2 P

SCENE 1-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 commenced in stronds afar remote.
No more the thirsty Erinnys+ of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields;
Nor bruise her flowrets 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
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more opposed
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 sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engaged to fight,)
Forthwith a powert of English shall we levy;
Whose arms were moulded in their mother's 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 cross.
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 expedience .

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 hand of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered:
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,

• Strands, banks of the sea. The fury of discord.
Force, army.
§ Needless.

Estimates.

Expedition.

By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, retold or spoken of.
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this
broil

Brake off our business for the Holy land.
West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious

lord;

For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young 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;
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 new
The earl of Douglas is discomfited;

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
To beaten Douglas; and the earls 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 plant;
Who is sweet fortnne'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 proved,
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.

September 14.

+ Covered with dirt of different colours.
Piled up in a heap.

cester,

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

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

Malevolent to you in all aspects⚫;
Which makes him prune + himself, and bristle up
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.
Fel. 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
sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
forgotton to demand that truly which thou wouldst
truly know. 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
fame-colour'd taffata: I see no reason, why thou
shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of
the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal: for
we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven
stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wandering
kaight so fair. And I pray thee, sweet wag, when
thou art king,-as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I
should say; for grace thou wilt have none,)
P. Hen. What! none !

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

P. Hen. Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be call'd thieves of the day's beauty; let us be Diana'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.

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

Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ¶?

Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? What, in by 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?

Pal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning,

many a time and oft,

P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
Fal. No; 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 heré apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standtu England when thou art king? And resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rusty curb of old fa

* Points.

: Favourites.
The dress of sheriff's officers.

+ Trim, as birds clean their feathers.
§ Stand still. More wine.

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

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits; whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, 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 t.

P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Ful. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,sweet young prince,-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to 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; but I mark'd him not: and yet he talk'd very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the street too.

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

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

son in Christendom.

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.

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-andsugar? 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.

ing by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: there are
Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morn-
pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings,
and traders riding to London with fat purses:
have visors for you all, you have horses for your
bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we
selves; Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester; I have
may do it as secure as sleep: if you will go, I will
tarry at home, and be hang'd.
stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not,

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

this day for a gelded cat.
• Gib-cat, should be lib-cat,-a Scotch term at

+ Croak of a frog.
Treat me with ignominy.
Made an appointment.
¶Honest.

Citation of holy text.

* Masks.

fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou 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.

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

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

P. Hen. I care not.

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

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of per. suasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, 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 All-hallown summer +! [Exit Falstaff. Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, 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 setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner 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 buckram for the nonce t, to immask our noted outward garments.

us.

P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turu'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; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproofs 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 up

hold.

The unyoked 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 ||;
And, like bright metal on a sullen
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall shew 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.

ground,

[Exit.

The value of a coin called real or royal.
+Fine weather at All-hallown-tide (i. e. All
Saints, Nov. 1st) is called a All-hallown summer.
Occasion.
Confutation.
Expectations.
Dull.

Enter King HENRY, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCES
TER, 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,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition⚫;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect,
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud.
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege,little deserves
The scourge of greatness to be used on it;
And that same greatness too which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly
North. My lord.-

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger
And disobedience in thine eye: O, Sir,
Your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And inajesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow.
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,
Where, 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.
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toii,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Shew'd like a stubble-land at harvest home:
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took't away again;-
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff:-And still he smiled, and talk'd;
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
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 inade 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 parmaceti, 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 destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed 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,