pray  you,  what  thinks  he  of  our  estate? 

VOL.  VII.  -2    E 


400  KING  HENRY  V. 

A'.  Hen.  Even  as  men  wreck'd  upcn  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, 
though  I  speak  it  to  you,  I  think  the  king  is  but 
a  man,  as  I  am :  the  violet  smells  to  him,  as  it  doth 
to  me;  the  element  shows  to  him,  as  it  doth  to  me; 
all  his  senses  have  but  human  conditions ;  his  cere- 
monies laid  by,  in  his  nakedness  he  appears  but  a 
man;  and  though  his  affections  are  higher  mounted 
than  ours,  yet,  when  they  stoop,  they  stoop  with  the 
like  wing;  therefore  when  he  sees  reason  of  fears, 
as  we  do,  his  fears,  out  of  doubt,  be  of  the  same  re- 
lish as  ours  are:  Yet,  in  reason,  no  man  should  pos- 
sess him  v/ith  any  appearance  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 
wish  himself  in  the  Thames  up  to  the  neck;  and  so 
I  would  he  were,  and  I  by  him,  at  all  adventures,  so 
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 
where  but  where  he  is. 

Bates.  Then,  'would  he  were  here  alone;  so  should 
he  be  sure  to  be  ransom'd,  and  a  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 


4 

KING  HENRY  V.  joi 

any  where  so  contented,  as  in  the  king's  company  ; 
his  cause  being  just,  and  his  quarrel  honourable. 

Will.  That's  more  than  we  know. 

Bates.  Ay,  or  more  than  we  should  seek  after 5  for 
we  know  enough,  if  we  know  we  are  the  king's  sub- 
jects :  if  his  cause  be  wrong,  our  obedience  to  the 
king  wipes  the  crime  of  it  out  of  us. 

Will.  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  off  in  a 
battle,  shall  join  together  at  the  latter  day,  and  cry 
all — We  died  at  such  a  place;  some,  swearing; 
some,  crying  for  a  surgeon;  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  disobey,  were  against  all 
proportion  of  subjection. 

K.  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  his  father  that  sent  him:  or  if  a 
servant,  under  his  master's  command,  transporting  a 
sum  of  money;  be  assail'd  by  robbers,  and  die  in 
many  irreconcil'd  iniquities,  you  may  call  the  busi- 
ness of  the  master  the  author  of  the  servant's  dam- 
nation:— But  this  is  not  so :  the  king  is  not  bound  to 


402  KING  HENRY  V. 

answer  the  particular  endings  of  his  soldiers,  the  fa- 
ther of  his  son,,  nor  the  master  of  his  servant}  for 
they  purpose  not  their  death,  when  they  purpose 
their  services.  Besides,  there  is  no  king,  be  his  cause 
never  so  spotless,  if  it  come  to  the  arbitrement  of 
swords,  can  try  it  out  with  all  unspotted  soldiers. 
Some,  peradventure,  have  on  them  the  guilt  of  pre- 
meditated and  contrived  murder ;  some,  of  beguiling 
virgins  with  the  broken  seals  of  perjury ;  some,  mak- 
ing the  wars  their  bulwark,  that  have  before  gored 
the  gentle  bosom  of  pe ace  with  pillage  and  robbery. 
Now,  if  these  men  have  defeated  the  law,  and  out- 
run native  punishment,  though  they  can  outstrip 
men,  they  have  no  wings  to  fly  from  God :  war  is  his 
beadle j  war  is  his  vengeance 5  so  that  here  men  are 
punish'd,  for  before-breach  of  the  king's  laws,  in 
now  the  king's  quarrel :  where  they  feared  the  death, 
they  have  borne  life  away  ;  and  where  they  would  be 
safe,  they  perish :  Then  if  they  die  unprovided,  no 
more  is  the  king  guilty  of  their  damnation,  than  he 
was  before  guilty  of  those  impieties  for  the  wdiich 
they  are  now  visited.  Every  subject's  duty  is  the 
king's;  but  every  subject's  soul  is  his  own.  There- 
fore should  every  soldier  in  the  wars  do  as  every 
sick  man  in  his  bed,  wash  every  mote  out  of  his 
conscience:  and  dying  so,  death  is  to  him  advan- 
tage; or  not  dying,  the  time  was  blessedly  lost, 
wherein  such  preparation  was  gained:  and,  in  him 
that  escapes,  it  were  not  sin  to  think,  that  making 
God  so  free  an  offer,  he  let  him  outlive  that  day  to 


KING  HENRY  V.  403 

see  his  greatness,  and  to  teach  others  how  they  should 
prepare. 

Will.  'Tis  certain,  every  man  that  dies  ill,  the 
ill  upon  his  own  head,  the  king  is  not  to  answer 
for  it. 

Bates.  I  do  not  desire  he  should  answer  for  me 5 
and  yet  I  determine  to  light  lustily  for  him. 

K.  Hen.  I  myself  heard  the  king  say,  he  would 
not  be  ransom'd. 

Will.  Ay,  he  said  so,  to  make  us  fight  cheer- 
fully: but,  when  our  throats  are  cut,  he  may  be 
ransom'd,  and  we  ne'er  the  wiser. 

A".  Hen.  If  I  live  to  see  it,  I  will  never  trust  his 
word  after. 

Will.  'Mass,  you'll  pay  him  then!  That's  a  pe- 
rilous shot  out  of  an  elder  gun45!  that  a  poor  and 
private  displeasure  can  do  against  a  monarch!  you 
may  as  well  go  about  to  turn  the  sun  to  ice  with 
fanning  in  his  face  with  a  peacock's  feather.  You'll 
never  trust  his  word  after!  come,  'tis  a  foolish 
saying. 

K.  Hen.  Your  reproof  is  something  too  round ; 
I  should  be  angry  with  you,  if  the  time  were  con- 
venient. 

Will.  Let  it  be  a  quarrel  between  us,  if  you  live. 

K.  Hen.  I  embrace  it. 

Will.  How  shall  I  know  thee  again  ? 

K.Hen.  Give  me  any  gage  of  thine,  and  I  will 
wear  it  in  my  bonnet:  then,  if  ever  thou  darest 
acknowledge  it,  I  will  make  it  my  quarrel. 


404  KING  HENRY  V. 

W  "ill.  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  take  thee  a  box 
on  the  ear. 

K.  Hen.  If  ever  I  live  to  see  it,  I  will  challenge  it. 

Will.  Thou  darest  as  well  be  hansfd. 

K.  Hen.  Well,  I  will  do  it,  though  I  take  thee  in 
the  king's  company. 

Will.  Keep  thy  word :  fare  thee  well. 

Bates.  Be  friends,  you  English  fools,  be  friends ; 
we  have  French  quarrels  enough,  if  you  could  tell 
how  to  reckon. 

K.  Hen.  Indeed,  the  French  may  lay  twenty 
French  crowns  to  one,  they  will  beat  us ;  for  they 
bear  them  on  their  shoulders:  But  it  is  no  English 
treason,  to  cut  French  crowns  j  and,  to-morrow,  the 
king  himself  will  be  a  clipper.  [Exeunt  Soldiers. 

Upon  the  king  46 !  let  us  our  lives,  our  souls, 
Our  debts,  our  careful  wives,  our  children,  and 
Our  sins,  lay  on  the  king  5 — we  must  bear  all. 
O  hard  condition!  twin-born  with  greatness, 
Subjected  to  the  breath  of  every  fool, 
Whose  sense  no  more  can  feel  but  his  own  wringing ! 
What  infinite  heart's  ease  must  kings  neglect, 
That  private  men  enjoy? 
And  what  have  kings,  that  privates  have  not  too, 

e  ceremony,  save  general  ceremony  ? 
And  what  art  thou,  thou  idol  ceremony? 


KING  HENRY  V.  405 

What  kind  of  god  art  thou,  that  sufFer'st  more 
Of  mortal  griefs,  than  do  thy  worshippers? 
What  are  thy  rents?  what  are  thy  comings-in? 

0  ceremony,  show  me  but  thy  worth! 
What  is  the  soul  of  adoration? 

Art  thou  aught  else  but  place,  degree,  and  form, 

Creating  awe  and  fear  in  other  men  ? 

Wherein  thou  art  less  happy  being  fear'd, 

Than  they  in  fearing. 

What  drink'st  thou  oft,  instead  of  homage  sweet, 

But  poison'd  flattery?  O,  be  sick,  great  greatness, 

And  bid  thy  ceremony  give  thee  cure ! 

Think'st  thou,  the  fiery  fever  will  go  out 

With  titles  blown  from  adulation  ? 

Will  it  give  place  to  flexure  and  low  bending  ? 

Canst  thou,  when  thou  command'st  the  beggar's  knee, 

Command  the  health  of  it?  No,  thou  proud  dream, 

That  piay'st  so  subtly  with  a  king's  repose  ; 

1  am  a  king,  that  find  thee;  and  I  know, 
'Tis  not  the  balm,  the  scepter,  and  the  ball, 
The  sword,  the  mace,  the  crown  imperial, 
The  entertissued  robe  of  gold  and  pearl, 
The  farced  title  running  'fore  the  king, 
The  throne  he  sits  on,  nor  the  tide  of  pomp 
That  beats  upon  the  high  shore  of  this  world, 
No,  not  all  these,  thrice-gorgeous  ceremony, 
Not  all  these,  laid  in  bed  majestical, 

47 Can  sleep  so  soundly  as  the  wretched  slave; 

Who,  with  a  body  fiU'd,  and  vacant  mind, 

Gets  him  to  rest,  cramm'd  with  distressful  bread; 


406  KING  HENRY  V. 

Never  sees  horrid  night,  the  child  of  hell ; 

But,  like  a  lacquey,  from  the  rise  to  set, 

Sweats  in  the  eye  of  Phoebus,  and  all  night 

Sleeps  in  Elysium j  next  day,  after  dawn, 

Doth  rise,  and  help  Hyperion  to  his  horse ; 

And  follows  so  the  ever-running;  year 

With  profitable  labour,  to  his  grave: 

And,  but  for  ceremony,  such  a  wretch, 

Winding  up  days  with  toil,  and  nights  with  sleep, 

Had  the  fore-hand  and  vantage  of  a  kins:. 

The  slave,  a  member  of  the  country's  peace, 

Enjoys  it  3  but  in  gross  brain  little  wots, 

What  watch  the  king  keeps  to  maintain  the  peace.. 

Whose  hours  the  peasant  best  advantages. 

Enter  Erpingham. 

Erp.  My  lord,  your  nobles,,  jealous  of  your  ab- 
sence, 
Seek  through  your  camp  to  find  you. 

A".  Hen.  Good  old  knight, 

Collect  them  all  together  at  my  tent: 
I'll  be  before  thee. 

Erp.  I  shall  do't,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.    O  God   of  battles!    steel   my   soldiers' 
hearts  I 
Possess  them  not  with  fear;  take  from  them  now 
The  sense  of  reckoning,  if  the  opposed  numbers 
Pluck  their  hearts  from   them! — Not  to  day,    O 

Lord, 
O  not  to-day,  think  not  upon  the  fault 


KING  HENRY  V.  407 

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  issued  forced  drops  of  blood. 
Five  hundred  poor  I  have  in  yearly  pay, 
Who  twice  a  day  their  wither'd  hands  hold  up 
Toward  heaven,  to  pardon  blood ;  and  I  have  built 
Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  still  for  Richard's  soul.     More  will  I  do: 
Though  all  that  I  can  do,  is  nothing  worth; 
Since  that  my  penitence  comes  after  all, 
Imploring  pardon48. 

Enter  Gloster. 

Glo.  My  liege! 

K.  Hen.         My  brother  Gloster's  voice? — Ay; 
I  know  thy  errand,  I  will  go  with  thee: — 
The  day,  my  friends,  and  all  things  stay  for  me. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

The  French  Camp. 

Enter  Dauphin,  Orleans,  Rameures,  and  others. 

Orl.  The  sun  doth  gild  our  armour;  up,  my  lords. 
Dau.  Montez  a  cheval: — My  horse!  valet!  lac- 
quay  !  ha! 
Orl.  O  brave  spirit! 
Dau.  Fia*9! — les  eaux  et  la  terre 


403  KING  HENRY  V. 

Orl.  Rlen  puis  ?  Voir  et  lefeu 

Dau.   del!  cousin  Orleans. 


Enter  Constable. 

Now,  my  lord  Constable! 

Con.    Hark,  how  our  steeds  for  present  service 

neis;h. 
Ban.  Mount  them,  and  make  incision  in  their 
hides; 
That  their  hot  blood  may  spin  in  English  eyes, 
And  dout  them  5°  with  superfluous  courage:   Ha  ! 
Ram.  What,  will  you  have  them  weep  our  horses' 
blood? 
How  shall  we  then  behold  their  natural  tears? 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    The  English  are  embattled,   you  French 

peers. 
Con.  To  horse,  you  gallant  princes !   straight  to 

horse ! 
Do  but  behold  yon  poor  and  starved  band, 
And  your  fair  show  shall  suck  away  their  souls, 
Leaving  them  but  the  shales  and  husks  of  men. 
There  is  not  work  enough  for  all  our  hands  j 
Scarce  blood  enough  in  all  their  sickly  veins, 
To  give  each  naked  curtle-ax  a  stain, 
That  our  French  gallants  shall  to-day  draw  out, 
And  sheath  for  lack  of  sport :  let  us  but  blow  on  them, 
The  vapour  of  our  valour  will  o'erturn  them. 
'Tis  positive  'gainst  all  exceptions,  lords, 


KING  HENRY  V.  tOQ 

That  our  superfluous  lackeys,  and  our  peasants, — 
Who,  in  unnecessary  action,  swarm 
About  our  squares  of  battle,  —  were  enough 
To  purge  this  field  of  such  a  hilding  foe51; 
Though  we,  upon  this  mountain's  basis  by 
Took  stand  for  idle  speculation: 
But  that  our  honours  must  not.     What's  to  say  ? 
A  very  little  little  let  us  do, 
And  all  is  done.     Then  let  the  trumpets  sound 
The  tucket-sonuance52,  and  the  note  to  mount: 
For  our  approach  shall  so  much  dare  the  field, 
That  England  shall  couch  down  in  fear,  and  yield. 

Enter  Grandpre'. 

Grand.  Why  do  you  stay  so  long,  my  lords  of 

France? 
Yon  island  carrions,  desperate  of  their  bones, 
I'llfavour'dly  become  the  morning  field: 
Their  ragged  curtains  poorly  are  let  loose, 
And  our  air  shakes  them  passing  scornfully. 
Big  Mars  seems  bankrupt  in  their  beggar'd  host, 
And  faintly  through  a  rusty  beaver  peeps. 
Their  horsemen  sit  like  fixed  candlesticks, 
With  torch-staves  in  their  hand53:  and  their  poor 

jades 
Lob  down  their  heads,  dropping  the  hides  and  hips ; 
The  gum  down-roping  from  their  pale  dead  eyes; 
And  in  their  pale  dull  mouths  the  gimmal  bit5+ 
Lies  foul  with  chew'd  grass,  still  and  motionless; 
And  their  executors,  the  knavish  crows, 


4 1 0  KING  HENRY  V. 

Fly  o'er  them  all,  impatient  for  their  hour.. 
Description  cannot  suit  itself  in  words, 
To  demonstrate  the  life  of  such  a  battle 
In  life  so  lifeless  as  it  shows  itself. 

Con.  They  have  said  their  prayers,  and  they  stay 
for  death. 

Dau.  Shall  we  go  send  them  dinners,  and  fresh 
suits, 
And  give,  their  fasting  horses  provender, 
And  after  fight  with  them  ? 

Con.  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  outwear  the  day.    {Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

The  English  Camp. 

Enter  the  English  Host;  Gloster,  Bedford,  Exe- 
ter, Salisbury,  and  Westmoreland. 

Glo.  Where  is  the  king  ? 

Bed.  The  king  himself  is  rode  to  view  their  battle. 

IVest.  Of  fighting  men  they  have  full  threescore 

thousand. 
Exe.  There's  five  to  one  3    besides,  they  all  are 

fresh. 
Sal.  God's  arm  strike  with  us !  'tis  a  fearful  odds. 
God  be  wi*  you,  princes  all 5  I'll  to  my  charge: 
If  we  no  more  meet,  till  we  meet  in  heaven, 


KING  HENRY  V.  41! 

Then,  joyfully, — my  noble  lord  of  Bedford, — 

My  dear  lord  Gloster, — and  my  good  lord  Exeter, — 

And  my  kind  kinsman, — warriors  all,  adieu! 

Bed.  Farewell,  good  Salisbury  5  and  good  luck  go 
with  thee! 

Exe.  Farewell,  kind  lord;  fight  valiantly  to-day: 
And  yet  I  do  thee  wrong  to  mind  thee  of  it, 
For  thou  art  fram'd  of  the  firm  truth  of  valour. 

[Exit  Salislury. 

Bed.  He  is  as  full  of  valour,  as  of  kindness; 
Princely  in  both. 

West.  O  that  we  now  had  here 

Enter  Kins:  Henry. 

But  one  ten  thousand  of  those  men  in  England, 
That  do  no  work  to-day ! 

K.  Hen.  What's  he,  that  wishes  so  ? 

My  cousin  Westmoreland? — No,  my  fair  cousin: 
If  we  are  mark'd  to  die,  we  are  enough 
To  do  our  country  loss ;  and  if  to  live, 
The  fewer  men,  the  greater  share  of  honour. 
God's  will !  I  pray  thee,  wish  not  one  man  more. 
By  Jove,  I  am  not  covetous  for  gold  5 
Nor  care  I,  who  doth  feed  upon  my  cost; 
It  yearns  me  not,  if  men  my  garments  wear; 
Such  outward  things  dwell  not  in  my  desires: 
But,  if  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honour, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive. 
No,  'faith,  my  coz,  wish  not  a  man  from  England: 
God's  peace !  I  would  not  lose  so  great  an  honour, 


412  KING  HENRY  V. 

As  one  man  more,  methinks,  would  share  from  me; 

For  the  best  hope  I  have.     O,  do  not  wish  one  more : 

Rather  proclaim  it,  Westmoreland,  through  my  host, 

That  he,  which  hath  no  stomach  to  this  fight, 

Let  him  depart ;  his  passport  shall  be  made, 

And  crowns  for  convoy  put  into  his  purse: 

We  would  not  die  in  that  mans  company, 

That  fears  his  fellowship  to  die  with  us. 

This  day  is  call'd — the  feast  of  CrispianS5 : 

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  Crispin's  day. 

Old  men  forget 5  yet  all  shall  be  forgot, 

But  he'll  remember,  with  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  Gioster, — 

Be  in  their  flowing  cups  freshly  remember'd: 

This  story  shall  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  shall  be  remembered : 

We  few,  we  happy  few,  we  band  of  brothers  j 

For  he,  to-day  that  sheds  his  blood  with  me, 


KING  HENRY  V.  413 

Shall  be  my  brother;  be  he  ne'er  so  vile, 

This  day  shall  gentle  his  condition: 

And  gentlemen  in  England,  now  a-bed, 

Shall  think  themselves  accurs'd,  they  were  not  here; 

And  hold  their  manhoods  cheap,  while  any  speaks, 

That  fought  with  us  upon  saint  Crispin's  day. 

Enter  Salisbury. 

Sal.   My  sovereign  lord,  bestow   yourself  with 
speed : 
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! 
K.  Hen.  Thou  dost  not  wish  more  help  from  Eng- 
land, cousin? 
West.   God's  will,  my  liege,   'would  you  and  f 
alone, 
Without  more  help,  might  fight  this  battle  out ! 
K.  Hen.  Why,  now  thou  hast  unwish'd  five  thou- 
sand men  5 
Which  likes  me  better,  than  to  wish  us  one. — 
You  know  your  places:  God  be  with  you  all ! 

Tucket.     Enter  Montjoy. 

Mont.  Once  more  I  come  to  know  of  thee,  king 
Harry, 
If  for  thy  ransom  thou  wilt  now  compound, 
Before  thy  most  assured  overthrow: 


414  KING  HENRY  V. 

For,  certainly,  thou  art  so  near  the  gulf, 

Thou  needs  must  be  englutted.     Besides,  In  mercy, 

The  Constable  desires  thee — thou  wilt  mind 

Thy  followers  of  repentance;   that  their  souls 

May  make  a  peaceful  and  a  sweet  retire 

From  off  these  fields,  where  (wretches)  their  poor 

bodies 
Must  lie  and  fester. 

K.  Hen.  Who  hath  sent  thee  now  ? 

Mont.  The  Constable  of  France. 

K.  Hen.  I  pray  thee,  bear  my  former  answer  back; 
Eid  them  achieve  me,  and  then  sell  my  bones. 
Cood  God !  why  should  they  mock  poor  fellows  thus  ? 
The  man,  that  once  did  sell  the  lion's  skin 
While  the  beast  liv'd,  was  kill'd  with  hunting  him. 
A  many  of  our  bodies  shall,  no  doubt, 
Find  native  graves;  upon  the  which,  I  trust, 
Shall  witness  live  in  brass  of  this  day's  work : 
And  those  that  leave  their  valiant  bones  in  France, 
Dying  like  men,  though  buried  in  your  dunghills, 
They  shall  be  fam'd;  for  there  the  sun  shall  greet 

them, 
And  draw  their  honours  reeking  up  to  heaven ; 
Leaving  their  earthly  parts  to  choke  your  clime, 
The  smell  whereof  shall  breed  a  plague  in  France. 
Mark  then  a  bounding  valour  in  our  English  $ 
That,  being  dead,  like  to  the  bullet's  grazing, 
Break  out  into  a  second  course  of  mischief, 
Killing  in  relapse  of  mortality 57. 
Let  me  speak  proudly; — Tell  the  Constable 


KING  HENRY  V.  415 

We  are  but  warriors  for  the  working  day: 
Our  gayness,  and  our  gilt,  are  all  besmirch'd 
With  rainy  marching  in  the  painful  field  3 
There's  not  a  piece  of  feather  in  our  host, 
(Good  argument,  I  hope,  we  shall  not  fly,) 
And  time  hath  worn  us  into  slovenry : 
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;  or  they  will  pluck 
The  gay  new  coats  o'er  the  French  soldiers'  heads, 
And  turn  them  out  of  service.     If  they  do  this, 
(As,  if  God  please,  they  shall,)  my  ransom  then 
Will  soon  be  levy'd.     Herald,  save  thou  thy  labour; 
Come  thou  no  more  for  ransom,  gentle  herald; 
They  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  shalt  hear  herald  any  more.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.  I  fear,  thou'lt  once  more  come  again  for 
ransom. 

Enter  the  Duke  of 'York. 

York.  My  lord,  most  humbly  on  my  knee  1  beg 
The  leading  of  the  vaward. 

K.  Hen.   Take  it,  brave  York. — Now,  soldi  rs, 
march  away :  — 
And  how  thou  pleasest,  God,  dispose  the  day ! 

[JBa  t 

VOL.  VII.  3    F 


416  KING  HENRY  V. 


SCENE  IV. 

The  Field  of  Battle. 

Alarums;  Excursions;   Enter  French  Soldier, 
Pistol,  and  Boy. 

Pist.  Yield,  cur. 

Fr.  Sol.  Je  pense,  que  vous  estes  le  gentilhomme  de 
bonne  qualite. 

Pist.  Quality,  call  you  me? — Construe  me,  art 
thou  a  gentleman?  What  is  thy  name?  discuss. 

Fr.  Sol.   O  seigneur  Dieu! 

Pist.  O,  signieur  Dew  should  be  a  gentleman: — 
Perpend  my  words,  O  signieur  Dew,  and  mark; — 
O  signieur  Dew,  thou  diest  on  point  of  fox, 
Except,  O  signieur,  thou  do  give  to  me 
Egregious  ransom. 

Fr.  Sol.  0,prenne%  misericorde !  ayezpitie  de  moy ! 

Pist.  Moy  shall  not  serve,  I  will  have  forty  moys ; 
For  I  will  fetch  thy  rim  out  at  thy  throat, 
Jn  drops  of  crimson  blood. 

Fr.  Sol.  Est  il  impossible  d'eschapper  la  force  de 
ton  bras? 

Pist.  Brass,  cur 59 ! 
Thou  damned  and  luxurious  mountain  goat, 
OrTer'st  me  brass  ? 

Fr.  Sol.   O  pardonnez  moy ! 

Pist.  Say'st  thou  me  so  ?  is  that  a  ton  of  moys  60? — 


Drawn   by-  'Lvuih&bourq 


Eiurrm  d  i 


KING  HENRY  V.  417 

Come  hither,  boy;  Ask  me  this  slave  in  French, 
What  is  his  name. 

Boy.  Escoutez;  Comment  estes  vous  appelle  ? 

Fr.  Sol.  Monsieur  le  Fer. 

Boy.  He  says,  his  name  is — master  Fer. 

Pist.  Master  Fer!  I'll  fer  him,  and  firk  him,  and 
ferret  him:  —  discuss  the  same  in  French  unto  him. 

Boy.  I  do  not  know  the  French  for  fer,  and  ferret, 
and  firk. 

Pist.  Bid  him  prepare,  for  I  will  cut  his  throat. 

Fr.  Sol.   Que  dit-il,  monsieur? 

Boy.  //  me  commande  de  vous  dire  que  vous  faites 
vous  prest;  car  ce  soldat  icy  est  dispose  tout  a  cette 
heure  de  couper  vostre  gorge. 

Pist.  Ouy,  couper  gorge,  par  ma  foy,  pesant, 
Unless  thou  give  me  crowns,  brave  crowns ; 
Or  mangled  shalt  thou  be  by  this  my  sword. 

Fr.  Sol.  0,  je  vous  supplie  pour  V amour  de  Dieu, 
me  pardonncr!  Je  suis  gentilhomme  de  lonne  maison  : 
gardez  ma  vie,  &  je  vous  donneray  deux  cents 
escus. 

Pist.  What  are  his  words  ? 

Boy.  He  prays  you  to  save  his  life:  he  is  a  gen- 
tleman of  a  good  house  5  and,  for  his  ransom,  he  will 
give  you  two  hundred  crowns. 

Pist.  Tell  him, — my  fury  shall  abate,  and  I 
The  crowns  will  take. 

Fr.  Sol.  Petit  monsieur,  que  dit-il? 

Boy.  Encore  qu'il  est  contre  sonjurement,  de  par- 
donner  aucun  prisonnier;  neantmoins,  pour  les  escus 


418  KING  HENRY  V. 

que  vous  Cave%  promis,  il  est  content  de  vous  donmr 
la  liberie,  le  franchisement. 

Fr.  Sol.  Snr  mes  geneux,  je  vous  donne  milk  re- 
vierciemens :  &je  m'estime  heureux  queje  suis  tombe 
entre  les  mains  d'un  chevalier,  je  pense,  le  plus  brave, 
valiant,  &  tres  distingue  seigneur  d'Angleterre. 

Pist.  Expound  unto  me,  boy. 

Boy.  He  gives  you,  upon  his  knees,  a  thousand 
thanks :  and  he  esteems  himself  happy  that  he  hath 
fallen  into  the  hands  of,  (as  he  thinks)  the  most  brave, 
valorous,  and  thrice-worthy  signieur  of  England. 

Pist.  As  I  suck  blood,  I  will  some  mercy  show. — 
Follow  me,  cur.  [Exit  Pistol. 

Boy.  Suivez  vous  le  grand  capitaine. 

[Exit  French  Soldier. 
I  did  never  know  so  full  a  voice  issue  from  so  empty 
a  heart:  but  the  saying  is  true, — The  empty  vessel 
makes  the  greatest  sound.  iSardolph,  and  Nym,  had 
ten  times  more  valour  than  this  roaring  devil  i'the 
old  play61,  that  every  one  may  pare  his  nails  with  a 
wooden  dagger:  and  they  are  both  hang^  and  so 
would  this  be,  if  he  durst  steal  any  thing  ad  vent' rou  sly. 
I  must  stay  with  the  lackeys,  with  the  luggage  of  our 
camp:  the  French  might  have  a  good  prey  of  us, 
if  he  knew  of  it;  for  there  is  none  to  guard  it,  but 
boys.  [Exit. 


KING  HENRY  V.  419 

SCENE  V. 

Another  Part  of  the  Field  of  Battle. 

Alarums.     Enter  Dauphin,   Orleans,    Bourbon, 
Constable,  Rambures,  and  others. 

Con.  0  diable  t 

Orl.  0  seigneur! — lejour  est  perdu,  tout  est  perdu  1 
Dau.  Mort  de  ma  vie!  all  is  confounded,  all ! 
Reproach  and  everlasting  shame 
Sits  mocking  in  our  plumes.  —  O  meschante  fortune ! 
Do  not  run  away.  [A  short  alarum* 

Con.  Why,  all  our  ranks  are  broke. 

Dau.  O  perdurable  shame! — let's  stab  ourselves. 
Be  these  the  wretches  that  we  play'd  at  dice  for? 
Orl.  Is  this  the  king  we  sent  to  for  his  ransom? 
Bour.    Shame,   and   eternal  shame,   nothing   but 
shame ! 
Let  us  die  instant:  Once  more  back  again; 
And  he  that  will  not  follow  Bourbon  now, 
Let  him  go  hence,  and,  with  his  cap  in  hand, 
Like  a  base  pander,  hold  the  chamber- door, 
Whilst  by  a  slave,  no  gentler  than  my  dog, 
His  fairest  daughter  is  contaminate. 

Con.  Disorder,  that  hath  spoil'd  us,  friend  us  now ! 
Let  us,  in  heaps,  go  offer  up  our  lives 
Unto  these  English,  or  else  die  with  fame. 
Orl.  We  are  enough,  yet  living  in  the  field, 


A20  KING  HENRY  V. 

To  smother  up  the  English  in  our  throngs, 
If  any  order  might  be  thought  upon. 

Bout.  The  devil  take  order  now !  I'll  to  the  throng; 
Let  life  be  short;  else,  shame  will  be  too  long. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   VI. 

Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Alarums.    Enter  King  Henry  and  Forces;  Exeter, 

and  others. 

K.  Hen.  Well  have  we  done,  thriee -valiant  coun- 
trymen ; 
But  all's  not  done,  yet  keep  the  French  the  field. 

Exe.  The  duke  of  York  commends  him  to  your 
majesty. 

K.  Hen.  Lives  he,  good  uncle?  thrice,  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,)  doth  he  lie, 
Larding  the  plain :  and  by  his  bloody  side, 
(Yoke-fellow  to  his  honour-owing  wounds,) 
The  noble  earl  of  Suffolk  also  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! 


KING  HENRY  V.  421 

My  soul  shall  thine  keep  company  to  heaven  : 

Tarry,  sweet  soul,  for  mine,  then  fly  a-ireast  j 

As,  in  this  glorious  and  w ell- 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  hand62, 

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  fore'd 

Those  waters  from  me,  which  I  would  have  stopp'd; 

But  I  had  not  s6  much  of  man  in  me, 

But  all  my  mother  came  into  mine  eyes, 

And  gave  me  up  to  tears. 

A'.  Hen.  I  blame  you  not ; 

For,  hearing  this,  I  must  perforce  compound 
With  mistful  eyes,  or  they  will  issue  too. — 

[Alarum. 
But,  hark!  what  new  alarum  is  this  same? — 
The  French  have  reinfore'd  their  scatter'd  men : — 
Then  every  soldier  kill  his  prisoners ; 
Give  the  word  through.  [Exeunt. 


422  KING  HENRY  V, 

SCENE  VII. 
Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Alarums.     Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower. 

Flu.  Kill  the  poys  and  the  luggage  63 !  'tis  expressly 
against  the  law  of  arms :  'tis  as  arrant  a  piece  of 
knavery,  mark  you  now,  as  can  be  ofterd,  in  the 
'orld:   In  your  conscience  now,  is  it  not? 

Gow.  'Tis  certain,  there's  not  a  boy  left  alive ;  and 
the  cowardly  rascals,  that  ran  from  the  battle,  have 
done  this  slaughter:  besides,  they  have  burn'd  and 
carried  away  all  that  was  in  the  king's  tent;  where- 
fore the  king,  most  worthily,  hath  caused  every  soldier 
to  cut  his  prisoner's  throat.     O,  'tis  a  gallant  king! 

Flu .  Av^he^jw as  j)orn  ^^^ipjnmoujth^  cap.  t  a  i  a 
Gower:  What  call  you  the  town's  name,  where 
Alexander  the  pig  was  born  ? 

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 
magnanimous,  are  all  one  reckonings,  save  the  phrase 
is  a  little  variations. 

Gow.  I  think,  Alexander  the  great  was  born  in 
Macedon;  his  father  was  called — Philip  of  Macedon, 
as  I  take  it. 

Flu.  I  think,  it  is  in  Macedon,  where  Alexander 
is  porn.  I  tell  you,  captain, — If  you  look  in  the 
maps  of  the  'orld,  I    warrant,  you  shall   find,   in 


KING  HENRY  V.  423 

the  comparisons  between  Macedon  and  Monmouth, 
that  the  situations,  look  you,  is  both  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  prains,  what  is  the  name  of  the 
other  river  j  but  'tis  all  one,  'tis  so  like  as  my  fingers 
is  to  my  fingers,  and  there  is  salmons  in  both.  If 
you  mark  Alexander's  life  well,  Harry  of  Monmouth's 
life  is  come  after  it  indifferent  well  ;  for  there  is 
figures  in  all  things.  Alexander  (God  knows,  and 
you  know,)  in  his  rages,  and  his  furies,  and  his 
wraths,  and  his  cholers,  and  his  moods,  and  his  dis- 
pleasures, and  his  indignations,  and  also  being  a 
little  intoxicates  in  his  prains,  did,  in  his  ales  and  his 
angers,  look  you,  kill  his  pest  friend,  Clytus. 

Gow.  Our  king  is  not  like  him  in  that 5  he  never 
kill'd  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 
finislvd.  I  speak  but  in  the  figures  and  comparisons 
of  it:  As  Alexander  is  kill  his  friend  Clytus,  being- 
in  his  ales  and  his  cups;  so  also  Harry  Monmouth, 
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  knaveries,  and 
mocks;  I  am  forget  his  name. 

Gow.  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

Flu.  That  is  he:  I  can  tell  you,  there  is  goot  men 
porn  at  Monmouth. 

Gou\  Here  comes  his  majesty. 


424  KING  HENRY  V. 

Alarum.  Enter  King  Henry,  luith  a  part  of  the 
English  Forces;  Warwick,  Gloster,  Exeter, 
a?id  others. 

K.  Hen.  I  was  not  angry  since  I  came  to  France, 
Until  this  instant. — Take  a  trumpet,  herald ; 
Hide  thou  unto  the  horsemen  on  yon  hill; 
If  they  will  fight  with  us,  bid  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: 
Besides,  we'll  cut  the  throats  of  those  we  havej 
And  not  a  man  of  them,  that  we  shall  take, 
Shall  taste  our  mercy: — Go,  and  tell  them  so. 

Enter  Montjoy. 

Exe.  Here  comes  the  Herald  of  the  French,  my 
liege. 

Glo.  His  eyes  are  humbler  than  they  us'd  to  be. 

K.  Hen.    How  now !    what  means  this,  herald  ? 
know'st  thou  not, 
That  I  have  find  these  bones  of  mine  for  ransom  ? 
ConVst  thou  again  for  ransom  ? 

Mont.  No,  great  king :    . 

I  come  to  thee  for  charitable  licence, 
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  menj 
For  many  of  our  princes  (woe  the  while!) 


KING  HENRY  V.  425 

Lie  drown  d  and  soak'd  in  mercenary  blood ; 
(So  do  our  vulgar  drench  their  peasant  limbs 
In  blood  of  princes  3)  and  their  wounded  steeds 
Fret  fetlock  deep  in  gore,  and,  with  wild  rage, 
Yerk  out  their  armed  heels  at  their  dead  masters, 
Killing  them  twice.     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  God,  and  not  our  strength, 
for  it!— 
What  is  this  castle  calFd,  that  stands  hard  by? 

Mont.  They  call  it — Agincourt. 

K.  Hen.  Then  call  we  this  the  field  of  Agincourt, 
Fought  on  the  day  of  Crispin  Crispianus. 

Flu.  Your  grandfather  of  famous  memory,  an't 
please  your  majesty,  and  your  great  uncle  Edward 
the  plack  prince  of  Wales,  as  I  have  read  in  the 
chronicles,  fought  a  most  prave  pattle  here  in  France. 

K.  Hen.  They  did,  Fluellen. 

Flu.  Your  majesty  says  very  true:    If  your  ma- 
jesties is  rememberd  of  it,  the  Welchmen  did  goot 
service  in  a  garden  where  leeks  did  grow,  wearing 
leeks  in  their  Monmouth  caps  3  which,  your  majesty 
knows,  to  this  hour  is  an  honourable  padge  of  the 


425  KING  HENRY  V. 

service:  and,  I  do  believe,  your  majesty  takes  no 
scorn  to  wear  the  leek  upon  saint  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  Wye  cannot  wash  your  ma- 
jesty's Welch  plood  out  of  your  pody,  I  can  tell  you 
that:  Got  pless  it  and  preserve  it,  as  long  as  it  pleases 
his  grace,  and  his  majesty  too! 

K.  Hen.  Thanks,  good  my  countryman. 
Flu.  By  Cheshu,  I  am  your  majesty's  country- 
man, I  care  not  who  know  it;  I  will  confess  it  to  all 
the  'orld:  I  need  not  to  be  ashamed  of  your  majesty, 
praised  be  God,  so  long  as  your  majesty  is  an  honest 
man. 

K.  Hen.  God  keep  me  so! — Our  heralds  go  with 
him ; 
Bring  me  just  notice  of  the  numbers  dead 
On  both  our  parts.     Call  yonder  fellow  hither. 

[Points  to  Williams.     Exeunt  Montjoy,  and 
others. 
Exe.  Soldier,  you  must  come  to  the  king. 
K.  Hen.  Soldier,  why  wear'st  thou  that  glove  in 
thy  cap? 

Will.  An't  please  your  majesty,  'tis  the  gage  of 
one  that  I  should  fight  withal,  if  he  be  alive. 
K.  Hen.  An  Englishman? 

Will.  An't  please  your  majesty,  a  rascal,  that 
swagger'd  with  me  last  night:  who,  if  'a  live,  and 
ever  dare  to  challenge  this  glove,  I  have  sworn  to 


KING  HENRY  V.  427 

take  him  a  box  o'the  ear :  or,  if  I  can  see  my  glove 
in  his  cap,  (which  he  swore,  as  he  was  a  soldier,  he 
would  wear,  if  alive,)  I  will  strike  it  out  soundly. 

A'.  Hen.  What  think  you,  captain  Fluellen  ?  is  it 
fit  this  soldier  keep  his  oath? 

Flu.  He  is  a  craven  and  a  villain  else,  an't  please 
your  majesty,  in  my  conscience. 

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  necessary, 
look  your  grace,  that  he  keep  his  vow  and  his  oath: 
if  he  be  perjured,  see  you  now,  his  reputation  is  as 
arrant  a  villain,  and  a  Jack-sauce,  as  ever  his  piack 
shoe  trod  upon  Got's  ground  and  his  earth,  in  my 
conscience,  la. 

K.  Hen.  Then  keep  thy  vow,  sirrah,  when  thou 
meet'st  the  fellow. 

Will.  So  I  will,  my  liege,  as  I  live. 

K.  Hen.  Who  servest  thou  under  ? 

Will.  Under  captain  Gower,  my  liege. 

Flu.  Gower  is  a  goot  captain;  and  is  good  know- 
ledge and  literature  in  the  wars. 

K.  Hen.  Call  him  hither  to  me,  soldier. 

Will.  I  will,  my  liege.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.  Here,  Fluellen ;  wear  thou  this  favour 
for  me,  and  stick  it  in  thy  cap:  When  Alenqon  and 
myself  were  down  together,  I  pluck' d  this  glove 
from  his  helm:  if  any  man  challenge  this,  he  is  a 
friend  to  Alencon,  and  an  enemy  to  our  person ;  if 


428  KING  HENRY  V. 

thou  encounter  any  such,  apprehend  him,  an  thou 
dost  love  me. 

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  aggrief'd  at  this  glove,  that  is  all;  but  I 
would  fain  see  it  once;  an  please  Got  of  his  grace, 
that  I  might  see  it. 

K.  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  my  tent. 

Flu.  I  will  fetch  him.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.  My  lord  of  Warwick, — and  my  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; 
It  is  the  soldier's;  I,  by  bargain,  should 
Wear  it  myself.     Follow,  good  cousin  Warwick  : 
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, 
And  quickly  will  return  an  injury: 
Follow,  and  see  there  be  no  harm  between  them. — 
Go  you  with  me,  uncle  of  Exeter.  [Exeunt. 


KING  HENRY  V.  429 

SCENE    VI I L 

Before  King  Henry  s  Pavilion. 

Enter  Gower  and  Williams. 
Will.  I  warrant,  it  is  to  knight  you,  captain. 

Enter  Fluellen. 

Flu.  Got's  will  and  his  pleasure,  captain,  I  pe- 
seech  you  now,  come  apace  to  the  king:  there  is 
more  goot  towards  you,  peradventure,  than  is  in 
your  knowledge  to  dream  of. 

Will.  Sir,  know  you  this  glove? 

Flu.  Know  the  glove  ?  I  know  the  glove  is  a 
glove. 

Will.  I  know  this ;  and  thus  I  challenge  it. 

[Strikes  him. 

Flu.  'Sblud,  an  arrant  traitor,  as  any's  in  the  uni- 
versal 'orld,  or  in  France,  or  in  England. 

Gow.  How  now,  sir?  you  villain! 

Will.  Do  you  think  I'll  be  forsworn  ? 

Flu.  Stand  away,  captain  Gower  j  I  will  give  trea- 
son his  payment  into  plows C4,  I  warrant  you. 

Will.  I  am  no  traitor. 

Flu.  That's  a  lie  in  thy  throat. — I  charge  you  in 
his  majesty's  name,  apprehend  him ;  he's  a  friend  of 
the  duke  Alencon's. 


430  KING  HENRY  V. 

Enter  Warwick  and  Gloster. 

War.  How  now,  how  now!  what's  the  matter? 

Flu.  My  lord  of  Warwick,  here  is  (praised  be  Got 
for  it!)  a  most  contagious  treason  come  to  light,  look 
you,  as  you  shall  desire  in  a  summer's  day.  Here  is 
his  majesty. 

Enter  King  Henry  and  Exeter. 

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 
majesty  is  take  out  of  the  helmet  of  Alencpn. 

Will.  My  liege,  this  was  my  glove ;  here  is  the 
fellow  of  it:  and  he,  that  I  gave  it  to  in  change, 
promised  to  wear  it  in  his  cap ;  I  promised  to  strike 
him,  if  he  did:  I  met  this  man  with  my  glove  in 
his  cap,  and  I  have  been  as  good  as  my  word. 

Flit.  Your  majesty  hear  now,  (saving  your  ma- 
jesty's manhood,)  what  an  arrant,  rascally,  beggarly, 
lowsy  knave  it  is:  I  hope,  your  majesty  is  pear  me 
testimony,  and  witness,  and  avouchments,  that  this 
is  the  glove  of  Alencon,  that  your  majesty  is  give 
me,  in  your  conscience  now. 

K.  Hen.  Give  me  thy  glove,  soldier;  Look,  here 
is  the  fellow  of  it.  Twas  I,  indeed,  thou  pro- 
mised'st  to  strike ;  and  thou  hast  given  me  raoit  bitter 
terms. 

Flic.  An  please  your  majesty,  let  his  neck  answer 
for  it,  if  there  is  any  martial  law  in  the  'orld. 


KING  HENRY  V.  431 

A".  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. 

Will.  Your  majesty  came  not  like  yourself :  you 
appear'd  to  me  but  as  a  common  man;  witness  the 
night,  your  garments,  your  lowliness;  and  what 
your  highness  suffer' d  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. 

A".  Hen.  Here,  uncle  Exeter,  fill  this  glove  with 
crowns, 
And  give  it  to  this  fellow. — Keep  it,  fellow; 
And  wear  it  for  an  honour  in  thy  cap, 
Till  I  do  challenge  it. — Give  him  the  crowns : — 
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  serve  Got,  and 
keep  you  out  of  prawls,  and  prabbles,  and  quarrels, 
and  dissensions,  and  I  warrant  you,  it  is  the  petter 
for  you. 

Will.  I  will  none  of  your  money. 

Flu.  It  is  with  a  goot  will;  I  can  tell  you,  it  will 
serve  you  to  mend  your  shoes:  Come,  wherefore 
should  you  b^.  so  pashful  ?  your  shoes  is  not  so  goot : 
'tis  a  goot  silling,  I  warrant  you,  or  I  will  change, 
it. 

VOL.  VII.  2   G 


.4T2  KING  HENRY  V. 

Enter  an  English  Herald. 

K.  Hen.  Now,  herald ;  are  the  dead  number'd? 

Her.  Here  is  the  number  of  the  slaughter'd  French. 

[Delivers  a  paper. 

K.  Hen.  What  prisoners  of  good  sort  are  taken, 
uncle  ? 

Exe.  Charles  duke  of  Orleans 6S,  nephew  to  the 
king; 
John  duke  of  Bourbon,  and  lord  Bouciqualt: 
Of  other  lords,  and  barons,  knights,  and  'squires, 
Full  fifteen  hundred,  besides  common  men. 

K.  Hen.  This  note  doth  tell  me  of  ten  thousand 
French, 
That  in  the  field  lie  slain:  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 ; 
The  rest  are — princes,  barons,  lords,  knights,  'squires, 
And  gentlemen  of  blood  and  quality. 
The  names  of  those  their  nobles  that  lie  dead, — 
Charles  De-la-bret,  high  constable  of  France; 
Jaques  of  Chatillon,  admiral  of  France; 
The  master  of  the  cross-bows,  lord  Rambures; 
Great  master  of  France,    the   brave  sir   Guischard 
Dauphin ; 


KING  HENRY  V.  4JJ 

John  Duke  of  Alenc,on;  Antony  (lake  of  Brabant, 
The  brother  to  the  duke  of  Burgundy  \ 
And  Edward  duke  of  Bar:  of  lusty  earls, 
Grandpre,  and  Roussi,  Fauconberg,  and  Foix, 
Beaumont,  and  Marie,  Vaudemont,  and  Lestrale. 
Here  was  a  royal  fellowship  of  death! 
Where  is  the  number  of  our  English  dead  ? 

[Herald  presents  another  paper. 
Edward  the  duke  of  York,  the  earl  of  Suffolk, 
Sir  Richard  Ketly,  Davy  Gam,  esquire : 
None  else  of  name ;  and,  of  all  other  men, 
But  five  and  twenty.     O  God,  thy  arm  was  here, 
And  not  to  us,  but  to  thy  arm  alone, 
Ascribe  we  all. — When,  without  stratagem, 
But  in  plain  shock,  and  even  play  of  battle, 
Was  ever  known  so  great  and  little  loss, 
On  one  part  and  on  the  other? — Take  it,  God, 
For  it  is  only  thine! 

Exe.  'Tis  wonderful ! 

K.  Hen.  Come,  go  we  in  procession  to  the  village: 
And  be  it  death  proclaim'd  through  our  host, 
To  boast  of  this,  or  take  that  praise  from  God, 
Which  is  his  only. 

Flu.  Is  it  not  lawful,  an  please  your  majesty,  t  .• 
tell  how  many  is  kill'd  ? 

K.  Hen.  Yes,  captain ;  but  with  this  acknowledg- 
ment, 
That  God  fought  for  us. 

Flu.  Yes,  my  conscience,  he  did  us  great  goot. 

A".  Hen.  Do  we  all  holy  rites 5 


434  KING  HENRY  V. 

Let  there  be  sung  Non  nobis,  and  Te  Deum™. 
The  dead  with  charity  enclos'd  in  clay, 
We'll  then  to  Calais  j  and  to  England  then  j 
Where  ne'er  from  France  arriv'd  more  happy  men. 

\Exeurft. 


KING  HENRY  V.  435 


ACT    V. 


Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  Vouchsafe  to  those  that  have  not  read  the 
story, 
That  I  may  prompt  them :  and  of  such  as  have, 
I  humbly  pray  them  to  admit  the  excuse 
Of  time,  of  numbers,  and  due  course  of  things, 
Which  cannot  in  their  huge  and  proper  life 
Be  here  presented.     Now  we  bear  the  king 
Toward  Calais:  grant  him  there;  there  seen, 
Heave  him  away  upon  your  winged  thoughts, 
Athwart  the  sea:  Behold,  the  English  beach 
Pales  in  the  flood  with  men,  with  wives,  and  boys, 
Whose  shouts  and  claps  out-voice  the  deep-mouth'd 

sea, 
Which,  like  a  mighty  whiffler67  'fore  the  king, 
Seems  to  prepare  his  way:  so  let  him  land; 
And,  solemnly,  see  him  set  on  to  London. 
So  swift  a  pace  hath  thought,  that  even  now 
You  may  imagine  him  upon  Blackheath: 
Where  that  his  lords  desire  him,  to  have  borne 
His  bruised  helmet,  and  his  bended  sword, 
Before  him,  through  the  city :  he  forbids  it, 
Being  free  from  vainness  and  self-glorious  pride ; 
Giving  full  tfophy,  signal,  and  ostent, 
Quite  from  himself,  to  God.     But  now  behold, 
In  the  quick  forge  and  workinghouse  of  though t, 


436  KING  HENRY  V. 

How  London  doth  pour  out  her  citizen.-! 
The  mayor,  and  all  his  brethren,  in  best  sort, — 
Like  to  the  senators  of  the  antique  Rome, 
With  the  plebeians  swarming  at  their  heels, — 
Go  forth,  and  fetch  their  conquering  Caesar  in : 
As,  by  a  lower  but  by  loving  likelihood68, 
Were  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress 
(As,  in  good  time,  he  may,)  from  Ireland  coming, 
Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword, 
How  many  would  the  peaceful  city  quit, 
To  welcome  him?  much  more,  and  much  more  cause, 
Did  they  this  Harry.     Now  in  London  place  him; 
(As  yet  the  lamentation  of  the  French 
Invites  the  king  of  England's  stay  at  home : 
The  emperor's  coming  in  behalf  of  France, 
To  order  peace  between  them;)  and  omit 
All  the  occurrences,  whatever  chanc'd, 
Till  Harry's  back-return  again  to  France; 
There  must  we  bring  him;  and  myself  have  play'd 
The  interim,  by  remembering  you — 'tis  past. 
Then  brook  abridgment;  and  your  eyes  advance 
After  your  thoughts,  straight  back  again  to  France. 

[Exit. 

SCENE  I. 

France.     Jn  English  Court  nf  guard. 

Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower. 

Gow.  Nay,  that's  right;   But  why  wear  you  your 
leek  to-day?  saint  Davy's  day  is  past. 


KING  HENRY  V.  43? 

Flu.  There  is  occasions  and  causes  why  and 
wherefore  in  all  things :  I  will  tell  you,  as  my  friend, 
captain  Gower;  The  rascally,  scald,  beggarly,  lowsy, 
pragging  knave,  Pistol, — which  you  and  yourself, 
and  all  the  'orld,  know  to  be  no  petter  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  I  could 
not  breed  no  contentions  with  him ;  but  I  will  be  so 
pold  as  to  wear  it  in  my  cap  till  1  see  him  once  again, 
and  then  I  will  tell  him  a  little  piece  of  my  desires. 

Enter  Pistol. 

Gow,  Why,  here  he  comes,  swelling  like  a  turkey- 
cock. 

Flu.  'Tis  no  matter  for  his  swellings,  nor  his 
turkey-cocks. — Got  pless  you,  ancient  Pistol!  you 
scurvy,  lowsy  knave,  Got  pless  you ! 

Pist.  Ha !  art  thou  Bedlam  ?  dost  thou  thirst,  base 
Trojan, 
To  have  me  fold  up  Parca's  fatal  web  ? 
Hence!  I  am  qualmish  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,  I  would 
desire  you  to  eat  it. 

Pist.  Not  for  Cadwallader,  and  all  his  goats. 


438  KING  HENRY  V. 

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  Got's 
will  is:  I  will  desire  you  to  live  in  the  mean  time, 
and  eat  your  victuals  5  come,  there  is  sauce  for  it. 
[Striking  him  again.']  You  call'd  me  yesterday, 
mountain-squire j  but  I  will  make  you  to-day  a 
squire  of  low  degree.  I  pray  you,  fall  to  5  if  you 
can  mock  a  leek,  you  can  eat  a  leek. 

Gow.  Enough,  captain ;  you  have  astonish' d  him. 

Flu.  I  say,  I  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  this  leek,  I  will  most  horribly  revenge 5 
I  eat,  and  eat,  I  swear. 

Flu.  Eat,  J  pray  you:  Will  you  have  some  more 
sauce  to  your  leek  ?  there  is  not  enough  leek  to  swear 
by.  _ 

Pist.  Quiet  thy  cudgel;  thou  dost  see,  I  eat. 

Flu.  Much  goot  do  you,  scald  knave,  heartily. 
Nay,  'pray  you,  throw  none  away  3  the  skin  is  goot 
for  your  proken  coxcomb.  When  you  take  occa- 
sions to  see  leeks  hereafter,  I  pray,  you,  mock  zt 
them ;  that  is  all. 


KING    HENRY    V, 

7%£,  <.f,  i  ■//;  if  6J  g.&fr£/-ffr  tew 

0  ,  /     v  ,      / 

/.■  r\uiur  tint1 y^ttr  />/<  i  -'<>  ,<v"  l/iifTr<.i',-'.j. 


'  2>»f7i  >>'  /J   B 


KING  HENRY  V.  43g 

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  j  you  shall  be  a  woodmonger,  and  buy  no- 
thing of  me  but  cudgels.  Got  be  wi'  you,  and  keep 
you,  and  heal  your  pate.  [Exit. 

Pist.  All  hell  shall  stir  for  tin's. 

Goiv.  Go,  go;  you  are  a  counterfeit  cowardly 
knave.  Will  you  mock  at  an  ancient  tradition, — 
begun  upon  an  honourable  respect,  and  worn  as  a 
memorable  trophy  of  predeceas'd  valour, — and  dare 
not  avouch  in  your  deeds  any  of  your  words?  I 
have  seen  you  gleeking  and  galling  at  this  gentle- 
man 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  Welch  correction 
teach  you  a  good  English  condition.     Fare  ye  well. 

[Exit69. 

Pist.  Doth  fortune  play  the  huswife  with  me  now  ? 
News  have  I,  that  my  Nell  is  dead  i'the  spittal 
Of  malady  of  France  j 
And  there  my  rendezvous  is  quite  cut  off. 
Old  I  do  wax;  and  from  my  weary  limbs 


440  KING  HENRY  V. 

Honour  is  cudgell'd.     Well,  bawd  will  I  turn, 
And  something  lean  to  cutpurse  of  quick  hand. 
To  England  will  I  steal,  and  there  I'll  steal : 
And  patches  will  I  get  unto  these  scars, 
And  swear,  I  got  them  in  the  Gallia  wars.        [Exit. 

SCENE   II. 

Troyes  in  Champagne.    An  Apartment  in  the  French 

King's  Palace. 

Enter,  at  one  door,  King  Henry,  Bedford,  Gloster, 
Exeter,  Warwick,  Westmoreland,  and  other 
Lords;  at  another,  the  French  King,  Queen  Isabel, 
the  Princess  Katharine,  Lords,  Ladies,  tffc.  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  his  Train, 

K.  Hen.  Peace  to  this  meeting,  wherefore  we  are 
met! 
Unto  our  brother  France, — and  to  our  sister, 
Health  and  fair  time  of  day: — joy  and  good  wishes 
To  our  most  fair  and  princely  cousin  Katharine j 
And  (as  a  branch  and  member  of  this  royalty, 
By  whom  this  great  assembly  is  contriv'd,) 
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  face, 
Most  worthy  brother  England;  fairly  met: — 
So  are  you,  princes  English,  every  one. 

Q.  Isa.  So  happy  be  the  issue,  brother  England, 
Of  this  good  day,  and  of  this  gracious  meeting, 


KING  HENRY  V.  441 

As  we  are  now  glad  to  behold  your  eyes  j 
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.  Y'ou  English  princes  all,  I  do  salute  you. 
Bur.  My  duty  to  you  both,  on  equal  love, 
Great  kings  of  France  and  England!  That  I  have  la- 

bour'd 
With  all  my  wits,  my  pains,  and  strong  endeavours, 
To  bring  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  prevail'd, 
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? 
Alas!  she  hath  from  France  too  long  been  chas'd; 
And  all  her  husbandry  doth  lie  on  heaps, 
Corrupting  in  its  own  fertility. 
Her  vine,  the  merry  cheerer  of  the  heart, 
Unpruned  dies:  her  hedges  even-pleach'd, — 


442  KING  HENRY  V. 

Like  prisoners  wildly  over-grown  with  hair, 
Put  forth  disorder'd  twigs  :  her  fallow  leas 
The  darnel,  hemlock,  and  rank  fumitory, 
Doth  root  upon ;  while  that  the  coulter  rusts, 
That  should  deracinate  such  savagery: 
The  even  mead,  that  erst  brought  sweetly  forth 
The  freckled  cowslip,  burnet,  and  green  clover, 
"Wanting  the  scythe,  all  uncorrected,  rank, 
Conceives  by  idleness;  and  nothing  teems, 
But  hateful  docks,  rough  thistles,  kecksies,  burs, 
Losing  both  beauty  and  utility. 
And  as  our  vineyards,  fallows,  meads,  and  hedges, 
Defective  in  their  natures,  grow  to  wildness; 
Even  so  our  houses,  and  ourselves,  and  children, 
Have  lost,  or  do  not  learn,  for  want  of  time, 
The  sciences  that  should  become  our  country; 
But  grow,  like  savages, — as  soldiers  will, 
That  nothing  do  but  meditate  on  blood, — 
To  swearing,  and  stern  looks,  diffused  attire7®, 
And  every  thing  that  seems  unnatural. 
Which  to  reduce  into  our  former  favour, 
You  are  assembled :  and  my  speech  entreats, 
That  I  may  know  the  let,  why  gentle  peace 
Should  not  expel  these  inconveniencies, 
And  bless  us  with  her  former  qualities. 

K.  Hen.  If,  duke  of  Burgundy,  you  would   the 
peace, 
Whose  want  gives  growth  to  the  imperfections 
Which  you  have  cited,  you  must  buy  that  peace 
With  full  accord  to  all  our  just  demands; 


KING  HENRY  V.  443 

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, 

Which  you  before  so  urg'd,  lies  in  his  answer. 

Fr.  King.  I  have  but  with  a  cursorary  eye 
O'er-glanc'd  the  articles :  pleaseth  your  grace 
To  appoint  some  of  your  council  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, — 
And  brother  Clarence, — and  you,  brother  Gloster, — 
Warwick, — and  Huntington, — go  with  the  king: 
And  take  with  you  free  power,  to  ratify, 
Augment,  or  alter,  as  your  wisdoms  best 
Shall  see  advantageable  for  our  dignity, 
Any  thing  in,  or  out  of,  our  demands  j 
And  we'll  consign  thereto.*— Will  you,  fair  sister, 
Go  with  the  princes,  or  stay  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; 
She  is  our  capital  demand,  compris'd 
Within  the  fore-rank  of  our  articles. 


444  KING  HENRY  V. 

Q.  Is  a.  She  hath  good  leave. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Henry,  Katharine,  and  her 
Gentlewoman. 

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? 

Katk.  Your  majesty  shall  mock  at  me;  I  cannot 
speak  your  England. 

K.  Hen.  O  fair  Katharine,  if  you  will  love  me 
soundly  with  your  French  heart,  I  will  be  glad  to 
hear  you  confess  it  brokenly  with  your  English 
tongue.     Do  you  like  me,  Kate  ? 

Kath.  Pardonnex  moy,  I  cannot  tell  vat  is — like  me. 

K.  Hen.  An  angel  is  like  you,  Kate;  and  you  arc 
like  an  angel. 

Kath.  Que  dit-il?  quejesuissemblable  a  les  anges? 

Alice.   Ouy,  vrayment,  (sauf  vostre  grace)  ainsi 

dlt  il. 

K.  Hen.   I  said  so,  dear  Katharine;  and  I  must 

not  blush  to  affirm  it. 

Kath.  O  Ion  Dleu  !  les  langues  des  hommes  sont 
plcines  des  tromperies. 

K.  Hen.  What  says  she,  fair  one?  that  the  tongues 
of  men  are  full  of  deceits? 

Alice.  Ouy;  dat  de  tongues  of  de  mans  is  be  full 
of  deceits:  dat  is  de  princess. 

K.  Hen.  The  princess  is  the  better  English-woman. 
I' faith,  Kate,  my  wooing  is  fit  for  thy  understand- 
ing: I  am  glad,  thou  can'st  speak  no  better  English  ; 


KING  HENRY  V.  445 

for,  if  thou  couldst,  thou  wouldst  rind  me  such  a 
plain  king71,  that  thou  wouldst  think,  I  had  sold  my 
farm  to  buy  my  crown.  I  know  no  ways  to  mince 
it  in  love,  but  directly  to  say — I  love  you:  then,  if 
you  urge  me  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.  Saufvostre  honneur,  me  understand  well. 

A".  Htn.  Marry,  if  you  would  put  me  to  verses,  or 
to  dance  for  your  sake,  Kate,  why  you  undid  me : 
for  the  one,  I  have  neither  words  nor  measure  ;  and 
for  the  other,  I  have  no  strength  in  measure 72,  yet  a 
reasonable  measure  in  strength.  If  I  could  win  a 
lady  at  leap-frog,  or  by  vaulting  into  my  saddle  with 
my  armour  on  my  back,  under  the  correction  of 
bragging  be  it  spoken,  I  should  quickly  leap  into  a 
wife.  Or,  if  I  might  buffet  for  my  love,  or  bound 
my  horse  for  her  favours,  I  could  lay  on  like  a 
butcher,  and  sit  like  a  jack-an-apes,  never  off:  but, 
before  God,  I  cannot  look  greenly,  nor  gasp  out  my 
eloquence,  nor  I  have  no  cunning  in  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  in  his  glass  for  love  of 
any  tiling  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  livest,  dear  Kate, 


446  KING  HENKY  V. 

take  a  fellow  of  plain  and  uncoined  constancy;  for 
he  perforce  must  do  thee  right,  because  he  hath  not 
the  gift  to  woo  in  other  places :  for  these  fellows  of 
infinite  tongue,  that  can  rhyme  themselves  into  ladies*, 
favours — they  do  always  reason  themselves  out  again. 
What!  a  speaker  is  but  a  prater ;  a  rhyme  is  but  a 
ballad.  A  good  leg  will  fall:  a  straight  back  will 
stoop;  a  black  beard  will  turn  white;  a  cud'd  pate 
will  grow  bald;  a  fair  face  will  wither;  a  full  eye  will 
wax  hollow :  but  a  good  heart,  Kate,  is  the  sun  and 
moon ;  or,  rather,  the  sun,  and  not  the  moon ;  for  it 
shines  bright,  and  never  changes,  but  keeps  his  course 
truly.  If  thou  would  have  such  a  one,  take  me: 
And  take  me,  take  a  soldier;  take  a  soldier,  take  a 
king:  And  what  say'st  thou  then  to  my  love?  speak, 
my  fair,  and  fairly,  I  pray  thee. 

Kath.  Is  it  possible  dat  I  should  love  de  enemy  of 
France  ? 

K.  Hen.  No ;  it  is  not  possible,  you  should  love 
the  enemy  of  France,  Kate :  but,  in  loving  me,  you 
should  love  the  friend  of  France ;  for  I  love  France 
so  well,  that  I  will  not  part  with  a  village  of  it;  I 
will  have  it  all  mine:  and,  Kate,  when  France  is 
mine,  and  I  am  yours,  then  yours  is  France,  and 
you  are  mine. 

Kath.  I  cannot  tell  vat  is  dat. 

K.Hen.  No,  Kate?  I  will  tell  thee  in  French; 
which,  I  am  sure,  will  hang  upon  my  tongue  like  a 
new-married  wife  about  her  husband's  neck,  hardly 
to  be  shook  off.     Quandfay  la  possession  de  France, 


KING  HENRY  V.  44f 

&  quand  vous  avez  le  possession  de  moi  (let  me  see, 
what  then?  Saint  Dennis  be  my  speed!) — done  vostre 
est  France,  &  vous  estes  mienne.  It  is  as  easy  for 
me,  Kate,  to  conquer  the  kingdom,  as  to  speak  so 
much  more  French :  I  shall  never  move  thee  in 
French,  unless  it  be  to  laugh  at  me. 

Kath.  Sauf  vostre  honneur,  le  Francois  que  vous 
parlez,  est  meilleur  que  VAnglois  lequelje  parle. 

K.  Hen.  No,  i'faith,  is't  not,  Kate:  but  thy  speak- 
ing of  my  tongue,  and  I  thine,  most  truly  falsely, 
must  needs  be  granted  to  be  much  at  one.  But, 
Kate,  dost  thou  understand  thus  much  English? 
Canst  thou  love  me  ? 

Kath.  I  cannot  tell. 

K.  Hen.  Can  any  of  your  neighbours  tell,  Kate? 
I'll  ask  them.  Come,  I  know,  thou  lovest  me :  and 
at  night  when  you  come  into  your  closet,  you'll  ques- 
tion this  gentlewoman  about  me;  and  I  know,  Kate, 
you  will,  to  her,  dispraise  those  parts  in  me,  that  you 
love  with  your  heart:  but,  good  Kate,  mock  me  mer- 
cifully; the  rather,  gentle  princess,  because  I  love 
thee  cruelly.  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  must  therefore 
needs  prove  a  good  soldier-breeder:  Shall  not  thou 
and  I,  between  saint  Dennis  and  saint  George,  com- 
pound a  boy,  half  French,  half  English,  that  shall  go 
to  Constantinople,  and  take  the  Turk  by  the  beard73  ? 
shall  we  not  ?  what  say^st  thou,  my  fair  flower-de- 
luce  ? 

VOL.  VII.  2   H 


418  KING  HENRY  V. 

Kath.  1  do  not  know  dat. 

K.Hen.  No;  'tis  hereafter  to  know,  but  now  to 
promise :  do  but  now  promise,  Kate,  you  wrill  endea- 
vour for  your  French  part  of  such  a  boy:  and,  for 
my  English  moiety,  take  the  word  of  a  king  and  a 
bachelor.  How  answer  you,  la  plus  belle  Katharine 
du  monde,  mon  tres  chere  et  divine  deesse? 

Kath.  Your  majeste  'avefausse  French  enough  to 
deceive  de  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  lovest  me;  yet 
my  blood  begins  to  flatter  me  that  thou  dost,  notwith- 
standing the  poor  and  untempering  effect  of  my  visage. 
Now  beshrew  my  father's  ambition!  he  was  thinking 
of  civil  wars  when  he  got  me;  therefore  was  I  created 
with  a  stubborn  outside,  with  an  aspect  of  iron,  that, 
when  I  come  to  woo  ladies,  I  fright  them.  But,  in 
faith,  Kate,  the  elder  I  wax,  the  better  I  shall  ap- 
pear :  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  Katharine,  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 


KING  HENRY  V.  4-Jf) 

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  musickj  for  thy  voice  is  musick, 
and  thy  English  broken ;  therefore,  queen  of  all,  Ka- 
tharine, break  thy  mind  to  me  in  broken  English, 
Wilt  thou  have  me  ? 

Kath.  Dat  is,  as  it  shall  please  de  roy  mon  pere. 

K.  Hen.  Nay,  it  will  please  him  well,  Kate 5  it 
shall  please  him,  Kate. 

Kath.  Den  it  shall  also  content  me. 

K.  Hen.  Upon  that  I  will  kiss  your  hand,  and  I 
call  you — my  queen. 

Kath.  Laissez,  mon  seigneur,  laissez,  laissez:  ma 
Jby,je  ne  veux  point  que  vous  albaissez  vostre  gran- 
deur, en  baisant  la  main  d'une  vostre  indigne  servi- 
teure;  excusezmoy,je  vous  supplie,  mon  tres puissant 


seigneur. 


K.  Hen.  Then  I  will  kiss  your  lips,  Kate. 

Kath.  Les  dames,  &  damoiselles,  pour  estre  bai- 
sees  devant  leur  nopces,  il  rCest  pas  le  coutume  de 
France. 

K.  Hen.  Madam  my  interpreter,  what  says  she? 

Alice.  Dat  it  is  not  be  de  fashion  pour  les  ladies  of 
France, — I  cannot  tell  what  is,  baiser,  en  English. 

K.  Hen.  To  kiss. 

Alice.  Your  majesty  entendre  bettre  que  moy. 

K.  Hen.  It  is  not  a  fashion  for  the  maids  in  France 
to  kiss  before  they  are  married,  would  she  say  ? 

Alice.   Ouy,  vrayment. 


450  KING  HENRY  V. 

K.  Hen.  O,  Kate,  nice  customs  curt'sy  to  great 
kings.  Dear  Kate,  you  and  I  cannot  be  confined 
within  the  weak  list  of  a  country's  fashion :  we  are 
the  makers  of  manners,  Kate;  and  the  liberty  that 
follows  our  places,  stops  the  mouths  of  all  find- 
faults  -,  as  I  will  do  yours,  for  upholding  the  nice 
fashion  of  your  country,  in  denying  me  a  kiss : 
therefore,  patiently,  and  yielding.  [Kissing  her.'] 
You  have  witchcraft  in  your  lips,  Kate:  there  is 
more  eloquence  in  a  sugar  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. 

Enter  the  French  King  and  Queen,  Burgundy, 
Bedford,  Gloster,  Exeter,  Westmoreland, 
and  other  French  and  English  Lords. 

Bur.  God  save  your  majesty!  my  royal  cousin, 
teach  you  our  princess  English? 

K.  Hen.  I  would  have  her  learn,  my  fair  cousin, 
how  perfectly  I  love  hef ;  and  that  is  good  English. 

Bur.  Is  she  not  apt  ? 

K.Hen.  Our  tongue  is  rough,  cozj  and  my  con- 
dition is  not  smooth 74 :  so  that,  having  neither  the 
voice  nor  the  heart  of  flattery  about  me,  I  cannot 
so  conjure  up  the  spirit  of  love  in  her,  that  he  will 
appear  in  his  true  likeness. 

Bur.  Pardon  the  frankness  of  my  mirth,  if  I  an- 
swer you  for  that.  If  you  would  conjure  in  her  you 
must  make  a  circle:  if  conjure  up  love  in  her  in  his 


KING  HENRY  V.  451 

true  likeness,  he  must  appear  naked,  and  blind :  Can 
you  blame  her  then,  being  a  maid  yet  rosed  over  with 
the  virgin  crimson  of  modesty,  if  she  deny  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  naked  blind  boy  in  her  naked  seeing 
self?  It  were,  my  lord,  a  hard  condition  for  a  maid 
to  consign  to. 

K.  Hen.  Yet  they  do  wink,  and  yield :  as  love  is 
blind,  and  enforces. 

Bur.  They  are  then  excused,  my  lord,  when  they 
see  not  what  they  do. 

K.  Hen.  Then,  good  my  lord,  teach  your  cousin  to 
consent  to  winking. 

Bur.  I  will  wink  on  her  to  consent,  my  lord,  if 
you  will  teach  her  to  know  my  meaning:  for  maids, 
well  summer'd  and  warm  kept,  are  like  flies  at  Bar- 
tholomew tide,  blind,  though  they  have  their  eyes ; 
and  then  they  will  endure  handling,  which  before 
would  not  abide  looking  on. 

K.Ren.  This  moral  ties  me  over  to  time,  and  a 
hot  summer;  and  so  I  shall  catch  the  fly,  your  cousin, 
in  the  latter  end,  and  she  must  be  blind  too. 

Bur.  As  love  is,  my  lord,  before  it  loves. 

K.Hen.  It  is  so:  and  you  may,  some  of  you, 
thank  love  for  my  blindness;  who  cannot  see  many 
a  fair  French  city,  for  one  fair  French  maid  that 
stands  in  my  way. 

Fr.  King.  Yes,  my  lord,  you  see  them  perspec- 
tively,  the  cities  turn'd  into  a  maid 3  for  they  are  all 
girdled  with  maiden  walls,  that  war  hath  never 
enter'd. 


452  KING  HENRY  V. 

K.  Hen.  Shall  Kate  be  my  wife? 
Fr.  King.  So  please  you. 

K.Hen.  lam  content!  so  the  maiden  cities  you 
talk  of,  may  wait  on  her:  so  the  maid  that  stood  in 
the  way  for  my  wish,  shall  show  me  the  way  to  my 
will. 

Fr.  King.  We  have  consented  to  all  terms  of 
reason. 

K.  Hen.  Is't  so,  my  lords  of  England  ? 
West.  The  king  hath  granted  every  article: 
His  daughter,  first ;  and  then,  in  sequel,  all, 
According  to  their  firm  proposed  natures. 

Exe.  Only,  he  hath  not  yet  subscribed  this: — 
Where  your  majesty  demands, — That  the  king  of 
France,  having  any  occasion  to  write  for  matter  of 
grant,  shall  name  your  highness  in  this  form,  and 
with  this  addition,  in  French — 75  Notre  tres  cherjilz 
Henry  roy  d1  Angle t err e,  heretier  de  France;  and  thus 
in  Latin, — Prceclarissimus  Jilius  noster  Henricus,  rex 
Angtice,  iff  hceres  Francice. 

Fr.  King.  Nor  this  I  have  not,  brother,  so  deny'd, 
But  your  request  shall  make  me  let  it  pass. 

K.  Hen.  I  pray  you  then,  in  love  and  dear  alliance, 
Let  that  one  article  rank  with  the  rest: 
And,  thereupon,  give  me  your  daughter. 

Fr.  King.  Take  her,  fair  son 5  and  from  her  blood 
raise  up 
Issue  to  me :  that  the  contending  kingdoms 
Of  Fran         \d  England,  whose  very  shores  look  pale 
With  envy  of  eacii  other's  happiness, 


KING  HENRY  V.  453 

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. 
All.  Amen ! 

K.  Hen.  Now,  welcome,  Kate: — and  bear  me  wit- 
ness all, 
That  here  I  kiss  her  as  my  sovereign  queen.  [Flourish. 

Q.Isa.  God,  the  best  maker  of  all  marriages, 
Combine  your  hearts  in  one,  your  realms  in  one! 
As  man  and  wife,  being  two,  are  one  in  love, 
So  be  there  'twixt  your  kingdoms  such  a  spousal, 
That  never  may  ill  office,  or  fell  jealousy, 
Which  troubles  oft  the  bed  of  blessed  marriage, 
Thrust  in  between  the  paction  of  these  kingdoms, 
To  make  divorce  of  their  incorporate  league  j 
That  English  may  as  French,  French  Englishmen, 
Receive  each  other! — God  speak  this  Amen! 
All.  Amen ! 

K.  Hen.  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 ! 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Thus  far,  with  rough  and  all  unable  pen, 
Our  bending  author  hath  pursu'd  the  story 5 


454  KING  HENRY  V. 

In  little  room  confining  mighty  men, 

Mangling  by  starts  the  full  course  of  their  glory. 
Small  time,  but,  in  that  small,  most  greatly  liv'd 

This  star  of  England:  fortune  made  his  sword 3 
By  which  the  world's  best  garden  he  achiev'd76, 

And  of  it  left  his  son  imperial  lord. 
Henry  the  sixth,  in  infant  bands  crown'd  king 

Of  France  and  England,  did  this  king  succeed  j 
Whose  state  so  many  had  the  managing, 

That  they  lost  France,   and  made  his  England 
bleed : 
Which  oft  our  stage  hath  shown  j  and,  for  their  sake, 
In  your  fair  minds  let  this  acceptance  take.  [Exeunt. 


ANNOTATIONS 

UPON 

KING  HENRY  V. 

1  Within  this  wooden  O — ]  i.  e.  A  circumference 
of  so  small  dimensions  as  the  stage  of  a  theatre? 

a  — Casques — ]  The  helmets. 

3 imaginary  forces — ]  Imaginary  for  imagi- 
native, or  your  powers  of  fancy.  Active  and  passive 
words  are  by  this  author  frequently  confounded. 

JOHNSON. 

4  And  make  imaginary  puissance  :]  This  shows 
that  Shakspeare  was  fully  sensible  of  the  absurdity 
of  showing  battles  on  the  theatre,  which  indeed  is 
never  done  but  tragedy  becomes  farce.  Nothing  can 
be  represented  to  the  eye,  but  by  something  like  it, 
and  within  a  wooden  0  nothing  very  like  a  battle 
can  be  exhibited.  johnson. 

5  Consideration  like  an  angel  came — ]  As  paradise, 
when  sin  and  Adam  were  driven  out  by  the  angel, 
became  the  habitation  of  celestial  spirits,  so  the 
king's  heart,  since  consideration  has  driven  out  his 
follies,  is  now  the  receptacle  of  wisdom  and  of 
virtue.  johnson. 

6  The  air,  &c.~]  This  line,  as  Dr.  Johnson  well 
remarks,  is  exquisitely  beautiful. 

7  The  severals  and  unhidden  passages. ]  Mr.  Mason 
thinks  this  line  corrupt,  and  that  we  should  read, 
several,  instead  of  severals, 

8  Shall  we  call  in — ]  Here  began  the  old  play. 


456  ANNOTATIONS. 

9  — miscreate — ]  Spurious,  illegitimate. 

10  There  is  no  bar,  &c.]  This  whole  speech  is  co- 
pied (in  a  manner  'verbatim)  from  Hall's  Chronicle, 
Henry  V.  year  the  second,  folio  iv.  xx.  xxx  xl.  &c. 
In  the  first  edition  it  is  very  imperfect,  and  the  whole 
history  and  names  of  the  princes  are  confounded ;  but 
this  was  afterwards  set  rischt,  and  corrected  from  the 
original,  Hall's  Chronicle.  pope. 

11  To  fine  his  title,  &c]  Fine  is  here  used  as  an 
opposition  to  corrupt  in  the  next  line.  Holinshed 
savs,  ( to  make  his  title  seem  true  though  it  was  stark 

naught- 

12,  If  that  you  ivill,  &c]  Hall's  Chronicle. 

13 kneading  up   the   honey;]    To  knead   the 

honey  gives  an  easy  sense,  though  not  physically 
true.  The  bees  do  in  fact  knead  the  wax  more  than 
the  honey,  but  that  Shakspeare  perhaps  did  not  know. 

JOHNSON. 

The  old  quartos  read — lading  up  the  honey. 

STEEVENS. 

14  Tennis-balls,  my  liege — ]  In  the  old  play  of 
King  Henry  V.  already  mentioned,  this  present  con- 
sists of  a  gilded  tun  of  tennis-balls  and  a  carpet. 

STEEVENS.  . 

15  — Chaces — }  Chace  is  a  term  at  tennis. 

16 his  balls  to  gun- stones-,']  When  ordnance 

was  first  used,  they  discharged  balls,  not  of  iron,  but 
of  stone.  johnson. 

17 lieutenant  Bardolph.']   At  this  scene  begins 

the  connexion  of  this  play  with  the  latter  part  of 
King  Henry  IV.     The  characters  would  be   indis- 


ANNOTATIONS.  457 

tinct,  and  the  incidents  unintelligible,  without  the 
knowledge  of  what  passed  in  the  two  foregoing  plays. 

JOHNSON. 

13 there  shall  be  smiles — ]   I  suspect  smiles  to 

be  a  marginal  direction  crept  into  the  text.  It  is  na- 
tural for  a  man,  when  he  threatens,  to  break  off 
abruptly,  and  conclude,  But  that  shall  be  as  it  may. 
But  this  fantastical  fellow  is  made  to  smile  disdain- 
fully while  he  threatens ;  which  circumstance  was 
marked  for  the  player's  direction  in  the  margin. 

WARBUKTON. 

I  do  not  remember  to  have  met  with  these  mar- 
ginal directions  for  expression  of  countenance  in  any 
of  our  ancient  manuscript  plays:  neither  do  I  see 
occasion  for  Dr.  Warburton's  emendation,  as  it  is  vain 
to  seek  the  precise  meaning  of  every  whimsical  phrase 
used  by  this  humourous  character.  Nym,  however, 
having  expressed  his  indifference  about  the  conti- 
nuation of  Pistol's  friendship,  might  have  added,  when 
time  serves,  there  shall  be  smiles,  i.  e.  he  should  be 
merry,  even  though  he  was  to  lose  it  5  or,  that  his  face 
would  be  ready  with  a  smile  as  often  as  occasion 
should  call  one  out  into  service,  though  Pistol,  who 
had  excited  so  many,  was  no  longer  near  him. 

STEEVENS. 

19  /  am  not  Barbason\]  Barbason  is  the  name  of  a 
daemon  mentioned  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

20  O,  how  hast  thou,  &c]  Shakspeare  uses  this  ag- 
gravation of  the  guilt  of  treachery  with  great  judg- 
ment. One  of  the  worst  consequences  of  breach  of 
trust  is  the  diminution  of  that  confidence  which  makes 


45S  ANNOTATIONS. 

the  happiness  of  life,  and  the  dissemination  of  suspi- 
cion, which  is  the  poison  of  society.        johnson. 

21  My  fault,  but  not  my  body,  pardon — ]  One  of 
the  conspirators  against  Queen  Elizabeth,  I  think 
Parry,  concludes  his  letter  to  her  with  these  words : 
tc  a  culpa,  but  not  a  poena,  absolve  me,  most  dear 
lady."'  This  letter  was  much  read  at  that  time, 
[1585,]  and  our  author  doubtless  copied  it. 

This  whole  scene  was  much  enlarged  and  improved 
after  the  first  edition  5  the  particular  insertions  it 
would  be  tedious  to  mention,  and  tedious  without 
much  use.  johnson. 

22  — christom  child — ]  The  christom  [or  chrisorri] 
was  a  white  cloth,  used  to  cover  children  with  at 
their  baptism.  Mr.  Whalley  says  that  when  the  mo- 
ther came  to  be  churched  this  chrisom  was  no  longer 
worn  by  the  infant.  Mrs.  Quickly,  therefore,  means 
by  a  christom  child,  one  who  dies  shortly  after  hav- 
ing received  the  sacrament  of  baptism. 

23  — as  cold  as  a  stone.']  Such  is  the  end  of  FalstafF, 
from  whom  Shakspeare  had  promised  us  in  his  epi- 
logue to  K.  Henry  IV.  that  we  should  receive  more 
entertainment.  It  happened  to  Shakspeare,  as  to 
other  writers,  to  have  his  imagination  crowded  with 
a  tumultuary  confusion  of  images,  which,  while  they 
were  yet  unsorted  and  unexamined,  seemed  sufficient 
to  furnish  a  long  train  of  incidents,  and  a  new  variety 
of  merriment ;  but  which,  when  he  was  to  produce 
them  to  view,  shrunk  suddenly  from  him,  or  could 
not  be  accommodated  to  his  general  design.  That 
he  once  designed  to  have  brought  FalstafF  on  the 


ANNOTATIONS.  45g 

scene  again,  we  know  from  himself;  but  whether  he 
could  contrive  no  train  of  adventures  suitable  to  his 
character,  or  could  match  him  with  no  companions 
likely  to  quicken  his  humour,  or  could  open  no  new 
vein  of  pleasantry,  and  was  afraid  to  continue  the 
same  strain  lest  it  should  not  find  the  same  reception, 
he  has  here,  for  ever  discarded  him,  and  made  haste 
to  dispatch  him,  perhaps  for  the  same  reason  for 
which  Addison  killed  Sir  Roger,  that  no  other  hand 
might  attempt  to  exhibit  him. 

Let  meaner  authors  learn  from  this  example,  that  it 
is  dangerous  to  sell  the  bear  which  is  yet  not  hunted; 
to  promise  to  the  publick  what  they  have  not  written. 

This  disappointment  probably  inclined  Queen  Eli- 
zabeth to  command  the  poet  to  produce  him  once 
again,  and  to  show  him  in  love  or  courtship.  This 
was,  indeed,  a  new  source  of  humour,  and  produced 
a  new  play  from  the  former  characters,     johnson. 

2+  — clear  thy  crystals.']  Dry  up  thy  tears ,  dry 
thine  eyes. 

25  — spend  their  mouths.']  To  spend  the  mouth,  to 
give  mouth,  or  tongue,  is  the  sporting  term  for  to  lark. 

26  — rivage — ]  is  shore,  French. 

27  —  linstock — ]  The  linstock  is  the  staff  to  which 
the  match  is  fixed  when  ordnance  is  fired. 

28  — the  portage  of  the  head,]  Portage,  open 
space,  from  port,  a  gate.  Let  the  eye  appear  in  the 
head  as  cannon  through  the  battlements,  or  embra- 
sures, of  a  fortification.  johnson. 

29  — confounded  base — ]  Confounded  means  here 
destroyed  or  worn. 


460  ANNOTATIONS . 

30 — men  of  mould!]  Mould  is  earth.  Men  of 
mould,  are,  mortals. 

31  — four  yards  under  the  countermines :]  Fluellen 
means,  that  the  enemy  had  digged  himself  counter- 
mines four  yards  under  the  mines.  johnson. 

31  — there's  an  end  ]  It  were  to  be  wished,  that 
the  poor  merriment  of  this  dialogue  had  not  been 
purchased  with  so  much  profaneness.       johnson. 

33  Scene  IV.]  I  have  left  this  ridiculous  scene  as 
I  found  it ;  and  am  sorry  to  have  no  colour  left,  from 
any  of  the  editions,  to  imagine  it  interpolated. 

WARBUKTON. 

Sir  T.  Hanmer  has  rejected  it.  The  scene  is  in- 
deed mean  enough,  when  it  is  read;  but  the  grimaces 
of  two  French  women,  and  the  odd  accent  with  which 
they  uttered  the  English,  made  it  divert  upon  the 
stage.  It  may  be  observed,  that  there  is  in  it  not 
only  the  French  language,  but  the  French  spirit. 
Alice  compliments  the  princess  upon  her  knowledge 
of  four  words,  and  tells  her  that  she  pronounces  like 
the  English  themselves.  The  princess  suspects  no 
deficiency  in  her  instructress,  nor  the  instructress  in 
herself.  Throughout  the  whole  scene  there  may  be 
found  French  servility,  and  French  vanity. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  transcribe  the  first  sentence  of 
this  dialogue  from  the  edition  of  16OS,  that  the  reader, 
who  has  not  looked  into  the  old  copies,  may  judge  of 
the  strange  negligence  with  which  they  are  printed. 

u  Kate.  Alice  venecia,  vous  aves  cates  en,  vou 
parte  fort  Ion  Angloys  englatara,  coman  sae  palla 
vou  la  main  enfrancoy.'"  johnson. 


ANNOTATIONS.  46l 

We  may  observe  in  general,  that  the  early  .editions 
have  not  half  the  quantity}  and  every  sentence,  or 
rather  every  word,  most  ridiculously  blundered. 
These,  for  several  reasons,  could  not  possibly  be  pub- 
lished by  the  author;  and  it  is  extremely  probable 
that  the  French  ribaldry  was  at  first  inserted  by  a 
different  hand,  as  the  many  editions  most  certainly 
were  after  he  had  left  the  stage. — Indeed,  every  friend 
to  his  memory  will  not  easily  believe,  that  he  was 
acquainted  with  the  scene  between  Katharine  and 
the  old  Gentlewoman :  or  surely  he  would  not  have 
admitted  such  obscenity  and  nonsense.      farmer. 

34  — nook-shotten  isle  of  Albion.']  Shotten  signi- 
fies any  thing  projected:  so  nook-shotten  isle,  is  an 
isle  that  shoots  out  into  capes,  promontories,  and 
necks  of  land,  the  very  figure  of  Great  Britain. 

WARBURTON. 

35  And  teach  lavoltas  high,']  Sir  T.  Hanmer  ob- 
serves, that  in  this  dance  there  was  much  turning 
and  much  capering.  Shakspeare  mentions  it  more 
than  once}  but  never  so  particularly  as  the  author  of 
Muleasses  the  Turk,  a  tragedy,  ]6lO: 

"  Be  pleas'd,  ye  powers  of  night,  and  'bout  me  skip 
"  Your  antick  measures ;  like  to  coal-black  Moors 
"  Dancing  their  high  lavoltoes  to  the  sun, 
"  Circle  me  round:  and  in  the  midst  I'll  stand, 
"  And  crack  my  sides  with  laughter  at  your  sports." 

36  Pennons—]  In  the  battles  of  former  days,  when 
the  sword  and  spear  gave  greater  opportunity  of  ex- 
hibiting particular  prowess,  the  several  knights  had 
each  his  arms  painted  on  a  little  flag  which  was  born 


462  ANNOTATIONS. 

by  one  of  his  descendants  into  the  field.  This  was 
called  a  pennon  or  pendant. 

37  For  he  hath  stohi  a  pix,]  The  old  editions  read— 
pax.  fc  And  this  is  conformable  to  history,"  says 
Mr.  Pope,  "  a  soldier' (as  Hall  tells  us)  being  hang'd 

at  this  time  for  such  a  fact." Both  Hall  and  Ho- 

linshed  agree  as  to  the  point  of  the  theft;  but  as  to 
the  thing  stolen,  there  is  not  that  conformity  betwixt 
them  and  Mr.  Pope.  It  was  an  ancient  custom,  at 
the  celebration  of  mass,  that  when  the  priest  pro- 
nounced these  words,  Pax  Domini  sit  semper  volis 
cum!  both  clergy  and  people  kiss'd  one  another. 
And  this  was  called  Osculum  Pacis,  the  Kiss  of 
Peace.  But  that  custom  being  abrogated,  a  certain 
image  is  now  presented  to  be  kissed,  which  is  called 
a  Pax.  But  it  was  not  this  image  which  Bardolph 
stole j  it  was  a  pix,  or  little  chest  (from  the  Latin 
word,  pixis,  a  box,)  in  which  the  consecrated  host 
was  used  to  be  kept.  <c  A  foolish  soldier,"  says  Hall 
cxpres.sly,  and  Holinshed  after  him,  l<  stole  a  pix  out 
of  a  church,  and  unreverently  did  eat  the  holy  hostes 
within  the  same  contained."  Theobald. 

33  — the  fig  of  Spain.]  Mr.  Steevens  says,  this  has 
allusion  to  the  Spanish  custom  of  giving  a  poisoned 
fig  to  such  as  were  objects  of  revenge. 

39  Enter  Mont  joy.]  Mont-joie,  under  the  French 
monarchy,  was  the  title  of  the  principal  king  at  arms. 

4°  He  bounds  from  the  earth  as  if  his  entrails  were 
hairs ;~\  i.  e.  like  a  tennis-ball,  which  is  stuffed  with 
hairs. 

4i  — strait  trossers — ]  This  word  very  frequently 


ANNOTATIONS.  463 

occurs  in  the  old  drama  tick  writers.  A  man  in  The 
Coxcomb  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  speaking  to  an 
Irish  servant,  says,  u.  I'll  have  thee  fiead,  and  trossers 
made  of  thy  skin,  to  tumble  in."  Trossers  appear  to 
have  been  tight  breeches — The  kerns  of  Ireland  an- 
ciently rode  without  breeches,  and  therefore  strait 
trossers,  I  believe,  means  only  in  their  naked  skin, 
which  sits  close  to  them.  The  word  is  still  preserved, 
but  now  written — trowsers.  steevens. 

4Z  — 'tis  a  hooded  valour,  and  when  it  appears  it 
«>i//bate.]  This  is  said  with  allusion  to  falcons  which 
are  kept  hooded  when  they  are  not  to  fly  at  game, 
and,  as  soon  as  the  hood  is  off,  I  ait  or  flap  the  wing. 
The  meaning  is,  the  Dauphin's  valour  has  never  been 
let  loose  upon  an  enemy,  yet,  when  he  makes  his 
first  essay,  we  shall  see  how  he  will  flutter,   johnsox. 

43  Fills  the  wide  vessel  of  the  universe.]  Universe 
for  horizon :  for  we  are  not  to  think  Shakspeare  so 
ignorant  as  to  imagine  it  was  night  over  the  whole 
globe  at  once.  He  intimates  he  knew  otherwise,  by 
that  fine  line  in  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream: 

" following  darkness  like  a  dream." 

Besides,  the  image  he  employs  shows  he  meant  but 
half  the  globe  j  the  horizon  round,  which  has  the 
shape  of  a  vessel  or  goblet.  wareurton. 

There  is  a  better  proof,  that  Shakspeare  knew  the 
order  of  night  and  day,  in  Macbeth : 

"  Now  o'er  the  one  half  world 
<e  Nature  seems  dead." 
But  there  was  no  great  need  of  any  justification.  The 

VOL.  VII.  2  i 


404  ANNOTATIONS. 

universe,  in  its  original  sense,  no  more  means  this 
globe  singly  than  the  circuit  of  the  horizon  3  but, 
however  large  in  its  philosophical  sense,  it  may  be 
poetically  used  for  as  much  of  the  world  as  falls  under 
observation.  Let  me  remark  further,  that  ignorance 
cannot  be  certainly  inferred  from  inaccuracy.  Know- 
ledge is  not  always  present.  johnson. 

44 — 0i(i  Sir  Thomas  Erpingkam :]  Sir  Thomas 
Erpingham  came  over  with  Boiingbroke  from  Bre- 
ta°"ne,  and  was  one  of  the  commissioners  to  receive 
King  Richard's  abdication.  Edwards's  MS. 

45  That's  a  perilous  shot  out  of  an  elder  gun.]  In 
the  old  play  [the  quarto,  ]  6CO,]  the  thought  is  more 
opened.  It  is  a  great  displeasure  that  an  elder  gun 
can  do  against  a  cannon,  or  a  subject  against  a  mo- 
narch. JOHNSON. 

I  do  not  know  what  Dr.  Johnson  understands  by  an 
elder  gun,  nor  whether,  from  his  remark,  he  consi- 
ders it  a  piece  of  superior  musquetry  which,  never- 
theless, is  not  able  to  cope  with  a  cannon.  Shak- 
speare  certainly  meant  by  it  a  pop-gun,  out  of  which 
toy  boys  shoot  pellets  of  paper,  and  which  they  make 
from  an  elder-stick,  with  the  pith  bored  out. 

4s  Upon  the  king,  &c]  This  beautiful  speech  was 
added  after  the  first  edition.  pope. 

There  is  something  very  striking  and  solemn  in 
this  soliloquy,  into  which  the  king  breaks  immediately 
as  soon  as  he  is  left  alone.  Something  like  this,  on 
less  occasions,  every  breast  has  felt.  Reflection  and 
seriousness  rush  upon  the  mind  upon  the  separation 


ANNOTATIONS.  465 

of  a  gay  company,  and  especially  after  forced  and 
unwilling  merriment.  johnson. 

47  Ca«  j/ee/)  50  soundly,  &c]  These  lines  are 
exquisitely  pleasing.  To  sweat  in  the  eye  of  Phcc- 
lus,  and  to  sleep  in  Elysium,  are  expressions  very 
poetical.  johnson. 

43  Since  that  my  penitence  comes  after  all, 

Imploring  pardon.']  I  am  sensible  that  every 
thing  of  this  kind  (works  of  piety  and  charity,) 
which  I  have  done  or  can  do,  will  avail  nothing  to- 
wards the  remission  of  this  sin ;  since  I  well  know 
that  after  all  this  is  done,  true  penitence,  and  im- 
ploring pardon,  are  previously  and  indispensably  ne- 
cessary towards  my  obtaining  it.  heath. 

49  Via!']  Via  means  in  this  place  come  along,  or,  let 
us  go,  and  was  anciently  used  so,  like  the  French,  a  lions. 

5°  And  dout  them—]  To  dout  is  to  put  out  [do 
out.]  Whoever  has  lived  in  Devonshire,  will  recog- 
nise it  as  a  word  of  daily  use. 

si  — such  a  hilding/oej]  Hilding  means  low,  lose, 

mean. 

52  The  tucket- sonuance — ]  He  uses  terms  of  the 
field  as  if  they  were  going  out  only  to  the  chace  for 
sport.  To  dare  the  field  is  a  phrase  in  falconry. 
Birds  are  dared  when  by  the  falcon  in  the  air  they 
are  terrified  from  rising,  so  that  they  will  be  some- 
times taken  by  the  hand. 

Such  an  easy  capture  the  lords  expected  to  make 
of  the  English.  johnson. 

53  , ii}ie  candlesticks 

With  torch-staves  in  their  hand:]  Candlesticks 


466  ANNOTATIONS. 

in  very  ancient  times  bore  the  semblance  of  various 
figures :  some  of  them  were  fashioned  like  a  man 
with  the  sockets  in  his  two  hands. 

54  — the  gimmal  lit — ]  Gimmal  is  a  ring:  there- 
fore, as  Dr.  Johnson  says,  a  gimmal-bit,  is  a  bit 
formed  of  several  rings  or  parts  which  play  one 
within  another. 

55  — the  feast  of  Crispian:]  The  battle  of  Agin- 
court  was  fought  upon  the  25th  of  October,  St.  Cris- 
pin's day.     The  legend  upon  which  this  is  founded, 
follows : — "  Crispinus  and  Crispianus  were  brethren, 
born  at  Rome :  from  whence  they  travelled  to  Sois- 
sons  in  France,  about  the  year  303,  to  propagate  the 
Christian  religion  j  but  because  they  would  not  be 
chargeable  to  others  for  their  maintenance^  they  ex- 
ercised the  trade  of  shoemakers  j  but  the  governor  of 
the  town  discovering  them  to  be  Christians,  ordered 
them  to  be  beheaded  about  the  year  303.     From 
which  time,  the  shoemaker?  made  choice  of  them  for 
their  tutelar  saints."     Wheatleys  Rational  Illustra- 
tion, folio  edit.  p.  /6.     See  Hall's  Chronicle,  fol.  47. 

GREY. 

57  Killing  in  relapse  of  mortality.']  That  this  al- 
lusion is,  as  Mr.  Theobald  thinks,  exceedingly  beau- 
tiful, I  am  afraid  few  readers  will  discover.  The 
valour  of  a  putrid  body,  that  destroys  by  the  stench, 
is  one  of  the  thoughts  that  do  no  great  honour  to  the 
poet.  Perhaps  from  this  putrid  valour  Dryden  might 
borrow  the  posthumous  empire  of  Don  Sebastian, 
who  was  to  reign  wheresoever  his  atoms  should  be 
scattered.  johnsok. 


ANNOTATIONS.  467 

38  IVe  are  lut  warriors  for  the  working  day,]  i.e. 
we  are  but  meanly  caparisoned,  we  have  no  taudry 
clothes  upon  us. 

59  Brass,  cur  f]  Either  Shakspeare  had  very  little 
knowledge  in  the  French  language,  or  his  over- 
fondness  for  punning  led  him  in  this  place,  contrary 
to  his  own  judgment,  into  an  error.  Almost  every 
one  knows  that  the  French  word  Iras  is  pronounced 
Irau;  and  what  resemblance  of  sound  does  this  bear 
to  Irass,  that  Pistol  should  reply  Brass,  cur?  The 
joke  would  appear  to  a  reader,  but  could  scarce  be 
discovered  in  the  performance  of  the  play. 

Sir  W.  Rawlinson. 

60 — a  ton  of  moys?]  Moy  is  a  coin ;  Hence  a 
moidore  or  moi  dor,  a  golden  moy. 

61  — this  roaring  devil  ithe  old  play,']  In  modern 
puppet-shows,  which  seem  to  be  copied  from  the 
old  farces,  Punch  sometimes  fights  the  devil,  and 
always  overcomes  him.  I  suppose  the  vice  of  the 
old  farce,  to  whom  Punch  succeeds,  used  to  fight  the 
devil  with  a  wooden  dagger. 

6Z  — raught — ]  i.  e.  reached. 

63  Kill  the  poys  and  the  luggage!']  The  baggage, 
during  the  battle  (as  King  Henry  had  no  men  to 
spare)  was  guarded  only  by  boys  and  lacqueys 5  which 
some  French  runaways  getting  notice  of,  they  came 
down  upon  the  English  cimp-boys,  whom  they 
kill'd,  and  plundered,  and  burn'd  the  baggage:  in 
resentment  of  which  villainy  it  was,  that  the  king, 
contrary  to  his  wonted  lenity,  ordered  all  prisoners' 
throats  to  be  cut,     And  to  this  villainy  of  the  French 


468  ANNOTATIONS. 

runaways  Fluc.llen  is  alluding,  when  he  says  Kill 
the  pays  and  the  luggage !  The  fact  is  set  out  both 
by  Hall  and  Holinshed.  theobald. 

Unhappily  the  king  gives  one  reason  for  his  order 
to  kill  the  prisoners,  and  Gower  another.  The  king 
killed  his  prisoners  because  he  expected  another  battle, 
and  he  had  not  men  sufficient  to  guard  one  army 
and  fight  another.  Gower  declares  that  the  gallant 
king  has  worthily  ordered  the  prisoners  to  be  de- 
stroyed, because  the  luggage  was  plundered,  and  the 
boys  were  slain.  johnson. 

64  — into  plozus,']  Mr.  Heath  reads,  in  tivo  plows. 

6s  Charles  Duke  of  Orleans,  &c]  This  list  is  a 
copy  from  Holinshed  and  Hall. 

66  Do  we  all  holy  rites;']  The  king  (say  the  Chro- 
nicles) caused  the  psalm,  In  exitu  Israel  de  ^Egypto 
(in  which,  according  to  the  vulgate,  is  included  the 
psalm,  Non  nolis  Domine,  &c.)  to  be  sung  after  the 
victory.  pope. 

67  — ivhiffler — ]  An  officer  who  walks  first  in  pro- 
cessions, or  before  persons  in  high  stations,  on  occa- 
sions of  ceremony.  The  name  is  still  retained  in 
London,  and  there  is  an  officer  so  called  that  walks 
before  their  companies  at  times  of  public  solemnity. 
It  seems  a  corruption  from  the  French  word  huissier. 

HANMER. 

60  — likelihood — ]  Likelihood  for  similitude. 

WASBURTON. 

The  later  editors,  in  hope  of  mending  the  mea- 
sure of  mis  line,  have  injured  the  sense.  The  folio 
reads  as  1  have  printed  $  but  all  the  books,  since  re- 


ANNOTATIONS.  469 

visal  became  fashionable,  and  editors  have  been  more 
diligent  to  display  themselves  than  to  illustrate  their 
author,  have  given  the  line  thus : 

As  by  a  low,  hut  loving  likelihood. 
Thus  they  have  destroyed  the  praise  which  the  poet 
designed  for  Essex;  for  who  would  think  himself 
honoured  by  the  epithet  low  ?  The  poet,  desirous  to 
celebrate  that  great  man,  whose  popularity  was  then 
his  boast,  and  afterwards  his  destruction,  compares 
him  to  king  Harry;  but  being  afraid  to  offend  the 
rival  courtiers,  or  perhaps  the  queen  herself,  he  con- 
fesses that  he  is  lower  than  a  king,  but  would  never 
have  represented  him  absolutely  as  loiv. 

JOHNSON. 

f  s>  Both  fortune  play  the  huswife,  &c]  That  is, 
the  jilt. 

70  — diffus'd  attire,"]  Diffused  for  extravagant.  The 
military  habit  of  those  times  was  extremely  so.  Act  III. 
Gower  says,  And  what  a  beard  of  the  general's  cut, 
and  a  horrid  suit  of  the  camp,  will  do  amongst,  &c. 
is  wonderful  to  he  thought  on.  wareueton. 

71  — such  a  plain  king,]  I  know  not  why  Shak- 
speare  now  gives  the  king  nearly  such  a  character  as 
he  made  him  formerly  ridicule  in  Percy.  This  mili- 
tary grossness  and  unskilfulness  in  all  the  softer  arts 
does  not  suit  very  well  with  the  gaieties  of  his  youth, 
with  the  general  knowledge  ascribed  to  him  at  his 
accession,  or  with  the  contemptuous  message  sent 
him  by  the  dauphin,  who  represents  him  as  fitter  for 
a  ball-room  than  the  field,  and  tells  him  that  he  is 
not  to  revel  into  duchies,  or  win  provinces  with  a 


470  .  ANNOTATIONS. 

nimble  galliard.  The  truth  is,  that  the  poet's  matter 
failed  him  in  the  fifth  act,  and  he  was  glad  to  fill  it 
up  with  whatever  he  could  get;  and  not  even  Shak- 
speare  can  write  well  without  a  proper  subject.  It 
is  a  vain  endeavour  for  the  most  skilful  hand  to  cul- 
tivate barrenness,  or  to  paint  upon  vacuity. 

JOHNSON. 

72  — ;w  strength  in  measure,]  i.  e.  in  dancing. 

73  — go  to  Constantinople,  &c]  Shakspeare  for- 
gets that  the  Turk  was  not  in  possession  of  Constan- 
tinople, till  more  than  thirty  years  after  the  death  of 
Henry. 

74  — my  condition  is  not  smooth :]  Condition  here 
stands  for  temper. 

75  Notre  tres  cher  fd% — and  thus  in  Latin — Prae- 
clarissimus  filius — ]  What,  is  tres  cher  in  French, 
PrcR claris sinus  in  Latin!  We  should  read  Prcecaris- 

SimUS.  WARBUETON. 

This  is  exceeding  true,  but  how  came  the  blunder? 
It  is  a  typographical  one  in  Holinshed,  which  Shak- 
speare copied;  but  must  indisputably  have  been  cor- 
rected had  he  been  acquainted  with  the  languages. 

FARMER. 

76  — the  world's  lest  garden — ]  meaning,  France. 

END   OF  THE   SEVENTH  VOLUME. 


THOMAS  BENSLEY,  PRINTER, 
Bolt  Court,  Elect  Street. 


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