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At large discoursed in this paper here.

[Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;

And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. Enter Fitzwater.

Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to
London

The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely,
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors,
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be
forgot;

Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle.
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of
Westminster,

With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom,—
Choose out some secret place, some reverend
room,

More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a coffin. Exton. Great king, within this coffin I pre

sent

Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou
hast wrought

A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did
I this deed.
[need,
Boling. They love not poison that do poison
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour:
With Cain go wander through the shade of
night

And never show thy head by day nor light.
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, [grow:
That blood should sprinkle me to make me
Come, mourn with me for that I do lament,
And put on sullen black, incontinent :
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :-
March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

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,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, [friends,
(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 mother's
womb

[tion,

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 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 exchang'd
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,

To chase these pagans, in those holy fields.
Over whose acres walk'd those blessèd feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were
For our advantage on the bitter cross. [nail'd
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go :
Therefore we meet not now. Then, let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.
Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
West. My liege, this haste was hot in ques-Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
And many limits of the charge set down To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
A post from Wales laden with heavy news;
Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman
A thousand of his people butchered; [taken,
Upon whose dead corpse there was such mis-
Such beastly, shameless transformation, [use,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
Without much shame re-told 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 like, 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. [ous friend,
K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industri-
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
The earl of Douglas is discomfited:
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty
knights,

:

West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is
Malevolent to you in all aspects; [Worcester,
Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity. [this;

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer
And for this cause a while 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.-London. Another Room in the

Palace.

Enter Prince Henry 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 sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten 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 flamecolour'd taffeta: 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: [news. for we that take purses, go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus,-he, "that wandering knight so fair." And, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say, for grace thou wilt have none,)

Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains of prisoners, Hot-
Mordake earl of Fife and eldest son [spur took
To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith:
And is not this an honourable spoil?

P. Hen. What! none?

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

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 Fal. Thou hast the most unsavory similes, beauty: let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen and art, indeed, the most comparative, rasof the shade, minions of the moon; and let callest,-sweet young prince,-but, Hal, I men say, we be men of good government, pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and would to God, thou and I knew where a comchaste mistress the moon, under whose coun-modity of good names were to be bought. An tenance we steal. 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. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

P. Hen. Thou sayest 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:" 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 sayest 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 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 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,

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 damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, 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. 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 watch.-O, if men were to be saved 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. Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. here apparent that thou art heir apparent,— says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John but, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gal-Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil lows standing in England when thou art king? and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him and resolution thus fobbed, as it is, with the on Good-Friday last, for a cup of Madeira and 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! By the Lord, 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. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear

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

a cold capon's leg?

What

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 damned for keeping thy word with the devil.

P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.

Poins. But 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 ye, 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? [my faith. P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by 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. [madcap. P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a Fal. Why, that's well said. [home. P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at 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.

ties he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap; there I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit.

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. Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of per- So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, suasion, and him the ears of profiting, that And pay the debt I never promised, what thou speakest may move, and what he By how much better than my word I am, hears may be believed, that the true prince may By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; (for recreation sake) prove a false thief: for And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, the poor abuses of the time want countenance. My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, Farewell you shall find me in Eastcheap. Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Fare-Than that which hath no foil to set it off. well, All-hallown summer! I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; [Exit Falstaff. Redeeming time, when men think least I will.

Palace.

[Exit.

Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow: I have a jest to exe-SCENE III.-London. Another Room in the cute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Worand I will not be there; and when they have cester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others. the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and this head from my shoulders. Unapt to stir at these indignities, [temperate, 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 And therefore lost that title of respect, [down, Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. [deserves

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, to immask our noted outward garments. [for us. P. Hen. But I doubt they will be too hard 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 extremi

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little The scourge of greatness to be used on it; And that same greatness, too, which our own Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord,

[hands [see

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do
Danger and disobedience in thine eye: [tory,
O, sir, your presence is too bold and péremp-
And majesty night never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow. [need
You have good leave to leave us; when we
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.-
[Exit Worcester.

[To North.] You were about to speak.
North.
Yea, my good lord,
Those prisoners in your highness name de-
manded,

Which Harry Percy here, at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength de-
As is deliver'd to your majesty: [nied,
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 toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new
reap'd,

Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took't away again;
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff: and still he smil'd 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.

[cold,

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being
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 parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous saltpetre 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
Whatever Harry Percy then had said [my lord,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

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,
[took,

Those mouthèd wounds, which valiantly he
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:
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 base and rotten policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
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 belie him;

He never did encounter with Glendower :
I tell thee,

He durst as well have met the devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art thou not asham'd? 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 Northumber-
land,

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,
Albeit I make a hazard of my head.

North. What! drunk with choler? stay, and Here comes your uncle. [pause a while : Re-enter Worcester.

Hot.
Speak of Mortimer!
'Zounds! I will speak of him; and let my soul

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prison-Want mercy, if I do not join with him:
But with proviso and exception,

[ers, That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight

His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower,

Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer [dust,
As high i' the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.
North. [To Wor.] Brother, the king hath
made your nephew mad.

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