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ACT I.

SCENE I-London. A room in the palace.
Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter
Blunt, and others.

So

King Henry.

O 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,
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 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 sepulchre of Christ
(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 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."

(1) Strands, banks of the sea.

(2) The Fury of discord.

(3) Force, army. (4) Needless. (5) Expedition.

¡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, Chamberlain,
Drawers, boo Carriers, Travellers, and At-
tendants.
Scene, England.

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 Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered:
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
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, did, my gra-
cious 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 news.
The earl of Douglass 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

(6) Estimates. (7) September 14.
(8) Covered with dirt of different colours.
(9) Piled up in a heap.

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,

mak'st me sin

In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son:

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 beDiana'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 and by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we-steal.

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,

Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
To his own use he keeps; 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;1

Which makes him prune2 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, 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.

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 gover:.ca 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: 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 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.

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 resolu tion thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old SCENE I.-The same. Another room in the father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art palace. Enter Henry Prince of Wales,

Falstaff.

and king, hang a thief.

P. Hen. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the lord I'll be a teave judge.

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

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 would'st' Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I the time of the day? unless hours were cups of can tell you. sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffeta; I see no reason, why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

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. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

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 Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and knight so fair. And, pray thee, sweet wag, art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,— when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace sweet young prince,-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou 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.

(1) Points. (2) Trim, as birds clean their feathers. (3) Favourites. (4) Stand still. (5) More wine. 76) The dress of sheriffs' officers.

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.

(7) Gib cat, should be lib cat,-a Scotch term at this day for a gelded cat. (8) Croak of a frog.

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

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration: and art, thou speakest may move, and what he hears may indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done be believed, that the true prince may (for recrea much harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive thee for tion sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and of the time want countenance. Farewell: You now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better shall find me in Eastcheap. 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 to-morrow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an 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.

I

P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer!" [Exit Falstaf 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 al ready 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 Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wheresin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!-in it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. adventure upon the exploit themselves: which O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set hell were hot enough for him? This is the most upon them. omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true' man.

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.

P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will krow us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll monsieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-friday buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outlast, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg? ward garments. 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 damned for cozening the devil.

P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us. 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 endured; and, in the reproofs of this, lies the jest.

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: P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all have visors for you all, you have horses for your- things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in selves; Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester; I have Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; Poins. Farewell, my lord. we may do it as secure as sleep: If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will aot, 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. 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.

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[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 eome,
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 ;10
And, like bright metal on a sullen" ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill:
Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Ex.

(7) Fine weather at All-hallown-tide (i. e. Al Saints, Nov. 1st) is called an All-hallown summer. (8) Occasion.

(9) Confutation. (10) Expectations. (11) Dulk

SCENE III.-The same. Another room in the Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
palace. Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.

others.

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and tem- This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord.

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;1
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.
Wo. Our house, my sovereign liege, little de-

serves

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,

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,
To such a person and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners;
But with proviso, and exception,-

That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straigh

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;

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.-
[Exit Worcester.
You were about to speak.
[To North.
North.
Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Vere, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is deliver'd to your majesty:
Cither 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

4

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.

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 parmacetí, for an inward bruise;

And that it was great pity, so it was,

That villanous salt-petre should be digg'd

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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:
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 indents 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 hardiment1° 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 bare 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 not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer:
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,

(5) Parrot. (6) Pain.
(8) Sign an indenture.
(10) Hardiness.

(7) Brave.
(9) Expend.
(11) Curled

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