FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. PREFACE OF THE EDITOR TO THE TWO PARTS OF HENRY IV. My late excellent friend, Mrs. Montagu, in her Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakspeare, has paid particular attention to Henry the IVth. In this, as in every part of her work, good principles, judicious argument, and refined taste, appear in all her observations; but I confine myself to the more immediate objects of the present publication, purity, and decency of expression. Every person must be sensible, that of all the historical plays, the Two Parts of Henry the IVth are the most difficult to render fit for family reading. To clear them of all indecent, and indelicate expressions, without destroying the wit and spirit of Falstaff, and without injuring the narrative, is indeed an arduous undertaking; but I hope I may remove many objectionable passages, though I may not be able to render the work perfect."Est quadam prodire tenus, si non datur ultra." Feeling the difficulty of the task, I take as a guide the following extract from the just observations of my deceased friend: "There are delicacies of decorum in one age unknown to another age: but whatever is immoral, is equally blameable in all ages; and every approach to obscenity, is an offence, for which wit cannot atone, nor the barbarism or the corruption of the times afford an excuse. Mine hostess Quickly is of a species not extinct. It may be said, the author there sinks from comedy to farce; but she helps to complete the character of Falstaff, and some of the dialogues in which she is engaged are diverting. Every scene in which Doll Tearsheet appears, is indecent; and therefore not only indefensible, but inexcusable." After the foregoing quotation, my readers will not be surprised, if the name of the last-mentioned person is not to be found in the following plays. The I hope that all obscenity is equally banished from them. I wish it were in my power in like manner to exclude every expression which approaches to vulgarity or indelicacy; but this I fear, cannot be done, unless the whole of those scenes are omitted in which any of the comic characters appear. present publication may possibly be censured by two classes of readers, of very different sentiments. Those persons who are unwilling to be deprived of any part of the wit of Falstaff (whatever may be the expense of retaining it) will perhaps be displeased at the omission of the evening scene between him and Doll Tearsheet, and their followers. To them I reply, that consistently with the design of the present edition of Shakspeare, the omission was unavoidable; but I regret it the less, because, as was suggested in my preface, those readers can gratify their taste by having recourse to former editions of the Second Part of Henry the IVth. Other persons may possibly complain that there still remain in this work some expressions which are not consistent with that perfect delicacy of sentiment, with which it were desirable that every publication should be conducted. To this objection I fear that I can give no answer that will be quite satisfactory. I can only say, that I have endeavoured to render the speeches of Falstaff and his companions ar correct as they could be rendered, without losing sight of their characters and dispositions. Those persons who still object to their language, cannot I believe do better, than confine their reading to the serious parts of the three following plays, which possess such merit, as can hardly be equalled in any other dramatic poet, and is seldom exceeded by our own immortal bard. ACT I. SCENE I. - London. A Room in the Palace. K. Hen. Here is a dear and true industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER Stain'd with the variation of each soil BLUNT, and others. 2 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 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, West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, 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 Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; 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. Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol, A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? West. It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. In envy that my lord Northumberland A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, Malevolent to you in all aspects; Which makes him prune 7 himself, and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity. K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this; Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we SCENE II. [Exeunt. 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 sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, 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 6 Piled up in a heap. 7 Trim, as birds clean their feathers. Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men of good government: being governed 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 governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing- lay by 8; and spent with crying - bring in 9: 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. Thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet girl? 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 tay quips, and thy quiddities? what have I to do with a buff jerkin? P. Hen. Why, what have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? Fal. Well, thou hast called 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 here apparent that thou art heir apparent,— But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antick the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. P. Hen. No; thou shalt. Fal. Shall I? O rare! I'll be a brave judge. P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. I am as melancholy as a lugged bear. P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.2 P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch? Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince,- But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I wish thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it. Fal. O thou art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal, Heaven 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; an I do not, I am a villain. 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 3 me. P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking. Enter POINS, at a distance.. Fal. 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. 4 This is the most omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true man. . What says P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. monsieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-andSugar? My lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: There are 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: Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we may do it as secure as sleep: If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns: if you will not, tarry at home, and be hanged. Fal. Hear 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 fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. 5 P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. Fal. Why, that's well said. P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. Fal. 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, mayst thou have the spirit of persuasion, 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 3 Treat me with ignominy, 4 Made an appointment. 5 The value of a coin called real or royal, 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! 6 [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 waylaid; 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 7, 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 turned 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 endur'd; 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. [Erit POINS. But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come. [Exit. Fine weather at All-hallown-tide, (i. e. All-Saints, Nov. 1st,) is called an All-hallown summer. 1 Occasion. SCENE III. Another Room in the Palace. Unapt to stir at these indignities, serves, The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it; 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 majesty 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. You were about to speak. [Exit WORCESTer. [TO NORTH. 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, I's 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 toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a milliner; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held With many holiday and lady terms I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, Out of my grief and my impatience, He should, or he should not; for he made me mad, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the mark!) |