Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast, And in the visitation of the winds, Enter WARWICK and Surrey. War. Many good morrows to your majesty ! 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? Noise. War. We have, my liege. K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper'd; My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. K. Hen. O heaven! that one might read the book of fate; And see the revolution of the times 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, (You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember) [to Warwick. When Richard, with his eye brimfull of tears, That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss : The time shall come,' thus did he follow it, The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head, Shall break 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, King Richard might create a perfect guess, K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? And that same word even now cries out on us. They say, the bishop and Northumberland War. It cannot be, my lord: Rumor doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your grace, The powers K. Hen. I will take your counsel : And, were these inward wars once out of hand, SCENE II. [Exeunt. Court before Justice Shallow's house in Glostershire. Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and Servants behind. Shal. Come on, come on, come on: give me your hand, sir; give me your hand, sir; an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence? The cross. Si. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my goddaughter Ellen? Si. Alas, a black ouzel,1 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? Si. Indeed, sir, to my cost. Shal. He must then to the inns of court shortly. I was once of Clement's-inn, where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet. Si. You were called lusty Shallow, then, cousin. Shal. By the mass, I was called 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 2 in all the inns of court again : and, I may say to you, we knew where the bonarobas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk. Si. 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 |