The Life and Death of King John.

315

Bast. Old Time the Clock-fetter, that bauld fexton Time:
Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue.

Blan. The Sun's orecraft with blood: fair day adieu,
Which is the fide that I muft go withall?

I am with both, each Army hath a hand,

And in their rage, I having hold of both,

They whurle aflunder, and difmember me.

Husband, I cannot pray that thou maift winn :

Uncle, I needs muft pray that thou maift lofe :

Father, I may not with the fortune thine :

Grandame, I will not with thy wishes thrive :

Who ever winnes, on that fide shall I lofe :

Affured lofe, before the match be plaid.

Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.

Bla. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.

John. Cofen, go draw our puifance together,

France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath,

A rage, whole heat hath this condition ;

That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,

The blood and deereſt valued blood of France.

Fran. Thy rage fhall burn thee up, and thou fhaſt turne
To aſhes, ere our blood fhall quench that fire :

Look to thy self, thou art in jeopardy.

John. No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

Exeunt

## Scena ſecunda.

Allarums, Excursions: Enter Baſtard with Aſtria's head.

Bast. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot,
Some aery devil hovers in the skie,

And down's down miſchief. Aſtria's head lye there,

Enter John, Arthur, Hubert.

While Philip breathes.

John. Hubert, keep this boy: Philip make up,
My Mother is aſſailed in our Tent,

And tane I fear.

Bast. My Lord I ſcruſed her.

Her Highneſſe is in faſety, fear you not :

But on my Liege for very little pains

Will bring this labour to an happy end.

Exit.

Alarums, excursions, Retreat. Enter John, Eleanor, Arthur, Baſtard, Hubert, Lords.

John. So ſhall it be: your grace ſhall ſtay behind
So strongly guarded : Cofen, look not ſad,

Thy Grandame loves thee, and thy Unkle will

As deere be to thee, as thy father was.

Arth. O this will make my Mother die with grief.
John. Cofen, away for England, haſte before,

And ere our coming fee thou ſake the bags
Of hoarding Abbots, imprifoned Angels

Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace.

Muſt by the hungry now be fed upon:
Uſe our Commiſion in his utmoſt force

Bast. Bell, Book, and Candle, ſhall not drive me back,
When gold and filver becks to come on.

I leave your Highneſſe: Grandame, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy)

For your fair faſety; ſo I kiffe your hand.

Ele. Farewell gentle Cofen.

John. Coz, farewell.

Ele. Come hither little kinfman, hark, a word,

John. Come hither Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,

We owe thee much: within this wall of fleth

There is a foul counts thee her Creditor,

And with advantage means to pay thy love :

And my good friend, thy voluntary oath

Lives in this boſom, dearly cheriſed.

Give me thy hand, I had a thing to ſay,

But I will fit it with ſome better tune.

By heaven Hubert, I am almoſt aſham'd

To ſay what good reſpect I have of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden to your Majeſty.

John. Good friend, thou haſt no cauſe to ſay ſo yet,

But thou ſhalt have : and creep time nere ſo flow,
Yet it ſhall come for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to ſay, but let it go :

The Sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,

Attended with the pleafures of the world,

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes.

To give me audience, if the midnight Bell

Did with his iron tongue, and brazen mouth

Sound into the drowſe race of night :

If this fame were a Church-yard where we ſtand,
And thou poſſed with a thouſand wrongs :

Or if that ſureſe ſpirit melancholy

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick,

Which eſſe runs tickling up and down the veins,

Miking that idiot laughter keep mens eies,

And drain their cheeks to idle merriment,

A pafion hateful to my purpofes :

Or if that thou couldſt fee me without eies,

Heare me without thine ears, and make reply

Without a tongue, uſing conceit alone,

Without eies, ears, and harmful found of words :

Then, in deſpight of brooded watchful day,

I would into thy boſom pour my thoughts :

But (ah) I will not, yet I love thee well,

And by my troth I think thou lov't me well.

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,

Though that my death were adjunſt to my Act,

By heaven I would do it.

John. Do not I know thou wouldſt ?

Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye

On yon young boy: Ile tell thee what my friend,

He is a very ſerpent in my way,

And whereſoever this foot of mine doth tread,

He lyes before me: doſt thou underſand me?

Thou art his keeper.

Hub. And ile keep him ſo,

That he ſhall not offend your Majeſty.

John. Death.

Hub. My Lord.

John. A Grave.

Hub. He ſhall not live.

John. Enough.

I could be merry now, Hubert, I love thee,

Well, Ile not ſay what I intend for thee :

Remember: Madam, fare you well.

Ile fend thate powers o're to your Majeſty.

Ele. My bleſſing go with thee.

John. For England Cofen, go.

Hubert ſhall be your man, to attend on you

With all true duty: on toward Calliche hoa,

Exeunt.

Scena

## Scena Tertia.

Enter France, Dolphin, Pandupho. Attendants.

Fran. So by a roaring Tempeſt on the flood,
A whole Armado of convicted ſaile
Is ſcattere, and disjoyned from fellowſhip.

Pand. Courage and comfort, all ſhall yet go well.

Fran. What can go well, when we have run ſo ill ?
Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers loſt ?
Arthur tane prifoner ? divers deer friends flain ?
And bloody England into England gone,
Ore-bearing interruption ſpight of France ?

Dol. What he hath wonne, that hath he fortified :
So hot a ſpeed, with ſuch advice diſpo'd,
Such temperate order in ſo ſierce a cauſe,
Doth want example: who hath read, or heard
Of any kindred-action like to this ?

Fran. Well could I bear that England had this prouſe,
So we could find ſome pattern of our ſhame.

Enter Conſtance.

Look who comes here ? a grave unto a foul,
Holding th'eternal ſpirit againſt her will,
In the vilde prifon of afflicted breath :
I prethee Lady go away with me.

Conſt. Lo, now: now fee the ilſue of your peace.

Fran. Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Conſtance.
Conſt. No, I defe all counſel, all redreſſe,
But that which ends all counſel, true redreſſe :
Death, death, O amiable, lovely death,

Thou odoriferous ſench: found rottenneſſe,
Arife forth from the couch of laſting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiffle thy deteſtable bones.

And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty browzes,
And ring theſe fingers with thy household worms,
And ſtop this gap of breath with fulſome duſt,
And be a Carriou monſter like thy ſelf ;

Come, grin on me, and I will think thou ſmil'st,
And buſle thee as thy wife: Miseries love,

O come to me,

Fran. O fair affliction, peace.

Conſt. No, no, I will not having breath to cry :
O that my tongue were in the thunders mouth,
Then with a paffion I would ſhake the world,
And rowze from ſleep that ſell Anatomy
Which cannot hear a Ladys feeble voyce,
Which ſcorns a modern invocation.

Pand. Lady, you utter madneſſe, and not ſorrow.

Conſt. Thou art holy to bely me so,

I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine,
My name is Conſtance, I was Geſſreys wife,
Young Arthur is my ſonne, and he is loſt :

I am not mad, I would to heaven I were,
Forthen 'tis like I should forget my ſelf :
O, if I could, what grief should I forget ?
Preach some Philſophy to make me mad,
And thou that be Canoniz'd (Cardinal)

For, being nor mad, but ſenſible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reaſon
How I may be delivered of theſe woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang my ſelf :

If I were mad, I should forget my ſonne,

Or madly think a babe of clouts were he;
I am not mad: too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.

Fran. Bind up thatſe treſſes: O what love I note
In the fair multitude of thatſe her hairs;
Where but by chance a ſilver drop bath ſalme,
Even to that drop ten thouſand wiery fiends
Do glew themſelves in ſociable grief,
Like true, inſeparable, faithful Loves,
Sticking together in Calamity.

Conſt. To England, if you will.

Fran. Bind up your hairs.

Conſt. Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds, and cry'd aloud,
O, that theſe hands could ſo redeem my ſonne,
As they have given theſe hairs their liberty :
But now I envy at their liberty,

And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prifoner.

And father Cardinal, I have heard you ſay

That we shall fee and know our friends in heaven :
If that be true, I ſhall fee my boy again :

For ſince the birth of Cain, the first male-child
To him that did but yefterday ſuſpire;
There was not ſuch a gracious creature borne :

But now will canker-lorrow eat my bud,
And chafe the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a Gloſt,

As dim and meager as an Agues ſits,

And so he'll dye: and riling to again,
When I shall meet him in the Court of Heaven
I ſhall not know him: therefore never, never
Muſt I behold my pretty Arthur more.

Pand. You hold too hainous a reſpect of grief.

Conſt. He talks to me that never had a ſonne.

Fran. You are as fond of grief, as of your child.

Conſt. Grief fills the room up of my abſent child:
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remember me of all his gracious parts,

Stuffs out his vacant garments with his ſorme,
Then, have I reaſon to be ſond of grief ?

Fare you well: had you ſuch a loffe as I,

I could give better comfort than you do,

I will not keep this ſorme upon my head,

When there is ſuch diſorder in my wit :

O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair ſonne,
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world :
My widow-comfort, and my forſows cure.

Exit.

Fran. I fear ſome outrage, and ile follow her.

Exit.

Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me joy.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

Vexing the dull ear of a drowſe man;

And bitter ſhame hath ſpoil'd the ſweet words taſte,

That it yields nought but ſhame and bitterneſſe.

Pand. Before the curing of a ſtrong diſeafe,

Even in the inſant of repair and health,

The fit is ſtronger: eviſs that take leave

On their deparature, moſt of all ſhew eviſ:

What have you loſt by loſing of this day ?

Dol. All dayes of glory, joy, and happineſſe.

Pand. If you had wonne it, certainly you had,
No, no: when Fortune means to men moſt good,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye :

Tis ſtrange to think how much King John hath loſt
In this which he accounts so clearly wonne :

Are

Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prifoner ?
Dol. As heartily as he is glad he bath him.

Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood.
Now hear me fpeak with a prophetick fpirit :
For even the breath of what I mean to fpeak,
Shall blow each duft, each ftraw, each little rub
Out of the path which shall direcf'tly lead

Thy foot to Englands Throne. And therefore mark :
John hath feiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be,
That whiles warm life plays in that infants veins,
The mifplac'd-John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay one quiet breath of reft.

A Scepter snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Muft be as boyfteroufly maintain'd as gain'd.
And he that fands upon a flipp'ry place,
Makes nice of no vilde hold to ftay him up :
That John may fand, then Arthur needs muft fall,

So be it, for it cannot be but fo.

Dol. But what shall I gain by young Arthur fall ?
Pand. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

Dol. And lofe it, life and all, as Arthur did.

Pand. How green you are, and freth in this old world?
John laies you plots : the times confpire with you,
For he that fteeps his safety in true blood,
Shall find but bloody safety and untrue.

This Act so evilly born shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal,
That none so fmall advantage shall ftep forth
To check his reigne, but they will cherifh it.
No natural exhalation in the skie,

No scope of Nature, no diftemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away his natural caufe,
And call them Meteors, prodigies, and lignes,
Abortives, prefages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.

Dol. May he be will not touch young Arthur's life,
But hold himfelf safe in his prifonment.

Pand. O Sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
If that young Arthur be not gone already,

Even at that news he dies : and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him,
And kitle the lips of unacquainted change,
And pick ftrong matter of revolt, and wrath
Out of the bloody fingers ends of John.

Me thinks I fee this hurley all on foot ;
And O, what better matter breeds for you,
Than I have nam'd. The baftard Fanlconbridge
Is now in England ranfacking the Church,
Offending Charity : If but a dozen French
Were there in Arms, they would be as a Call
To train ten thoufand English to their fide ;

Is now in England ranfacking the Church,
Offending Charity : If but a dozen French
Were there in Arms, they would be as a Call
To train ten thoufand English to their fide ;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a Mountain. O noble Dolphin,
Go with me to the King, 'tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent,
Now that their fouls are top full of offence,
For England go ; I will whet on the King.

Dol. Strong reafons makes ftrong actions: let us go,
If you fay I, the King will not fay no.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hubert and Executioners.

Hub. Heat me these Irons hot, and look thoufand

Within the Arras : when I strike my foot
Upon the boſom of the ground, ruſh forth
And bind the boy, which you ſhall find with me
Aft to the chair : be heedfull : hence and watch.

Exec. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

Hub. Uncleanly ſcruples fear not you : look to't,

Young Lad come forth ; I have to ſay with you.

Enter Arthur.

Ar. Good morrow Hubert.

Hub. Good morrow little Prince.

Ar. As little Prince, having ſo great a Title
To be more Prince, as may be : you are ſad,

Hub. Indeed I have been merrier.

Ar. Mercy on me.

Me thinks no body ſhould be ſad but I:

Yet I remember, when I was in France

Young Gentlemen would be as ſad as night

Onely for wantonneſſe : by my Chif tendome,

So I were out of prifon, and kept ſheep

I should be as merry as the day is long :

And so I would be here, but that I doubt

My Uncle præſifes more harm to me ;

He is afraid of me, and I of him :

Is it my fault that I was Geffreys fon ?

No indeed it's not, and I would to heaven

I were your ſon, so you would love me, Hubert :

Hub. If I talke to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy which lies dead :

Therefore I will be ſodain, and diſpatch.

Ar. Are you ſick Hubert ? you look pale to day,
Inſoorth I would you were a little ſick.

That I might fit all night and watch with you,

I warrant I love you more than you do me,

Hub. His words do take poſſeffion of my boſom.

Read here young Arthur. How now foolish rheume ?

Turning diſpitious Torture out of doore ?

I muſt be brief, leaſt refolution drop

Out at mine eies, in tender womanſiſt tears,

Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ ?

Ar. Too fairly Hubere, for so foul effect,

Muſt you with hot Irons, burn out both mine eies ?

Hub. Young boy, I muſt.

Ar. And will you ?

Hub. And I will.

Ar. Have you the heart ? When your head did but
ake,

I knit my Hand-kercher about your brows
(The beſt I had, a Princeſs wrought it me)

And I did never aske it you again :

And with my hand, at midnight held your head ;

And like the watchful minutes, to the hour,

Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ;

Saying, what lacke you ? and where lies your grief ?

Or what good love may I perform for you ?

Many a poor man ſon wouſd have lye nill,

And ne're have ſpoke a loving word to you :

But you, at your ſick ſervice had a Prince :

Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,

And call it cunning. Do, and if you will,

D d

I have a way to winne their loves again :
Bring them before me.

Balf. I will feek them out.

John. Nay, but make haſte: the better foot before.
O, let me have no subjects enemies,
When adverſe Forreyners affright my Towns
With dreadful poſt of ſtout invasion.
Be Mercury, ſet feathers to thy heels,
And flye (like thought) from them, to me again.

Balf. The ſpirit of the time ſhall teach me ſpeed.
John. Spoke like a ſprightful Noble Gentleman.

Goe after him : for he perhaps ſhall need
Some Meſſenger betwixt me and the Peeres,
And be thou he.

Mef. With all my heart, my Liege.

John. My Mother dead?

Enter Hubert.

Hub. My Lord, they ſay five Moons were ſeen to night:
Four fixed, and the fifth did whirle about

The other four in wondrous motion.

John. Five Moons?

Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets
Doe propheſe upon it dangerously :
Young *Arthur's* death is common in their mouths,
And when they take of him, they ſhake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear.

And he that ſpeaks, doth gripe the hearers wrift,
Whilſt he that hears makes ſtearful action

With wrinkled browes, with nods, with rolling eies,
I ſaw a Smith ſtand with his hammer (thus),

The whilſt his Iron did on the Anvil cool,

With open mouth ſwallowing a Taylors news,

Who with his ſheers and Meaſure in his hand,

Standing on flippers, which his nimble haſte

Had falſely thraſt upon contrary ſeet,

Told of a many thouſand warlike *French*,

That were embattailed, and rank'd in *Kent*.

Another lean, unwaſh'd Artificer,

Cuts off his tale, and talks of *Arthur's* death.

John. Why ſeeſt it thou to poſſeſſe me with theſe ſears?
Why urget thou ſo oft young *Arthur's* death ?

Thy hand hath murdered him : I had a mighty cauſe

To with him dead, but thou haſt none to kill him.

H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not provoke me?

John. It is the curſe of Kings, to be attended
By ſlaves that take their humours for a warrant,

To break the bloody houſe of life,

And on the winking of Authority

To understand a Law; to know the meaning

Of dangerous Majesty, when perchance it frowns

More upon humour, than adviſ'd respect.

Hub. Here is your hand and ſeale for what I did.

John. Oh, when the laſt account *twixt heaven and earth*
Is to be made, then ſhall this hand and ſeale

Witneſſe against us to damnation,

How oft the fight of means to do ill deeds,

Make deeds ill done ? haſt not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,

Quoted, and ſign'd to do a deed of ſhame,
This murther had not come into my mind.

But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aſpect,

Finding thee fit for bloody villany :

Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger,

I faintly broke with thee of *Arthur's* death :

And thou, to be endeered to a King,

Made it no conſcience to destroy a Prince.

Hub. My Lord.

John. Had it thou but ſhook thy head, or made a paſſe
When I ſpake darkly, what I purpofed:

Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my ſace;

As bid me tell my tale in exprefle words:

Deep ſhame had I truck me dumb, made me break off,
And thofe thy fears, might have wrought fears in me.

But, thou didst underſtand me by my ſignes,
And didst in ſignes again parley with finne,
Yea, without ſtop didst let thy heart conſent.

And conſequently thy rude hand to act

The deed, which both our tongues held vild to name
Out of my fight, and never fee me more:

My Nobles leave me, and my State is braved,

Even at my gates, with ranks of forrain powers:

Nay, in the body of this ſleſhly Land,

This Kingdom, this Conſine of blood, and breath

Hoffility, and civil tumult reigns

Between my conſcience, and my Colins death.

Hub. Arme you againſt your other enemies?

Ile make a peace between your ſoul, and you.

Young *Arthur* is alive : this hand of mine

Is yet a Maiden, and an innocent hand,

Not painted with the Crimſon ſpots of blood:

Witchin this boſom, never entered yet

The dreadful motion of a murderous thought,

And you have ſlander'd Nature in my ſorme,

Which howſever rude exteriorly,

Is yet the cover of a fairer mind,

Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

John. Doth *Arthur* live ? O haſte thee to the Peers,
Throw this report on their incenſed rage,
And make them tame to their obedience.

Forgive the Comment that my paſſion made

Upon thy feature, for my rage was blind,

And foule imaginary eyes of blood

Preſented thee more hideous than thou art.

Oh, anſwer not; but to my Cloſet bring,

The angry Lords, with all expedient haſte.

I conjure thee but flowly : run more ſaſt.

Exultant.

## *Scena Tertia.*

Enter Arthur on the walls.

Art. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down.

Good ground be pitiful, and hurt me not :

There's few or none do know me, if they did,

This Ship-boys ſembellance hath diſguſ'd me quite.

I am afraid, and yet Ile venture it.

If I get down and do not break my limbs,

Ile find a thouſand shifts to get away ;

As good to dye, and goe ; as dye, and flay.

Oh me, my Uncles ſpirit is in theſe ſlones,

Heaven take my ſoul, and England keep my bones. *Diet*.

Enter Pembroke, and Salisbury, and Bigot.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmondſbury,

It is our ſafety, and we must embrace

This gentle offer of the perillous time.

Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinal?

Sal. The Count *Melloone*, a Noble Lord of *France*,

Whose private with me of the *Dolphins* love,

Is much more general than theſe lines import.

Bigot

322

How easy doth thou take all England up,
From forth this morrow of dead Royalty ?
The life, the right, and truth of all this Realm
I fled to heaven: and England now is left
To tug and scamble, and to part by th' reeth
The unheld interest of proud swelling State :
Now for the bare-pickt bone of M Jefty,
Doth dogged warre brittle his angry creft,
And fnaileth in the gentle eyes of peace :
Now Powers from home, and discontents at home
Meet in one line: and vaft conflation waits
As doth a Raven on a sick-fallen beaſt,
The imminent decay of wrefted pomp.
Now happy he, whose cloak and center can
Hold out this tempeſt. Bear away that child,
And follow me with ſpeed: Ile to the King :
A chouſand businesſes are brief in hand,
And heaven it ſelf doth trown upon the Land.
Exit.

Actus Quartus, Scena Prima.

Enter King John, and Pandulph, attendants.

K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand
The Circle of my glory.

Pand. Take again

From this my hand, as holding of the Pope
Your Soveraigne greatneſſe and authority.

John. Now keep your holy word, go meet the French,
And from his holineſſe uſe all your power

To ſtop their marches *fore we are enflam'd :
Our discontented Counties do revolt :

Our people quarrel with obedience,
Swearing Allegiance, and the love of ſoul
To flanger-blood, to forrain Royalty;
This inundation of miſſempered humour,
Reſts by you only to be qualified.

Then paſſe not; for the preſent time's ſo ſick,
That preſent med'cine muſt be minifted,
Or overthrow incurable enſues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempeſt up,
Upon your ſubborn uſage of the Pope :
But ſince you are a gentle convertire.
My tongue shall huff again this ſtorm of warre,
And make fair weather in your bluſtring Land :
On this Ascencion day, remember well,
Upon your oath of ſervice to the Pope,

Go I to make the French lay down their Arms.
Exit.

John. Is this Ascencion day? did not the Prophetsay, that before Ascencion day at noon, My Crown I should give off? even so I have: I did ſuppofe it should be on conſtraint, But (heav'n be thank'd) it is but voluntary.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. All Kent hath yielded: nothing there holds out
But Dover Caſſle: London hath receiv'd
Like a kind Holt, the Dolphin and his powers.
Your Nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer ſervice to your enemy:
And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of doubtful friends.

John. Would not my Lords return to me again
After they heard young Arthur was alive?

Baſt. They found him dead, and caſt into the streets,
An empty Casket, where the Jewel of life

By fome damn'd hand was rob'd and tane away.
John. That villain Hubert told me he did live.

Baſt. So on my ſoul he did, for ought he knew:
But wherefore do you droop ? why look you fad ?
Be great in Aet, as you have been in Thought :
Let not the world fee ſear and ſad diſtruſt
Govern the motion of a kingly eye :
Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire,
Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow
Of bragging horror: So ſhall inferior ies
That borrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example and put on
The dauntleſſe ſpirit of reſolution.

Away, and glitler like the god of warre
When he intendeth to become the field :
Shew boldneſſe and aspiring confidence :
What, ſhall they ſee k the Lyon in his denne,

And fright him there ? and make him ſtemble there?
Oh let it not be ſaid: forrage, and run

To meet diſpleasure farther from the doors,
And grapple with him ere he come ſonigh.

John. The Legat of the Pope hath been with me,
And I have made a happy peace with him,
And he hath promiſ'd to diſmiſs the Powers
Led by the Dolphin.

Baſt. Oh inglorious League :
Shall we upon the footing of our Land,
Send fair-play-orders, and make comprimilſe,
Infuſation, parley, and bafe truce

To Arms Invaſive ? Shall a beaſtleſſe boy,
A cockred-filken wanton brave our fields,
And ſleſh his ſpirit in a warre-like ſoyle,
Mocking the ayr with colours idely ſpread,
And find no check ? Let us my Liege to Armes :
Perchance the Cardinal cannot make your peace ;
Or if he do, let it at least be ſaid

They ſaw we had a purpofe of defence.

John. Have thou the ordering of this preſent time.
Baſt. Away then with good courage: yet I know
Our party may well meet a prouder foe.

Exeunt.

Scena ſecunda.

Enter (in Arms) Dolphin, Salisbury, Melloone, Pembroke, Bigot, Souldiers.

Dol. My Lord Melloone, let this be coppied out,
And keep it ſafe for our remembrance:
Return the preſident to theſe Lords again,
That having our fair order written down,
Both they and we, perſuing ore theſe notes :
May know wherefore we took the Sacrament,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.

Sal. Upon our fides it never ſhall be broken.
And noble Dolphin, albeit we ſwear

A voluntary zeale, and an un-urg'd faith
To your proceedings: yet beleeve me Prince,
I am not glad that ſuch a fore of time

Should ſee k a plaifier by contemn'd revolt,
And heal the inveterate Canker of one wound,

By

323

By making many: Oh it grieves my foul,
That I must draw this mettle from my fide
To be a widow-maker: oh, and there
Where honourable rescue, and defence
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury.
But fuch is the infection of the time,
That for the health and Phyfick of our right,
We cannot deal but with the very hand
Offern injustice, and confuted wrong:
And is't not pity, (oh my gtieved friends)
That we, the fons and children of this Ifle,
Were born to fee so fad an hour as this,
Wherein we ftep after a ftranger, march
Upon her gentle bofom, and fill up
Her enemies ranks? I muft withdraw, and weep
Upon the spot of this enforced caufe,
To Grace the Gentry of a Land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours here:
What here? O Nation that thou couldt remove,
That Neptunes Armes who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thy felf,
And cripple thee unto a Pagan shore,
Where theſe two Chriſtian Armes might combine
The blood of malice, in a vein of league,
And nor to ſpend it ſo un-neighborly.

Dolph. A noble temper doſt thou ſhew in this,
And great affections wrathling in thy boſom
Doth make an Earthquake of Nobility:
Oh, what a Noble combate haſt fought
Between compulſion, and a brave reſpect:
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That filverly doth progreſſe on thy cheeks:
My heart hath melted at a Ladies tears,
Being an ordinary inundation:
But this effusion of ſuch manly drops,

This ſhowe blown up by tempeſt of the foul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Than had I ſeen the vaulty top of Heaven
Figur'd quite o're with burning Meteors.
Lif't up thy brow (renowned Salisbury)
And with a great heart heave away this ſtorme:
Commend theſe warrs to those baby-eyes
That never faw the Gyant-world enrag'd,
Nor met with Fortune, other than at feaſts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of Goffipping.
Come, come, for thou haſt thrift thy hand as deep
Into the purſe of rich prosperity

As Lewis himſelf: fo (Nobles) ſhall you all,
That knit your ſinews to the ſtrength of mine.

Enter Pandulpho.

And even there, methinks an Angel ſpake,
Look where the holy Legat comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven,
And on our Actions ſet the name of right
With holy breath.

Pan. Hail noble Prince of France:

The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd
Himſelf to Rome, his ſpirit is come in,
That ſo flood out againſt the Holy Church,
The great Metropolis and Sea of Rome:
Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up,
And came the ſavage ſpirit of wild warre,
That like a Lyon faltered up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in ſhew.

Dolph. Your grace ſhall pardon me, I will not back

I am too high-born to be propertied
To be a ſecondary at controll,
Or uſeful ſerving-man, and inſtrument
To any Soveraign State throughout the world:
Your breath firſt kindled the dead coal of warres,
Between this chaſtiz'd kingdom and my ſelf,
And brought in matter that ſhould feed this ſire,
And now 'tis farre too huge to be blown out
With that fame weak wind which enkindled it:
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with intereſt to this Land,
Yea, thrift this enterprize into my heart,
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His peace with Rome? what is that peace to me?
I (by the honour of my marriſe bed)

After young Arthur, claim this Land for mine,
And now it is half conquer'd, muſt I back,

Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Romes ſlave? what penny hath Rome born?
What men provided? what munition ſent

To under-prop this Action? Is't not I?
That under-go this charge? who eſſe but I,
And fuch as to my claim are liable,

Sweat in this bufineſſe, and maintain this warre?

Have I not heard theſe Iflanders ſhow out
Vive le Roy, as I have bank'd their Towns?

Have I not here the beſt Cards for the game
To winne this eſſie match, playd for a Crown?

And ſhall I now give ore the yielded Set?
No, no, on my foul it never ſhall be ſaid.

Pand. You look but on the outſide of this work.
Dolph. Outſide, or inſide, I will not return

Till my attempt ſo much be glorified,

As to my ample hope was promiſed,
Before I drew this gallant head of warre,

And cull'd theſe fiery ſpirits from the world
To out-look Conqueſt, and to winne renown

Even in the jaws of danger, and of death:
What luſty Trumpet thus doth ſummon us?

Enter Baſtard.

Baſſ. According to the ſair-play of the world,
Let me have audience: I am ſent to ſpeak:

My Lord of Millane from the King
I come to learn how you have dealt for him:

And, as you anſwer, I do know the ſcope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pand. The Dolphin is too wilful oppofite
And will not temporize with my entreaties:
He flatly fayes, he'l not lay down his Arms.

Baſſ. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd,
The youth ſays well. Now hear our English King:
For thus his Royalty doth ſpeak in me:

He is prepar'd, and reaſon too he ſhould,
This apſiſh and unmannerly approach,

This harneſs'd Maske, and unadviſed Revell;

This unheard ſawcineſſe and boyiſh Troops,
The King doth ſmile at, and is well prepar'd

To whip this dwarſiſh warre, this Pigmy Armes
From out the circle of his Territories.

That hand which had the ſtrength, even at your door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch,
To dive like Buckets in concealed Wells,

To crowch in litter of your ſtble planks,
To lye like pawns, lock'd up in Chefts and Trunks,

To hug with ſwine, to seek ſweet ſafety out
In vaults and prifons, and to thrill and ſhake,

Even

324

Even at the crying of your Nations crow,
Think it this voice an armed English man.
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chaffitement?
No: know the gallant Monarch is in Armes,
And like an Eagle, of his aery towres,
To fowlfe annoyance that comes neere his Neft;
And you degenerate, you ingrate Revolts,
You bloody Nere's, ripping up the womb

Of your dear Mother-England: blush for shame:
For your own Ladies, and pale-vif'd Maids
Like Amazons, come tipping after drummes:
Their thimbles into armed Gandlets change,
Their Needles to Lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.

Dol. There end thy brave, and turne thy face in peace,
We grant thou canst out-fcold us: fare thee well,
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabler.

Pan. Give me leave to tpeak.

Bast. No, I will tpeak.

Dol. We will attend to neither a
Strike up the drummes, and let the tongue of warre,
Plead for our interest, and our being here.

Bast. Indeed your Drums being beaten, will cry out
And fo' shall you, being beaten: do but flart
An eccho with the clamour of thy drumme,
And even at hand, a drumme is ready brac'd,
That shall reverbrate all, as loud as thine.

Sound but another, and another shall
(As loud as thine) rattle the Welkins ear,
And mock the deep-month'd Thunder: for at hand
(Not trufting to this halting Legat here
Whom he hath u'd rather for sport than need)
Is warlike John: and in his forehead fits
A bare-rib'd death, whose office is this day
To feaft upon whole thousands of the French.

Dol. Strike up our drummes, to find this danger out.

Bast. And thou shall find it (Dolphin) do not doubt.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Alarums. Enter John, and Hubert.

John. How goes the day with us? oh, tell me Hubert.

Hub. Badly I fear; how fares your Majesty?

John. This Feaver that hath troubled me so long,

Lyes heavy on me: oh, my heart is sick.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. My Lord: your valiant kinsman Faulconbridge,
Desires your Majety to leave the field,
And fend him word by me, which way you goe.

John. Tell him toward Swinſted, to the Abby there.

Mef. Be of good comfort: for the great supply,
That was expected by the Dolphin here,

Are wrack'd three nights agoe on Gordwin fands.
This news was brought to Richard but even now,

The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.

John. Aye me, this tyrant Feaver burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news.

Set on toward Swinſted: to my Litter (straight,
Weikneſſe posſeth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Sal. I did not think the King forfl'd with friends.

Pem. Up once again: put ſpirit in the French,
If they miſcarry, we miſcarry too.

Sal. That misbegotten Divel Faulconbridge,
In ſpight of ſpight, alone upholds the day.

Pem. They ſay King John ſore ſick hath left the field.

Enter Melonwounded.

Mel. Lead me to the Revolts of England here.

Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.

Pem. It is the Count Meloue.

Sal. Wounded to death.

Mel. Fly Noble English, you are bought and fold,
Unthred the rude eye of rebellion,

And welcome home again diſcarded faith,

Seek out King John, and fall before his feet.

For if the French be Lords of this loud day,
He means to recompence the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he ſworn,
And I with him, and many moe with me,
Upon the Altar at St. Edmondsbury,
Even on that Altar, where we ſwore to you,
Deere amity, and everflathing love.

Sal. May this be poffible? May this be true?

Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,
Retaining but a quantity of life,

Which bleeds away, even as a form of waxe

Reſolveth from his figure 'gainſt the fire?

What in the world should make me now deceptſe,

Since I muſt loſe the uſe of all deceit?

Why should I then be false, ſince it is true

That I muſt die here, and live hence, by truth?

I ſay againe, if Lewis do winne the day,

He is forſworn, if ehe theſe eies of yours

Behold another day break in the Eaſt:

But even this night, whose black contagious breath
Already fmoaks about the burning Creft

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sunne,
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,
Paying the fine of rated Treachery,

Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives:
If Lewis, by your affiſtance win the day.

Commend me to one Hubert, with your King;

The love of him, and this reſpect beſides

(For that my Grandſire was an Englishman)

Awakes my Conſience, to conſeſſe all this.

In lieu whereof, I pray you bear me hence

From forth the noife and rumour of the field:

Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts

In peace: and part this body and my foul

With contemplation, and devout defires.

Sal. We do beleeve thee, and beſhew my foul,
But I do love the favour, and the form
Of this moſt fair occafion, by the which
We will unread the ſteps of damned flight,
And like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankneſſe, and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o're-look'd,
And calmly run on in obedience.

Even to our Ocean, to our great King John.

My armes shall give thee help to bear thee hence,

For

It would not out at windows, nor at doors,
There is so hot a Summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
I am a scribled forme drawn with a pen,
Upon a Parchment, and against this fire
Doe I shrink up.

Hen. How fares your Majeftie ?

John. Poyfond, ill fare: de, forfook, caff off,
And none of you will bid the Winter come
To Thrust his icie fingers in my maw;
Nor let my Kingdomes Rivers take their courfe
Through my burn'd boſom: nor intreat the North
To make his bleak winds kiffle my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not aske you much,
I beg cold comfort: and you are ſo ſtraight
And ſo ingrateful, you deny me that.

Hen. Oh that there were ſome vertue in my tears,
That might relieve you.

John. The salt of them is hot.
Within me is a hell, and there the poyſon
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize,
On unrepreevable condemned blood.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. Oh, I am ſcalfed with my violent motion
And ſpleen of ſpeed to fee your Majeſtie.

John. Oh Cozen, thou art come to fet mine eye:
The tackle of my heart, is cracker and burnt,
And all the fliewds wherewith my life ſhould ſaile,
Are turned to one thred, one little hair:
My heart hath one poor string to ſtay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou feet, is but a cloud,
And module of confounded Royalty.

Baſt. The *Dolphin* is preparing bitherward,
Where heaven he knows how we shall anſwer him.
For in a night the belt part of my power,
As I upon advanſage did remove,
Were in the Wafhes all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected flood.

Sal. You breath theſe dead news in as dead an ear
My Liege, my Lord: but now a King, now thus.

Hen. Even ſo muſt I run on, and even ſo flop.
What ſurety of the world, what hope, what ſtay,
When this was now a King, and now is Clay ?

Baſt. Art thou gone ſo ? I do but ſtay behind
To do the office for thee, of revenge,
And then my foul shall wait on thee to Heaven,

As it on earth hath been thy ſervant full.
Now, now you Stars, that move in your right Spheres,
Where be your powers ? Shew now your mended faiths,
And instantly return with me again,
To push deſtruction, and perpetual ſtame
Out of the weak door of our ſainting Land:
Straight let us seek, or ſtraight we shall be ſought,
The *Dolphin* rages at our very heels.

Sal. It ſeems you know not then so much as we,
The Cardinal *Pandulph* is within at reſt,
Who half an hour ſince came from the *Dolphin*,
And brings from him ſuch offers of our peace,
As we with honour and reſpect may take,
With purpofe prefently to leave this warre.

Baſt. He will the rather do it, when he ſees
Our ſelves well ſinew'd to our defence.

Sal. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already,
For many carriages he hath diſpatch'd
To the Sea-fide, and put his cauſe and quarrel
To the diſpoſing of the Cardinal,
With whom your ſelf, my ſelf, and other Lords,
If you think meet, this afternoon will poff
To confuſmate this buſineſſe happily.

Baſt. Let it be ſo, and you my Noble Prince,
With other Princes that may beſt be ſpar'd,
Shall wait upon your Fathers ſuneral.

Hen. At *Worceſter* muſt his body be intert'd,
For ſo he will'd it.

Baſt. Thither shall it then,
And happily may your ſweet ſelf put on
The lineal ſtate, and glory of the Land,
To whom with all ſubmission on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithful ſervices
And true ſubjeſtion everlaſtingly.

Sal. And the like ſender of our love we make
To reſt without a ſpot for evermore.

Hen. I have a kind ſoul that would give thanks,
And knows not how to do it but with tears.

Baſt. Oh let us pay the time : but neeſful woe,
Since it hath been before hand with our griefs.
This England never did, nor never ſhall
Lye at the proud foot of a Conqueror,
But when it firſt did help to wound it ſelf.
Now, theſe her Princes are come home again,
Come the three Corners of the world in Armes,
And we ſhall ſhock them: Nought shall make us me,
If England to it ſelf, do reſt but true.

FINIS.

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328

The Life and Death of King Richard the Second.

In name of lendings for your Highneſſe Souldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd imployments,
Like a falſe traitor and injurious Villain,
Befides I ſay, and will in battail prove,
Or here, or elsewhere to the furtheſt Verge
That ever was ſurvey'd by English eye,
That all the Treafons for theſe eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this Land,
Ferſt from falſe Mowbray their firſt head and ſprings,
Furthe I ſay, and further will maintain
Upon his bad life, to make all this good,
That he did plot the Duke of Glouſters death,
Sugſeft his ſoon beleeving adverfaries,
And conſequently like a traitor Coward,
Sluc'd out his innocent ſoul through ſtreams of blood :
Which blood, like facrificing Abels cries,
(Even from the tonguelſſe Caverns of the earth)
To me for juſtice, and rough chaſtijement :
And by the glorious worth of my deſcent,
This arm ſhall do it, or this life ſe pſent.
King. How high a pitch his ſolution foars :
Thomas of Norſtolke, what ſaſt thou to this ?
Mow. Oh let my Soveraign turn away his ſace,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
Till I have told this ſlander of his blood,
How God and good men hate ſo foul a lyer.
King. Mowbray, impartial are our ies and ears,
Were he my brother, nay, our Kingdoms heir,
As he is but my fathers brothers ſon;
Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-neerneſſe to our ſacred blood,
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unſtooping firmneſſe of my upright ſoul.
He is our ſubjeſt (Mowbray) ſo far thou,
Free ſpeech and fearleſſe, I to thee allow.
Mow. Then Bullingbrooke as low as to thy heart,
Through the falſe paſſage of thy throat; thou lieth :
Three parts of that receipt I had for Callice,
Disburoſt I to his Highneſſe Souldiers :
The other part reſer'd I by confent,
For that my Soveraign Liege was in my debt,
Upon remainder of a deer account,
Since laſt I went to France to ſearch his Queen :
Now ſwallow down that lye. For Glouſters death,
I ſlew him not; but (to mine own diſgrace)
Neglected my ſworn duty in that cafe :
For you my noble Lord of Lancaster,
The honorable father to my ſoe,
Once I did lay an ambuſh for your life,
A treſpafle that doth vex my grieved ſoul :
But ere I laſt recei'd the Sacrament,
I did conſeſſe it, and exiſtly begg'd
Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault : as for the reſt appeal'd,
It iſſues from the rancor of a Villaine,
A recreant and moſt degenerate traitor,
Which in my ſelf I boldly will defend,
And interchangeably hurle down my gage,
Upon this overweening traitors foot,
To prove my ſelf a loyal Gentleman,
Even in the beſt blood chamber'd in his boſom.
In haſe whereof moſt heartily I pray
Your Highneſſe to aſſigne our tryal day.
King. Wrath kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me :
Let's purge this choller without letting blood :
This we preſcribe, though no Phyſitian.

Deep malice makes too deep inciſion.
Forget, forgive, conclude and be agreed,
Our Doctors ſay, this is no time to bleed.
Good Uncle, let this end where it begun,
We'll calme the Duke of Norſtolke, you your ſon.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace ſhall become my age,
Throw down (my ſon) the Duke of Norſtolke gage.
King. And Norſolk throw down his.
Gaunt. When Harry when ? Obedience bids,
Obedience bids, I ſhould not bid agen.
King. Norſtolke, throw down, we bid ; there is no
boot.
Mow. My ſelf I throw (dread Soveraign) at thy foſt.
My life thou ſhalt command, but not my ſhame,
The one my duty owes, but my fair name
Deſpight of death that lives upon my grave
To dark diſhonours uſe, thou ſhalt not have.
I am diſgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffeſ'd here,
Pierc'd to the ſoul, with ſlanders venom'd ſpear :
The which no balme can cure, but his heart blood
Which breath'd this poyſon.
King. Rage muſt be withſtlood :
Give me his gage : Lyons make Leopards fame.
Mow. Yea, but not change his ſpots: take but my ſhame,
And I reſigne my gage. My deer, deer Lord,
The pureſt treaſure mortal times afford,
Is ſpottleſe reputation : that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay,
A Jewell in a ten-times barr'd up Cheſt,
Is a bold ſpirit in a loyal breſt.
Mine honour is my life, both grow in one :
Take honour from me, and my life is done.
Then (deer my Liege) mine honour let me try,
In that I live ; and for that will I dye.
King. Cofin, throw down your gage,
Doe you begin.
Bnl. Oh heaven defend my ſoul from ſuch ſoul ki,
Shall I ſeem Creſt-faln in my fathers fight,
Or with pale beggar'd fear impeach my hight
Before this out-clar'd daſtard ? Ere my tongue,
Shall wound mine honour with ſuch feeble wrong :
Or found ſo baſe a parle : my teeth ſhall tear
The flavilſh motive of recanting fear,
And ſpit it bleeding in his high diſgrace,
Where ſhame doth harbour, even in Mowbrays face.
Exit Gaunt.
King. We were not born to ſue, but to command,
Which ſince we cannot doe to make you friends,
Be ready, (as your lives ſhall anſwer it)
At Coventree, upon Saint Lamberts day :
There ſhall your ſwords and Lances arbitrate
The ſwelling difference of your ſetled hate :
Since we cannot attone you, you ſhall ſee
Juſtice deſigne the Vicerſors Chivalry.
Lord Marſhal command our Officers at Arms,
Be ready to direct theſe home Alarmes.
Exenunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Gaunt, and Dutchefſe of Glouſter.
Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glouſters blood,
Doth more ſolicite me than your exclaims,
To ſirre againſt the Butchers of his life.

But

The Life and Death of Richard the second.

But since correction lyeth in thofe hands
Which made the fault that we cannot correct
Put we our quarrell to the will of Heaven,
Who when they fee the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders heads.

Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre ?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?

Edwards feven fons (whereof thy self art one)
Were as feven Vialls of his ſacred blood.

Or feven fair branches ſpringing from one root :
Some of thofe feven are dri'd by natures courſe,
Some of thofe branches by the deſtinies cut :

But Thomas, my deer Lord, my life, my Gloſter,
One Viall full of Edwards Sacred blood,

One flourishing branch of his moſt Royal root
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ;

Is hackt down, and his Summer leaves all vaded
By Envyes hand, and Murders bloody Axe.

An Gaunt ? His blood was thine, that bed, that womb,
That mettle, that ſelf-mould that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man : and though thou liv't and breath't ;

Yet art thou fluin in him : thou doſt confent
In ſome large meaſure to thy Fathers death,

In that thou ſeeth thy wretched brother die,
Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.

Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is deſpair,
In ſuffring thus thy brother to be floughter'd,

Thou ſhew't the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching ſtern murther how to butcher thee :

That which in mean men, we intitle patience
Is pale cold cowardeſſe in noble breſts :

What ſhall I ſay, to ſafegard thine own life,

The beſt way is to venge my Gloſters death.

Gaunt. Heavens is the quarrell : for heavens ſubſtincue,
His Deputy anointed in his fight,

Hath cauſ'd his death, the which if wrongfully

Let heaven revenge : for I may never like

An angry arme against his Minifter.

Dut. Where then (alas) may I complain my ſelf ?

Gaunt. To heaven, the widows Champion to defence.

Dut. Why then I will : farewell old Gaunt.

Thou go't to Coventrey, there to behold

Our Couſin Hereford, and ſell Mowbray fight :

Of ſit my Husbands wrongs on Hereſords ſpear,

That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes breſt :

Or if misfortune miſes the firſt carreer,

Be Mowbrayes ſins ſo heavy in his boſom,

That they may break his foaming Courſers back,
And throw the Rider headlong in the Lifts,

A Cayciffe recreant to my Couſin Hereſord.

Farewell old Gaunt, thy ſomtimes brothers wife
With her companion Grief, muſt end her life.

Gaunt. Sifter farewell : I muſt to Coventrey,
As much good ſtay with thee, as go with me.

Dut. Yet one word more, Grief boundeth where it falls,
Not with the empty hollowneſſe but weight :

I take my leave, before I have begun,

For forrow ends not : when it ſeemeth done.

Commend me to my Brother Edward York.

Loe, this is all : nay yet depart not ſo,

Though this be all, do not ſo quickly go,

I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what ?
With all good ſpeed at Plashie visit me.

Alack, and what ſhall good old York, there ſee
But empty lodgings, and unfurniſhed walls,

Un-people'd Offices, unatroden ſtones ?

And what hear there for welcome, but my groans ?
Therefore commend me, let him not come there,

To ſeek out forrow that dwels every where ;

Deſolate, deſolate will I hence, and dye,

The laſt leave of thee, takes my weeping eye.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Marshal and Aumerle.

Mar. My L. Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd ?

Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.

Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, (prightful and bold,
Stays but the fummons of the appealants Trumpet.

Au. Why then the Champions are prepar'd, and ſay
For nothing but his Majelties approach.

Flourish.

Enter King, Gaunt, Busby, Bagot, Green, &
others: Then Mowbray in Armor, and Harvold.

Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder Champion

The cauſe of his arrival here in Armes,
Aske him his name, and orderly proceed

To ſwear him in the juſtice of his cauſe.

Mar. In Gods Name, and the Kings, ſay who thou att?

And why thou com'ſt, thus Knightly clad in Armes ?

Ag'inſt what man thou com'ſt, and what's thy quarrell,

Speak truly on thy Knighthood, and thine oath,

As to defend thee heaven, and thy valour.

Mow. My name is Tho. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

Who hither come engaged by my oath,
(Which heaven defend a Knight ſhould violate.)

Both to defend my loyalty and truth,

To God, my King, and his ſucceeding ſuſſue,

Against the Duke of Hereford, that appeals me :

And by the Grace of God and this mine Arme,

To prove him (in defending of my ſelf)

A Traitor to my God, my King, and me;

And as I truly fight, defend me heaven.

Tocket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.

Rich. Marshal: Aske yonder Knight in Armes,

Both who he is, and why he cometh hither,

Thus placed in habiliments of warre :

And formally according to our Law

Depofe him in the juſtice of his cauſe.

Mar. What is thy name, &c wherefore com'ſt thou hither

Before King Richard in his Royal Lifts ?

Against whom com'ſt thou ? and what's thy quarrel?

Speak like a true Knight, to defend thee heaven.

Bull. Harry of Hereford, Lancaſter, and Derby,

An I, who ready here do stand in Arms,

To prove by heavens grace, and my bodies valour,

In Lifts, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk,

That he's a Traitor foul and dangerous,

To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me,

On pain of death, no person be so bold,

Or daring hardy as to touch the Lifts,

Except the Marshal, and such officers

Appointed to direct these ſair deſignes.

Bull. Lord Marshal, let me kiffie my Soveraigns hand,
And bow my knee before his Majety :

For Mowbray and my ſelf are like two men,

That vow a long and weary pilgrimage,

Ee

Then

["The Life and Death of Richard the second.", "33°", "Then let us take a ceremonious leave", "And loving farewell of our several friends.", "Mar. The Appeasant in all duty greets your Highneſſe.\nAnd craves to kiffe your hand, and take his leave.", "Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our arms.", "Couſin of Hereford as thy cauſe is juſt,", "So be thy fortune in this Royal fight:", "Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou ſhed,\nLament me may, but not revenge thee dead.", "Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a tear\nFor me, if I be go'd with Mowbrayes spear:\nAs confident, as is the Faulcons flight\nAgainſt a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.", "My loving Lord, I take my leave of you,", "Of you (my noble Cofin) Lord Aumerle;", "Not ſick, although I have to do with death,", "But luſhy, young, and cheery drawing breath.", "Loe, as at English Feaſts, so I regreet\nThe daintieſt laſt, to make the end moſt tweet.\nOh thou the earthy author of my blood,", "Whofe youthful ſpirit in me regenerate,", "Doth with a two-fold vigor lift me up", "To reach at victory above my head,", "Adde proof unto mine Armour with thy Prayers,", "And with thy bleſſings ſeel my Lances point,", "That it may enter Mowbrays wexen coat,", "And furniſh new the name of John a Gaunt", "Even in the luſhy haviour of his ſonne.", "Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cauſe make thee profane,\nBe Swift like lightning in the execution,", "And let thy blows doubly redoubled,", "Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske", "Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.", "Rouze up thy youthful Blood, be valiant, and live.", "Bull. Mine innocence, and St. George to thrive.", "Mow. How ever heaven or fortune caſt my lot,", "There lives, or dies, true to King Richards Thronè,", "A loyal, juſt, and upright Gentleman :", "Never did Caprain with a freer heart", "Caſt off his chains of bondage, and embrace", "His golden uncontroul'd enfranchiſement,", "More than my dancing foul doth celebrate", "This Feaſt of Battle, with mine adverſary.", "Moſt mighty Liege, and my companion Peers,", "Take from my mouth, the with of happy yeers,", "As gentle, and as jocond, as to jeſt,", "Go I to fight : Truth, hath a quiet breſt.", "Rich. Farewell my Lord, securely I espy", "Verue with valour, couched in thine eye :", "Order the trial Mirthal, and begin.", "Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,\nReceive thy Launce, and Heaven defend thy right.", "Bull. Strong as a Tower in hope, I cry Amen.", "Mar. Go bear this Launce to Thomas Duke of Norfolk.", "1. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,", "Stands here for God, his Soveraign, and himself,", "On pain to be found false and recreant,", "To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,", "A Traitor to his God, his King, and him,", "And darest him to fer forward to the fight.", "2. Har. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk", "On pain to be found false and recreant,", "Both to defend himself, and to approve", "Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,", "To God, his Soveraign, and to him diſloyal :", "Couragiously, and with a free defire,", "Attending but the ſignall to begin.", "A charge ſounded.", "Mar. Sound trumpets, and let forward Combatants:\nStay, the King hath thrown his Warder down.", "Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets, and their Spears,\nAnd both return back to their Chairs again :", "Withdraw with us, and let the Trumpets found,", "While we return thefe Dukes what we decree.", "A long Flowrish.", "Draw neer and lift", "What with our Council we have done.", "For that our Kingdo'ms earth should not be ſoyl'd", "With that deer blood which it hath ſoſtered,", "And for our eie do hare the dire aspect", "Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours ſwords,", "Which ſo rouz'd up with boſterous untu'n Drums,", "With harſh refounding Trumpets dreadful bray,", "And graring ſhock of wrathful iron Arms,", "Might from our quiet Confines fright fair Peace,", "And make us wade even in our kindreds blood :", "Therefore, we baniſh you our Territories.", "You Cofin Hereford, upon pain of death,", "Till twice five Summers have enrich'd our fields,", "Shall not regreet our fair dominions,", "But tread the ſtranger paths of baniſhment.", "Bull. Your will be done : This muſt my comfort be,\nThat Sun that warms you here, ſhall ſhine on me :", "And thofe his golden beams to you here lent,", "Shall point on me, and gild my baniſhment.", "Rich. Norfolk : for thee remains a heavier doome,", "Which I with ſome unwillingneſſe pronounce,", "The flye flow hours ſhall not determinate", "The dateſſe limit of thy deer exile :", "The hopeleſſe word, of never to return,", "Breathe I againſt thee, upon pain of life.", "Mow. A heavy ſentence, my moſt Soveraign Liege,\nAnd all unlooke'd for your Highneſſe mouth :", "A deerer merit, not ſo deep a maime,", "As to be caſt forth in the common air", "Have I deſerved at your Highneſſe hands.", "The language I have learn'd theſe forty years", "(My native English) now I muſt forgo,", "And now my tongues uſe is to me no more,", "Than an unſtringed Violl, or a Harp,", "Or like a cunning Inſtrument cas'd up,", "Or being open, put into his hands", "That knows no touch to tune the harmony.", "Within my mouth you have engoald my tongue,", "Doubly perculliſh with my teeth and lips,", "And dull, unſeeling, barren ignorance,", "Is made my Goaler to attend on me :", "I am too old to fawn upon a Nurſe,", "Too farre in years to be a pupil now :", "What is thy ſentence then, but ſpeechleſſe death,", "Which rebs my tongue from breathing native breath?", "Rich. It boots thee not to be compaſſionate,\nAfter our ſentence, plaining comes too late.", "Mow. Then thus I turn me from my Countries light\nto dwell in ſolemn ſhades of endleſſe night.", "Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee\nLay on our Royal ſword, your baniſh'd hands ;", "Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven", "(Our part therein we baniſh with your ſelves)", "To keep the Oath that we adminiſter :", "You never ſhall ( so help you Truth, and Heaven)", "Embrace each others love in baniſhment,", "Nor ever look upon each others face,", {"bbox": [1008, 1350, 103

["The Life and Death of Richard the second.", "33†", "Nor ever write, regreet, or reconcile", "This lowring tempeſt of your home-bred hate,", "Nor ever by advifed purpose meet,", "To plot, contrive, or complot any ill,", "'Gaint Us, our State, our Subjects, or our Land.", "Bul. I fewr.", "Mow. And I, to keep all this.", "Bull. Norfolk, so fire, as to mine enemy,", "By this time (had the King permitred us)", "One of our fouls had wandred in the air,", "Banifh'd this frail sepulcher of our fleſh,", "As now our fleſh is banifh'd from this Land.", "Confefſe thy Treafons, ere thou fly this Realm,", "Since thou haſt farre to go, bear not along", "The clogging burthen of a guilty foul.", "Mow. No Bullingbrooke : if ever I were Traitor,", "My name be blotted from the book of Life,", "And I from heaven banifh'd, as from hence :", "But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know,", "And all too loon ('I fear') the King shall rue.", "Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I fly,", "Save back to England, all the worlds my way.", "Rich. Uncle, even in the glaſſes of thine eies", "I fee thy grieved heart : thy fad affeet,", "Hath from the number of his banifh'd years", "Pluck'd four away: Six frozen Winters ſpent,", "Return with welcome home from banifhment.", "Bull. How long a time lies in one little word :", "Four lagging Winters, and four wanton Springs", "End in a word, ſuch is the breath of Kings.", "Gaunt. I thank my Liege, that in regard of me", "He ſhortens four years of my ſons exile :", "But little vantage ſhall I reap thereby.", "For ere the fix years that he hath to ſpend,", "Can change the Moons, and bring their times about,", "My oyl-dri'd Lamp, and time-bewailed light", "Shall be extinct with age, and endleſſe night :", "My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done,", "And blindfold death, not let e e fee my ſon.", "Rich. Why Uncle, thou haſt many years to live.", "Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canſt give,", "Shorten my daies thou canſt with ſudden ſorrow,", "And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow :", "Thou canſt help time to ſurrow me with age,", "But ſtop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage :", "Thy word is currant with him, for my death,", "But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.", "Rich. Thy ſon is banifh'd upon good advice,", "Whereunto thy tongue a pitty-verdiſt gave,", "Why at our juſtice ſeem'd it thou then to lowre ?", "Gaunt. Things ſwee to tafe, prove in digeſion ſowre :", "You urg'd me as a Judge, but I had rather", "You would have bid me argue like a Father.", "Alas, I look'd when ſome of you ſhould ſay,", "I was too triet to make mine own away :", "But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,", "Aginſt my will, to do my ſelf this wrong.", "Rich. Coſin farewell: and Uncle bid him so :", "Six years we banifh him, and he ſhall go.", "Flourish.", "Au. Coſin farewell, what prefence muſt not know", "From where you do remain, let paper ſhow.", "Mar. My Lord, no leave take I, for I will ride", "As far as Land will let me, by your ſide.", "Gaunt. Oh to what purpofe doſt thou hord thy words,", "That thou return't no greeting to thy friends?", "Bull. I have too ſew to take my leave of you,", "When the tongues office ſhould be prodigal,", "To breath th'abundant dolour of the heart.", "Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy abſence for a time.", "Bull. Joy abſent, grief is prefent for that time.", "Gaunt. What is fix Winters, they are quickly gone ?", "Bull. To men in joy, but grief makes one hour ten.", "Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak't for pleasure.", "Bull. My heart will ſigh, when I mifcall it so,", "Which finds it an inſorced Pilgrimage.", "Gaunt. The ſullen paſſage of thy weary ſteps", "Eſteem a ſoyl, wherein thou art to ſet", "The precious Jewell of thy home return.", "Bull. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand", "By thinking on the froſty Caucusſus ?", "Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,", "By bare imagination of a Feaſt ?", "Or wallow naked in December ſnow", "By thinking on fantaſtick Summers heat ?", "Oh no, the apprehenſion of the good", "Gives but the greater feeling to the worſe :", "Fell forrowes tooth, doth ever rancle more", "Then when it bites, but lanceth nor the fore.", "Gaunt. Come, come (my ſon) Ile bring thee on thy way", "Had I thy youth, and cauſe, I would not ſlay.", "Bull. Then Englands ground farewell: I weet foil adieu", "My Mother and my Nurſe, which bears me yet :", "Where ere I wander, boſt of this I can,", "Though banifh'd, yet a true-born Englishman.", "## Scena Quarta.", "Enter King, Amerle, Green, Bagot.", "Rich. We did obſerve. Coſin Amerle,", "How farre brought you High Hereford on his way ?", "Aum. I brought High Hereford (if you call him so)", "But to the next high way, and there I left him.", "Rich. And ſay, what ſore of parting tears were ſhed?", "Aum. Faith none by me : except the Northaſt wind", "Which then grew bitterly against our face,", "Awak'd the ſleepy rheume, and so by chance", "Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.", "Rich. What ſaid our Coſin when you patted with him?", "Aum. Farewell: and for my heart diſdained that my toung", "Should ſo prophane the word, that taught me craft", "To counterfeit oppreſſion of ſuch grief,", "That word ſeem'd buried in my ſorrows grave.", "Marry, would the word farewell, had lengthd'd hours,", "And added years to his ſhort banifhment,", "He ſhould have had a volumne of farewels", "But ſince it would not, he had none of me.", "Rich. He is our Coſin (Coſin) but 's doubt,", "When time shall call him home from banifhment,", "Whether our kinfman come to fee his friends,", "Our ſelf, and Bumſy: here Bagot and Green", "Obſerv'd his Courſhip to the common people :", {"bbox": [465, 1232, 748, 125

332

A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his fuple knee,
With thanks my Countreymen, my loving friends,
As were our England in reverion his,
And he our subjeets next degree in hope.

Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him goe these thoughts:
Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient mannage muft be made my Liege
Ere further leifure, yield the further means
For their advantage, and your highneſſe loſſe.

Rich. We will our ſelf in perſon to this warre,
And for our Coffers, with too great a Court,
And liberal Largeſſe, are grown ſomewhat light,
We are inſor'd to farm our Royal Realm,
The revenew whereof ſhall furniſh us
For our affairs in hand: if they come ſhort
Our ſubſtitutes at home ſhall have Blank charters :
Whereeto, when they ſhall know what men are rich,
They ſhall ſubſcribe them for large ſummes of Gold,
And ſend them after to ſupply our wants :
For we will make for Ireland preſently.

Enter Busby.

Buſhy, what news?

Bu. Old John of Gaunt is very ſick my Lord,
Sodainly taken, and hath ſent poſt haſte
To intreat your Maſely to viſit him.

Ric. Where lies he?

Bu. At Ely-haunce.

Ric. Now put it (heaven) in his Phyſitians mind,
To help him to his grave immediately :
The lining of his Coffers ſhall make Coats
To deck our ſouldiers for theſe Irish warres.

Come Gentlemen, let's all go viſit him :

Pray heaven we may make haſte, and come too late. Exit.

Where doth the World thrutth forth a vanity,
So it be new, there's no reſpect how vile,
That is not quickly buz'd into their ears ?
That all too late comes counſel to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wits regard :
Direet not him, whose way himſelf will chooſe,
'Tis breath thou lackt, and that breath wilt thou looſe.

Gaunt. Methinks I am a Prophet new inſpir'd,
And thus expiring, do ſoreſtell of him,
His rafh ſterce blaze of Ryot cannot laſt,
For violent fires ſoon burn out themſelves ;
Small flowers laſt long, but ſodain ſtrorms are ſhort,
He tires betimes, that ſpurs too laſt betimes ;
With eager feeding, food doth choak the feeder ;
Light vanity, inſatiate cormorant,

Consuming means ſoon preys upon it ſelf.
This roarry THRONE of Kings, this (ceptered Ille,
This earth of Maſely, this ſeat of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradife,
This Fortrefs built by Nature for her ſelf,
Aginſt inſection, and the hind of warre :
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious ſtone fet in the ſilver Sea,
Which ſerves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a Moat defensive to a house,
Aginſt the envy of leſſe happier Lands,

This bleſſed plot, this Earth, this Realm, this England,
This Nurfe, this teeming worb of Royal Kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,
Renowned for their deeds, as far from home,
For Chriſtian ſervice, and true Chivalrie,

As is the ſepulcher in ſtubborn Inry

Of the world ſranſom, bleſſed Maries Son.
This Land of ſuch deer ſouls, this deer-deer Land,
Deer for her reputation through the world,
Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)
Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme

England bound in with the triumphant Sea,
Whose rocky shore bears back the envious ſiedge
Of watry Neptune, is now bound in with ſhame,
With Inky blots, and rotten Parchment bonds.
That England that was want to conquer others,
Hath made a ſhameful conquer of it ſelf.

Ah ? would the ſcandal vanifh with my life,
How happy then were my enfuſing death ?

Enter King, Queen, Aumerle, Busby, Green,
Baget, Ros, and Willoughby.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter ſick Gaunt, with Tork.

Gaunt. Will the King come, that I may breath my laſt
In wholſom counſell to his unſtaid youth?

Tor. Vex not your ſelf, nor trive nor with your breath,
For all in vain comes counſel to his ear.

Gaunt. Oh but (they ſay) the tongues of dying men
Inforce attention like deep harmony :

Where words are ſcarrce, they are ſeldom ſpent in vain,
For they breath truth, that breath their words in pain.

He that no more muſt ſay, is liffen'd more,
Then they whom youth and eafe have taught to gloſe,
More are mens ends market; then their lives before,
The fetting Sun, and Mufick is the cloſe

As the laſt taſſe of sweets, is sweeteſt laſt,
Writ in remembrance, mo: then things long paſt ;

Though Richard my lives counſel would not hear,
My death's ſad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

Tor. No, it is ſtort with other flatt'ring ſounds
As praſes of his ſtare: then there are found
Latcivious Mecters, to whose venom found
The open ears of youth doth always liffen.

Report of fashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners till our tardie apſh Nation

Limps after in bafe imitation.

Tor. The King is come, deal mildly with his youth,
For young hot Coals, being rag'd, do rage the more.

Qu. How fares our Noble Uncle Lancafter ?

Ric. What comfort man ? How ſift with aged gaunt ?

Gaunt. Oh how that name beſis my composition :
Old Gaunt indeed, and Gaunt in being old :
Within me grief hath kept a tedious laſt,
And who abtains from meat, that is not gaunt ?
For ſleeping England long time have I watcht,
Watching breeds leanneſſe, leanneſſe is all gaunt :

The pleasure that some Fathers feed upon,
Is my friet ſaſt, I mean my Childrens looks,
And therein faſting haſt thou made me gaunt :
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave ;
Whose hollow worb inherits nought but bones.

Ric. Can ſick men play so nicely with their names ?
Gaunt. No, miſery makes ſport to mock it ſelfe :

Since thou doſt ſeek to kill my name in me,

I

I mock my name (great King) to flatter thee.

Ric. Should dying men flatter thofe that live ?

Gau. No, no men living flatter thofe that dye.

Ric. Thou now a dying, laift thou flatter't me.

Gau. Oh no, thou dyeth, though I the ficker be.

Ric. I am in health, I breathe, I fee thee ill.

Gau. Now he that made me, knows I fee thee ill :
Ill in my felf to fee, and in thee, feeing ill,
Thy death-bed is no letter then the Land,
Wherein thou lieft in reputation fick,
And thou too careleſſe patient as thou art,
Committ't thy anointed body to the cure

Enter Northumberland.

Rich. What faies he ?

Nor. Nay nothing, all is faid:

Rich. Why Uncle,

Tor. Ile not be by the while : my Leige farewell,

E e 3

What

The Life and Death of King Richard the second.

Qu. 'Tis nothing leſſe: conceit is still deriv'd
From ſome fore-father grief, mine is not ſo,
For nothing hath begot my ſomething grief,
Or ſomething, hath the nothing that I grieve,
'Tis in reversion that I do poffeſſe,
But what it is, that is not yet known, what
I cannot name, 'tis nameleſſe woe I wor.

Enter Green.

Gree. Heaven ſave your Majesty, and well met Gen-
I hope the King is not yet ſhipt for Ireland. (Glemen)

Qu. Why hop'tt thou ſo ? 'Tis better hope he is :
For his deſignes crave haſſe, good hope,
Then wherefore doſt thou hope he is not ſhipt?

Gree. That he our hope, might have retir'd his power,
And driven into deſpair an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath fet footing in this Land,
The baniſh'd Bullinbrook repeals himſelf,
And with up-lifted Arms is ſafe arriv'd
At Ravenſpurg.

Qu. Now God in heaven forbid.
Gree. O Madam 'tis too true : and that is worse,
The L. Northumberland, his young ſon Henry Percie,
The Lords of Roffe, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends are ſed to him.

Buch. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the reſt of that revolten ſaction, Traitors?

Gree. We have : whereupon the Earl of Worceſter
Hath broke his ſtaffe, reſign'd his Stewardship,
And all the houſhold ſervants ſed with him to Bullinbrook.

Qu. So Green, thou art the Midwife of my woe,
And Bullinbrook my ſorrowdial heir :
Now hath my ſoul brought forth her prodigie,
And I a gafſing new delivered Mother,
Have woe to woe, ſorrow to ſorrow joyn'd.

Buch. Deſpair not Madam,
Qu. Who ſhall hinder me?
I will deſpair and be at enmity
With couzening hope; he is a flatterer.

A Parafite, a keeper back of death,
Who gently would diſolve the bands of life,
Which false hopes linger in extremity.

Enter York.

Gree. Here comes the Duke of York.

Qu. With ſignes of warre about his aged neck,
Oh full of careful buſineſſe are his looks :
Uncle, for heavens ſake ſpeak comfortable words.

Tor. Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but croſſes, care and grief :

Your Husband he is gone to ſave farre off,
Whileth others come to make his loose at home :
Here am I left to underprop his Land,
Who weak with age, cannot ſupport my ſelf :
Now comes his ſick hour that his ſurſet made,
Now ſhall he try his friends that flattered him.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord, your ſon was gone before I came,
Tor. He was : why ſo, go all whichway it will :
The Nobles they are ſed, the Commons they are cold,
And will I fear revolt on Herefords ſide.
Sirra, get thee to Plassie to my Sifter Gloſter,
Bid her ſend me prefently a thouſand pound,
Hold, take my Ring.

Ser. My Lord, I had forſore,
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there,
But I ſhall grieve you to report the reſt.

Tor. What is't knave ?

Ser. An hour before I came, the Dutchefle di'd,
Tor. Heav'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Come rufing on this woſul Land at once ?
I know not what to do : I would to heaven
(So my untruth had not provok'd him to it)
The King had cut oſſ my head with my brother's.
What, are there poſſs difpatch'd for Ireland ?
How ſhall we do for money for theſe warres ?
Come tifter, (Cofin I would ſay) pray pardon me,
Go follow, get thee home, provide ſome Carts,
And bring away the Armour that is there.

Gentlemen, will you muſter men ?
If I know how, or which way to order theſe affairs
Thus disorderly thruft into my hands,

Never beleeve me. Both are my kinſmen,
Th'one is my Soveraign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend : th'other again
Is my kinſman, whom the King hath wrong'd,

Whom confidence, and my kindred bids to right.
Well, ſomewhat we muſt do : Come Cozen,
Ile diſpoe of you. Gentlemen, go muſter up your men,
And meet me prefently at Barkly Caſtle ;

I should to Plassy too : but time will not permit,
All is uneven, &c every thing is left at fix and ſeven. Exit.

Buch. The wind fits fair for news to go to Ireland,
But none returns : for us to levy power
Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impoffible.
Gree. Befides our neerneſſe to the King in love,
Is neer the hate of thofe love not the King.

Bag. And that's the wavering Commons, for their love
Lies in their purſes, and who ſo empties them,
By ſo much filſs their hearts with deadly hate.

Buch. Wherein the King ſtands generally condemn'd,
Bag. If judgement lie in them, then ſo do we,
Because we have been ever neer the King.

Gree. Well : I will for ſ refuge ſtraight to Bristol Caſtle,
The Earl of Wileſhire is already there.

Buch. Thither will I with you, for little office
Will the harmful Commons perform for us,
Except like Currs, to tear us all in pieces :
Will you go along with us ?

Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Majefty :
Farewell, if hearts prefages be not vain,
We three here part, that never ſhall meet again.

Bu. That's as York, thrives to beat back Bullinbrook.
Gree. Alas poor Duke, the taske he undertakes
Is numbring Sands, and drinking Oceans dry,
Where one on his ſide fightes, thouſands will flye.

Buch. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.
Well, we may meet again.

Bag. I fear me never. Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northun-
berland.

Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Barkley now ?
Nor. Beleeve me Noble Lord,
I am a ſtranger here in Gloaſterſire,
These high wild hills, and rough uneven waies,
Draws out our miles, and makes them weariſome :
And yet our fair diſcoureth hath been as fugar,

Making

["336", "The Life and Death of Richard the Second.", "Making the hard way sweet and delectable:\nBut I think me, what a weary way\nFrom *Ravenspurgh* to Cotifield will be found,\nIn *Roffe and Willoughby*, wanting your company,\nWhich I protest hath very much beguiled\nThe redioufneſſe and proceſſe of my travel :\nBut theirs is ſweemed with the hope to have\nThe preſent benefit that I poffeſſe:\nAnd hope to joy, is little leſſe in joy,\nThen hope enjoy'd : By this, the weary Lords\nShall make their way ſeem ſhort, as mine hash done,\nBy fight of what I have, your noble Company,\nBull. Of much leſſe value is my Company,\nThen your good words : but who comes here ?", "### Enter H. Percy.", "North. It is my ſon, young Harry Percie,\nSent from my brother Worcester : whence ever.\nHarry, how fares your Uncle ?", "Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to have learn'd his health of you.", "North. Why, is he not with the Queen ?", "Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forfook the Court,\nBroken his hatſe of Office, and diſperſt\nThe Houſhold of the King.", "North. What was his reaſon ?", "He was not ſo revolv'd, when we laſt pſake together.", "Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor.\nBut he, my Lord, is gone to *Ravenspurgh*,\nTo offer ſervice to the Duke of *Hereford*,\nAnd ſent me over by *Barkley*, to diſcover", "", "What power the Duke of York had levied there,\nThen with direction to repair to *Ravenspurgh*,", "North. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy)?", "Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not ſorgt", "Which ne're I did remember : to my knowledge,\nI never in my life did look on him.", "North. Then learn to know him now : this is the Duke.", "Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my ſervice,", "Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,\nWhich elder days shall ripen, and confirm\nTo more approved ſervice and defent.", "Bull. I thank thee gentle Percy, and be ſure", "I count my ſelf in nothing eſſe ſo happy,", "As in a foul remembring my good Friends :", "And as my fortune ripens with thy Love,\nIt shall be ſtill thy true Loves recompence,", "My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus ſeals it.", "North. How farre is it to *Barkley* ? and what ſtirre", "Keeps good old York there with his men of Warre ?", "Percie. There stands the Caffle by yond tuſt of trees,", "Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard.\nAnd in it are the Lords of York, Barkley, and Seymour\nNone eſſe of name, and noble eſtimate.", "### Enter Roffe and Willoughby.", "North. Here comes the Lords of Roffe and Willoughby,\nBloody with ſpurring, ſiery red with haſſe.", "Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your love purſues", "A banifh Traitor; all my Treasury", "Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd,", "Sh all the your love and labours recompence.", "Roffe. Your preſence makes us rich moſt Noble Lord.", "Wilo. And farre ſurmounts our labour to attain it.", "Bull. Evermore thanks, th'Exchequer of the poor,", "Which ill my infuſt-fortune comes to years,", "Stands for my Bounry : but who comes here ?", "### Enter Barkley.", "North. It is my Lord of Barkley, as I gueſſe.", "Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Meflage is to you.", "Bull. My Lord, my anſwer is to Lancaſter,\nAnd I am come to ſee that name in England,\nAnd I muſt find that Title in your Town,\nBefore I make reply to aught you ſay.", "Bark. Miftake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning", "To raze one title of your honour out.", "To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will)\nFrom the moſt glorious of this Land,", "The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on", "To take advantage of the abſent time,", "And fright our Native peace, with ſelf-born Arms.", "### Enter York.", "Bull. I ſhall not need tranſport my words by you,\nHere comes his Grace in p eſon. My Noble Uncle.", "Tor. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,\nWhose duty is deceivable, and false.", "Bull. My gracious Uncle.", "Tor. Tur, tur, Grace me no Grace, nor Uncle me,\nI am no Traitors Uncle ; and that word Grace,\nIn an ungracious mouth, is but propheſe.", "Why have theſe banifh'd, and forbidden Leggs.", "Dar'd once to touch a duſt of Englands Ground ?", "But more then then, why, why have they dar'd to march", "So many miles upon her peaceful Boſom,\nFrighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre,\nAnd oſſentiation of deſpised Arms ?", "Com't thou beaſe th'anointed King is hence ?", "Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind,", "And in my loyal Boſome lies his power.", "Were I but now the Lord of ſuch hot youth,", "As when brave Gaunt, thy Father, and thy ſelf", "Reſcued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,", "From forth the Ranks of many thouſand French:", "Oh then, how quickly ſhould this arm of mine,\nNow Pritoner to the Palfie, chaſſe thee,", "And minifter correction to thy fault.", "Bull. My gracious Uncle, let me know my fault,\nOn what condition stands it, and wherein ?", "Tor. Even in condition of the workt degree,", "In groſſe Rebellion, and deſeſtet Treaſon :\nThou art a banifh'd man, and here art come\nBefore th'expiration of thy time,", "In braving Arms againſt thy Soveraigne.", "Bull. As I was banifh'd, I was banifh'd Hereford,\nBut as I come, I come for Lancaſter.", "And noble Uncle, I beſeech your Grace", "Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye :", "You are my Father, for methinks in you\nI fee old Gaunt alive. Oh then my Father,\nWill you permit that I ſhall ſtand condemn'd", "A wanding Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties", "Pluckt from my Arms perſorce, and given away", "To upſtart Unthrifts ? wherefore was I born?", "If that my Cofin King, be King of England,\nIt muſt be granted I am Duke of Lancaſter.", "You have a ſon, Amnerle, my Noble kinfman,\nHad you firſt died, and he been thus trode down,\nHe ſhould have found his Uncle Gaunt a father,\nTo rowze his wrongs, and chafe them to the bay.\nI am deny'd to ſue my Livery here,", "And yet my Letters Pten's give me leave :\nMy Father's goods are all deſtrain'd, and fold,", "And theſe and all, are all amiffie employ'd.", "What", "What", "And", "And", "To", "No", "Rav", "Wit", "Tor", "I h", "And", "But", "in", "Be", "his", "To", "And", "Cheri", "No", "But", "for", "We", "a", "And", "To", "Bri", "By", "Bu", "The", "Co", "Whic", {"bbox": [1090, 730, 11

What would you have me do ? I am a subject,
And challenge Law : Attorneys are deny'd me,
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To mine inheritance of free Descent.

North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abuf'd.
Roff. It flands your Grace upon to do him right.

Willo. Bafe men by his endowments are made great.
Tor. My Lords of England, let me tell you this,
I have had feeling of my Cofins wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to do him right:
But in this kind, to come in braving Arms,
Be his own Carver, and cut out his way,
To find out right with wrongs it may not be,
And you that do abet him in this kind,
Cherish'd Rebellion, and are Rebells all.

North. The Noble Duke hath fworn his coming is
But for his own; and for the right of that,
We all have strongly fworn to give him aid,
And let him nev'r fee joy that breaks that oath.

Tor. Well, well, I fee the iftue of thesee Arms,
I cannot mend it, I muft needs confeffe,
Because my power is weak, and all ill left:
But if I could, by him that gave me life,
I would attach you all, and make you floop
Unto the Soveraign mercy of the King.
But fince I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as Neuter. So fare you well,
Unleffe you please to enter in the Castle,
And there repofe you for this night.

Bull. An offer Uncle that we will accept:
But we muft winne your Grace to go with us
To Briftow-Castle, which they fay is held
By Buſky, Bager, and their Complices,
The Caterpillars of the Common-wealth,
Which I have fworn to weed, and pluckaway.

Tor. It may be I will go with you, but yet Ile paufe,
For I am loth to break our Countreys Laws:
For friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are,
Things paſt redreſſe, are now with me paſt care. Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captain.

Cap. My Lord of Salisbury, we have flaid ten days,
And hardly kept your Countrey-men together,
And yet we hear no tidings from the King;
Therefore we will diſperſe our felves: farewell.

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trutty Welchman,
The King repofeth all his confidence in thee.

Cap. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not flay,
The Bay-trees in our Countrey are all wither'd,
And Mereors fright the fixed Stars of heaven;
The pale-fac'd Moon looks bloody on the Earth,
And lean-look'd Prophets whifper fearful change;
Rich men look fad, and Ruffians dance and leap,
The one in fear, to lofe what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by. Rage and Warre :
These ſignes forerun the death of Kings.
Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled,
As well affur'd Richard their King is dead.

Exeunt.

Sal. Ah Richard, with eies of heavy mind,
I fee thy Glory like a shooting Starr,
Fall to the bafe earth from the firmament :
Thy Sun fets weeping in the lowly Weſt.
Witneſſing Storms to come, Woe, and Unreſt :
Thy Friends are fled to wait upon thy Foes,
And croſſely to thy good, all fortune goes.

Exeunt.

## Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Bullinbrooke, York, Northumberland,
Roffe, Percie, Willoughby, with Buſky
and Green, prisoners.

Bull. Bring forth theſe men:
Buſky and Green, I will not vex your ſouls,
(Since preſently your ſouls muſt part your bodies)
With too much urging your pernicious lives,
For 'twere no Charity : yet to wath your blood
From off my hands, here in the view of men,
I will unfold ſome caufes of your deaths.
You have mis-led a Prince, a Royal King,
A happy Gentleman in Blood and Lineaments,
By you unhappied, and diſfigur'd clean :
You have in manner with your finful hours
Made a divorce betwixt his Queen and him,
Broke the poſſeffion of a Royal Bed,
And ſtain'd the Beauty of a fair Queens Cheeks

With tears drawn from her eies, with your foul wrongs,
My ſelf a Prince, by fortune of my birth,
Neer to the King in blood, and neer in love,
Till you did make him miſ-interpret me,
Have floopt my neck under your injuries,
And ſigh'd my English breath in forrain Clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banifhment;
While you have fed upon my Seignories,
Diſ-park'd my Parks, and fell'd my Forreſt Woods;
From mine own windows torn my Houſhold Coat,
Raz'd out my Impreſſe, leaving me no ſigne,
Save mens opinions, and my living blood,
To ſhew the world I am a Gentleman.
This, and much more, much more then twice all this,
Condemns you to the death: fee them delivered over
To execution, and the hand of death.

Buſhie. More welcome is the froak of death to me,
Then Bullinbrooke to England.

Gree. My comfort is, that Heaven will take our ſouls,
And plague injuſtice with the pains of Hell.

Bull. My Lord Northumberland, fee them diſpatch'd;
Uncle, you fay the Queen is at your houſe,
For Heavens ſake, fairly let her be entreated,
Tell her I ſend to her my kind commands;
Take special care my Greetings be delivered.

Tor. A Gentleman of mine I have diſpatch'd
With Letters of your love to her at large.

Bull. Thanks gentle Uncle: come Lords away,
To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices;
A while to work, and after holliday.

Exeunt.

Scæna

338 The Life and Death of Richard the Second.

## Scena Secunda.

Drums: Flourish, and Colours.

Enter Richard, Aunserle, Carlite, and Souldiers.

Rich. Barkloughly-Castle call you this at hand ?
Au. Yea my Lord, How brooks your Grace the air,
After your late toffling on the breaking Seas ?

Rich. Needs must I like it well : I weep for joy
To stand upon my Kingdome once again.
Deer Earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though Rebels wound thee with their HorSES hoofs :
As a long parted Mother with her Child,
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meetings
So weeping, smiling, greet I thee the Earth,
And do thee favour with my Royal hands,
Feed not thy Soveraigns Foe, my gentle Earth,
Nor with thy sweets, comfort his ravenous sense:
But let thy Spiders that fuck up thy venom,
And heavy-gated Toads lie in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with uspuring feps do trample thee.
Yeeld flinging Nettles to mine Enemies ;
And when they from thy Bofom pluck a Flower,
Guard it I prethee with a lurking Adder,
Whofe double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy Soveraigns Enemies.
Mock not my senseleſſe Conjuration : Lords ;
This Earth ſhall have a feeling, and these ſtones
Prove armed Souldiers ere her Native King
Shall falter under foul Rebellious Arms.

Car. Fear not my Lord, that power that made you King
Hath power to keep you King, in ſpight of all.

Aum. He means, my Lord, that we are too remifs
Whilft Bullingbrooke through their ſecurity,
Grows ſtrong and great, in ſubſtance and in friends.
Rich. Difcomfortable Couſin, knoweſt thou nor,
That when the fearching eye of heaven is ſid
Behind the Glove that lights the lower World,
Then Thieves and Robbers raunge abroad unſeen,
In Murthers, and in out-rage bloody here :
But when from under this Terreſtrial Bill
He fires the proud tops of the Eaſteru Pines,
And darts his Lightning through ev'ry guilty hole,
Then Murthers, Treſaons, and deteſted finnes
(The Cloak of Night being pluckt from off their backs)
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themſelves.
So when this Thief, this Traitor Bullingbrooke,
Who all this while hath revell'd in the Night,
Shall fee us riling in our Throre, the Eaſt,
His Treſaons will ſet bluſhing in his face,
Not able to endure the fight of Day;
But ſeſ' affrighted, tremble at his finne.
Not all the water in the rough rude Sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed King;
The breath of worldly men cannot depofe
The Deputy elected by the Lord :
For every man that Bullingbrooke hath preſt,
To lift ſhrewd ſteel agin it our Golden Crown,
Heaven for his Richard hath in heavenly pay

A glorious Angel: then if Angels fight,
Weak men must fall, for Heaven ſtands the right.

Enter Salisbury.

Welcome my Lord, how farre off lies your Power ?
Salif. Nor neer, nor farther off, my gracious Lord,
Ten this weak arm; diſcomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speak of nothing but deſpair :
One day too late, I feare (my Noble Lord)
Hath clouded all my happy daies on Earth :
Oh call back yefterday, bid time return,
And thou ſhalt have twelve thouſand fighting men :
To day, to day, unhappy day too late
Orethrows thy Joyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State.
For all the Welchmen hearing thou art dead,
Are gone to Bullingbrooke, diſperſt, and fled.

Aum. Comfort my Liege, why looks your Grace ſo pale ?

Rich. But now the blood of twenty thouſand men
Did triumph in my ſace, and they are fled,
And till ſo much blood chither come again,
Have I not reaſon to look pale, and dead ?
All ſouls that will be ſafe, fly from my ſide,
For time hath fet a blot upon my pride.

Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are.

Rich. I had forgot my ſelf. Am I not King ?
Awake thou fluggard Majeſty, thou ſleepſt :
Is not the Kings Name, ſ forty thouſand Names ?
Arm, arm my Name : a punie ſubject triſkes
At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,
Ye Favorites of a King : are we not high ?
High be our thoughts : I know my Uncle York
Hath power enough to ſerve our turn,
But who comes here ?

Enter Scroop.

Scroop. More health and hapineſſe betide my Liege,
Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him.

Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd:
The workt is worldy loſs, thou canſt unfold :
Say, Is my Kingdome loſt ? why 'twas my Care:
And what loſſe is it to be rid of Care ?
Strives Bullingbrooke to be as great as we ?
Greater he ſhall not be : if he ſerve God,
We'l ſerve him too, and be his Fellow ſo.
Revolt our ſubjects ? That we cannot mend,
They break their Faith to God as well as us :
Cry Woe, Deſtruction, Ruine, Loffe, Decay,
The workt is Death, and death will have his day.

Scroop. Glad am I, that your Highneſſe is ſo arm'd
To bear the tidings of Calamity.
Like an unfeſaonable ſtormy day,
Which make the Silver Rivers drown their Shores,
As if the world were all diſſolv'd to tears :
So high above his Limits, ſwells the Rage
Of Bullingbrooke, covering your fearful Land
With hard bright Steel, and hearts harder then Steel :
White Bears have arm'd their thin and hairleſſe Scalds
Against thy Majeſty, and Boys with Womens voices,
Strive to ſpeak bigge, and clap their female joynſts
In ſtiff unwieldy Armes: against thy Crown
Thy very Beſd-men learn to bend their Bows
Of double fatal Eugh : against thy State
Yea Dittaff-women manage ruity Bills :
Against thy Seat both young and old rebel:
And all goes worſe then I have power to tell.
Rich. Too well, too well thou ſell it a tale ſo ill.
Where is the Earl of Wiltſhire ? where is Bago?
What is become of Buſhy ? where is Green ?

Tage

## Scena Quinta.

### Entor Queen and two Ladies.

My Subjects, for a pair of Carved Saints,
And my large Kingdome, for a little Grave,
A little little Grave, an obscure Grave.
Or ile be buried in the Kings high-way,
Some way of common Trade, where Subjects feet
May hourly crample on their Soveraigns head:
For on my heart they tread now, whilst I live ;
And buried once, why not upon my head ?
Aumerle, thou weepst, (my tender-hearted Coufin)

Well make foul weather with depifted tears :
Our fights, and they, shall lodge the Summer Corn,
And make a dearth in this Revolting Land.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with thedding tears ?
As thus : to drop them full upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of Graves,
Within the earth : and therein land, there lies
Two Kunfmen digg'd their graves with weeping eies ?
Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I fee
I talk but idely, and you mock at me.

Moft mighty Prince, my Lord Northumberland,
What faies King Bullingbrooke ? Will his Majefty
Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die ?

You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke faies I.

North. My Lord, in the bafe Court he doth attend

To speak with you, may it please you to come down.
Rich. Down, down I come, like glitt'ring Phaston,

Wanting the management of unruly Jides.

In the bafe Court ? bafe Court where Kings grow bafe,
To come at Traitors Calls, and do them Grace.

In the bafe Court come down: down Court, down King,
For night-Owls strike, where mounting Larks should sing.

Bull. What faies his Majefty ?

North. Sorrow, and grief of heart

Makes him speak fondly, like a frantick man :

Yet he is come.

Bull. Stand all apart,

And shew fair duty to his Majefty.

My gracious Lord.

Rich. Fair Coufin.

You deafe your Princely knee,

To make the bafe earth proud with kifling it.

Me rather had, my heart might feel your Love,

Than my un-pleas'd Eye fee your Courteane.

Up Coufin, up, your heart is up, I know,

Thus high at least, although your knee be low.

Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine own.

Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.

Bull. So farre be mine, (my moft redoubted Lord,)

As my true service shall deferve your love.

Rich. Well you defr'd :

They well deferve to have,

That know the strong'ft and sureft way to get.

Uncle give me your hand: nay, dry your eies

Tears shew their love, but want their remedies.

Coufin I am too young to be your Father,

Though you are old enough to be my Heir,

What you will have, ile give, and willing too,

For do we muft, what force will have us do.

Ser on towards London :

Coufin, is it so ?

Bull. Yea, my good Lord :

Rich. Then I muft not say, no :

Flourish'd. Exeunt.

Qu. What sport shall we devife here in this Garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care ?

La. Madam, we'll play at Bowls.

Qu. 'Twill make me think the world is full of Rubs,
And that my fortune runs againft the Byas.

La. Madam, we'll dance.

Qu. My Legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief.

Therefore no dancing (Girl) some other sport.

La. Madam, we'll tell tales.

Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Grief ?

La. Of either, Madam.

Qu. Of neither, Girl.

For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of sorrow :

Or if of grief, being altogether had,

It adds more sorrow to my want of joy :
For what I have, I need not to repeat ;

And what I want, it boots not to complain.
La. Madam, ile fing.

Qu. 'Tis well that thou haſt caufe :

But thou shouldst pleafe me better, would'ſt thou weep,
La. I could weep, Madam, would it do you good ?

Qu. And I could not weep would weeping do me good,
And never borrow any tear of thee.

### Enter a Gardiner, and two Servants.

But ſay, here comes the Gardiners,

Let's step into the shadow of thefe Trees.

My wretchedneſſe, unto a row of Pinnes,

They' t talk of ſtate ? for every one doth ſo,

Againſt a Change; woe is fore-run with woe.

Gard. Go bind thou up yond dangling Apricocks,
Which like unruly Children, make their Syre

Stoop with oppreſſion of their prodigal weight :

Give ſome fupportance to the bending twigg's,

Go thou, and like an Executioner

Cut off the heads of too faſt growing ſprayes,

That look too lofty in our Common-wealth :

All muſt be even, in our Government.

You thus imploy'd, I will go root away

The noſon weeds that without profit ſuck

The ſoyleſes fertility from wholſom Flowers.

Ser. Why should we in the compaſſe of a Pale,
Keep Law and Form, and due Proportion,
Shewing as in a Modell our firm ſtate ?

When our Sea-walled Garden, (the whole Land,)

Is full of weeds, her faireſt Flowers choakt up,

Her fruit-trees all unpruin'd, her hedges ruin'd,

Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholſome Hearbs

Swarming with Caterpillars.

Gard. Hold thy peace.

He that hath ſuffer'd this disorder'd Spring,
Hath now himself ſet met with the fall of Leaf.

The weeds that his broad-spreading Leaves did shelter,

That seem'd in eating him, to hold him up,

Are pull'd up, root and all, by Bullingbrooke

I mean, the Earle of Wiltshire, Bushy, Greens

F f

Ser. What

Fitzw. How fondly do't thou spur a forward Horfe?
If I dare eat, or drink, or breath, or live,
I dare meet Surry in a Wilderneſs,
And spit upon him, whilft I lay he Lyes,
And Lyes, and Lyes : there is my bond of Faith,
To tie thee to my ſtrong Correction.
A I intended to thrive in this new World,
Auſmerle is guilty of my true Appeal.
Belides, I heard the baniſt Norſolke lay,
That thou Auſmerle didt ſend two of thy men,
To execute the Noble Duke at Calice.

Auſm. Some honest Chriſtian truſt me with a Gage,
That Norſolke lies: here do I throw down this,
If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour.

Bull. These differences shall all reſt under Gage,
Till Norſolke be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be;
(And though mine enemy) reſtor'd again
To all his Lands and Seignories: when he's return'd,
Against Auſmerle we will enforce his Tryal.

Carl. That honourable day shall ne're be ſeen.
Many a time hath baniſt Norſolke fought
For Jefu Chriſt, in glorious Chriſtian field
Streaming the Enſign of the Chriſtian Croſs
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens :
And toyl'd with works of War, retyr'd himſelf
To Italy, and there at Venice gave
His Body to that pleafant Countries Earth,
And his pure Soul unto his Captain Chriſt,
Under whoſe Colours he had fought ſo long.

Bull. Why Bifhop, is Norſolke dead?

Carl. As ſure as I live my Lord.

Bull. Sweet peace conduct his ſweet Soul

To the Bofom of good old Abraham.

Lords Appealants, your differences ſhall all reſt under gage,
Till we aſſign you to your dayes of Tryal.

### Enter Yorke.

Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaſter, I come to thee
From Plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soul
Adopts thee Heir, and his high Scepter yields
To the poſſeſion of thy Royal Hand.

Aſcend his Throſe, defcnding now from him,
And long live Henry, of that Name the Fourth.

Bull. In Gods Name, Ie aſcend the Regal Throſe.

Carl. Marry, Heaven forbid.

Worſt in this Royal Prefence may I ſpeak,
Yet beſt beſeeming me to ſpeak the truth.
Would God, that any in this Noble Prefence
Were enough Noble to be upright Judge
Of Noble Richard, then true Noblenefs would
Learn him forſbearance from ſo foul a wrong.
What Subject can give Sentence on his King ?
And who fits here, that is not Richards Subjeſt?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be ſeen in them :
And ſhall the figure of Gods Majeſty,
His Captain, Steward, Deputy elect,
Anoynted, Crown'd and plan'd many years,
Be judg'd by ſubjeſt and inferiour breath,
And he himſelf not preſent ? Oh, forbid it, God,
That in a Chriſtian Climate, Soules refin'd
Should thenſw ſo heinous, black, obſcene a deed.
I ſpeak to Subjeſts, and a Subjeſt ſpeaks,
Stirr'd up by Heaven, thus boldly for his King:
My Lord of Hereſord here, whom you call King,
Is a foul Traytor to proud Hereſords King.
And if you Crown him, let me propheſe,

The blood of English ſhall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for his foul Act.
Peace ſhall go ſleep with Turks and Infidels,
And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous VVars
Shall Kin with Kin, and Kind with Kind confound.
Diforder, Horrour, Fear and Mutiny
Shall here inhabit, and this Land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Skulls.
Oh, if you rear this Houſe, against this Houſe
It will the wofulſet Diviſion prove,
That ever fell upon this curſed Earth.
Prevent it, reſift it, let it not be ſo,
Left Child, Child's Children cry against you, wo.

North. VWell have you argu'd Sir: and for your paines,
Of Capital Treſon we arreſt you here.

My Lord of Westminſter, be it your charge,
To keep him faſely, till his day of Tryal.

My ſtyle you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit?

Bull. Feuch hither Richard, that in common view
He may further: ſo we ſhall proceed
VWithout ſuſpicion.

Yor. I will be his Conduct.

### Exit.

Bull. Lords, you that are here under our Arreſt,
Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Anſwer :
Little are we beholding to your Love,
And little look'd for at your helping Hands.

### Enter Richard and Yorke.

Rich. Alack, why am I ſent for to a King,
Before I have ſhook off the Regal thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd
To infuſinate, flatter, bow, and bend my Knee.
Give Sorrow leave a while, to return me
To this Submiſſion. Yet I will remember

The favours of theſe men: were they not mine?
Did they not ſomeime cry, All haile to me ?

S. Judas did to Chriſt: but he in twelve,
Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thouſand, none.

God if ve the King : will no man ſay, Amen ?
Am I both Priekſt and Clark ? well then, Amen.

God save the King, although I be not he :
And yet Amen, if Heaven do think him me.

To do what ſervice, am I ſent for hither ?

Yor. To do that Office of thine own good will,
Which tyred Majeſty did make thee offer :
The Reſignation of thy State and Crown

To Henry Bullingbrooke.

Rich. Give me the Crown. Here Couſin, ſeize the Crown:
Here Couſin, on this ſide my Hand, on that ſide thine.

Now is this Golden Crown like a deep Well,
That owes two Buckets, filling one another,
The emptyer ever dancing in the Ayr,
The other down, unſeen, and full of Water :

That Bucket down, and full of Teares am I,
Drinking my Griefs, whilft you mount up on high.

Bul. I thought you had been willing to reſign.

Rich. My Crown I am, but fill my Griefs are mine;
You may my Glories, and my State depofe,
But not my Griefes; fill am I King of thate.

Bul. Part of your Cares you give me with your Crown.
Rich. Your Cares ſet up, do not pluck my Cares down,
My Care, is loſs of Care, by old Care done,

Your Care, is gain of Care, by new Care won.

The Cares I give, I have, though given away,
They tend the Crown, yet fill with me they ſtay.

Bul. Are you contented to reſign the Crown?

Ff 2

Rich. 1

344

Rich. I no ; no, I for I must nothing be:
Therefore no, no, for I confine to thee.
Now, mark me how I will undo my self:
I give this heavy Weight from off my Head,
And this unwieldy Scepter from my Hand,
The pride of Kingly fway from out my Heart,
With mine own tears I wash away my blame,
With mine own hands I give away my Crown,
With mine own tongue deny my Sacred State,
With mine own breath releafe all dutious Oaths :
All Pomp and Majefty I do forswear:
My Manors, Rents, Revenues, I forgoe ;
My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I deny :
God pardon all Oathes that are broke to me,
God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee.
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd,
And thou with all pleas'd, that haft all atchiev'd,
Long maift thou live in Richards seat to fit,
And soon lie Richard in an Earthy pit.
God fave King Henry, un-King'd Richard faies,
And fend him many years of Sun-shine daies.
What more remains ?

North. No more : but that you read
These Accufations, and thele grievous Crimes,
Committed by your perfon, and your followers,
Againft the State and Profit of this Land :
That by confefling them, the Souls of men
May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

Rich. Muff I do so ? and muft I ravel cut
My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy Offences were upon Record,
Would it not ſhame thee, in ſo fair a troope,
To read a Lecture of them ? if thou would't
There ſhould't thou find one hainous article,
Containing the depofing of a King,
And cracking the ſtrong warrant of an Oath,
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the Book of Heaven.
Nay, all of you, that ſtand and look upon me,
Whil't that my wretchedneſſe doth bait my ſelf,
Though ſome of you, with Pilate wath your hands,
Shewing an outward pitty : yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my lower Croſſe,
And water cannot wath away your finne.

North. My Lord, dispatch, read o're theſe Articles.

Rich. Mine eies are full of tears, I cannot ſee :
And yet ſalt-water blinds the n not ſo much,
But they can fee a fort of Traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eies upon my ſelf,
I find my ſelf a Traitor with the reſt :
For I have given here my ſouls confent,
T'undeck the pompous Body of a King ;
Made Glory bafe ; a Soveraign, a Slave ;
Proud Majeſt, a Subjeſt; State, a Peafant.

North. My Lord.

Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-inſulting man :
No, nor no mans Lord : I have no Name, no Title;
No, not that name was given me at the Font,
But 'tis urpſt : alack the heavy day,
That I have worn ſo many Winters out,
And know not now, what name to call my ſelf.
Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow,
Standing before the Sun of Bullingbrooke,
To melt my ſelf away in water-drops.
Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,
And if my word be Sterling yet in England
Let it command a Mirror hither flatright,

That it may ſhow me what a face I have,
Since it is Bankrupt of his Majeſt.

Bull. Goe ſome of you, and fetch a Looking-Glaſſe.
North. Read o're this paper, while the Glaſs doth come.
Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell.
Bull. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
North. The Commons will not then be ſatify'd,
Rich. They ſhall be ſatify'd : ile read enough,
When I do fee the very Book indeed,
Where all my fins are writ, and that's my ſelf.

Enter one with a Glaſſe.

Give me that Glaſſe, and therein will I read.
No deeper wrinkles yet ? hath forrow ſtruck
So many blows upon this face of mine.
And made no deeper wounds ? Oh ſla t'ring Glaſſe,
Like to my followers in prosperity,
Thou doſt beguile me. Was this Face, the Face
That every day under his Houſhold-roof,
Did keep ten thouſand men ? Was this the face,
That like the Sun did make beholders wink ?
Is this the Face, which ſat'd to ſo many follies,
That was at laſt out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke ?
A brittle Glory ſhineth in this Face,
As brittle as the Glory, is the Face,
For there it is, crackt in an hundred ſhivers.
Mark ſilent King, the Morall of this ſport,
How ſoon my forrow hath deſtroy'd my Face.

Bul. The ſhadow of your forrow hath deſtroy'd
The ſhadow of your Face.

Rich. Say that again.
The ſhadow of my Sorrow : ha, let's ſee,
'Tis very true, my Grief lies all within,
And theſe external manners of Laments,
Are meery ſhadowes to the ungeen Grief,
That ſwells with ſilence in the tortur'd Soul.
There lies the Subſtance : and I thank thee King
For thy great bounty, that nor only giv't
Me cauſe to wail, but teacheſt me the way
How to lament the cauſe. I lec beg one boon,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it ?

Bull. Name it, fair Couſin.
Rich. Fair Couſin ? I am greater than a King :
For when I was a King, my flatterers
Were then but ſubjects ; being now a ſubjeſt,
I have a King here to my flatterer :
Being ſo great, I have no need to beg.

Bul. Yet aske.
Rich. And ſhall I have ?
Bull. You ſhall.
Rich. Then give me leave to goe.
Bull. Whither ?
Rich. Whither you will, ſo I were from your ſights.
Bull. Goe ſome of you, convey him to the Tower.
Rich. Oh good : convey : Conveyers are you all,
That rife thus nimbly by a true Kings fall.

Bull. On Wednesday next we ſolemnly ſet down
Our Coronation : Lords, prepare your ſelves. Exeunt.
Abbot. A woful Pageant have we here beheld.
Carl. The woe's to come, the Children yet unborn,
Shall feel this day as ſharp to them as thorn.
Aum. You holy Clergy-men, is there no plot ?

To rid the Realm of this pernicious blot ?
Abbot. Before I freely ſpeak my mind herein,
You ſhall not only take the Sacrament,
To bury mine intents, but also to effect

What

345

V What ever I shall happen to devife.
I fee your Brows are full of discontent,
Your Heart of sorrow, and your Eies of tears,
Come home with me to Supper, I lay a plot
Shall shew us all a merry day.

Exeunt.

## Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.

### Enter Queen, and Ladies.

Qu. This way the King will come : this is the way
To Qulius Cafars ill-erected Tower :
To whose flint bofom, my condemned Lord
Is doom'd a Pritoner, by proud Bullingbrooke.
Here let us rest, if this Rebelious earth
Have any rettling for her true Kings Queen.

### Enter Richard, and Guard.

But soft, but fee, or rather do not see,
My fair Rofe wether : yet look up ; behold,
That you in pity may diffolte to dew,
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.
Ah thou, the Modell, where old Troy did stand,
Thou Mappe of Honour, thou King Richards Tomb,
And not King Richard : thou molt be uteous Inne,
Why should hird-ravor'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
When Triumph is become an Ale-houfe Gueft ?

Rich. Joyn not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden : learn good foul,
To think our former State a happy Dream,
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are,
Shews us but this. I am fworn Brother (Sweer)
To grim neceffity ; and he and I
Will keep a League till death. High thee to France,
And Cloyfter thee in fome Religious houſe :
Our holy lives muſt winne a new worlds Crown,
Which our propnine hours here have ſtricken down.

Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind
Transform'd and weaken'd ? Hath Bullingbrooke
Depos'd thine intelleet ? hath he been in thy heart ?
The Lyon dying thruſeth forth his Paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o're-pow'd : and wilt thou, Pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly, kiffle the Rod,
And fawn on rage with bafe humility,
Which art a Lyon and a King of Beaſts ?

Rich. A King of Beaſts in eed : it aught but Beaſts,
I had been ſtill a happy King of men.
Good (fomeime) Queen prepare thee hence for France :
Think I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my Death-bed, my laft-living leave.

In Winters tedious Nights fit by the fire
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales
Of wotfull Ages, long agoe betide :
And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And fend the hearers weeping to their beds :
For why ? the ſenſeſſe Brands will ſympathize
The heavy accent of my moving tongue,
And in compaffion weep the fire out :
And fome will mourn in Aſhes, fome coal-black,
For the depoffing of a righſul King.

### Enter Northumberland.

North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd.

You muſt to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.
And Madam, there is order ta'ne for you :
With all Swif't Speed, you muſt away to France.
Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall

The mounting Bullingbrooke affends my THRONE,
The time shall not be many hours of age,
More than it is, ere foul fin, gathering head,

Shall break into corruption : thou ſhalt think,
Though he divide the Realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all :
He shall think, that thou which know'st the way
To plant unrightful Kings, wilt know again,
Being ne're ſo little urg'd, another way.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

### Enter York and his Dutchefſe.

Dut. My Lord, you told me you would tell the reſt,
When weeping made you break the flory off,
Of our two Coufins coming into London.

F f 3

Tor. Then

346

Tor. Then, as I said, the Duke (great *Bullingbrooke*)

Mounted upon a hot and fiery Steed,
Which his afpiring Rider seem'd to know,
With flow, but flately pace, kept on his course:
While all tongues cry'd, God gave thee *Bullingbrooke*.
You would have thought the very windows spake,
So many greedy looks of young and old,
Through Cafements darted their defiring eies
Upon his visage - and that all the walls
With painted Imagery had faid at once,
Jefu preserve thee, welcome *Bullingbrooke*.

Whilft he, from one fide to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds neck,
Bespake them thus: I thank you Countrey-men:
And thus (till doing, thus he paft along.

Dutch. Alas poor Richard, where rides he the whilft?

Tor. As in a Theater, the eies of men

After a well-gra'd Actor leaves the Stage,
Are idely bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious :
Even fo, or with much more contempt, mens eies,
Did fcowle on *Richard*: no man cry'd, God gave him:
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,
But daft was thrown upon his Sacred head,
Which with such gentle forrow he f Brook off,
His face (fill combating with tears and Smiles
(The badges of his grief and patience)
That had not God (for fome ftrong purpofe) fleet'd
The hearts of men, they muft perforce have melted,
And Barbarifme it self have pittied him.
But heaven hath a hand in thefe events,
To whofe high will we bound our calme contents.
To *Bullingbrooke*, are we fworn Subjects now,
Whofe State, and Honour, I for aye allow.

Enter *Aumerle*.

Dut. Here comes my ſonne *Aumerle*.

Tor. *Aumerle* that was,

But that is loft, for being *Richards* Friend.
And Madam, you muſt call him *Rutland* now :

I am in Parliament pledge for his truth,
And laſting fealtie in the new-made King.

Dut. Welcome my ſonne: who are the violets now,

That wift the green lap of the new-come Spring ?

Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not,

God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

Tor. Well, bear you well in this new-fpring of time,
Leaft you be cropt before you come to prime.

What news from *Oxford*? Hold thofe Juſts and Triumphs?

Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do.

Tor. You will be there I know.

Aum. If God prevent not, I purpofe fo.

Tor. What Seal is that that hangs without thy boſom?
Yes, look't thou pale ? let me fee the Writing.

Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing.

Tor. No matter then who fees it,
I will be satisfied, let me fee the writing.

Aum. I do beſeech your Grace to pardon me,
It is a matter of ſmall conſequence,

Which for ſome reaſons I would not have ſeen.

Tor. Which for ſome reaſons fir, I mean to fee :
I fear, I fear.

Dut. What should you fear?

'Tis nothing but ſome bond, that he is enter'd into
For gay apparell, againſt the triumph.

Tor. Bound to himſelf ? What doth he with a Bond
That he is bound to ? What life, thou art a fool.

Boy, let me fee the writing.

Aum. I do beſeech you pardon me, I may not ſhow it.

Tor. I will be satisfied, let me fee it I fay. *Snatches it*.
Treasafon, foul treasafon, Villain, Traitor, Slave.

Dut. What's the matter, my Lord?

Tor. Hoa, who's within there ? faddle my horſe.
Heaven for his mercy: what treachery is here ?

Dut. What? what is't my Lord ?

Tor. Give me my boots, I fay: faddle my horſe:
Now by my honour, my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain.

Dut. What? is the matter ?

Tor. Peace foolſh woman.

Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Son ?
Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more

Then my poor life muſt anſwer.

Dut. Thy life anſwer?

Enter Servant with Boots.

Tor. Bring my Boots, I will unto the King.

Dut. Strike him *Aumerle*. Poor boy, thou art amaz'd,
Hence villain, never more come in my fight.

Tor. Give me my Boots I fay.

Dut. Why *Tork* what wilt thou do ?

Wilt thou not hide the trefpaffe of thine own?

Have we more ſonnes ? or are we like to have ?

Is not my teeming date drunk up with time ?

And wilt thou pluck my fair Son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy Mothers name ?

Is he not like thee ? is he not own own ?

Tor. Thou fond mad woman :

Wilt thou conceale this dark Conſpiracy ?

A dozen of them here have tane the Sacrament,
And interchangeably ſet their hands

Tokill the King at Oxford.

Dut. He ſhall be none :

V Ve'll keep him here: then what is that to him ?

Tor. Away fond woman: were he twenty times my
Son, I would appeach him.

Dut. Hadft thou groan'd for him as I have done,
Thou would't be more pittifull :

But now I know thy mind'; thou doſt ſuſpect
That I have been diſloyal to thy bed,

And that he is a Baſtard, nor thy ſonne :

Sweet *Tork*, Iweet Husband, be not of that mind :
He is as like thee, as a man may be,
Not like to me, nor any of my kin,
And yet I love him.

Tor. Mike way, unruly woman.

Exit.

Dut. After *Aumerle*. Mount thee upon his horſe,
Spur'd poſt, and get before him to the King,

And beg thy pardon, ere he do accuſe thee,
lie not be long behind: though I be old,

I doubt not but to ride as faſt as *Tork*:

And never will I rife up from the ground,

Till *Bullingbrooke* have pardon'd thee: Away, be gone. Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter *Bullingbrooke*, *Percie*, and other Lords.

Bull. Can no man tell of my unthrifty Son ?

Tis full three moneths ſince I did fee him laſt.
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he:

I would to heaven (my Lords) he might be found,
Enquire at *London*, 'mongt the Taverns there:

For

347

For there (tho ey fay) he daily doth frequent,
With unretrained loofe Companions,
Even luch (they fay) as fand in narrow Lanes,
And rob our Watch, and beat our paffengers,
Which he (young wanton, and effeminate Boy)
Takes on the point of honour, to ſupport
So diffolute a crew.

Per. My Lord, ſome two days ſince I ſaw the Prince,
And told him of theſe triumphs held at Oxford.

Bull. And what ſaid the Gallant ?

Per. His anſwer was : he would unto the Stews,
And from the common'ft creature pluck a Glove
And wear it as a favour, and with that
He would unhorſe the Inſuſt Challenger.

Bull. As diffolute as deſp'rate, yet through both,
I fee ſome ſparks of better hope: which elder dates
May happily bring forth. But who comes here ?

Enter Aumerle.

Aum. Where is the King ?

Bull. What means our Cofin, that he ſkares

And looks ſo wildly ?

Aum. God fave your Grace. I do beſeech your Majeſt
To have ſome conference with your Grace alone.

Bull. Withdraw your ſelves, and leave us here alone :
What is the matter with our Cofin now ?

Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a Pardon, ere I rife or ſpeak.

Bull. Intended or committed was this ſault ?

If on the firſt, how hainous ere it be,
To win thy after-love I pardon thee.

Aum. Then give me leave, that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till the tale be done.

Bull. Have thy deſire.

Yor. York within.

Yor. My Liege beware, look to thy ſelf,
Thou haſt a Traitor in thy preſence there.

Bull. Villain, Ile make thee ſafe.

Aum. Stay thy revengeſe hand, thou haſt no cauſe
to fear.

Yor. Open the door, ſecure ſool-hardy King:
Shall I for love ſpeak Treſon to thy face ?

Open the door, or I will break it open.

Enter Yorک.

Bull. What is the matter (Uncle) ſpeak, recover breath,
Tell us how neer is danger,
That we may arme us to encounter it.

Yor. Perufe this writing here, and thou haſt know
The reaſon that my haſte forbids me ſhow.

Aum. Remember as thou read'ſt, thy promife paſt:
I do repent me, read not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.

Yor. It was (villain) ere thy hand did fet it down.
I tore it from the Traitors boſom, King.
Fear and not Love, begers his penitence;
Forget to pitty him, leaſt thy pitty prove
A Serpent, that will fling thee to the heart.

Bull. Oh heinous, ſtrong, and bold Confpiracie,
O loyal Father of a treacherous Son :
Thou heer, immaculate, and ſilver fountain,
From whence this dream, through muddy paffages
Hath had his current, and deſil'd himſelf.

Thy overflow of good, converts to bad,
And thine abundant goodneſſe ſhall excufe
This deadly blot, in thy digreſſing ſon.

Yor. So ſhall my verue be his vices bawd,
And he ſhall ſpend mine Honour with his Shame :

As thriftleſſe Sonnes their ſcaping Fathers Gold,
Mine honour lives when his diſhonour dies,
Or my ſham'd life in his diſhonour lies :
Thou kill me in his life, giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true mans put to death.

Dutcheſſe within.

Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heavens ſake let me in:
Bull. What thrill-voic'd Suppliant makes this eager cry?

Dut. A Woman and thine. Aunt (great King) 'tis I.

Speak with me, pitty me, open the dore,
A Beggar begs, that never begg'd before.

Bull. Our Scene is alter'd from a ſerious thing,
And now chang'd to the Beggar, and the King:
My dangerous Cofin, let your Mother in,
I know ſhe's come to pray for your foul fin.

Yor. If thou do pardon, whoſever pray,
More fins for this. ſorgiveneffe, proper may.
This ſeſter'd joymt cut off, the reſt reſts found,
This let alone, will all the reſt confound.

Enter Dutcheſſe.

Dut. O King, beleeve not this hard hearted man,
Love, loving not it ſelf, none other can.

Yor. Thou frantick woman, what doſt thou make here,
Shall thy old dugges once more a Traitor rear ?

Dut. Sweet Yorک be patient, hear me gentle Liege.

Bull. Rife up good Aunt.

Dut. Not yet, I thee beſeech,

For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
And never fee day that the happy ſees,
Till thou give joy : until thou bid me joy,

By pardoning Rutland, my transſgreffing Boy.

Aum. Unto my Mothers prayers, I bend my knee.

Yor. Againſt them both, my true joymts bended be.

Dut. Pleads he in earneſt ? Look upon his face,
His eyes do drop no tears: his prayers are in ſeſt:
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breaſt.
He prayes but faintly, and would be deny'd.

We pray with heart and foul, and all beſide :

His weary joymts would gladly rife, I know,

Our knees ſhall kneel, till to the ground they ſrow :

His prayers are full of ſaffe Hypocrifie,

Ours of true zeale, and deep integrity :

Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them have
That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.

Bull. Good Aunt ſtand up.

Dut. Nay do not ſay ſtand up.

But pardon firſt, and afterwards ſtand up.

And if I were thy Nurſe, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon ſhould be the firſt word of thy ſpeech.

I never long'd to hear a word till now :

Say Pardon (King) let pitty teach thee how.

The word is ſhort, but not ſo ſhort as ſweet,
No word like Pardon, for Kings mouths ſo meer.

Yor. Speak it in French (King) ſay Pardon'ue moy.

Dut. Doſt thou teach pardon, Pardon to deſtroy ?

Ah my ſowre husband, my hard-hearted Lord,
That fet it the word it ſelf, againſt the word.

Speak pardon as 'tis current in our Land,

The chopping French we do not underſtand.

Thine eye begins to ſpeak, ſet thy tongue there;
Or in thy pitreous heart, plant thou thine ear,

That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pitty may move thee, Pardon to rehearſe.

Bull. Good Aunt ſtand up.

Dut. I do not ſue to ſtand,
Pardon is all the ſuit I have in hand.

Bull.

348

Bull. I pardon him as heaven shall pardon me.
Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee :
Yet am I fick for fear : Speak it again,
Twice flying Pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.

Bull. I pardon him with all my heart.

Dut. A God on earth thou art.

Bull. But for our trufty brother in-law, the Abbot,
With all the rest of that conforted crew,
Defrustration straight shall dog them at the heels :
Good uncle help to order several powers

To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are :
They shall not live within this world I swear,
But I will have them once know where.

Uncle farewell, and Coufin adieu :

Your Mother well faith pray'd, and prove you true.

Dut. Come my old son, I pray heaven make thee new.

Exit.

Enter Exton and Servant.

Ext. Didst thou not mark the King, what words he
spake ?

Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear :
Was it not so?

Ser. Thoſe were his very words.

Ex. Have I no friend ? (quoth he :) he spake it twice,
And ung'd it twice together, did he not ?

Ser. He did.

Ex. And speaking it, he wistly lock'd on me,
As who shall fly, I would thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart ;
Meaning the King at Pomsfret : Come, let's goe,
I am the Kings friend, and will rid his foe.

Exit.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Richard.

Rich. I have been studying, how to compare
This Prifon where I live : unto the World :
And for becaufe the world is populous,
And here is not a Creature, but my self,
I cannot do it : yet Ile hammer't out.

My Brain, Ile prove the Female to my foul,
My foul, the Father : and thefe two beget

A generation of still breeding Thoughts ;
And theſe fame thoughts, people this little world
In humours, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better fort,
As thoughts of things Divine, are intermixt
With ſeruples, and do ſet the faith it ſelf

Against the Faith : as thus: Come little ones: & then again,
It is as hard to come, as for a Camell
To thred the poſtern of a Needle eye.

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how theſe vain weak nailles
May tear a paſſage through the Plenty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prifon walls :
And for they cannot, dye in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, ſlatter themselves,
That they are not the first of Fortunes flaves,
Nor ſhall not be the laſt. Like filly Beggars,
Who fitting in the Stocks, refuge their ſlame
That many have, and others muſt fit there;
And in this thought, they find a kind of eafe,

Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of ſuch as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I in one Prifon, many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I King :
Then Treason makes me with my ſelf a Beggar,
And so I am. Then cruſhing penury,

Perſwades me, I was better when a King :

Then am I King'd again : and by and by,
Think that I am un-king'd by *Bullingbrooke*,
And straight am nothing. But what ere I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,

With nothing ſhall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing. Mufick do I hear ?

Ha, ha? keep time : How ſower ſweer Mufick is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept ?

So is it in the Mufick of mens lives :

And here have I the daintineſſe of ear

To hear time broke in a diſorder'd flying :
But for the Concord of my State and Time,
Had not an ear to hear my true Time broke.

I waſted Time, and now doth Time waſe me :

For now hath Time made me his numbring clock ;

My thoughts are minutes ; and with ſights they jarr'e,
Their watches to mine ies. the outward Watch,
Whereeto my finger, like a Diſl's point,
Is pointing full, in cleaning them from tears.

Now fir, the found that tells what hour it is,

Are clamourous groans, that ſtrike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: of Sighs, and Tears, and Groans,
Shew Minutes, Hours, and Times : O but my Time
Runs poſing on, in *Bullingbrooke's* proud joy,

While I ſtand fooling here, his Jack o'th'Clock.
This Mufick mads me, let it found no more,
For though it have holpe mad men to their wits,

In me it ſeems, it will make wife-men mad :
Yet bleſſing on his heart that gives it me ;
For 'tis a ſigne of love, and love to *Richard*,
Is a ſtrange Brooch, in this all-hating world.

Enter Groome.

Groo. Hail Royal Prince.

Ric. Thanks Noble Peer.

The cheaped of us, is ten groats too deer.

What art thou ? and how com'ft thou hither ?

Where no man ever comes, but that ſad dogge

That brings me food, to make misfortune live ?

Groo. I was a poor Groom of thy Stable (King)
When thou wer't King, who travelling towards York,
With much adoe, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my (fometimes Royal) Maſters face.

O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld
In *London streets*, that Coronation day,
When *Bullingbrooke* rode on Roan Barbary,
That horſe, that thou ſo often haſt beſtrid,
That horſe, that I ſo carefully have dreſt.

Rich. Rode he on Barbary ? tell me gentle Friend,
How went he under him ?

Groo. So proudly, as if he had diſdain'd the ground.

Rich. So proud, that *Bullingbrooke* was on his back ;
That Jade hath eat bread from my Royall hand.

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not flumble ? would he not fall down
(Since Pride muſt have a fall) and break the neck
Of that proud man, that did uſurpe his back ?

Forgivenessle horſe: why do I rail on thee,

Since thou created to be aw'd by man

Vas't born to bear ? I was not made a horſe,

Mufick

And

And yet I bear a burthen like an Affe,
Spur-gall'd, and tyr'd by Jauncing Bullingbrooke.

*Enter Keeper with a Diph.*

Keep. Fellow, give place, here is no longer flays.
Rich. If thou love me, *is* this time thou wer't away.
Groe. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall
fay. Exit.

Keep. My Lord, wilt pleafe you to fall too ?
Rich. Tell of it first, as thou wer't wont to do.
Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton,
Who lately came from th'King, commands the contrary.
Rich. The divel take Henry of Lancafter, and thee;
Patience is fale, and I am weary of it.

Keep. Help, help, help.

*Enter Exton and Servants.*

Ri. How now ? what means death in this rude affront ?
Villain, thine own hand yields thy deaths instrument,
Go thou and fill another roome in Hell.

*Exton strikes him down.*

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,
That flaggers thus my perſon. Exton, thy ſterce hand,
Hath with the Kings blood, ſtain'd the Kings own land.
Mount, mount my foul, thy ſeat is up on high,
Whil't my groſſe fleth finks downward, here to dye.

Exton. As full of valour as of Royal blood,
Both have I spilt: Oh would the deed were good,
For now the divel that told me I did well,
Saies, that this deed is chronicled in Hell.
This dead King to the living King ile bear,

Take hence the reſt; and give them burial here.

Exit.

## Scena Quinta.

Flourisco. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords and attendants.

Bull. Uncle Tork, the lateſt news we hear,
Is that the Rebell have confum'd with fire
Our Town of Ciceter in Glouceſter ſire,
But whether they be tane or ſlain, we hear not.

*Enter Northumberland.*

Welcome my Lord: what is the news ?
Nor. First to thy Sacred State with I all happineſſe:
The next news is, I have to London ſent

The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:

The manner of their taking may ap. eit.
At large difcourſed in this paper here.

Bull. We thank thee gentle Piercy for thy pains,
And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines.

*Enter Fitz-waters.*

Fitz. My Lord, I have from Oxford ſent to London,
The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely,
Two of the dangerous conſorted Traitors,
That fought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Bull. Thy pains Fitzwaters ſhall not be forſот,
Right Noble is thy merit, well I wor.

*Enter Piercy and Carlile.*

Per. The grand Conſpirator, Abbot of Westminſter,
With clog of Conſcience, and ſower melancholly,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave:
But here is Carlile, living to abide

Thy Kingly doom, and ſentence of his pride.

Bull. Carlile, this is your doom:
Choose out ſome ſecret place, ſome reverend roome
More than thou haſt, and with it joy thy ſelf:
So as thou liv'st in peace, dye free from ſtrife:
For though mine enemy thou haſt ever been,
High spacks of Honour in thee have I feen.

*Enter Exton with a Coffin.*

Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I preſent
Thy buried fear. Herein all breathleſſe lies:
The mightieſt of thy greaſt enemies
Richard of Burdeane, by me hither brought.

Bull. Exton. I think thee not, for thou haſt wrought
A deed of Slaughter with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous Land.

Ex. From your own mouth my Lord, did I this deed,

Bull. They love not poyſon, that do poyſon neeſ,
Nor do I thee: though I did with him dead,
I hare the Murtherer, love him murthered.

The guilt of conſcience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor Princely favour.
With Caingo wander through the ſhade of night,
And never ſhow thy head by day, nor light.

Lords I proteaſ my foul is full of woe,
That blood ſhould ſprinkle me, and make me grow.

Come mourn with me, for that I do lament,
And put on ſullen black incontinent :

He make a voyage to the holy-land,
To waſh this blood off from my guilty hand,
March faſly after, grace my mourning here,
In weeping after this untimely Beer.

Ekeuntes.

FINIS.

# The First Part of Henry the Fourth,
with the Life and Death of HENRY
Sirnamed HOT-SPURRE.

## Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmerland, with others.
King.

S

O shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted Peace to pant,
And breath short winded accents of new
Broils

To be commenc'd in Storms afar remote :

No more the thirty entrance of this Isoyl,
Shall dambe her lips with her own childrens bloud :
No more shall trenching War channel her fields,
Nor bruife her Flowrets with the armed hoofes
Of hoſtſele paces. Thoſe oppofed eyes,
Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heaven,
All of one Nature, of one Subſtance bred,
Did lately meet in the intedine shock,
And furious cloze of civil Burchery,
Shall now in mutual well-beſeeming rankes
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 Maſler. Therefore Friends,
As far as to the Sepulcher of Chriſt,
Whoſe Souldier now, under whoſe bleſſed Croſs
We are impreſſed, and engag'd to fight,
Forthwith a power of English ſhall we levy,
Whoſe armes we e moulded in their Mothers Womb,
To chafe 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 purpofe is a twelvemonth old,
And bootleſs 'is to tell you we will go :
Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear
Of you my gentle Couſin Westmerland,
What yeſternight our Council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expediencie.

Woff. My Liege : This haſt was hot in queſtion,
And many limits of the Charge fet 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 whoſe WELſhwomen done, as may not be
(Without much ſhame) re-told or ſpoken of.

King. It ſeems then, that the tidings of this broil,
Brake off our buſineſs for the Holy Land.

Woff. This matcht, with other like, my gracious Lord,
Far more uneven and unwelcome News
Came from the North, and thus it did report :
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 bloudy hour :
As by diſcharge of their Artillery,
And ſhape of likelihood the newes was told :
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention, did take horſe,
Uncertain of the illue any way.

King. Here is a dear and true induſtrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horſe,
Sain'd with the variation of each ſoyl,
Betwixt the Holmedon, and this Seit of ours :
And he hath brought us ſmooth and welcom News.
The Earle of Dowlas is diſcomſted,
Ten thouſand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights
Balk't in their own bloud did Sir Walter fee
On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prifoners, Hotſpur took
Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldeſt ſon
To beaten Dowlas, and the Earle of Athol,
Of Marry, Angus, and Menteith.

And is not this an honourable ſpoyl ?
A gallant prize ? Ha Couſin, is it not ? In faith it is:
Woff. A Conqueſt for a Prince to boſt of.

King. Yea, there thou mak'ſt me ſad, and mak'ſt me ſin,
In envy, that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father of ſo bleft a ſon :
A Son, who is the Theam of Honours ſongue :
Amongst a Grove, the very fraiteſt Plant,
Who is ſweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride:
Whil'ſt I by looking on the praife of him,
See Ryot and Dihonour ſlain the brow
Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd,
That ſome Night-tripping Fayry, had exchang'd
In Cradle-cloaths, our Children where they lay,
And calld mine Percy, his Plantagenet :

Then

The Life and Death of Henry the Fourth.

351

Then would I have his *Harry*, and he mine :
But let him from my thoughts. What think you Coze
Of this young *Percies* pride? The Prifoners
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz'd,
To his own ufe he keeps, and fends me word
I haft have none but *Mordake* Earl of *Fife*,

*Wof*. This is his Uncles reaching. This is Worcester
Malevolent to you in all Aspects:
Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
The creft of Youth againit your Dignity.

*King*. But I have lent for him to anſwer this :
And for this caufe a while we muſt neglect
Our holy purpofe to *Jerusalem*.

*Colin*, on *Wednesday* next, our Council we will hold
At *Windfor*, so inform the Lords :
But come your ſelf with ſpeed to us again,
For more is to be ſaid, and to be done,
Then out of anger can be uttered.

*Woff*. I will my Liege.

*Exeunt.*

## Scæna Secunda.

*Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir John Falstaffe, and Pointz.*

*Fal.* Now *Hal*, what time of day is it Lad?

*Prince.* Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old
Sack and unbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping
upon benches in the afternoon that thou haſt forgotten to
demand that truly, which thou wouldst truly know. What
a divel haſt thou to do with the time of the day? unleſs
hours were Cups of Sack, and minutes Capons, and
Clocks the tongues of Biwds, and Dialſs the ſignes of
Leaping-houſes, and the bleſſed Sun himself a fair hot
Wench in Flame-coloured Taffeta, I fee no reaſon why
thou shouldſt be so ſuperfluous, to demand the time of the
day.

*Fal.* Indeed you came near me now *Hal*. for we that
take Purſes, go by the Moon and ſeven Stars, and not
by *Phœbus* he, that wandring Knight ſo fair. And I
pray thee ſweet *Wagge*, when thou art King, as God
faveth thy Grace, Majety I should ſay, for Grace thou wilt
have none.

*Prince.* What I none ?

*Fal.* No, not so much as will ſerve to be Prologue to an
Egge and Butter.

*Prince.* Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly!

*Fal.* Marry then, ſweet *Wagge*, when thou art King,
let not us, that are Squires of the Nights body, be call'd
Theeves of the Dyes beauty. Let us be *Diana's* Forreſt-
ers, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moon; and
let men ſay, we be men of good Government, being go-
verned as the Sea is, by our noble and chafth Miftris the
Moon, under whose countenance we *ſteal*.

*Prince.* Thou fay'ſt well, and it holds well too: for the
fortune of us that are the Moones 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 refolutely ſwatch'd
on Monday night, and moſt diffusely ſpent on Tuesday
morning; got with ſwearing, Laid by, and ſpent with
crying, Bring in: now in as low an ebb, as the foot of the
Lidder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ride of the
Gallows.

*Fal.* Thou fay'ſt true Lad: and is not my Hofteſs of
the Tavern a moſt sweet Wench ?

*Prince.* As is the honey, my old Lad of the Cafle: and is
not a Buffe Jerkin a moſt sweet robe of durance ?

*Fal.* How, how? how now mad *Wagge*? What in thy
quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do
with a Buffe-Jerkin ?

*Prince.* Why, what a pox have I to do with my Hofteſs
of the Tavern ?

*Fal.* Well, thou haſt called her to a reckoning many a
time and oft.

*Prince.* Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ?

*Fal.* No, Ile give thee thy due, thou haſt paid all there.

*Prince.* Yea and elsewhere, so far as my Coyn would
ſtrech, and where it would not, I have us'd my Credit.

*Fal.* Yes, and so us'd it, that were it here apparent,
that thou art Heir apparent. But I prythee ſweet *Wagge*,
thall there be Gallows standing in England when thou art
King? and Refolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rufy
curb of old Father Antick the Law? Do not thou when
thou art a King, hang a Thief.

*Prince.* No, thou haſt.

*Fal.* Shall I? Or rare I Ile be a brave Judge.

*Prince.* Thou jugeſt falſe already. I mean, thou haſt
have the hanging of the Thieves, and so become a rare
Hangman.

*Fal.* Well *Hal*, well: and in some fort it jumpes with
my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell
you.

*Prince.* For obtaining of ſuites ?

*Fal.* Yea, for obtaining of ſuites, whereof the Hang-
man hath no lean Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a
Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Bear.

*Prin.* Or an old Lion, or a Lovers Lute.

*Fal.* Yea, or the Drone of a *Lincolnshire* Bagpipe.

*Prin.* What fay'ſt thou to a Hare, or the Melancholy of
Moor-Ditch?

*Fal.* Thou haſt the moſt unfavoury ſimiles, and art indeed
the moſt comparative rafcalleſt ſweet young Prince. But
*Hal*, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I would
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 freet about you ſir; but I mark'd him
not, and yet he talk'd very wifely, but I regarded him nor,
and yet he talkt wifely, and in the freet too.

*Prin.* Thou didst well: for no man regards it.

*Fal.* O, thou haſt datnable iteration, and art indeed a-
ble to corrupt a Saint. Thou haſt done much harm unto
me *Hal*: God forgive thee for it. Before I knew thee *Hal*,
I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man should speak
truly) little better then one of the wicked. I muſt give o-
ver this life, and I will give it over: and I do not, I am a
Villain. Ile be damned for never a Kings ſon in Christen-
dom.

*Prin.* Where shall we take a Purſe to morrow, *Jack*?

*Fal.* Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I do not,
call me Villain, and baffle me.

*Prin.* I fee a good amendment of life in thee: From
Praying, to Purſe-taking.

*Fal.* Why *Hal*, 'tis my Vocation *Hal*. 'Tis no ſin for a
man to labour in his Vocation.

*Pointz.* Now shall we know if Gads-bill have ſet a
Watch. O, if men were to be fav'd by merit, what hole
in Hell were hot enough for him ? This is the moſt omni-
potent Villain, that ever cryed, Stand, to a true man.

*Prin.* Good morrow, *Ned*.

*Pointz.*

Poinz. Good morrow sweet Hal. What faies Monsieur
Remorfe? What faies Sir John Sack and Sugar, Jack ?
How agrees the Devil and thee about thy Soul, that thou
foldeft him on Good-Fryday laft, for a Cup of Madera, and
a cold Capons legge ?

Prin. 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.

Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the devil.

Prin. Elfe he had been damn'd for cozening the devil.

Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by four a clock early at Gads-hill, there are Pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders riding to London with fat Purpes. I have Vizards for you all; you have horpes for your felves: Gads-hill lies to night in Richmond, I have beſpoke Supper to morrow in Eaſtcheap; we may do it as ſecure as fleep: if you will go, I will fluffe your Purpes full of Crownes: if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

Fal. Hear ye Tedward, if I tarry at home, and go not, Ile hang you for going.

Poy. You will Chops.

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ?

Prin. Who, I rob ? I a Thief ? Not I.

Fal. Ther's neither honefy, manhood, nor good fellow-
ship in thee, nor thou cam'it not of the cloud-royal, if
thou dar'it not stand for ten fillings.

Prin. Well then, once in my daies Ile be a mad-cp.

Fal. Why that's well faid.

Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home.

Fal. Ile be a Traytor then, when thou art King.

Prin. I care not.

Poyn. Sir John, I pray thee leave the Prince and me a-
lone, I will lay him down ſuch reaſons for this adventure,
that he ſhall go.

Fal. Well, maſt thou have the ſpirit of perſwafion ; and he the eares of profiting, that what he ſpeakeſt, may move; and what he hears may be believed, that the true Prince may (for recreation ſake) prove a falſe chief; for the poor abufes of the time, want countenance. Farewell, you ſhall find me in Eaſtcheap.

Prin. Farewell the latter Spring. Farewel Alſhollowl
Summer. Exit Fal.

Poy. Now, my good sweet honey Lord, ride with us to
morrow. I have a jeſt to execute, that I cannot manage a-
lone. Falſtaſſe, Harvey, Roffil, and Gads-hill, ſhall rob
thofe men that we have already way-layd; your ſelf 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 ſhoul-
ders.

Prin. But hovv shall we part with them in fetting forth?

Poyn. Why we will fet forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleafure to fail; and then will they venture upon the exploit themfelves, which they have no ſooner atchieved, but we'll fet upon them.

Prin. I but *cis like that they will know us by our horſes,
by our habits, and by every other appointment to be our
felves.

Poy. Tut, our horſes they ſhall not ſee, He tye them in the Wood; our vizards we will change after we leave them: and firrah, I have Cafes of Buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for us.

Poyn. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true

bred Edwards as ever turn'd back: and for the third, if
he fight longer than he ſees reaſon, Ile forſwear Armes.
The verſue of this Jeſt will be, the incomprehenſible lies
that this fat Rogue will tell us, when we meet at Supper;
how thirty at leaſt he fought with, what wards, what
blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reſpoſe
of this, lies the Jeſt.

Prin. Well, Ile go with thee, provide us all things ne-
cessary, and meet me to morrow night in Eaſtcheap, there
Ile fup. Farewel.

Poyn. Farewel, my Lord.

Exit Poyne.

Prin. I know you all; and will a while uphold
The unyoak'd humour of your Jufeneſs :

Yet herein will I imitate the Sun,
Who doth permit the bafe conſious cloudes
To ſmother up his Beauty from the world :
That when he pleafe again to be himſelf,
Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly Mifts
Of vapours, that did seem to ſtrangle him.
If all the year were playing Holidgies,
To ſport, would be as tedious as to work ;
But when they feldom come, they wifht-for come,
And nothing plesſeth but rare accidents.
So when this loofe behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promiſed :
By how much better then my word I am,
By so much ſhall I falſſi ſmens hopes,
And like bright Metal on a ſullen ground :
My reformation glittering o're my ſault,
Shall ſhew more goodly, and attraet more eyes,
Then that which hath no ſoyl to fet it off.
Ile ſo ſoſend, to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time, when men think leaſt I vvvill.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur,
Sir Walter Blunt, and others.

King. My cloud hath been too cold and temperate,
Unapt to fir at theſe indignities,

And you have found me; for accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: But be ſure,
I villo from henceforth rather be my ſelf,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition,
Which hath been ſmooth as Oyl, ſoft as young Down,
And therefore loſt the Title of reſpect,

Which the proud ne're payes, but to the proud.

Wor. Our houſe (my Soveraign Liege) little deſerves
the ſcourge of greatneſs to be uſed on it,
And that fame greatneſs too, which our own hands
Have holf to make so portly.

Nor. My Lord.

King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do ſee
Danger and difobedience in thine eye.
O fir, your prefence is too bold and peremptory,
And Majeſtly might never yet endure
The moody Frontier of a ſervant brovv,
You have good leave to leave us. When we need
Your life and counſel, ve ſhall ſend for you.
You vvere about to ſpeak.

North. Yea, my good Lord.

Thofe

The first Part of King Henry the Fourth.

Thofe Prifoners by your Highneſſe demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Where (as he layes) not with ſuch ſtrength denied
As was delivered to your Majeſtyle :
Who either through enuy, or miſprifion,
Wasguilty of that fault; and not my Son.

Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prifoners.
But, I remember when the fight was done,
When I was dry with Rage, and extream toyl,
Breathleſſe, and faſt, leaning upon my Sword,
Came there a certain Lord, neat and trimly drefſt ;
Freth as a Bride-groom, and his Chin new reapt,
Shew'd like a flubble Land at harveſt home.
He was perfumed like a Milliner,

And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumb, he held

A Poincner-box : which ever and anon

He gave his Nofe, and took't away again :

Who therewith angry, when it next came there;
Took it in Snuffe. And ſtill he ſmil'd and talk'd :

And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught Knaves, Unmannerly,
To bring a flovenly unhandſome Coarſe

Betwixt the wind, and his Nobility.

With many holiday and Lady tearmes

He question'd me : Among the reſt, demanded

My Prifoners, in your Majeſtles be half.

I then, all-ſmarming with my wounds being cold,
(To be ſo peftered with a Popingay)

Out of my grief, and my impatience,

Anwer'd (negleſtingly) I know not what ;
He ſhould, or ſhould not: For he made me mad,
To fee him ſhine fo brisk, and ſmell ſo ſwects,

And talk to like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,

OfGuns,and Drums,and Wounds: God fave the mark ;

And telling me, the Soveraign't thing on earth

Was Parnacty, for an inward bruſe :

And that it was great pittr', fo it was ;

That villanous Salte-peter ſhould be digg'd

Out of the bowells of the harmleſſe Earth,

Which many a good tall Fellow had deftroy'd
SoARDwardly. And but for theſe vile Guns,
He would himſelf have been a Souldier.

This bald, unjoynd Chat of his (my Lord)

Made me to anſwer indireſtly (as I faid.)

And I beſeeth you, let not this reſort

Come current for an Accufation,

Betwixt my love and your high Majeſtyle.

Blunt. The circumſtance confidered, good my Lord,
What ever Harry Percie then had faid ;

To ſuch a perſon, and in ſuch a place ;

At ſuch a time, with all the reſt reſtold,

May reaſonably die, and never rife

To doe him wrong, or any way impeach

What then he faid, fo he unfay it now.

King. Why yet he doth deny his Prifoners,

But with Provifo and Exception,

That we at our own charge, ſhall ranſome ſtraight
His Brother-in-Law, the foolſh Mortimer,

Who (in my foul) hath wilfully betraid

The lives of theſe, that he did lead to Fight,
Aſainſt the great Magician, dani'd Glendower ;

Whoſe daughter (as we hear) the Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then

Be empty'd, to redeem a Traitor home ?

Shall we buy Treaſon ? and indent with Fears,

When they have left and forfeited themſelves ?

No: on the barren Mountain let him ſtave :

For I ſhall never hold that man my friend,

Whoſe tongue ſhall aske me for one penny coſt

To ranſome home revolted Mortimer,

Hot. Revolted Mortimer ?

He never did fall off, my Soveraign Liege,

But by the chance of Warre : to prove that true,

Needs no more but one tongue. For all thofe Wounds,

Thofe mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he took,

When on the gentle Severnes ſiedgie 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 Severnes flood ;

Who then affrighted with their bloody looks ;

Ran fearfully among the trembling Reeds,

And hid his crisped-head in a hollow bank,

Blood ſtained with theſe valiant Combatants.

Never did bafe and ſotten 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.

King. Thou do'st belye him Percy, thou do'st belye
He never did encounter with Glendower :

I tell thee, he duſt as well have met the devil alone,

As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Art thou not aſham'd ? But firrah, henceforth

Let me not hear you ſpeak of Mortimer.

Send me your Prifoners with the ſpeedieſt means,

Or you ſhall hear in ſuch a kind from me

As will diſpifeaſe ye. My Lord Northumberland,

We Liceſe our departure with your Son,

Send us your Prifoners, or you'll hear of it. Exit King.

Hot. And if the devil come and roare for them,

I will not ſend them. I will after ſtraight

And tell him fo : for I will eafe my heart,

Although it be with hazard of my head,

Nor. What? drunk with choller? ſtay and paufe awhile,
Here comes your Uncle. Enter Worcester.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer?

Yes, I will ſpeak of him, and let my foul

Want mercy, if I doe not joyn with him.

In his behalf, I'le empty all theſe Veines,

And ſhed my dear blood drop by drop i'th duſt,

But I will lift the downfall Mortimer

As high i'th aire as this unthankfull King,

As this ingrate and cankred Bullingbrook.

Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad.

Wor. Who ſtrook this heatup after I was gone ?

Hot. He will (forfooth) have all my Prifoners :

And when I urg'd the ranſome once again.

Of my wive's Brother, then his cheek look'd pale,

And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,

Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

Wor. I cannot blame him : was he not proclaim'd
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood ?

Nor. He was : I heard the Proclamation,

And then it was, when the unhappy King

(Whoſe wrongs in us God pardon) did ſet forth

Upon his Iſtih Expedition :

From whence he, interceſted, did return

To be depos'd, and ſhortly murthered.

Wor. And for whoſe death, we in the worlds wide
Live ſo scandaliz'd, and foully ſpoken of. (mouth

Hot.

Gg

Hot. But for I pray you; did King Richard then
Proclaine my brother Mortimer,
Heir to the Crown ?

Nor. He did, my self did hear it.

Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Coufin King,
That with'd him on the barren Mountains farv'd.
But shall it be, that you that fet the Crown
Upon the head of this forgetfull man,
And for his fake wore the detefted blot
Of murtherous subornations ? shall it be,
That you a world of curfes undergo,
Being the Agents, or bafe fecond means,
The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather ?

O pardon, if that I defcend so low,
To new the Line, and the Predicament
Wherein you range under this subtil King.
Shall it for ſhame, be ſpoken in these dayes,
Or fill up Chronicles in time to come,
That men of your Nobility and Power,
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf
(As both of you, God pardon it, have done)

To put down Richard, that sweet lovely Rofe,
And plant this Thorn, this Canker Bullingbrook.
And shall it in more ſhame be further ſpoken,
That you are fool'd, diſcarded, and ſhook off
By him, for whom theſe ſhames ye underwent
No yet time ſerves, wherein you may redeem
Your banifh'd Honours, and ſrefore your ſelves
Into the good thoughts of the world again.

No: yet time ſerves, wherein you may redeem
Your banifh'd Honours, and ſrefore your ſelves
Into the good thoughts of the world again.
Revenge the jeering and diſdain'd contempt

Of this proud King, who ſtudies day and night
To anſwer all the debt he owes unto you,
Even with the bloody payments of your deaths :

Therefore I ſay..................

Wor. Peace, Couſin, ſay no more.

And now I will unclasp a ſecret book,
And to your quick conveying Difcontents,

I'le read you Matter, deep and dangerous,
As full of peril and adventerous Spirit,
As to o're-walk a Current, roaring loud

On the unſtedfaſt footing of a Spear,

Hot. If he fall in, good night, or ſink or ſwimme :

Send danger from the Eaſt unto the Weſt,
So Honour croſſe in from the North to South,
And let them grapple : The blood more flirres
To rowze a Lyon, then to ſtart a Hare.

Nor. Imagination of ſome great exploit,
Drives him beyond the bounds of Patience.

Hot. By heaven, me thinks it were an eafe leap,
To pluck bright Honour from the pale-fac'd Moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,

Where Fadome-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned Honour by the Locks :

So he that doth redeem her thence, might wear
Without Co-rivall, all her Dignities :
But out upon this half-fac'd Fellowship.

Wor. He apprehends a world of Figures here,

But not the form of what he ſhould attend :
Good Couſin give me audience for a while,
And lift to me.

Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor. Thofe fame noble Scots

That are your Prifoners.

Hot. I'le keep them all.

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them :

No, if a Scot would ſave his Soul, he shall not.

I'le keep them, by this Hand.

Wor. You ſtart away,

And lend no care unto my purpofes.

Thofe Prifoners you ſhall keep.

Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:

He faid he would not ranſome Mortimer:

Forbad my tongue to ſpeak of Mortimer.

But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his eare I'le holla Mortimer.

Nay, I'le have a Starling ſhall be taught to ſpeak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,

To keep his anger ſtill in motion.

Wor. Hear you Couſin : a word.

Hot. All ſtudies here I solemnly defie,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrook,
And that fame Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.

But that I think his Father loves him not,
And would be glad he met with ſome miſchance,

I would have poyſon'd him with a pot of Ale,
Wor. Farewell Kinaſman : I'le talk to you

When you are temper'd to attend.

Nor. Why what a Wafp-tongu'd and impatient fool
Art thou, to break into this Womans mood,
Tying thine ear to no tongue but chine own?

Wor. Why look you, I am whipt & ſcourg'd with jodges,
Netled, and ſtung with Pifmiers, when I hear
Of this vile Politician Bullingbrook.

In Richard's time : What de' ye call the place ?

A plague upon't, it is in Gloſcester-shire:

'Twas where the madcap Duke his Unckle kept
His Unckle York, where I firſt bow'd my knee

Unto the King of Smiles, this Bullingbrook :

When you and he came back from Raven-purgh.

Nor. At Barkley C forfe.

Hot. You ſay true :

Why what a gaudie deal of curteſiſe,
This fawning Gray-hound then did proſſor me.
Look when his infant fortune came to age,
And gentle Harry Percy, and kind Couſin :

O, the Devil take ſuch Cozeners, God forgive me:
Good Unckle tell you your tale, for I have done,

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again,
We'll ſtay your leifure.

Wor. I have done infooth.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prifoners,
Deliver them up without their ranſome ſtraight,

And make the Dowglas ſon your only mean

For powers in Scotland : which for divers reaſons

Which I ſhall fend you written, be aſſur'd
Will eafily be granted you, my Lord.

Your Son in Scotland being thus employ'd,
Shall ſecreely in the boſome creep

Of that fame noble Prelate, well belov'd,
The Arch-Biſhop.

Hot. Of York, is't not?

Wor. True, who beares hard

His Brothers death at Brifow, the Lord Scroop.
I ſpeak not this in ſtimation,

As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and ſet down,

And onely ſtayes but to behold the face
Of that occafion that ſhall bring it on.

Hot. I ſmell it :

Upon my life, it will do wondrous well.

Nor. Before the game's a foot, thou ſtill let't ſlip.

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot,

And

355

And then the power of Scotland, and of Tork
To joyn with Mortimer, Ha,

Wor. And so they shall.

Hot. Infaith it is exceeding well aim'd,
Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed,

To have our heads, by rafing of a Head :
For, hear our felv's as even as we can,
The King will always think him in our debt,
And think we think our felves uniaf satisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.

And fee already, how he doth begin
To make us frangers to his looks of love,

Hot. He does, he does ; we'll be reveng'd on him.

Wor. Coufis, farewell. No further go in this,

Then I by Letters shall direct your course

When time is ripe, which will be suddenly :

Ile feal to Glendower, and to, Mortimer,
Where you, and Dowglas, and our powers at once,
As I will fashion it, shall happily meet,
To bearour fortunes in our own ftrong armes,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thrive, I trust.

Hot. Uncle, adieu : O let hours be short,

Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport. Exit.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Carrier with a Lantern in his hand.

1. Car. Heigh ho, an't be not four by the day. I'll be hang'd, Charleswain is over the new Chimney, and yet our horie not packt. What Oftler?

Off. Anon, anon.

1. Car. I prethee Tom, beat Cuts Saddle, put a few Flocks in the point: the poor Jode is wrung in the wivers, out of all ceffe.

Enter another Carrier.

2. Car. Peafe and Beans are as dank here as a Dog,
and this is the next way to give poor Jades the Bots:
This houfe is turned upside down since Robin the Oftler
died.

1. Car. Poor fellow never joy'd since the price of oats
role, it was the death of him.

2. Car. I think this is the moft villanous houfe in all London road for Fleas: I am flung like a Tench.

1. Car. Like a Tench ? There's ne're a King in Christendome, could be better bit, then I have been since the firft Cock.

2. Car. Why, you will allow us ne't a Jourden, and
then we leak in your Chimney : and your Chamber-lye
breeds Fleas like a Luach.

1. Car. What Oftler, come away, and be hang'd: come away.

2. Car. I have a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing-croffe.

1. Car. The Turkics in my Panniers are quite starved, What Oftler? a plague on thee, haft thou never an eye in thy head? can't not hear? and 'were not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee,' I am a very Villain. Come and be hang'd, haft no faith in thee ?

Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Good morrow Carriers. What's a clock?

Car. I think it be two a Clock.

Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorn to fee my Gel-

ding in the ftaule.

1. Car. Nay, fofe I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that.

Gad. I prethee lend me thine.

2. Car. I, when, canft tell ? lend me thy Lanthorn (quoth-a) marry Ple fee thee hang'd fift.

Gad. Sima Carrier: what time doe you mean to come to London.

2. Car. Time enough to go to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, we'll call up the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they have great charge.

Exeunt.

Enter Chamberlain.

Gad. What ho, Chamberlain ?

Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purfe.

Gad. That's even as fair, as at hand quoth the Chamberlain: For thou varieft no more from picking of Purfes, then giving direction doth from labouring. Thou lay'ft the plot, how.

Cham. Good morrow After Gads-hill, it holds current that I told you yefernight, There's a Franklin in the wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Marks with him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company laft night at Supper ; a kind of Auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too (God knowes what) they are up already, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away pientely.

Gad. Sirra, if they meet not with S. Nicholas Clarks,
Ile give thee this neck.

Gad. No, I'le none of it: I prethee keep that for the Hangman, for I know thou worSHIP'ft S. Nicholas as truly as a man of falhood may.

Gad. What talkeft thou to me of the Hangman ? If I hang, I'll make a fat pair of Gallows. For, if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, and thou know'ft he's no Starveling. Tut, there are other Trojans that thou d'cam'ft not of, the which (for sport fako) are content to doe the Profeffion fome grace ; that would (if matters hould be look'd into) for their own Credit fako, make all whole. I am joyned with no Foot-Land-Rakers ; no Long-ftaffe fix-penny ftrikers, none of these mad Muftaio-purple-hu'd-Malt-wormes, but with Nobility, and Tranquility ; Bourgomafters, and great Oneyers, fuch as can hold in, fuch as will ftrike sooner then fpeak ; and fpeak sooner then drink, and drink sooner then pray : and yet I lye, for they pray continually unto their Saint the Common-wealth ; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her : for they ride up, and down on her, and make her their Boots.

Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Boots ? Will
the hold out water in foul way ?

Gad. She will, she will ; Juſtice hath liquor'd her.
We feal, as in a Caſtle, cock-fure : we have the receit of
Fern-feed, we walk inſible.

Cham. Nay, I think rather, you are more beholding to the Night, then the Fern-feed, for your walking inſible.

Gad. Give me thy hand.

Thou haf't have a ſhare in our purpofe,
As I am a true man.

Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a falſe
Thief.

Gad. Go to : Homo is a common name to all men.
Bid the Oſtler bring the Gelding out of the ftaule. Fare-
well, ye muddy Knave.

Exeunt.

Scena

Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince, Poyns, and Peto.

Poyns. Come shelter, shelter, I have removed Falstaffe's
Horfe, and he freets like a gunn'd Velvet.

Prin. Stand clofe.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. Poyns, Poyns, and be hang'd Poyns.

Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rafcall, what a bawling
doft thou keep ?

Fal. What Poyns. Hal ?

Prin. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill, I'le go
reek him.

Fal. I am accunft to rob in that Thiefs company : that
Rafcall hath removed my Horfe, and tied him. I know
not where. If I travell but four foot by the square further
a foot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to
die a fair death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing
that Rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any
time this two an twenty year, and yet I am bewitcht with
the Rogues company. If the Rafcall have not given me
medicines to make me love him, I'le be hang'd, it could
not be else : I have drunk Medicines, Poyns, Hall, a
Plague upon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ple starve e're I
rob a foot further. And 'twere not as good a deed as to
drink, to tun Trueman, and to leave thefe Rogues, I am
the verieft Varlet that ever chewed with a Tooth. Eight
yards of uneven ground, is threecore and ten miles afoot
with me : and the ftyone-hearted Villains know it well
enough. A plague upon't, when Thieves cannot be true
one to another.
They whistle.

Whew : a plague light upon you all. Give me my Horfe
you Rogues : give me my Horfe and be hang'd.

Prin. Peace ye fat-guts, lie down, lay thine ear clofe
to the ground, and lift if thou can hear the tread of tra-
vellers.

Fal. Have you any Leavers to lift me up again being
down ? I'le not bear mine own flefh so far afoot again,
for all the coin in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague
mean ye to colt me thus ?

Prin. Thou ly'ft, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horfe,
good Kings fon.

Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Oftler ?

Fal. Go hang thy felf in thine own heir-apparant-
Garters : If I be tanc, Ple peach for this: and I have not
Ballads made on all, and fung to filthy tunes, let a Cup
of Sack be my poyfon : when a jeff is fo forward, and a
foot too, I hate it.

Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Stand.

Fal. So I doe againſt my will.

Poyn. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce:
Bardolfe, what newes ?

Bar. Cafe ye, cafe ye; on with your Vizards, there's
money of the Kings comming down the hill, 'tis going to
the Kings Exchequer.

Fal. You lie you Rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Ta-

Gad. There's enough to make us all. (vern.)

Fal. To be hang'd.

Prin. You four ſhall front them in the narrow Lane:
Ned and I will walk lower; if they ſcape from your en-
counter, then they light on us.

Peto. But how many be of them ?

Gad. Some eight or ten.

Fal. Will they not rob us ?

Prin. What, a Coward Sir John Paunch ?

Fal. Indeed I am not John of Gaunt your Grand
father : but yet no Coward, Hal.

Prin. We'll leave that to the proof.

Poyn. Sirra Jack, thy horfe ſtands behind the hedge,
when thou need'ft him, there ſhalt thou finde him, far-
well, and ſtand faft.

Fal. Now I cannot ſtrike him if I should be hang'd.

Prin. Ned, where are our difguifes ?

Poyn. Here hard by: Stand cloſe.

Fal. Now my Maſters, happy man be his dole, ſay I:
every man to his bufineſſe.

Enter Travellers.

Tra. Come neighbour: the boy ſhall lead our Horſes
down the hill: We'll a foot a while, and cafe our
Legges.

Thieves, Stay.

Tra. Jefu bleſſe us.

Fal. Strike: down with them, cut the villains throats;
a whorſon Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaves, they hate us
youth; down with them, fleece them.

Tra. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever.

Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaves, are you undone? No
ye Fat Chuffes, I would your ſtore were here. On Ba-
cons on, what ye knaves ? young men muſt live, you are
Grand Jurers ? We'll jure ye ifaith.

Here they rob them and bind them. Enter
the Prince and the Maſters.

the Prince and the Maſters.

Prin. The thieves have bound the True-men: Now
could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to Lou-
don, it would be argument for a Week, Laughter for a
Moneth, and a good jeſt for ever.

Poyns. Stand cloſe, I hear them comming.

Enter Thieves again.

Fal. Come my Maſters, let us ſhare, and then to horſe
before day: and the Prince and Poyns be not twoar-
and Cowards, there's no equity flitting. There's no
more valour in that Poyns, than in a wild Duck.

Prin. Your money.

Poyn. Villains.

As they are ſharing, the Prince and Poyns ſet upon
them. They all run away, leaving the booby behind them.

Prince. Got with much cafe. Now merrily to Horſe:
The Thieves are ſcattred, and poſſeft with fear ſo ſtrong,
ly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fel-
low for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falſaffe (weats to
death, and Lards the lean earth as he walks along: were't
not for laughing, I should pitty him.

Poyn. How the Rogue roar'd.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.

But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well con-
tented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your houſe.
He could be contented: Why is he not then ? in respect
of the love he beares our houſe. He ſhews in this, he
loves his own Barn better then he loves our houſe. Let
me fee ſome more, The purpose you undertake is dangere-
ous.

rous,
cold, to
out of
the
way.
If you
have
your
own
an
oppor-
gain,
What a
plot
in
a
play.
A good
to
excell
ed
regard.
A
plenty
of
men
and
milk
with
the
king.
And
I
will
be
King,
and
my
felf,
and
my
brothers.

How no
La.

For wha
A banif
Tell me
Why do
And fla
Why ha
And give
To thick
In my fa
And hea
Speak te
Cry cou
Of Salis
Of Paliz
Of Baſi
Of Prit
And all
Thy piri
And thu
That be
Like bu
And in
Such as
On for
Some he
And I
Hot.
Ser.
Hot.
Ser.
Hot.
Ser.
Hot.
Ser.
Hot,
back him
into the

back him
into the

357

Why that's certain: 'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle, Danger; we pluck this Flower, Safely. The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the Friends you have named uncertain, the Time it self unfortèd, and your whole Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition. Say you so, say you fo: I fay unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you lye. What a lack-brain is this ? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid; our Friends true and confest: A good Plot, good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent Plot, very good Friends, What a Frofty-Spirited rogue is this? Why, my Lord of York commends the Plot, and the general courfe of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rafcall, I could brain him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Uncle, and my Self, Lord Edmond Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not befides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in Arms by the ninth of the next month ? and are there not some of them fet forward already ? What a Pagan Rafcall is this ? An Indell. He, you shall fee now in very fincerity of Fear and Cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide my felf, and go to buffets, for moving such a diſh of skim'd Milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will fet forwards to night.

Enter his Lady.

How now Kate, I muſt leave you within these two hours.

La. O my good Lord, what are you thus alone ?

For what offence have I this fortnight been
A banifh'd woman from my Harries bed ?
Tell me (weet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
Thy fomack, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ?
Why doſt thou bend thy eyes upon the earth ?
And ſtart ſo often when thou ſieſt alone ?
Why haſt thou loft the fresh blood in thy cheeks ?
And given my Treasures and my vights of thee,
To thick-ey'd mufſing, and curſt melancholly ?

In my faint flumbers, I by thee have watcht,
And heard thee murmur tales of Iron Warres :
Speak tearmes of manning thy bounding Steed,
Cry courage to the field, 'And thou haſt talk'd
Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,
Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,
Of Baſlisks, of Canon, Culverin,
Of Prifoners ranſome, and of Souldiers flain,
And all the current of a heady fight.

Thy ſpirit within thee hath been fo at Warre ,
And thus hath ſo beſtir'd thee in thy ſleep,
That beds of wutf ſeep flood upon thy Brow ,
Like bubbles in a late diſturbed ſtrame ;
And in thy face ſtrange motion have appear'd,

Such as we fee when men refrain their breath
On ſome great ſudden haſte. O what portents are these?
Some heavy buſineſſe hath my Lord in hand,
And I muſt know it: eſſe he loves me not.

Hor. What ho ; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone ?

Ser. He is, my Lord, an hour agone,

Hor. Hath Butler brought thofe horſes from the Sherifſ?

Ser. One horſe, my Lord, he brought even now.

Hor. What Horſe ? a Roan, a crop-eare, is it not ?

Ser. It is, my Lord.

Hor. That Roan ſhall be my Throre. Well, I will back him ſtraight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the Parke.

La. But hear you, my Lord.

Hot. What fay'ſt thou, my Lady ?

La. What is it that carries you away ?

Hot. Why, my Horſe (my Love) my Horſe.

La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not such a deal of ſpleen, as you are toſt with. Inſooth I'le know your buſineſſe Harry, that I will. I fear my Brother Mortimer doth fire about his Title, and hath ſent for you to line his enterprize. But if you go—

Hot. So farre a foot, I ſhall be weary, Love.

La. Come, come, you Paraquito, anſwer me directly
unto this question, that I ſhall aske. Indeed I'le break
thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tell me true.

Hot. Away, away, you trifler : Love, I love thee not,
I care not for thee Kate : this is no world

To play with Mamets, and to tift with lips.
We muſt have bloody Noſes, and crack'd Crowne's,
And paſſe them currant too. Gods me, my horſe.

What faſt thou Kate? what would'ſt thou have with me?

La. Do ye not love me ? doe you not indeed ?

Well, doe not then. For ſince you love me not,
I will not love my ſelf. Doe you not love me ?
Nay, tell me if thou ſpeakeſt in jeſt, or no?

Hot. Come, wilt thou fee me ride ?

And when I am a horſe-back, I will ſwear
I love thee infinitely. But harke you Kate,
I muſt not have you henceforth, qæſtion me,
Whether I go : nor reaſon whereabout.

Whether I muſt, I muſt : and to conclude,
This Evening muſt I leave thee, gentle Kate.

I know you wife, but yet no further wife
Then Harry Percies wife. Conſtant you are,
But yet a woman : and for ſecrecie,

No Lady cloſer. For I will believe
Thou wilt not utter what thou doſt not know,

And ſo farre will I truſt thee, gentle Kate.

La. How ſo farre ?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you Kate,
Whether I go, thither ſhall you go too :
To day will I fet forth, to morrow you.
Will this content you Kate?

La. It muſt of force.

Extant.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Prince and Poynes.

Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a while.

Poynes. Where haſt been Hall ?

Prin. With three or four Loggeheads, amongst three
or fourſcore Hoggheads. I have founded the very ſafe
ſtring of humilitie. Sirra, I am ſworn brother to a leſh of
Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom,
Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their
confidence, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I
am the King of Curteſe : telling me flatly, I am not proud
like Jack. Falſaffe, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a
good boy, and when I am King of England, I ſhall com-
mand all the good Lads in Eastcheap. They call drinke-
ing deep, dying Scarlet ; and when you break in your
watring, then they cry pem, and bid you play it off. To
conclude, I am ſo good a proficient in one quarter of an
hour, that I can drink with any Tinker in his own Lan-

Gg 3

guage

guage during my life. I tell thee *Ned*, thou haft loft much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action: but sweet *Ned*, to sweeten which name of *Ned*, I give thee this penniworth of Sugar, clapt even now into my hand by an under Skinker, one that never spake other English in his life; then *Eight shillings and fix pence*, and, *You are welcome*: with this shilling addition, *Anon fir*, *Anon fir*, *Score a pint of Baftard in the Half Moon*, or so. But *Ned*, to drive away time till *Falftaffe* come, I prethee doe thou fand in fome by-room, while I quettion on my puny Drawer, to what end he gave me the Sugar, and doe never leave calling *Francis*, that his Tale to me may be nothing but, *Anon*: ftep afide, and I'le flew thee a Precident.

*Poynes, Francis.*

*Prin.* Thou art perfect.

*Poyn. Franeis.*

Enter Drawer.

*Fran.* Anon, anon fir; look down into the Pomgarnet, *Ralfe*.

*Prince.* Come hither, *Francis*.

*Fran.* My. Lord.

*Prin.* How long haft thou to serve, *Francis*?

*Fran.* Forfooth five yeares, and as much as to--

*Poyn. Francis.*

*Fran.* Anon, anon fir.

*Prin.* Five yeares: Berlady a long Leafe for the clinking of Pewter. But *Francis*, dareft thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy Indenture, and flew it a fair pair of heeles, and run from it?

*Fran.* O Lord,fir, I'le be fworn upon all the Books in England, I could find in my heart.

*Poyn. Francis.*

*Fran.* Anon, anon,fir.

*Prin.* How old art thou, *Francis*?

*Fran.* Let me fee,about Machaelmas next I shall be--

*Poyn. Francis.*

*Frau.* Anon fir, pray you ftay a little, my Lord.

*Prin.* Nay but hark you *Francis*, for the Sugar thou gaveft me, 'twas a penniworth, was't not?

*Fran.* O Lord fir, I would it had been two.

*Prin.* I will give thee for it a thoufand pound: aske me when thou wilt, and thou haft have it.

*Poyn. Francis.*

*Fran.* Anon, anon.

*Prin.* Anon, *Francis* ? No, *Francis*, but to morrow *Francis* : or *Francis*, on Thursday : or indeed *Francis* when thou wilt. But *Francis*.

*Fran.* My. Lord.

*Prin.* Wilt thou rob this Leathern Jerkin, Chriftall button, Not-pated, Agatring, Puke ftocking, Caddice garter, Spanifh pouch.

*Fran.* O Lord, fir, who doe you mean ?

*Prin.* Why then your brown Baftard is your onely drink: for look you, *Francis*, your white Canyas doublet will fully. In *Barbary*, fir, it cannot come to so much.

*Fran.* What, fir ?

*Poyn. Francis.*

*Prin.* Away you Rogue, doft thou hear them call?

*Here they both call, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.*

Enter Vintner.

*Vint.* What fand't thou fill, and hear't fuch a calling? Look to the Guefts within: My Lord, old Sir

*John* with half a dozen more, are at the door: fhall I let them in ?

*Prin.* Let them alone awhile, and then open the door, *Poynes*.

Enter Poynes.

*Poyn.* Anon, anon fir.

*Prin.* Sirra, *Falftaffe* and the reft of the Thievesare at the door, fhall we be merry?

*Poyn.* As merry as Crickets my Lad. But hark ye, what cunning match have you made with this jeft of the Drawer? Come, what's the iffue ?

*Prin.* I am now of all humors, that have fhowed themfelves humors, ſince the old dayes of goodman Adam, to the pupill age of this prefent twelve a clock at midnight. What's a clock *Francis*?

*Fran.* Anon, anon fir.

*Prin.* That ever this Fellow ſhould have fewer words then a Parret, and yet the ſon of a Woman. His induſtry is up-ftaires and down-ftaires, his eloquence the part-cell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotſpurre of the North, he that killes me fome fix or feven dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, waſhes his hands and fayes to his Wife; Fie upon this quiet life, I want work. O my sweet *Harry*, fayes ſhe, how many haſt thou kill'd to day ? Give my Roan horſe a drench (fayes he) and anſwers, ſome fourteen: an hour after: a trifle, a trifle, I prethee call in *Falftaffe*, I'le play *Percy*, and that damn'd Brawn ſhall play Dame *Mortimer* his wife. *Ri-vo*, fayes the Drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.

Enter Falftaffe.

*Poyn.* Welcome Jack, where haſt thou been ?

*Fal.* A plague of all Cowards I ſay, and a vengeance too, marry and Amen. Give me a cup of Sack Boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'le fow nether ſtocks, and mend them too. A plague of all Cowards. Give me a Cup of Sack, Rogue. Is there no Virtue extant ?

*Prin.* Didft thou never fee *Titan* kiffc a diſh of Butter, pittifull hearted *Titan* that melted at the fweet Tale of the Sun? If thou didſt, then behold that compound.

*Fal.* You Rogue, here's Lime in this Sack too: there is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet a Coward is worſe then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous Coward, go thy wayes old Jack, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not ſorged upon the face of the earth, then am I a fhotten Herring: there lives not three good men unhang'd in England, & one of them is fat, and growes old, God help the while, a bad world! I'le. I would I were a *Weaver*, I could ſing all manner of Songs. A plague of all Cowards, I ſay ſkill.

*Prin.* How now Wooliack, what mutter you?

*Fal.* A Kings Son ? If I doe not beat thee out of thy Kingdome with a Dagger of Lath, and drive all thy Subjeets afore thee like a flock of Wild-geefe, I'le never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales ?

*Prin.* Why you horſon round man? what's the matter?

*Fal.* Are you not a coward ? anſwer me to that, and *Poynes* there ?

*Prin.* Ye fat paunch, and ye call me Coward, I'le ſtab there.

*Fal.* I call thee Coward ? I'le fee thee damn'd ere I call the Coward: but I would give a thouſand pound I could run as faſt as thou canſt. You are ſtraight enough in the shoulders, you care not who ſees your back: Call you that

that backing of your friends? a plague upon such backing;
give me them that will face me. Give me a Cup of Sack,
I am a Rogue if I drunk to day.

Prin. O Villain, thy Lips are scarce wip'd, Iince thou
drunk't it laft.

Falſt. All's one for that.

He drinks.

A plague of all Cowards ill, fay I.

Prin. What's the matter ?

Falſt. What's the matter ? here be four of us, have
tane a thouand pound this Morning.

Prince. Where is it, Jack ? where is it ?

Falſt. Where is it? taken from us, it is: a hundred
upon poor four of us.

Prin. What, a hundred, man ?

Falſt. I am a Rogue, if I were not at haisſe sword with
a dozen of them two hours together. I have escaped by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
foure through the Hoge, my Buckler cut through and
through, my Sword hack'd like a Hand-faw, ecce ſignum.
I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do.
A plague of all Cowards : let them ſpeak; if they ſpeak
more or leſſe then truth, they are villains and the ſonſs
of darkneſſe.

Prince. Speak firs, how was it ?

Gad. We four ſet upon ſome dozen.

Falſt. Sixteen, at leaſt, my Lord.

Gad. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Falſt. You Rogue they were bound, every man of them,
or I am a Jew elfe, an Æbrej Yew.

Gad. As we were sharing, ſome fix or ſeaven fresh men
ſet upon us.

Falſt. And unbound the reſt, and then came in the
other.

Prin. What, fought ye with them all ?

Falſt. All ? I know not what ye call all; but if I fought
not with fifty of them, I am a Bunch of Radiſh: if there
were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then
am I no two-legg'd Creature.

Poin. Pray Heaven, you have not murthered ſome of
them.

Falſt. Nay, that's paſt praying for. I have pepper'd
two of them: Two I am ſure I have payed, two Rogues
in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
Lye, ſpit in my face, call me Horſe: thou knoweſt my old
word: here I lay and thus I bore my point; four Rogues
in Buckrom let drive at me.

Prince. What, four ? thou faſt it but two; even now.

Falſt. Four Hal, I told thee four.

Poin. I, I, he ſaid four.

Falſt. Theſe four came all a-front, and mainly thrust
at me; I made no more adoe, but took all their ſeven
points in my Target, thus.

Prince. Seaven ? why there were but four, even now.

Falſt. In Buckrom.

Poin. I, four, in Buckrom Sutes.

Falſt. Seaven, by theſe hilts, or I am a Villain elfe.

Prin. Prethee let him alone, we ſhall have more anon.

Falſt. Dooſt thou hear me, Hal ?

Prin. I, and mark thee too, Jack.

Falſt. Do so, for it is worth the lichtning too: theſe
nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of.

Prin. So, two more already.

Falſt. Their points being broken.

Poin. Down fell his Hoge.

Falſt. Began to give me ground; but I followed me

cloſe, came in foot and hand; and with a thought ſeaven
of the eleven I pay'd.

Prin. O monſtrous ! eleven Buckrom men grown out
of two ?

Falſt. But as the Devill would have it, three miſ-be
gotten Knaves, in Kendall Green, came at my Back, and
let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou could'ſt
not fee thy Hand.

Prin. Theſe Lyes are like the Father that begets them,
groſſe as a Mountain, open, palpable. Why thou Clay-
brain'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horſon ob-
ſeene greaſie Tallow Catch.

Falſt. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the
truth, the truth ?

Prin. Why, how could'ſt thou know theſe men in
Kendall Green, when it was so dark, thou could'ſt not
fee thy hand? Come, tell us your reaſon: what ſay'ſt
thou to this ?

Poin. Come, your reaſon Jack, your reaſon.

Falſt. What, upon compulſion ? No: were I at the
Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
tell you on compulſion. Give you a reaſon on compulſ-
on ? If reaſons were as plenty as Black-berries, I would
give no man a reaſon upon compulſion, I.

Prin. I'le be no longer guilty of this finn. This ſan-
guine Coward, this Bed-preſer, this Horſ-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Fleſh.

Falſt. Away you Starveling, you Elf-skin, you dried
Neats tongue, Bulls-pittell, you ſtock-ſih: O for breath
to utter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you ſheath,
you Bow-caſe, you vile standing tuck.

Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't again: and
when thou haſt tyr'd thy ſelf in bafe comparifons, hear
me ſpeak but thus.

Poin. Mark Jack.

Prin. We two, Iaw you four ſet on-four and bound
them, and were Maſters of their Wealth: mark now how
a plain Tale ſhall put you down. Then did we two, ſet
on you four, and with a word, outſac'd you from your
prize, and have it: ye, and can ſhow it you in the Houſe.
And Falſtaſſe, you carried your Guts away as nimbly, with
as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and ſtill ran
and roar'd, as ever I heard Bull-Calf. What a Slave
art thou, to hack thy ſword as thou haſt done, and then
fay it was in fight. What trick ? what device? what ſtart-
ing hole canſt thou now find out, to hide thee from this
open and apparent ſhame ?

Poivs. Come, let's hear Jack: What triek haſt thou
now ?

Falſt. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why hear
ye my Maſters, was it for me to kill the Heir apparent ?
Should I turn upon the true Prince ? Why, thou knoweſt
I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware inſtinſt, the Lion
will not touch the true Prince: Inſtinſt is a great matter.
I was a Coward on Inſtinſt: I ſhall think the better of
my ſelf, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion
and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you have
the Money. Hofteffe, clap to the doors: watch to Night,
pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Hearts of Gold,
all the good titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
I shall we be merry ? I shall we have a Play extempory.

Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy run-
ning away.

Falſt. A, no more of that Hal, if thou loveſt me.

Enter Hofteffe.

Hosſ. My Lord the Prince ?

Prin.

Prin. How now my Lady the Hoftefle, what sayt thou to me?

Hofteſſ. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
Court at door would ipeak with you: he fayes he comes
from your Father.

Prin. Give him as much as will make him a Royall man, and fend him back again to my Mother.

Falfſt. What manner of man is he?

Hofteſſ. An old man.

Falfſt. What doth Gravity out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I give him his answer?

Prin. Prethee do Jack.

Falfſt. 'Faith and I'll tend him packing.

Exit

Prince. Now Sirs : you fought fair; so did you Peto, so did you Bardol : you are Lions too, you ran away upon infintinct: you will not touch the true Prince; no, he.

Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run.

Prin. Tell me now in earneſt, how came Falfaffe's
Sword so hackt?

Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and faſſ, he would ſwear truth out of all England: but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and perſwaded us to do the like.

Bard. Yea, and tickle our Noſes with Spear-graſſe,
to make them bleed, and then beſlubber our garments,
with it, and ſwear it was the cloud of true men. I did
that I did not theſe ſeaven years before, I bluſht to hear
his monſtuous devices.

Prin. O Villain, thou toſleft a Cup of Sack eighteen
years age, and went taken with the manner, and ever
ſince thou haſt bluſht exemſore : thou haſt fire and
ſword on thy ſide, and yet thou ranneſt away; what in-
ſtinct hadt thou for it?

Bard. My Lord, do you fee theſe Meteors? do you
behold theſe exhalations?

Prin. I doe.

Bard. What think you they portend ?

Prin. Hot Livers, and cold Purſes.

Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken.

Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.

Enter Falfaffe.

Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How
now my sweet Creature of Bombaſt, how long is't ago,
Jack, ſince thou faw't thine own Knee?

Falf. My own Knee? When I was about thy years
(Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waſſe, I could
have crept into any Aldermans Thumb-Ring: a plague
of fighting and grief, it blowes a man up like a Bladder.
There's villanous Newes abroad: here was Sir John
Braby from your Father; you muſt go to the Court in
the Morning. The fame mad fellow of the North, Percy;
and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the Baſtinado,
and made Lucifer Cuckold, and ſwere the Devill his true
Liege-man upon the Croſſe of a Welſh-hook; what a
Plague call you him?

Poin. O, Glendower.

Falf. Owen, Owen; the fame, and his Son in Law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the ſprightly
Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runs a Horſe-back up a
Hill perpendicular.

Prin. He that rides at high ſpeed, and with a Piftoll
kills a Sparrow flying.

Falf. You have hit it.

Prin. So did he never the Sparrow.

Falf. Well, that Raſcall hath good metall in him he
will not run.

Prin. Why, what a Raſcall art thou then, to praſe him
for running?

Falf. A Horſe-back (ye Cuckow) but a foot he will
not budge a foot.

Prin. Yes Jack, upon inſtinct.

Falf. I grant ye, upon inſtinct: Well, he is there too,
and one Mordake, and a thouſand blew-Capps more,
Worceſer is toſome away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is
tum'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now
as cheap as tſinking Mackerell.

Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sun, and this
civil buffetting hold, we shall buy Maidenheads as they
buy hob-nails, by the hundreds.

Falf. By the Maſſe Lad, thou ſay't true, it is like we
haſt have good trading that way. But tell me Hall, are
not thou horrible aſeari'd ? thou being Heir apparent,
could the World pick thee out three ſuch Enemies again,
as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Devil
Glendower? Art thou not horrible aſtraid? Doth not thy
bloud thrill at it?

Prin. Not a whit: I lack ſome of thy inſtinct.

Falf. Well, thou wilt be horrible chid to morrow,
when thou commet to thy Father: if thou do love me
praſtice an anſwer.

Prin. Do thou stand for my Father, and examine me
upon the particulars of my Life.

Falf. Shall I ? content: This Chaire ſhall be my
State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cuffion my
Crown.

Prin. Thy State is taken for a Joyn'd-Stoole, thy Gol-
den Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
Crown, for a pittifull bald Crown.

Falf. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of
thee now that thou be moved. Give me a Cup of Sack
to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I
have wept, for I muſt ſpeak in paſſion, and I will do it in
King Cambyſes vein.

Prin. Well, here is my Legge.

Falf. And here is my ſpeech: I ſtand aſide Nobility.

Hofteſſ. This is excellent ſport, iſaith.

Fal. Weep not ſweet Queen, for trickling tears are
vain.

Hofteſſ. O the Father, how he holds his counte-
nance?

Fal. For Gods ſake Lords, convey me thy truſtfull Queen,
For tears do ſtop the ſlouſe-gates of her eyes.

Hofteſſ. O rare, he doth it as like one of theſe harlotry
Players as ever I see.

Fal. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-brain.
Harry, I do not onely marvell where thou ſpendſt thy
time; but alſo, how thou art accompanied: For though
the Camomile, the more it is trodden, the ſafter it grows
yet Youth, the more it is waſted, the ſooner it wears.
Thou art my ſonne: I have partly thy Mothers Word,
partly my Opinion; but chiefly, a villanous trick of
thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lip, that
doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to me, here
lyeth the point: why, being Son to me, art thou for
pointed at ? Shall the bleſſed Sonne of heaven prove a
Micher, and eat Black-berries ? a queſtion not to be
ask'd. Shall the Sonne of England proovea Thieſt, and
take Purſes ? a queſtion to be ask'd. There is a thing
Harry, which thou haſt often heard of, and it is known to
many

many in our Land, by the name of Pitch: this Pitch (as ancient Writers do report) doth deffile; so doth the company thou keepeft: for Harry, now I do not speak to thee in Drink, but in Tears; not in pleafure, but in Pafion; not in Words only, but in Woes alfo: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his Name.

Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Mafefie?

Falſſ. A goodly portly man ifaith, and corpulent, of a cheefull Look, a pleafing Eye, and a moſt noble Carriage, and as I think, his age fome fifty, or (byrlady) inclining to threecore; and now I remember me, his Name is Falſaffe: if that man should be lewdly given, he deceives me; for Harry, I fee vertue in his Looks. If then the Tree may be known by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I ſpeak it, there is Vertue in that Falſaffe: him keep with, the reſt banifh. And tell me now, thou naughty Varlet, tell me, where haſt thou been this month?

Prin. Doſt thou ſpeak like a King? do thou stand for me, and I'll play my Father.

Falſt. Depofe me: if thou doſt it halſe fo gravely, ſo majefically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a Rabet-fucker, or a Poulters Hare.

Prin. Well, here I am let.

Falſſ, And here I stand: judge my Maſters.

Prin. Now Harry, whence you ?

Falſſ. My Noble Lord, from Eaſt-cheap.

Prin. The complaints I hear of thee, are grievous.

Falſſ. Ifaith, my Lord, they are falſe: Nay, I'll tickle ye for a young Prince.

Prin. Swearceth thou, ungracious Boy ? henceforth we're look on me: thou art violently carried away from Grace: there is a Devill hunts thee, in the likeneſſe of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why doſt thou converſe with that Trunk of Humours, that Boulting-Hutch of Beaſtlineſſe, that fwolne Pareell of Dropſies, that huge Bombard of Sack, that ſtuff Cloak-bagge of Gurs, that roſted Manning-Tree Oxe with the Puddings in his Belly, that Reverend Vice, that grey Ini-quiety, that Father Ruffian, that Vanity in years ? where-in is he good, but to taſte Sack and drink it ? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a Capon and eat it ? where-in Cunning, but in Craft ? where in Crafty, but in Vil-lany ? wherein Villanous, but in all things ? wherein worthy, but in nothing?

Falſt. I would your Grace would take me with you: whom means your Grace?

Prin. That villanous abominable mif-leader of Youth, Falſaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan.

Falſſ. My Lord, the man I know.

Prin. I know thou doſt.

Falſſ. But to ſay, I know more harm in him then in my ſelfe, were to ſay more then I know. That he is old (the more's the pitty) his white hairs do witneſſe it: But that he is (faving your reverence) a Whore-maſter, that Iutterly deny. If Sack and Sugar be a fault, Heaven help the wicked: if to be old and merry, be a fine, then many an Hofte that I know is damn'd: if to be fat, to be hated, then Pharaons lean Kine are to be loved.

No, my good Lord, banifh Peto, banifh Bardolph, banifh Pains: but for sweet Jack Falſaffe, kinde Jack Falſaffe, true Jack Falſaffe, valiant Jack Falſaffe, and therefore more valiant, being as he is old Jack Falſaffe, banifh not him the Harryes company,

banifh not him thy Harryes company; banifh plump Jack, and banifh all the World.

Prince. I doe, I will.

### Enter Bardolph running.

Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sheriff, with a moſt monſtrous Watch, is at the door.

Falſt. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I have much to lay in the behalf of that Falſaffe.

### Enter the Hofſeffe.

Host. O, my Lord, my Lord.

Falſt. Heigh, heigh, the Devill rides upon a Fiddle-flick: what's the matter?

Hofſeff. The Sheriff and all the Watch are at the door: they are come to ſearch the Houſe, ſhall I let them in?

Falſt. Doſt thou hear Hal, never call a true piece of Gold a Counterfeit: thou art effentially mad, without feeming fo.

Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without in-finit.

Falſt. I deny your Major; if you will deny the Sheriff, fo: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up: I hope I ſhall as ſoon be ftrangled with a Halter, as another.

Prince. Go hide thee behinde the Arras, the reſt walk up above. Now my Maſters, for a true Face and good Conſcience.

Falſt. Both which I have had: but their date is out, and therefore I'll hide me.

Prin. Call in the Sheriff.

Exit.

### Enter Sheriff and the Carrier.

Prince. Now Maſter Sheriff, what is your will with me?

She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certain men unto this houſe.

Prince. What men?

She. One of them is well known, my gracious Lord, a groſſe fat man.

Car. As fat as Butter.

Prin. The man, I do affure you is not here, For my ſelf at this time have imploy'd him: And Sheriff, I will engage my word to thee, That I will by to morrow Dinner time, Send him to anſwer thee, or any man, For any thing he ſhall be charg'd withall: And fo let me entreat you, leave the houſe.

She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen Have in this Robbery loſt three hundred Marks.

Prin. It may be fo: if he have robb'd theſe men, He ſhall be anſwerable: and fo farewell.

She. Good Night, my Noble Lord.

Prin. I think it is good Morrow, is it not?

She. Indeed, my Lord, I think it be two a Clock.

Exit.

Prince. This oyly Rascall is known as well as Poulles: go call him forth.

Peto. Falſaffe? faſt a ſleep behinde the Arras, and fornoring like a Horſe.

Prin. Hark, how hard he fetches his breath: ſearch his Pockets.

He

Upon the parting of your Wives and you:

Hotfp. Methinks my moity, North from Burton here
In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this River comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the beft of all my Land,
A huge half Moon, a monstrous Cantle out,
Ile have the Currant in this place damn'd up,
And here the smug and Silver Trent shall run,
In a new Channell, fair and evenly :
It shall not winde with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottome here,

Glend. Not winde ? it shall, it must, you see it doth.
Mort. Yea, but mark how he bends his courfe,
And runs me up, with like advantage on the other side,
Gelding the oppofing Continent as much,
As on the other fide it takes from you.

Wore. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,
And on this North fide win this Cape of Land,
And then he runs ftraight and even.

Hotfp. Ile have it so, a little Charge will do it.

Glend. Ile not have it alter'd.

Hotfp. Will not you ?

Glend. No, nor you shall not.

Hotfp. Who shall fay me nay ?

Glend. Why, that will I.

Hotfp. Let me not understand you then, I speak it in
Welch.

Glend. I can (peak English) Lord, as well as you :
For I was train'd up in the English Court ;

Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe,
Many an English Ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpfull Ornament ;

A verue that was never seen in you,

Hotfp. Marry, and I am glad of it withall my heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Then one of these fame Meeter-Ballad-mongers :
I had rather hear a Brazen Candleftick turn'd,
Or dry a Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,

And that would fer my teeth on edge,
Nothing fo much, as mincing Poetrie;

Tis like the foret gate of a fluffling Nag,

Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

Hotfp. I do not care: I le give thrice so much Land
To any well-deferving friend :
But in the way of Bargain, mark ye me,
Ile cavill on the ninth part of a hair,
Are the Indentures drawn ? shall we be gone?

Glend. The Moon fhines fair,
You may away by Night.

Ile haſte the Writer; and withall,

Break with your Wives, of your departure hence:

I am afraid my Daughter will run mad.

So much ſhe doteth on her Mortimer.

Exit.

Mort. Fie, Couſin Percy, how you croſſe my Fa-
ther,

Hotfp. I cannot choose: sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,
Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;
And of a Dragon, and a fin-leſſe Fith,
A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Raven,
A couching Lyon, a ramping Cat,
And fuch a deale of skimble-skamble Stuff,
As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,
He held me laſt Night, at leaſt, nine hours,
In reckning up theſe ſeverall Devils Names,
That were his Lackeys :

I cry a hum, and well, go too,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tyred Horſe, a railing Wife,
Worſe then a smoaky houſe. I had rather live
With Cheefe and Garlick in a Windmill far,
Then feed on Cates, and have him talk to me,
In any Summer-houſe in Chriſtendome.

Mort. In faith he was an honest Gentleman ;
Exceeding well read, and profited,
In ſtrange Concealments :
Valiant as a Lion, and wondrous affable,
And as bountifull, as Mincs of India.
Shall I tell you, Couſin,
He holds your temper in a high reſpect,
And curbs himself, even of his naturall ſcopes,
When you do croſſe his humour: 'faith he does.
I warrant you, that a man is not alive,
Might ſo have tempted him, as you have done,
Without the taſte of danger, and reproofe :
But do not uſe it oſt, let me entreat you.

Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too willfull blame,
And fince your coming hither, have done enough,
To put him quite befides his patience :
You muſt needs learn, Lord, to amend this faſt :
Though ſometimes it ſhew greatneſs, Courage, Bloud,
And that's the deareſt grace it rendeis you ;
Yet oftentimes it doth preſent harſh Rage,
Defeſt of manners, want of government,
Pride, Haughtneſſe, Opinion, and Difdain :
The leaſt of which, haunting a Nobleman,
Loſeth mens hearts, and leaves behind a ſlain
Upon the beauty of all parts befides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hotfp. Well, I am ſchool'd:
Good-manners be your ſpeed :
Here come your Wives, and let us take our leave.

Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly ſpight that angers me,
My Wife can ſpeak no English, I no WELſh.

Glend. My daughter weeps, ſhe'll not part with you,
She'll be a Souldier too, ſhe'll to the Wars.

Mort. Good Father tell her, that ſhe and my Aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct ſpeedily.

Glendower ſpeaks to her WELſh, and ſhe an-
fwers him in the ſame.

Glend. She is desperate here:
A peeviſh ſelf-will'd Harlotry,
One that perfuſion can do good upon,

The Lady ſpeaks in WELſh.

Mort. I understand thy Looks: that pretty WELſh
Which thou powr't down from theſe ſtelling Heavens,
I am too perfect in: and but for ſhame,
In ſuch a parley should I anſwer thee.

The Lady again in WELſh.

Mort. I understand thy Kiffes, and thou mine,
And that's a feeble disputation:
But I will never be a Truant, Love,
Till I have learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue

Makes

Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair Queen in a Summers Bower,
With ray thing Divifion to her Lute,
Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she run mad.

The Lady speaks again Welsh.

Mort. O, I am ignorance it self in this,
Glend. She bids you,
On the wanton ruffes lay you down,
And left your gentle head upon her Lap,
And the will fing the fong that pleafeth you,
And on your Eye-lids Crown the God of Sleep,
Charming your bloud with pleafing heavineſſe ;
Making ſuch difference betwixt Wake and Sleep,
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heavenly Harneis'd Teem
Begins his golden Progreſſe in the Eaſt.
Mort. Withall my heart I'le ſit, and hear her ſing:
By what time will our Book, I think, be drawn.

Glend. Go so :
And thatof Mufitians that ſhall play to you,
Hang in the Aire a thouſand Leagues from thence;
And ſtraight they ſhall be here: ſit, and attend,
Hotſp. Come Kate, thou art perſect in lying down:
Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my Head in thy
Lap.

Lady. Go, ye giddy-Goofe.

The Mufick playes.

Hotſp. Now I perceive the Devill underſtands Welsh,
And 'tis no marvell he is ſo humorous:
Byrlady he's a good Mufitian.

Lady. Then would you be nothing but Muficall,
For you are altogether governed by humors:
Lie ſtill ye, chief, and hear the Lady ſing in Welsh.

Hotſp. I had rather hear (Lady) my Brach howle in
Irith.

Lady. Would it have thy Head broken ?

Hotſp. No.

Lady. Then be ſtill.

Hotſp. Neither, 'tis a Womans fault.

Lady. Now God help thee.

Hotſp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed.

Lady. What's that ?

Hotſp. Peace the ſings.

Here the Lady ſings a Welsh Song.

Hotſp. Come, I'le have your Song too.
Lady. Not mine, in good footh.
Hotſp. Not yours, in good footh?
You ſwear like a Comſit-makers Wife:
Not you, in good footh; and, as true as I live;
And, as God ſhall mend me; and as ſure as day:
And give ſuch Sarcenet ſurety for thy Oaths,
As if thou never walk't further then Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling Oath: and leave infooth,
And ſuch proteſt of Pepper-Ginger-bread,
To Velvet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens,

Come, ſing.

Lady. I will not ſing.

Hotſp. 'Tis the next way to turn Taylor, or be Red-
breſt teacher: and the Indentures be drawn, I'le away

within theſe two hours: and ſo come in, when ye
will.
Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are aslow,
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go,

Exeunt.
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go,
By this our Book is drawn: we'll but feale,
And then to Horſe immediately.

Mort. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the King, Prince of Walles, and others.

King. Lords, give us leave:
The Prince of Wales, and I,
Must have ſome private conference:
But be near at hand,
For we ſhall preſently have need of you.

Exeunt Lords.

I know not whether Heaven will have it ſo,
For ſome diſpleaſing ſervice I have done;
That in his ſecret Doome, out of my Bloud,
He'll breed Revengement, and a Scourge for me;
But thou doſt in thy paſſages of Life,
Make me believe, that thou art onely mark'd
For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heaven
To puniſh my Miſtreadings. Tell me elfe,
Could ſuch inordinate and low defires,
Such poor, such bare, such lew'd, such mean attempts,
Such barren pleaſures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withall, and grafted too,
Accompany the greatneſſe of thy bloud,
And hold their levell with thy Princely heart?

Prince. So pleafe your Majefty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as clear excufe,
As well as I am doubtleſſe I can purge
My ſelf of many I am charg'd withall:
Yet ſuch extenuation let me beg,
As in reproofe of many Tales devis'd,
Which oft the Ear of Greatneſſe needs muſt hear,
By ſmiling Pick-thanks, and bafe News-mongers;
I may for ſome things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wandred, and irregular,
Finde pardon on my true ſubmiſſion.

King. Heaven pardon thee:
Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which do hold a Wing
Quite from the flight of all thy anceſtors.
Thy place in Counſell thou haſt rudely loſ,
Which by thy yonger brother is ſuppl'd;
And Art almoſt an alien to the hearts
Of all the Court and Princes of my bloud.
The hope and expeſtation of thy time
Is ruin'd and the foul of every man
Prophetically do fore-think thy fall.
Had I ſo lavilſ of my preſence been,
So common hackney'd in the wayes of men,
So ſtale and cheap to vulgar Company;
Opinion, that did help me to the Crown,
Had ſtill kept loyall to poffeſſion,
And left me in reputeleſſe banifhment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being ſeldome ſeen, I could not flir,
But like a Comet, I was wondred at.

That

That men would tell their children, This is he:
Others would say, where ? which is *Bullingbrook*?

And then I stole all courteous from heaven,
And drest my self in such humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from mens hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the preference of the crowned King.
Thus I did keep my perfon fesh and new,

My preference like a Robe Pontificall,
Nere seen, but wondred at : and so my flate,
Seldome but fumptuous, fhewed like a Feast,
And wonne by rareneſſe ſuch ſoknity.

The skipping King he ambled up and down,
With shallow Jefters, and rafh Bayin Wits,
Soon kindled, and foon burnt, carded his State,
Mingled his Royalty with carping fooles,

Had his great Name profaned with their ſoaks,
And gave his countenance, againſt his name,
To laugh at gybing Boyes, and ſtand the pufh
Of every beardleſſe vain comparative;

Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enſeoff'd himſelf to popularity :

That being daily ſwallowed by mens eyes,
They ſurſettaed with Honie, and began to loathe
The rafte of ſweetneſſe, whereof a little
More then a little, is by much too much.

So when he had occafion to be ſeen,
He was but as the Cuckow is in June,
Heard, nor regarded : ſeen but with ſuch eyes,
As ſick and blunted with community,

Aſſoord no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on Sun-like Majeſtły,
When it ſhines ſeldome in admiring Eyes :

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and rendred ſuch affect

As cloudy men uſe to doe their adverſarjes,
Being with his preference glutted, gore'd, and full,
And in that very Line, *Harry*, ſtandſt thou

For thou haſt loſſ thy Princely privilege,
With vile participation. Not an eye

But is a weary of thy common fight,
Savemine, which hath deſu'd to ſee thee more :
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind it ſelf with foolish tenderneſſe.

*Prince.* I ſhall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my ſelf.

*King.* For all the World,

As thou art to this hour, was *Richard* then,
When I from *France* fet forth at *Ravenspurgh*;

And even as I was then, is *Percy* now:

Now by my Scepter, and my Soul to boot,
He hath more worthy intereſt to the flate
Then thou the shadow of ſucceſſion ;

For of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realm,
Turns head againſt the Lyons armed Jawes ;
And being no more in debt to yeares, then thou,
Leads ancient Lords, and reverend Bifhops on
To bloody Battels, and to bruſing Armes.

What never-dying honour hath he got,
Againſt renowned *Dowglas*, whose high deeds,
Wholeſome hot incurſions, and great name in Armes,
Holds from all Soldiers chief Majority,
And Military Title Capitall.

Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Chriſt,
Thrice hath the *Hotſpurre* Mars, in fwathing Cloathes,

*This Infant-Warriour, in his Enterpriftes,
Difcomſited great *Dowglas*, ta'ne him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep Defiance up,
And ſhake the peace and ſafety of our Thronē.
And what ſay you to this? *Percy*, *Northumberland*.*

The Arch-Bifhops Grace of *York*, *Dowglas*, *Mortimer*,
Capitulate againſt us, and are up.

But wherefore doe I tell this newes to thee ?

Why, *Harry*, doe I tell thee of my Foes,
Which art my near'ſt and deareſt enemy ?

Thou art like enough, through vafſall fears,

Bafe inclination, and the ſtart of ſpleen,

To fight againſt me under *Percies* pay,

To dogge his heels, and curſe at his frowns.

To ſhew how much thou art degenerate.

*Prince.* Doe not think so, you ſhall not find it so :

And heaven forgiſe them, that so much have ſway'd
Your Majeſtles good thoughts away from me :

I will redeem all this on *Percies* head;

And in the cloſing of ſome glorious day,

Be bold to tell you, that I am your Son,

When I will wear a Garment all of blood,

And ſtain my favours in a bloody Maske :

Which waſht away, ſhall ſcowre my ſhame with it.

And that shall be the day when ere it lights,

That this fame Child of honour and renown,
This gallant *Hotſpurre*, this all-prais'd Knight,

And your unthought of *Harry* chance to meet :
For every Honour ſitting on his Helme,

Would they were multitudes, and on my head

My ſhame's redoubled. For the time will come,

That I ſhall make this Northern Youth exchange

His glorious Deeds for my indignities :

*Percy* is but my Factor, good my Lord,
To engroſſe up glorious deeds on my behalf :

And I will call him to ſo striet account,

That he ſhall render every Glory up,

Yea, even the fleighteſt worſhip of his time,

Or I will tear the Reckoning from his heart.

This, in the Name of Heaven, I promife here :

The which, if I promife, and doe ſurvive,

I doe beſeeth your Majeſtły, may ſalve

The long-grown Wounds of my intemperament :

If not, the end of Life cancels all Bands :

And I will dye a hundred thouſand deaths,
Ere break the ſmallest parcell of this Vow.

*King.* A hundred thouſand Rebels die in this :

Thou ſhalt have Charge, and ſoveraigh truſt herein.

### Enter Blunt.

How now good *Blunt* ? thy looks are full of ſpeed.

*Blunt.* So hath the buſineſſe that I come to ſpeak of.

Lord *Mortimer* of *Scotland* hath ſent word,

That *Dowglas* and the *English* *Rebels* met

The eleventh of this moneth, at *Shrewsbury*:

A mighty and a ſearfull Head they are,
(If promises be kept on every hand)

As ever offered foul play in a State.

*King.* The Earl of *Westmerland* fet forth to day :

With him my Son, Lord *John of Lancaſter*,
For this advertiſement is five days old.

On Wednesday next, *Harry*, thou ſhalt fet forward :

On Thursday, we our ſelves will march.

Our meeting is *Bridgenorth*; and *Harry*, you ſhall march

H h

Through

366

Through Gloster-fhire: by which account,
Our bufineſſe valued ſome twelve dayes hence,
Our generall Forces at Bridgeonorth ſhall meet.
Our hands are full of buſineſſe: let's away,
Advantage feeds them fat, while men delay.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

### Enter Falſtaffe, and Bardolph.

Falſt. Bardolph, am I not faln away vilely, ſince this laſt action ? doe I not bate ? doe I not dwindle ? Why my skinne hangs about me like an old Ladies loofe Gown: I am withered like an old Apple John. Well, I'le repent, and that ſuddenly, while I am in ſome liking: I ſhall be out of heart ſhortly, and then I ſhall have no ſtrength to repent. And I have not forgotten what the inſide of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper Coin, a Brewers Horſe: the inſide of a Church. Company, vilarious Company hath been the ſpoyle of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are ſo fretfull, you cannot live long.

Falſt. Why there is it: Come, ſing mea bawdy Song, make me merry: I was as virtuouſly given, as a Gentleman need to be; virtuous enough, ſwore little, Dic'd not above ſeven times a week, went to a Bawdy-houſe not above once in a quarter of an hour, paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compaſſe: and now I live out of all order, out of compaſſe.

Bard. Why, you are ſo fat, Sir John, that you muſt needs be out of all compaſſe; out of all reaſonable compaſſe, Sir John.

Falſt. Doe thou amend thy Face, and I'le amend my Life. Thou art our Admirall, thou beareſt the Lantern in the Poop, but 'tis in the Nofe of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my Face does you no harme.

Falſt. No, I'le be ſworn: I make as good uſe of it, as many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I never fee thy Face, but I think upon Hell fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his Robes burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would ſwear by thy Face; my Oath ſhould he, By this Fire: But thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sun of utter Darkneſſe. When thou rann't up Gads-bill in the night to catch my Horſe; if I did not think thou hadſt been an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an everlaſting Bone-fire-light: thou haſt ſaved me a thouſand Markes in Links and Torches, walking with thee in the night be-twixt Tavern and Tavern: but the ſack that thou haſt drunk me, would have bought me light as good cheap, as the deareſt Chandlers in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty yeares, heaven reward me for it.

Bard. I would my Face were in your belly.

Falſt. So ſhould I be ſure to be heart-burn'd.

### Enter Hoſſeſſe.

How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my Pocket ?

Hoſſeſſe. Why Sir John, what doe you think, Sir John, doe you think I keep Thieves in my houſe ? I have fearch'd, I have enquir'd, ſo has my husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Servant by Servant: the tight of a hair was never loft in my houſe before.

Falſt. Ye lye, Hoſſeſſe: Bardolph was ſhay'd, and loſt many a hair; and I'le be ſworn my Pocket was pick'd, go to, you are a Woman, go.

Hoſſeſſe. Who I ? I defie thee: I was never call'd to in mine own houſe before.

Falſt. Go to, I know you well enough.

Hoſſeſſe. No, Sir John: you doe not know me, Sir John; I know you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrell to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your back.

Falſt. Dowlaſ, filthy Dowlaſ: I have given them away to Bakers Wives, and they have made Boulteres of them.

Hoſſeſſe. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight thillings an Ell: You owe Money here beſides, Sir John, for your Diet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Falſt. He had his part of it, let him pay.

Hoſſeſſe. He ? alafs he is poor, he hath nothing.

Falſt. How ? poor? look upon his face: What call you rich ? Let him coyn his Nofe, let him coyn his Cheeks, I'le not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Yonker of me ? Shall I not take mine cafe in mine Inne, but I ſhall have my Pocket pick'd ? I have loſt a Seal-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth forty Mark.

Hoſſeſſe. I have heard the Prince tell him, I know ne' how oft, that that Ring was Copper.

Falſt. How ? the Prince is a Jack, a Sneak-Cap; and if he were here, I would cudgell him like a Dog, if he would ſay ſo.

Enter the Prince marching, and Falſtaffe meets him, playing on his Trunchion like a Fife.

Falſt. How now Lad ? is the wind in that Doore? Muſt we all march ?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate faſhion.

Hoſſeſſe. My Lord, I pray you hear me.

Prince. What ſay't thou, Miftreſſe? Quickly? How does thy Husband ? I love him well, he is an hondt man.

Hoſſeſſe. Good, my Lord, hear me.

Falſt. Prethee let her alone, and lift to me.

Prince. What ſay't thou, Jack?

Falſt. The other night I fell afleep here behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this Houſe is turn'd Bawdy-houſe, they pick Pockets.

Prince. What didſt thou loſe, Jack?

Falſt. Wilt thou believe me, Hal ? Three or four Bonds of forty pound a piece, and a Seal-Ring of my Grand-fathers.

Prince. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

Hoſſ. So I told hin, my Lord; and I faid, I heard your Grace ſay ſo: and (my Lord) he ſpeaks moſt vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and faid he would cudgell you.

Prince. What he did not ?

Hoſſ. There's neither Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me elfe.

Falſt.

["The first Part of King Henry the Fourth.", "Meff. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde.", "Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keep his Bed ?", "Meff. He did, my Lord, four dayes ere I set forth:", "And at the time of my departure thence,", "He was much fear'd by his Physician.", "Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole,", "Ere he by fickneffe had been vifited ;", "His health was never better worth then now.", "Hotfp. Sick now? droop now? this fickneffe doth infect", "The very Life-blood of our Enterprize,", "'Tis catching hither, even to our Camp.", "He writes me here, that inward fickneffe,", "And that his friends by deputation", "Could not so soon be drawn : nor did he think it meet,", "To lay so dangerous and dear a truſt", "On a Soul remov'd, but on his own,", "Yet doth he give us bold adverſiment,", "That with our ſmall conjunction we ſhould on,", "To fee how Fortune is dispos'd to us,", "For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,", "Because the King is certainly poſſed", "Of all our purpoſes. What ſay you to it ?", "Wor. Your Fathers fickneſſe is a maime to us.", "Hotfp. A perilous Gath, a very Limne lopt off :", "And yet, inſaith, 'tis not his preſent want", "Seems more then we ſhall find it.", "Were it good, to fet the exaet wealth of all our ſtates", "All at one Caſt ? to fet ſo rich a mine", "On the nice hazard of one doubtfull hour,", "It were not good : for therein ſhould I ſread", "The very bottom, and the Souſl of hope,", "The very Lift, the very utmoſt bound", "Of all our fortunes,", "Dowg. Faith and ſo we ſhould,", "Where now remains a ſweer reſerverſon.", "We may boldly ſpend, upon the hope", "Of what is to come in :", "A comfort of retirement lives in this,", "Hotfp. A Randevous, a Home to ſlie unto,", "If that the Devil and Mischance look big", "Upon the Maidenhead of our affaires.", "Wor. But yet I would your Father had been here :", "The quality and heir of our attempt", "Brooks no divifion : It will be thought", "By ſome, that know not why he is away,", "That wifedome, loyalty, and meer diſlike", "Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence.", "And think, how ſuch an apprehenſion", "May turn the tide of ſearfull Faction,", "And breed a kind of queſtion in our caufe :", "For well you know, we of the offering ſide,", "Muſt keep aloof from ſtrict arbitrement,", "And ſtop all fight-holes, every loop, from whence", "The eye of reaſon may prye in upon us :", "This abſence of your Father drawes a Curtain,", "That ſhewes the ignorant a kind of fear", "Before not dream of.", "Hotfp. You train too far.", "I rather of his abſence make this uſe :", "It lends a luſtref, and more great opinion,", "A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,", "Then if the Earl were here : for men muſt think,", "If we without his help, can make a Head", "To pufh againſt the Kingdome : with his help,", "We ſhall o'return it topſie-turvy down.", "Yet all goes well, yet all our joynts are whole,", "Dowg. As heart can think :", "There is not ſuch a word ſpoke of in Scotland,", "At this Dream of Fear.", "Enter Sir Richard Vernon.", "Hotfp. My Couſin Vernon, welcome by my foul,", "Vern, Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.", "The Earl of Westmerland, ſeven thouſand ſtrong,", "Is marching hitherwards with Prince John,", "Hotfp. No harm : what more ?", "Vern. And further, I have learn'd,", "The King himſelf in perſon hath ſet forth,", "Or hither-wards intended ſpeedily,", "With ſtrong and mighty preparation.", "Hotfp. He ſhall be welcome too ;", "Where is his Son,", "The nimble-footed Mad-cap, Prince of Wales,", "And his Comrades, that daſt the World aſide,", "And bid it paſſe ?", "Vern. All furniſht all in Armes,", "All plum'd like Eſtridges, that with the Wind", "Baited like Eagles, having lately bath'd,", "Glittering in Golden Coats, like Images,", "As full of Iſpirit as the Moneth of May,", "And gorgeous as the Sun at Mid-ſummer,", "Wanton as youthfull Goats, wild as young Bulls.", "I ſaw young Harry with his Beaver on,", "His Cufhes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,", "Rife from the ground like feathered Merewry,", "And vaulted with ſuth caſe into his Seat,", "As if an Angell dropt down from the Clouds,", "To turn and wind a fiery Pegaſus,", "And witch the world with noble Horſemanship,", "Hotfp. No more, no more ;", "Worſe then the Sun in March,", "This praſe doth nouriſh Agues : let them come.", "They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,", "And to the fire-ey'd Maid of ſmoaky War,", "All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them:", "The mailed Mars ſhall on his Altar fit", "Up to the eares in blood. I am on fire,", "To hear this rich reprizall is ſo nigh,", "And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horſe,", "Who is to bear me like a Thunder-bolt,", "Againſt the boſome of the Prince of Wales.", "Harry to Harry, shall not Horſe to Horſe", "Meet, and ne're part, till one drop down a Coarſe?", "Oh, that Gendower were come.", "Ver. There is more newes :", "I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,", "He cannot draw his Power this fourteen dayes.", "Dowg. That's the worſt Tidings that I hear of yet.", "Wor. I by my faith, that beares a froſty found.", "Hotfp. What may the Kings whole Battell reach un-", "to?", "Ver. To thirty thouſand.", "Hot. Forty let it be,", "My Father and Gendower being both away,", {"bbox": [710, 1250, 979, 1269], "category": "

Arch. And to there is, but yet the King hath drawn
The special head of all the Land together:
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaſter,
The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more Corrivals, and dear men
Of ſtimation, and command in Aines.

Sir M. Doubt not, my Lord, he shall be well opposed.
Arch. I hope no leſſe: Yet needfull 'tis to fear,

And to prevent the wo: It, Sir Michell ſpeed.

For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King
Diſmifs his power, he means to viſit us;

For he hath heard of our Confederacie,

And, 'tis but Wifdome to make ſtrong againſt him:
Therefore make haſte, I muſt go write again

To other Friends : and to farewell, Sir Michell, Exeunt.

Altus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaſter,
Earle of Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt,
and Falſtaffe.

King. How cloudily the Sun begins to peer

Above yon busky hill: the day looks pale
At his diſtemperature.

Prin. The Southern windie

Doth play the Trumpet to his purpofes,

And by his hollow whifhling in the Leaves,

Foretells a Tempeſt: and a bluſhing day.

King. Then with the ſoffers let it sympathize,

For nothing can feem ſowre to them that win.

The Trumpet founds.

Enter Worcester.

King. How now my Lord of Worſter? 'Tis not well
That you and I should meet upon ſuch terms.

As now we meet, You have receiv'd our truſt,

And made us doſſ our eſſaie. Robe of Peace,

To cruſh our old limbs in ungentle Steele:

This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.

What ſay you to it? Will you again unknit

This churliſh knot of all-abhorred War?

And move in that Obedient Orbe again,

Where you did give a fair and natural light,

And be no more an exhal'd Meteor,

A prodigie of Fear, and a Portent

Of broached Mifchief, to the unborn Times,

Wor. Hear me my Liege:

For mine own part, I could be well content

To entertain the Lag-end of my life.

With quiet hours: For I do proteſſe,

I have not fought the day of this diſlike:

King. You have not fought it: how comes it then?

Falſt. Rebellions lay in his way, and he found it.

Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleas'd your Majeſtty, to turn your looks

Of Favour, from my Self, and allour Houſe:

And yet I muſt remember you, my Lord.

We were the first, and dearect of your Friends,

For you, my ſtaffe of Office did I break

In Richards time, and poſted day and night

To meet you on the way, and kils your hand,

When yet; you were in paces, and in account

Nothing to ſtrong and fortunate, as I;

It was my Self, my Brother, and his Son,

That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare

The danger of the time. You ſwere to us,

And you did ſwear that Oath at Doncaſter,

That you did nothing of purpope gainſt the S. are,

Nor claim no further, then your new-fain right,

The ſeat of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaſter.

To this, weſware our aid: But in ſhort ſpace,

It rain'd down Fortune ſhowing on your head,

And ſuch a ſloud of Greatneſs, ſell on you,

What with our help, what with the abſent King,

What with the injuries of wanton time,

The ſeeming ſufferances that you had borne,

And the contrarious Windes that held the King

So long in the unlucky Irith Warrs,

That all in England did repute him dead :

And from this ſwarne of fair advantages,

You took occaſion to be quickly woo'd,

To gripe the generall ſway into your hand,

Forged your Oath to us at Doncaſter,

And being fed by us, you us'd us ſo,

As that ungentle gull the Cuckows Bird,

Uſeth the Sparrow, did oppreſſe our Neſt,

Grew by our Feeding, to ſo great a bulk,

That even our Love durſt not come near your fight

For fear of ſwallowing: But with nimble wing

We were inſor'd for safety ſake, to flye

Out of your fight, and raife this preſent Head,

Whereby we ſtand oppoſed by ſuch means

As you your ſelf, have ſorg'd againſt your ſelf,

By unkinde uſage, dangerous countenance,

And violation of all faith and troth

Sworn to us in your younger enterprize:

King. These things indeed you have articulated,

Proclaim'd at Market Croſſes, read in Churches,

To face the Garment of Rebellions.

With ſome fine colour, that may please the eye

Of ſickle Changelings, and poor Diſcontents,

Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the news

Of hytly burly Innovation:

And never yet did Inſurraction want

Such water-colours, to impair his cauſe:

Nor moody Beggars, ſtaring for a time

Of pell-mell havock, and conſuſion.

Prin. In both our Armies, there is marly a ſoule

Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,

If once they joyn in triall. Tell your Nephew,

The Prince of Wales doth joyn with all the world

In praife of Henry Percy: By my Hopes,

This preſent enterprize ſet off his head,

I do not think a brayer Gentleman,

More Aſtive, valiant, or more valiant young,

More daring, or more bold, is now alive,

To grace this latter Age with noble deeds,

For my part, I may ſpeak it to my ſhame,

I have a Truant been to Chivalry,

And so I hear, he doth account me too:

Yet this before my Father's Majeſtty,

I am content that he ſhall take the odes

Of his great name and ſtimation,

And will, to favre the blood on either side,

Try fortune with him, in a Single ſight.

King. And, Prince of Wales, ſo dare we venter thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite

Do

Can lift your bloud up with perfusion.

Enter a Messanger.

Mef. My Lord, here are letters for you.

Hot. I cannot read them now.

O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;

To spend that shortneſſe bafeſt, were too long.

If life did ride upon a Dial's point,

Still ending at the arrivall of an houre,

And if we live, we live to tread on Kings:

If dye; brave death, when Princes dye with us.

Now for our Confciences, the Armes is fair,

When the intent for bearing them is juſt.

Enter another Messenger.

Mef. My Lord, prepare, the King comes on apace,

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale:

For I proſeſſe not talking: Onely this,

Let each man do his beſt. And here I draw a Sword,

Whose worthy temper I intend to ſtain

With the beſt cloud that I can meet withall,

In the adventure of this perillous day.

Now Esperance Percy, and ſet on:

Sound all the lofty Inſtruments of War,

And by that Muſick, let us all embrace:

For heaven to earth, ſome of us never ſhall,

A ſecond time do ſuch a curteſe.

They embrace, the Trumpets found, the King entreth
with his power, alarum unto the battell. Then enter
Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.

Blu. What is thy name, that in battell thus thou croſſet
What honour doſt thou ſeek upon my head ?
(me ?

Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,

And do haunt thee in the battell thus,

Because ſome tell me, that thou art a King.

Blunt. They tell thee true.

Dow. The Lord of Stafford here to day hath bought
Thy likeneſs: for inſtead of thee, King Harry,

This ſword hath ended him, ſo ſhall it thee,

Unleſſe thou yield thee as a Prifoner.

Blu. I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot,
And thou ſhalt finde a King that will revenge
Lord Staffords death.

Fight, Blunt, is plain, then enters Hot ſpurne.

Dow. O Dowglas, hadſt thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed o're a Scot.

Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathleſſ lies the King.

Hot. Where ?

Dow. Here.

Hot. This Dowglas ? No, I know this face full well:

A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furniſh'd like the King himſelf.

Dow. Ah foole: go with thy foule whither it goes,

A borrowed title haſt thou bought too dear.

Why didt thou tell me, that thou wert a King?

Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats.

Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coats,
Ile murther all his Wardrobe piece by piece,
Untill I meet the King.

Hot. Up and away,

Our Souldiers stand full fairly for the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum, and enter Falſtaffe Jolus.

Fal. Though I could fcapeth ſhot-free at London, I fear
the ſhot here: here's no ſcoreing, but upon the pate. Soft
who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Hohour for you:
here's no vanity, I am as hot as moulten Lead, and as
heavy too; heaven keep Lead out of me, I need no more
weight then mine own Bowells. I have led my rag of

Muffians where they are pepper'd; there's not three of my
150, left alive, and thy for the Towns end, to beg dur-
ing life. But who comes here?

Enter Prince.

Prin. What ſtand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy ſword,
Many a Noble man lies ſtark and ſtiff

Under the hooves of vanting enemies,

Whole deaths are unreveig'd. Prethee lend me thy ſword.

Fal. O Hal, I prethee give me leave to breath a while

Turk Gregory never did ſuch deeds in Armes, as I have
done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him ſure.

Prin. He is indeed, and living to kill thee;

I prethee lend me thy ſword.

Falſt. Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou getſt not my
Sword; but take my Piftoll if thou wilt.

Prin. Give it me: What, is it in the Cafe?

Fal. I, Hal, is hot: There's that will Sack a City.

The Prince draws out a Bottle of Sack.

Prin. What, is it a time to jeſt and dally now? Exit.

Throwes it at him.

Falſt. If Percy be alive, I'le pierce him: if he do come
in my way, ſo: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly)
let him make a Carbonado of me, I like not ſuch grin-
ning honour as Sir Walter hath: Give me life, which if
I can fave, ſo: if not, honour comes unlook'd for, and
there's an end, Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince,
Lord John of Lancaſter, and the Earle
of Westmerland.

King. I prethee, Harry, withdraw thy ſelf, thou bleed-
eſt too much: Lord John of Lancaſter, go you with him.

P. Joh. Not I, my Lord, unleſſe I did bleed too.

Prin. I beſeeth your Majeſtly make up,

Leaſt your retirement do amaze your friends.

King. I will do ſo:

My Lord of Westmerland, lead him to his Tent.

Weſt. Come my Lord, I'le lead you to your Tent.

Prin. Lead me, my Lord? I do not need your help,

And heaven forbid a ſhallow ſeratch ſhould drive

The Prince of Wales from ſuch a field as this,

Where ſtain'd Nobility lyestroden on,
And Rebels Armes triumph in maffacres.

Joh. We breath too long: come, couſin Westmerland,
Our duty this way lyes, for heavens ſake come.

Prin. By heaven thou haſt deceived me, Lancaſter,
I did not think thee Lord of ſuch a ſpirit :

Before, I lov'd thee as a brother John;

But now, I do reſpect thee as my Soule,

King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,

With luſtier maintenance then I did look for

Of ſuch an ungrown Warriour.

Prin. O this Boy, lends meettle to us all.

Enter Dowglas.

Dow. Another King ? They grow like Hydra's heads:
I am the Dowglas fatall to all thofe
That were thofe colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit'st the perſon of a King?

King. The King himself: who Dowglas grieves at heart

So

["The first Part of King Henry the Fourth.", "374", "So many of his shadows thou haſt met,\nAnd not the very King. I have two Boyes", "Seek Percy and thy self about the Field :", "But seeing thou fall'ft on me so luckily,\nI will affay thee: so defend thy self.", "Dow. I fear thou art another counterfeit :", "And yet infaith thou bear'ft thee like a King :", "But mine I am sure thou art, who ere thou be,", "And thus I win thee. *They fight, the K. being in danger.*", "*Enter Prince.*", "Prin. Hold up thy head, vile Scor, or thou art like\nNe ver to hold it up again: the Spirits", "Of valiant *Sherly, Stafford, Blunt*, are in my Armes;", "It is the Prince of Wales that threats thee,", "Who never promiseth, but means to pay.", "*They fight, : Dowglas flyeth.*", "Cheerly My Lord: how farces your Grace?", "Sir Nicholas Gawſey hath for ſuccur ſent,", "And so hath Clifton: I'le to Clifton ſtraight.", "King. Stay, and breath a while.", "Thou haſt redeem'd thy loſt opinion,", "And ſhew'd thou mak'ſt ſome tender of my life", "In this fair ſtreſſe thou haſt brought to me.", "Prin. O heaven, they did me too much injury,\nThat ever I hearknéd to your death.", "If it were so, I might have let alone", "The infuſing hand of *Dowglas* over you,", "Which would have been as *speedy* in your end,", "As all the poyſonous Potions in the world,", "And ſay'd the Treacherous labour of your Son.", "K. make up to Clifton, I'le to Sir *Nichol, Gauſey*. *Exit.*", "*Enter Hotſpurre.*", "Hot. If I miftake not thou art *Harry Monmonth*.", "Prin. Thou ſpeakeſt as if I would deny my name.", "Hot. My name is *Harry Percy*.", "Prin. Why then I fee a very valiant rebel of that name.", "I am the Prince of Wales, and think not *Percy*,", "To share with me in glory any more :", "Two Stars keep not their motion in one Sphere,", "Nor can one England brook a double reigne,", "Of *Harry Percy*, and the Prince of Wales.", "Hot. Nor ſhall it, *Harry*, for the houre is come", "To end the one of us; and would to heaven,", "Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine.", "Prin. I'le make it greater, ere I part from thee,", "And all the budding Honours on thy Creſt,", "I'le crop to make a Garland for my head.", "Hot. I can no longer brook thy Vanities.", "Fight.", "*Enter Falſtaſſe.*", "Fal. Well ſaid, *Hal*, to it *Hal*. Nay you ſhall find no Boyes play here, I can tell you.", "*Enter Dowglas*, he fightſ with *Falſtaſſe*, who ſalls down\nas if he were dead. *The Prince killeth Percy.*", "Hot. Oh *Harry*, thou haſt rob'd me of my youth :", "I better brook the loffe of bitter life,", "Then thofe proud titles thou haſt won of me,", "They wound my thoughts worſe, then the ſword my fleſh:", "But thought's the ſlave of Life, and Life Times ſtoole;", "And Time, that takes ſurvey of all the world,", "Muſt have a ſtop. O, I could Propheſie,", "But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,", "Lyes on my Tongue: No, *Percy*, thou art duſt", "And food for----------", "Prin. For *Wormes*, brave *Percy*. Farewell great heart:", "Ill-weav'd Ambition, how much art thou ſhrunk ?", "When that this body did contain a ſpirit,", "A Kingdome for it was too ſmall a bound :", "But now two paces of the vileſt Earth", "Is room enough. This Earth that bears the dead,", "Bears not alive ſo ſlout a Gentleman.", "If thou were't ſenſible of curſeſe,", "I should not make so great a ſhow of Zeale.", "But let my favours hide thy mangled face,", "And even in thy behalſe, I'le thank my ſelſe", "For doing theſe fair Rites of Tenderneſſe.", "Adiew, and take thy praeife with thee to heaven,", "Thy ignominy ſleep with thee in the grave,", "But not remembred in thy Epitaph.", "What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this fleſh", "Keep in a little life ? Poor *Jack*, farewell :", "I could have better ſpar'd a better man.", "O, I should have a heavy miſſe of thee,", "If I were much in love with Vanity.", "Death hath not ſtruck ſo fat a Dear to day,", "Though many dearer in this blondy Fray :", "Imbowell'd will I fee thee by and by,", "Till then, in bloud ? by Noble *Percy* Iye.", "Exit.", "*Falſtaſſe ríſeth up.*", "Falſt. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell me to day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me too to morrow.", "Twas time to counterfeit, or that hot Termagant Scor,", "had paid me ſcot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man : But", "to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perſect image of life in-", "deed. The better part of Valour, is Difcretion; in the which better part, I have ſaved my life. I am afraid of", "this Gun-powder *Percy* though he be dead. How if he", "should counterfeit too, and ríſe ? I am afraid he would", "prove the better counterfeit: therefore I'le make him ſure:", "yea, and I'le ſwear I kill'd him. Why may not he ríſe as", "well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-body", "fees me. Therefore, firra, with a new wound in your thigh", "come you along with me. *Takes Hotſpurre on his back.*", "*Enter Prince, and John of Lancaſter.*", "Prin. Come Brother *John*, full bravely haſt thou fleſh thy Maiden ſword.", "John. But ſoft, who have we here ?\nDid you not tell me this fat man was dead?", "", "", "Prin. I did, I ſaw him dead,", "Breathleſſe, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou alive?", "Or is it ſtantſaſt that playes upon our eye-fight ?", "I prethee ſpeak, we will not truſt our eyes", "Without our ears. Thou art not what thou ſeem't.", "Falſt. No, that's certain: I am not a double man: but if I am not *Jack Falſtaſſe*, then am I a *Jack*. There is *Rar- cy*, if your Father will do me any Honor, for not, let him kill the next *Percy* himself. I look either to be Earle or Duke, I can affure you.", "Prin. Why, *Percy* I kill'd my ſelf, and ſaw thee dead.", "Fal. Did it thou ? Lord, Lord, how the world is given to Lying ? I grant you I was down, and out of Breath, and ſo was he, but we roſe both at an inſant, and ſought a long houre by Shrewsbury clock, if I may be believed, ſo: if not, let them that ſhould reward Valour, bear the ſinne upon their own heads. I'le take't on my death I gave him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were a live and would deny it, I would make him eat a piece of my ſword.", "John. This is the ſtrangeſt tale that e're I heard.", {"bbox": [729, 1347, 1041, 1367], "category": "Text

376

# The Second Part of Henry the Fourth,
Containing his Death : and Coronation of
King Henry the Fift.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

## INDUCTION.

Enter Rumor.

Pen your Ears: For which of you will flap
The vent of Hearing, when loud Rumor speaks?
I, from the Orient, to the drooping West
(Making the wind my Poft-horic) still unfold

The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth.

Upon my Tongue continuall Slanders ride,

The which, in every Language, I pronounce,

Stuffing the ears of them with false Reports:

I (peak of Peace, while covert Enmity
(Under the smile of safety) wounds the World :

And who but Rumor, who but onely I

Make fearfull Mufters, and prepar'd Defence,
Whilft the big year, fwoene with fome other griefs,

Is thought with childe, by the Stern Tyrant War ;

And no such matter. Rumor is a Pipe

Biown by Surmife, Jealousies, Conjectures;

And of fo safte, and fo plain a flap,

That the blunt Monfter, with uncounted heads,

The fill disfordant, wavering Multitude,

Can play upon it. But what need I thus

My well-known Body to Anathomize

Among my household ? Why is Rumor here?

I run before King Harries victory,

Who in a bloudy field by Shrewsbury

Hath beaten down young Hotpurre, and his Troops,

Quenching the flame of bold rebellion,

Even with the Rebels bloud. But what mean I

To speak of truth at firft ? My Office is

To noyfe abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell

Under the Wrath of Noble Hotfpurr's Sword:

And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage
Stoop'd his Annointed head, as low as death.

This have I rumor'd through the pcafant-Towns,
Between the Royall Field of Shrewsbury,

And this Worm-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone,
Where Hotfpurr's Father, old Northumberland,

Lyes crafty fick. The Pofts come tying on,
And not a man of them brings other news

Then they have learn'd of me. From Rumors Tongues,
They bring smooth-Comforts-falfe, worfe then True-

wrongs.

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Bardolfc, and the Porter.

L. Bar. Who keeps the Gate hoa ?

Where is the Earle ?

Por. What shall I fay you are ?

L. Bar. Tell thou the Earle

That the Lord Bardolfc doth attend him here.

Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard,
Please it your Honor, knock but at the Gate,
And he himself will anfwer.

Enter Northumberland.

L. Bar. Here comes the Earle.

Nor. What news Lord Bardolfc ? Ev'ry minute now
Should be the Father of fome Stratagem ;

The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horfe

Full of high feeding) madly hath broke loofe,

And bears down all before him.

L. Bar. Noble Earle,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

Nor. Good, and heaven will.

L. Bar. As good as heart can wifh :
The King is almost wounded to the death :
And in the Fortune of my Lord your Son,
Prince Harry plain outright: and both the Blunts

Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Young Prince John,
And Weftmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field.

And Harry Monmouth's Brawn (The Hulk Sir John)
Is prifoner to your Son. O, fuch a Day.

(So fought, fo follow'd, and fo fairly wonne)

Came not, till now, to dignify the Times

Since Caſars Fortunes.

Nor. How is this deriv'd ?

Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury ?

L. Bar. I fpaKE with one(my L.)that came from thence
A Gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me this news for true.

Nor. Here comes my fervant Travers, whom I ſent
On Tuesday laft, to liffen after News.

Enter Travers.

L. Bar. My Lord, I over-rode him on the way.

And he is furnifh'd with no certainties,

More then he (haply) may retale from me.

Nor. Now Travers, what good tidings comes from you?

Tra.

["The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.", "377", "Tra. My Lord, John Umfevrevill turn'd me back", "With joy full tydins; and (being better hors'd)", "Out-rode me. After him, came spurring hard\nA Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed)", "That stopp'd by me, to breathe his bloodied horfe,", "He ask'd the way to Chefter : And of him", "I did demand what Newses from Shrewsbury :", "He told me, that Rebellion had ill luck,\nAnd that young Harry Percies Spurre was cold.", "With that he gave his able Horfe the head,", "And bending forward ftook his able heels", "Againft the panting fides of his poor Jade\nUp to the Rowell head, and flarting fo,", "He feem'd in running, to devoure the way;\nStaying no longer queftion.", "North. Ha ? Again :", "Said he young Harry Percies Spurre was cold ?\n(Of Hotfpurre, cold-Spuxre) that Rebellion,\nHad met ill luck ?", "L. Bar. My Lord : I'le tell you what,", "If my young Lord your Son, have not the day,", "Upon mine Honour, for a filken point", "Ile give my Barony. Never talk of it.", "Nor. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Travers", "Give then fuch inſtances of Loffe ?", "L. Bar. Who he ?", "He was ſome fielding Fellow, that had ſtoln", "The Horſe he rode on : and upon my life", "Spake at adventure. Look, here comes more Newes.", "Enter. Morton.", "Nor. Yes, this mans brow, like to a Title-leaf,", "Foretells the Nature of a Tragick Volume :", "So looks the Scond, when the Imperious Flood", "Hath left a witneſt Ullurpation.", "Say, Morton, did ſt thou come from Shrewsbury ?", "Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord)", "Where hatefull death put on his uglicſt Mask", "To fright our party.", "Nor. How doth my Son, and Brother ?", "Thou trembl't ſt; and the whitenſe in thy Cheek", "Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand.", "Even ſuch a man, ſo faint, ſo SPIRitleſſe,", "So dull, ſo dead in look, ſo woe-be-gone,", "Drew Priams Curtain, in the dead of night,", "And would have told him, half his Troy was turn'd.", "But Priams found the Fire, ere he his Tongue :", "And I, my Percies death, ere thou report't it.", "This, thou would't ſay : Your Son did thus, and thus :", "You Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas,", "Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.", "But in the end (to ſtop my Ear indeed.)", "Though haſt a Sigh, to blow away this Praife,", "Ending with Brother, Son, and all are dead.", "Mor. Dowglas is living, and your Brother, yet :", "But for my Lord, your Son,", "No. Why he is dead.", "See what a ready tongue ſuſpition hath ;", "He that but feares the thing, he would not know ;", "Hath by Inſtinc, knowledge from others Eyes,", "That what he fear'd, is chane'd, Yet ſpeak (Morton)", "Tell thou thy Earl, his Divination Lies,", "And I will take it as a fewe Difgrace,", "And make theie ſich, for doing me ſuch wrong.", "Ador. You are too great, to be (by me) gainſaid :", "Your ſpirit is too true, your Feares too certain.", "Nor. Yet for all this, ſay not that Percy's dead,", "I fee a ſtrange Conſeſſion in thine Eye :", "Thou ſhak't thy head, and hold't it: Fear, or Sin,", "To ſpeak a truth. If he be flain, ſay fo :", "The Tongue offends not, that reports his death :", "And he doth fin that doth belye the dead :", "Not he, which ſayes the dead is not alive :", "Yet the first bringer of unwelcome Newes", "Hath but a loofing Office : and his Tongue,", "Sounds ever after as a ſullen Bell", "Remembred, knolling a departing Friend,", "L. Bar. I cannot think (my Lord) your Son is dead.", "Mor. I am forry I should force you to believe", "That, which I would to heaven I had not feen.", "But theſe mine eyes ſaw him in bloody ſtate,", "Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd)", "To Henry Monmouth, whose ſwift wrath beat down", "The never-daunted Percy to the earth,", "From whence (with life) he never more ſprung up.", "In few ; his death (whose ſpirit lent a fire,", "Even to the dulleft Peazant in his Camp)", "Being bruited once, took fire and heat away", "From the beſt temper'd Courage in his Troops.", "For from his Mettle was his Party ſeel'd ;", "Which once in him abated, all the reſt", "Turn'd on themſelves, like dull and heavy Lead,", "And as the thing that's heavy in it ſelf,", "Upon enforcement, flies with greatest ſpeed,", "So did our Men, heavy in Hotfpurre's loffe,", "Lend to this weight, iuch lightneſſe with their Fear,", "That Arrows fled not ſwifter toward their ayme,", "Then did our Souldiers (ayming at their ſafety)", "Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Woreſiter", "Too tooon ta'ne prifoner : and that furious Scot,", "(The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring ſword", "Had three times ſlam ch'a appearance of the King,", "'Gan vail his ſtomaek, and did grace the ſhame", "Of thofe that turn'd their back: and in his flight,", "Stumbling in Fear, was took. The ſumme of all,", "Is, that the King hath won : and hath ſent out", "A ſpeedy power, to encounter you my Lord,", "Under the conduct of young Lancaſter", "And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full.", "Nor. For this, I ſhall have time enough to mourn.", "In Poyſon there is Phyſick: and this newes", "(Having been well) that would have made me ſick,", "Being ſick, hath in ſome meaſure made me well.", "And as the Wretch, whose Feaver-weakned joynts,", "Like ſtrengthleſſe Hinges, buckle under life,", "Impatient of his Fit, breaks like a fire", "Out of his Keepers armes: Even so, my Limbs", "(Weakned with grief) being now inrag'd with grief,", "Are thrice themſelyes. Hence thereſtote thou niue crutch,", "A ſcaly Gauntlet now, with joynts of Steel", "Muſt glove his hand. And hence thou fickly Quoif ;", "Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,", "Which Princes fleſh'd with Conqueſt, ayme to hit.", "Now bind my Brows with Iron, and approach", "The ragged'ft hour that Time and Spight dare bring", "To frown upon th' enrag'd Northumberland.", {"bbox": [428, 1259, 752,

378

Reign in all bofomes, that each heart being let
On bloody Courfes, the rude Scene may end,
And darkneffe be the burier of the dead.
(Honour.

L. Bar. Sweet Earl, divorce not wifdome from your
Mor. The lives of all your loving Complices

Lean on your health, the which if you give o're
To stormy Paffion, muft perforce decay.

You caft th'event of War (my Noble Lord)

And fumm'd the accompt of Chance, before you faid,
Let us make head: It was your prefume,
That in the dole of blows, your Son might drop.

You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edge

More likely to fall in, then to get o're:

You were advis'd his flet was capable
Of Wounds, and Scarrs; and that his forward Spirit
Would lift him, where moft trade of danger rang'd,
Yet did you fay, go forth: and none of this

(Though strongly apprehended) could retrain
The fuffe, born action: what hath then befain ?
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,

More then that Being, which was like to be ?
L. Bar. We all are engaged to this loffe,

Knew that we venter'd on fuch dangerous Seas,
That if we wrought out life, was ten to one :
And yet we venter'd for the gain propos'd,
Choak'd the respeft of likely peril fear'd,

And ſince we are o're-fet, venter again.
Come, we will all put forth: Body, and Goods.

Mor. Tis more then time: And (my moft noble Lord)

I hear for certain, and do ſpeak the truth:
The gentle Arch-Bishop of York is up

With well appointed Powers: he is a man
Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers.

My Lord (your Son) had onely but the Corps,
But hedges, and the fhews of men to fight.

For that fame word (Rebellion) did divide

The action of their bodies, from their fouls,
And they did fight with queafineffe, conftrain'd

As men drink Potions; that their Weapons only

Seem'd on our fide: but for their Spirits and Souls,

This word (Rebellion) it had froze them up,
As Fifth are in a Pond. But now the Bishop

Turns Inſurrection to Reſigion,

Suppos'd ſincere, and holy in his Thoughts:

He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde:

And doth enlarge his Rifing, with the blood
Of fair King Richard, ( scrap'd from Pomfret ſtones,
Derives from heaven his Quarrell, and his Caufe:

Tells them, he doth beftride a bleeding Land,

Gaping for life, under great Bullingbrook,

And more, and leſſe, do flock to follow him.

North. I knew of this before. But to ſpeak truth,
This prefent grief had wip'd it from my mind.

Go in with me, and counſell every man

The apte way for safety, and revenge :

Get Poffs, and Letters, and make Friends with ſpeed,

Never ſo few, nor never yet more need.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Falſtaffe, and Page.

Fal. Sirra, you giant, what fays the Doct. to my water?

Pag. He faid, fir, the water it ſelf was a good heal-
thy water: but for the party that ow'd it, he might have
more diſeafes then he knew for.

Fal. Men of all forts take a pride to gird at me: the

brain of this foolish compounded Clay-man, is notable
to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more then I
invent, or is invented on me, I am not onely witty in my
ſelf, but the caufe that wit is in other men. I doe here
walk before thee, like a Sow, that hath o'rewhelme'd all
her Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my ſer-
vice for any other reafon, then to fer me off, why then I
have no judgement. Thou horfon Mandrake, thou art
fitter to be worn in my cap, then to wait at my heeleſ.
I was never maim'd with an Agot till now : but I will ſet
you neither in Gold, nor Silver, but in vilde apparell, and
fend you back again to your Maſter, for a Jewell. The
Juvenall (the Prince your Maſter) whoſe Chin is not
yet fledg'd, I will fooner have a beard grow in the Palm
of my hand, then he ſhall get one on his cheek: yet he
will not tlick to ſay, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heaven
may finſh it when he will, it is not a hair amiffſe yet: he
may keepe it ſill as a Face-Royall, for a Barber shall ne-
ver earn ſix pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing as
if he had writ man ever ſince his Father was a Batchel-
lor. He may keepe his own Grace, but he is almoſt out of
mine, I can aſſure him. What ſaid M. Dombledon, about
the Satten for my ſhort Cloak, and Slops ?

Pag. He faid, fir, you ſhould procure him better Aſſu-
rance, then Bardolſe: he would not take his Bond and
yours, he lik'd not the Security.

Fal. Let him be damn'd like the Glutton, may his Tongue be hotter, a horfon Achitophel, a Rafcally-yea-forfooth-knave, to bear a Gentleman in hand, and then ſtand upon Security ? The horfon ſmooth-pates doe now wear nothing but high fhooes, and bunches of Keyes at their girdles: and if a man is through with them in hoheit Taking-up, then they muſt ſtand upon Security: I had as lief they would put Rats-bane in my mouth, as offer to ſtop it with Security. I look'd he ſhould have ſent me two and twenty yards of Satren (as I am a true Knight) and he ſends me Security. Well, he may ſleepin Security, for he hath the horn of Abundance : and the lightneſſe of his Wife ſhines through it, and yet cannot he fee, though he have his own Lanthorn to light him, Where's Bardolſe?

Pag. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your Worſhip
a Horſe.

Fal. I bought him in Paules, and he'll buy me a horſe
in Smithfield. If I could get me a wife in the Stewes, I
were Mann'd, Hors'd, and Wiv'd.

Enter Chief Jſtice, and Servant.

Pag. Sir, here comes the Nobleman that committed
the Prince for striking him, about Bardolſe.

Fal. Wait cloſe, I will not ſee him.

Ch. Juff. What's that he goes there ?

Ser. Falſtaffe, and't pleafe your Lordship.

Juff. He that was in queſtion for the Robbers ?

Ser. He, my Lord, but he hath ſince done good ſer-
vice at Shrewsbury: and (as I hear) is now going with
fome Charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.

Juff. What, to York? Call him back again.

Ser. Sir John Falſtaffe.

Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf.

Pag. You muſt ſpeak lowſer, my Maſter is deaf.

Juff. I am ſure he is, to the hearing of any thing good.
Go pluck him by the Elbow. I muſt ſpeak with him.

Ser. Sir John.

Fal. What'a young knave & beg? Is there not wars? Is
there not employment? Doth not the K. lack ſubjeſts do
not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though it be a ſhame to be
on

on any side but one, it is worse ifame to beg, then to be
on the worst side, were it worse then the name of Rebel-
ion can tell how to make it.

Ser. You make me, Sir.

Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man ?
Setting my Knight-hood, and my Souldiership afide, I
had lyed in my throat, if I had said so.

Ser. I pray you (Sir) then let me, your Knighthood and
your Souldier-ship afide, and give me leave to tell you,
you lie in your throat, if you say, I am any other then an
honest man.

Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so ? I lay afide that which grows to me ? If thou gett'st any leave of me, hang me, if thou tak't leave, thou wer't better be hang'd: you Hunt-counter: hence, avant.

Ser. Sir, my Lord would speak with you.

Juft. Sir John Falfaffe, a word with you.

Fal. My good Lord: give your Lordship good time of
the day. I am glad to see your Lordship abroad: I heard
ay your Lordship was fick. I hope your Lordship goes
abroad by advice. Your Lordship (though not clean palt
your youth) hath yet some smack of age in you: some
tellth of the faltneſſe of time: and I moſt humbly beſeech
your Lordship, to have a reverend care of your health.

Juſt. Sir John, I ſent for you before your Expedition
to Shrewsbury.

Fal. If it please, your Lordship, I hear his Majefty is
reun'd with ſome diſcomfort from Wales.
Juſt. I talk not of his Majefty: you would not come
when I ſent for you ?

Fal. And I hear moreover, his Highneſſe is faln into
this fame worſon Apoplexy. (you)

Juſt. Well, heaven mend him, I pray let me ſpeak with
Fal. This Apoplexy is (as I take it) a kind of Lethar-
gy, a ſleeping of the blood, a horſon Tingling,

Juſt. What tell you me of it ? be it as it is.

Fal. It hath its originall from much grief; from fludy
and perturbation of the brain. I have read the cauſe of
his effects in Galen. It is a kind of deafneſſe.

Juſt. I think you are faln into that diſeafe: for you
hear not what I ſay to you.

Fal. Very well (my Lord) very well: rather an't
pleafe you) it is the diſeafe of not Lifting, the malady
of not Marking, that I am troubled withall.

Juſt. To puniſh you by the heels, would amend the at-
tention of your ears, and I care not if I be your Phyſitian.

Fal. I am as poor as Job, my Lord; but not so patient
your Lordship may minifter the Potion of imprifonment
to me, in reſpect of Poverty: but how I should be your
Patient to follow your preſcriptions, the wife may make
fome dram of a ſeruple, or indeed, a ſeruple it ſelf.

Juſt. I ſent for you (when there were matters against
you for your life) to ſpeak with me.

Fal. As I was then advised by my learned Council,
in the Laws of this Land-service, I did not come.

Fu. Well, the truth is (for John) you live in great infamy.

Fal. He that buckles him in my Belt, cannot live in leſs.

Juſt. Your Means is very ſlender, and your wafe great.

Fal. I would it were otherwife: I would my Means
were greater, and my Wafe ſlenderer.

Juſt. You have mifled the youthfull Prince.

Fal. The young Prince hath mifled me, I am the
Fellow with the great belly, and he my Dog.

Juſt. Well, I am loth to gall a new-health'd wound: your
dayes ſervice at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded over
your Nights exploit on Gads-hill. You may thank the

unquiet time, for your quiet o're-poffing that Action.

Fal. My Lord ? (Wolf.)

Juſt. But ſince all is well, keep it for: wake not a ſleeping

Fal. To wake a Wolf, is as bad as to ſmell a Fox,

Iu. What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.

Fal. A Waffell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did

fay of Wax, my growth would approve the truth.

Iu. There is not a white hair on your face, but I should
have his effect of gravity.

Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.

Juſt. You follow the young Prince up and down, like
his evil Angel.

Fal. Not for (my Lord) your ill Angel is light: but I
hope, he that looks upon me, will take me wickout weigh-
ing: and yet, in ſome reſpects I grant, I cannot go: I
cannot tell. Virtue is of ſo little regard in theſe Cofor-
mongers dayes, that true valour isturn'd Bear-heard. Pre-
gnancy is made a Tapfter, and hath his quick wift waſted
in giving Recknings: all the other gifts appertinent to
man (as the malice of this Age ſhapes them) are not
worth a Goofe-berry. You that are old, confider not the
capacities of us that are young: you meaſure the heat of
our Livers, with the bitternes of your galls: and we that
are in the vaward of our youth, I muſt confefs, are wags
too.

Juſt. Doe you ſet down your name in the ſcrowle of
youth, that are written down old, with all the Characters
of age ? Have you not a moyſt eye ? a dry hand ? a yellow
cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an increafing belly?
Is not your voyce broken? your wind ſhort? your wift fin-
gle? and every part about you blaſſed with Antiquity? and
will you call your ſelf young ? Fy, ſie, ſie, Sir John.

Fal. My Lord, I was born with a white head, and ſom-
thing a round belly. For my voyce, I have loft it with
hollowing and ſinging of Anthems. To approve my
youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old in
judgement and understanding, and he that will caper
with me for a thouſand Marks, let him lend me the mo-
ney, and have at him. For the box oth' ear that the Prince
gave you, he gave it like a rude Prince, and you took it
like a ſenſible Lord. I have checkt him for it, and the
young Lyon repents. Marry not in ſack-cloth, but in
new Silk, and old Sack.

Juſt. Well, heaven ſend the Prince a better companion.

Fal. Heaven ſend the Companion a better Prince: I
cannot rid my hands of him.

Juſt. Well, the King hath fever'd you and Prince Har-
ry. I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaſter, a-
gainſt the Archibſhop, and the Earl of Northumberland.

Fal. Yes, I thank your pretty ſweet wit for it: but
look you pray, (all you that kiffle my Lady Peace at
home) that our Armies joyn not in a hot day: for if I take
but two ſhirts out with me, and I mean not to ſweat ex-
traordinarily: if it be a hot day, if I brandish any thing
but my Bottle, would I might never ſpit white againe:
There is not a dangerous Action can peep out his head,
but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot left ever.

Juſt. Well, be honest, be honest, and heaven bleſſe your
Expedition.

Fal. Will your Lordship lend me a thouſand pound,
to furniſh me forth ?

Juſt. Not a penny, not a penny: you are too impatient
to bear croſſes. Fare you well. Commend me to my
Cousin Westmerland. Exit.

Fal. If I do, ſillop me with a three-man-Beetle. A man
can no more ſeparate Age and Covet ouſneſſe, then he can

Ii 2

part

Part young limbs and letchery: but the Gowt galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the De-grees prevent my curfes.

Pag. Sir.

Fal. What money is in my purfe ?

Pag. Seven groats, and two pence.

Fal. I can get no remedy against this Consumption of the purfe. Borrowing onely linges, and linges it out, but the díſeafe is incurable. Go bear this Letter to my Lord of Lancaſter, this to the Prince, this to the Earl of Westmerland, and this to old Miftris Trufula, whom I have weekly ſworn to marry, ſince I percív'd the firſt white hair on my chin. About it: you know where to find me. A pox of this Gowt, or a Gowt of this Pox: for the one or th'other playes the rogue with my great toe: It is no matter, if I doe halt, I have the Warrs for my colour, and my Pénſion ſhall ſee the more reaſonable: A good wit will make uſe of any thing: I will turn díſeafe to commodity.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Archbifhop, Hastings, Mowbray, &c. Lor. Bardolſe.

Ar. This have you heard our caufes, and know our And my moſt noble Friends, I pray you all (Means: Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes, And firſt (Lord Marshall) what ſay you to it ?

Mom. I well allow the occafion of our Armes, But gladly would be better ſatisſed, How (in our Means) we ſhould advance our ſelyes To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the Power and Puiſance of the King.

Haſt. Our preſent Muſters grow upon the File To five and twenty thouſand men of choice; And our Supplies, live largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose boſome burns With an incensed Fire of Injuries.

L. Bar. The question then (Lord Haſtings) ſtandeth Whether our preſent five and twenty thouſand (thus, May hold up head without Northumberland :

Haſt. With him we may.

L. Bar. I marry, there's the point: But if without him we be thought too feeble, My judgement is, we ſhould not ſtep too far Till we had his Aſſistance by the hand. For in a Theam ſo bloody fact'd as this, Conſecture, Expeſation, and Surmiſe Of Aides uncertain, ſhould not be admitted.

Arch. 'Tis true, Lord Bardolſe, for indeed It was young Horſpurres cafe at Shrewsbury.

L. Bar. It was (my Lord) who lin'd himſelf with hope, Eating the aire, on promife of Supply, Flattring himſelf with Project of a power, Much inſaller then the ſmalleſt of his Thoughts, And ſo with great imagination (Proper to mad men) led his Powers to death, And (winking) leap'd into deſtruſion.

Haſt. But (by your leave) it never yet did hurt, To lay down likely-hoods, and forms of hope,

L. Bar. Yes, if this preſent quality of war, Indeed the inſant action: a cauſe on foot, Lives ſo in hope: As in an early Spring, We fee th'appearing buds, which to prove fruit, Hope gives not ſo much warrant, as Deſpair That Troſts will bite them. When we mean to build, We firſt ſurvey the Plot, then draw the Modell,

And when we fee the figure of the houſe, Then muſt we rate the coſt of the Erection, Which if we find out-weighs ability, What doe we then, but draw a-new the Modell In fewer Offices (Or at least, deſſit To build at all? Much more, in this great work, (Which is (almoſt) to pluck a Kingdome down, And get another up) ſhould we ſurvey The plot of Situation, and the Modell, Conſent upon a ſure Foundation: Queſtion Surveyors, knew our own eſtate.

How able ſuch a Work to undergo, To weigh againſt his Oppofite ? or else, We fortiſe in Paper, and in Figures, Uſing the Names of men, inſtead of men: Like one that draws the Modell of a houſe Beyond his power to build it; who (half through) Gives ore, and leaves his part-created Coſt A naked subject to the Weeping Clouds, And waſte, for churlſiſh Winters tyranny.

Haſt. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth) Should be ſill-born: and that we now poſſet The utmoſt man of expectation :

I think we are a Body ſtrong enough (Even as we are) to equall with the King.

L. Bar. What is the King but five & twenty thouſand? Haſt. To us no more:nay not ſo much, Lord Bardolſe, For his diviſions (as the Times do brawl) Are in three Heads: one Power againſt the French, And one againſt Glendower: Perſorce a third Muſt take up us: So is the unſirm King In three divided : and his Coffers found With hollow Poverty, and Emptyſe.

Ar. That he ſhould draw his ſeveral ſtrengths together, And come againſt us in full puſiſance, Need not be dreaded.

Haſt. If he ſhould do ſo, He leaves his back unarm'd, the French, and Welch Baying him at the heels: never ſear that.

L. Bar. Who is it like ſhould lead his Forces hither? Haſt. The Duke of Lancaſter and Westmerland: Againſt the Welch himſelf, and Harry Monmouth. But who is ſutſſituted 'gainſt the French, I have no certain notice.

Arch. Let us on: And publifh the occafion of our Armes. The Common-wealth is ſick of their own choyce, Their over-greedy love hath ſurſetted: An habitation giddy, and unfure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou ſond Many, with what loud applaſe Didd'ft thou beaſt heaven with bleſſing Bullingbrook, Before he was, what thou would'ſt have him be ? And being now trimm'd up in thine own defires, Thou (beaſtly Feeder) art ſo full of him, That thou provok'ſt thy ſelf to caſt him up. So, ſo, (thou common Dog) didſt thou diſorge Thy glutton-boſome of the Royal Richard, And now thou would'ſt eat thy dead vomit up, And howl'ſt to find it. What truſt is in theſe Times? They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him die. Are now become enamour'd on his grave. Thou that threaw't duſt upon his goodly head, When through proud London he came fighting on, After th'admired heels of Bullingbrook,

Ci't now, O Earth yield us that King again,

And

The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth.

And take thou this (O thoughts of men accrurs'd)

Palf., and to come, seems beſt; things pefent, worst.

Mow. Shall we go draw our numbers, and fet on ?
Hast. We are Times ſubjects, and Time bids, be gon.

## Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hofſeſe, with two Officers, Fangs and Snare.

Hofſeſe. Mr. Fang, have you entered the Action ?

Fang. It is enter'd.

Hoff. Where's your Yeoman ? Is it a laſty yeoman ?

Will he land to it ?

Fang. Sirra, where's Snare ?

Hoff. I, I, good M. Snare.

Snare. Here, here.

Fang. Snare, we muſt Arreſt Sir John Fallſaſſe.

Hoff. I, good M. Snare, I have enter'd him, and all.

Sn. It may chance coſt ſome of as our lives he will ſtab.

Hoff. Alafs-the-day: take heed of him: he ſtab'd me in mine own house, and that moſt beaſtly: he cares not what miſchief he doth, if his weapon be out. He will ſoyn like any devil, he will ſpare neither man, woman, nor child.

Fau. If I can cloſe with him, I care not for his thrust.

Hoff. No, nor I neither: I ple be at your elbow.

Fang. If I but ſift him once: if he come but within my Vice.

Hoff. I am undone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitive thing upon my ſcore. Good M. Fang, hold him ſure: good M. Snare, let him not ſcape, he comes continuātely to Pie-corner (faving your manhoods) to buy a Saddle, and he is invited to dinner to the Lubbars-head in Lombard-freeto M. Smoothes the Silkman. I pray ye ſince my Action is enter'd, and my Cafe ſo openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his anſwer. A hundred Mark is a long one, for a poor lone woman to bear: and I have born, and born, and born; and have bin ſub'd off, and ſub'd off, from this day to that day, that it is a ſhame to be thought on. There is no honetje in ſuch dealing, unleſſe a Woman should be made an Aſſe, to bear every Knaves wrong.

Enter Fallſaſſe and Bardolſe.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malinſey-Nofe Bardolſe with him, do your offices, do your offices: M. Fang, and M. Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices.

Fal. How now? whoſe Mare's dead? what's the matter?

Fang. Sir John, I arreſt you at the ſuit of Mift. Quickly.

Fal. A way Varlets, draw Bardolſe: Cut me off the Villains head: throw the Queen in the Channell.

Hoff. Throw me in the channel? Ile throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou ? thou baſtardly rogue. Murder, murder: O thou Hony-fuckle villain, wilt thou kill Gods officers and the Kings? O thou hony-feed Rogue, thou art a hony-feed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller.

Fal. Keep them off, Bardolſe.

Fang. A refcue, a refcue.

Hoff. Good people bring a refcue. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempſeed.

Fal. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fulfillicrian: Ile tuck your Cataſtrophe. Enter Ch. Jufſtice.

Jufſt. What's the matter? Keep the Peace here, hoo.

Hoff. Good my Lord, be good to me. I beſeech you stand to me.

Ch. Ju. How now, fir John? what are you brawling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and buſineſſe? You should have been well on your way to Tork.

Stand from him Fellow, wherefore hang it upon him ?

Hoff. Oh my moſt worſhipfull Lord, and't pleafe your Grace, I am a poor Widow of Eaſtcheap, and he is arreſted at my ſuit.

Ch. Jufſt. For what ſummee ?

Hoff. It is more then for ſome (my Lord) it is for all: all I have, he hath eaten me out of house and home ? he hath put all my ſubſtance into that fat bally of his: but I will have ſome of it out again, or I will ride thee o' Nights, like the Mare.

Fal. I think I am as like to ride the Mare, if I have any vantage of ground to get up.

Ch. Jufſt. How comes this, Sir John? Fie, what a man of good temper would endure this tempeſt of exclamation ? Are you not aſham'd to inforce a poor Widow to ſo rough a courſe to come by her own ?

Fal. What is the groſſe ſummee that I owe thee ?

Hoff. Marry (if thou wer't an honest man) thy ſelf, & the money too. Thou didſt ſwear to me upon a parcell gilt Goblet, fitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a ſea-cole fire, on Wednesday in Whitſon week, when the Prince broke thy head for likening him to a finging-man of Windsor; thou didſt ſwear to me then (as I was waſhing thy wound) to marry me, and make me my Lady thy wife. Canſt thou deny it ? Did not good wife Keech the Butchers wife come in then, and call me goſſip Quickly ? comming in to borrow a meſſe of Vinegar: telling us, ſhe had a good diſh of Prawns: whereby thou didſt deſire to eat ſome: whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound ? And didſt not thou (when ſhe was gone down flaires) deſire me to be no more familiar with ſuch poor people, ſaying, that ere long they ſhould call me Madam ? And didſt thou not kiffe me, and bid me fetch thee thirty ſhillings ? I put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if thou canſt ?

Fal. My Lord, this is a poor mad ſoul: and the fayes up and down the town, that her eldeſt Son is like you. She hath bin in good cafe, and the truth is, poverty hath diſtraſted her: but for theſe fooliſh Officers, I beſeech you, I may have redreſſe againſt them.

Inſt. Sir John, fir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true caufe, the falſe way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words, that come with ſuch (more then impudent) ſawcineſſe from you, can thurſe me from a levell consideration, I know you ha' præſid'd upon the caſe-yielding ſpirit of this woman.

Hoff. Yes in troth, my Lord.

Inſt. Prethee peace: pay her the debt you owe her; and unpay the villany you have done her: the one you may do with ſterling mony, & the other with current repentance.

Fal. My Lord, I will not undergo this ſneap without reply. You call honorable boldneſſe, impudent ſawcineſſes. If a man will curſe, and ſay nothing, he is virtuous: No, my Lord (your humble duty remembred) I will not be your ſutor. I ſay to you, I deſire deliv'rance from theſe Officers being upon haſty employment in the Kings affaires.

Inſt. You ſpeak, as having power to do wrong: But anſwer in the effect of your reputation, and ſatſiſe the poor woman.

Fal. Come hither, Hofſeſe.

Enter M. Gomer.

Ch. Inſt. Now, After Gomer, what newes ?

Gow. The King (my Lord) and Henry Prince of Wales are near at hand: The reſt the Paper tells.

Fal. As I am a Gentleman,

Hoff. Nay, you ſaid so before.

Fal. As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it.

Hoff.

Ii 3

382

*Hoff.* By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be
fain to pawn both my Plate, and the Tapiftry of my Di-
ning Chambers.

*Fal.* Glaffes, glaffes, is the onely drinking: and for
thy walls a pretty flight Drollery, or the Story of the
Prodigal, or the Germane hunting in Water-work, is
worth a thousand of thefe Bed-hangings, and thefe
Fly-bitten Tapiftries. Let it be ten pound (if thou canst.)
Come, if it were not for thy humours, there is not a bet-
Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy
Action: Come, thou muſt not be in this humour with
me, come, I know thou was't fet on to this.

*Hoff.* Prethee (Sir John) let it be but twenty Nobles
I am loth to pawn my Plate, in good earneſt la.

*Fal.* Let it alone, I'll make other shift: you'll be a fool
Rill.

*Hoff.* Well, you ſhall have it, although I pawn my
Gown. I hope you'll come to Supper: You'll pay me al-
toge, her?

*Fal.* Will I live? Go with her, with her: hook on,
hook on.

*Hoff.* Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you at
supper?

*Fal.* No more words, Let's have her.

*Ch. Juſt.* I have heard bitter newes.

*Fal.* What's the newes, my good Lord?

*Ch. Iuſt.* Where lay the King laſt night?

*Mef.* At Bafing-stoke, my Lord.

*Fal.* I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes,
my Lord?

*Ch. Iu.* Come all his Forces back?

*Mef.* No: fifteen hundred Foot, and five hundred
Horfe, are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaſter, againſt
Northumberland and the Arch-Bishop.

*Fal.* Comes the King back from Wales, my noble Lord?

*Ch. Ju.* You shall have Letters of me prefently.

Come go along with me, good M. Gower.

*Fal.* My Lord.

*Ch. Ju.* What's the matter?

*Fal.* Maſter Gower, I ſhall entreat you with me to
dinner.

*Gow.* I muſt wait upon my good Lord here.

I thank you, good Sir John.

*Ch. Ju.* Six John, you loyter here too long, being you
are to take Souldiers up in Countreys as you go?

*Fal.* Will you ſup with me, Maſter Gower?

*Ch. Ju.* What foolifh Maſter taught you theſe man-
ners, Sir John?

*Fal.* Maſter Gower, if they become me not, he was a
Fool that taught them me. This is the right Fencing
grace (my Lord) tap for tap, and ſo part fair.

*Ch. Ju.* Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great
Fool.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Poyns, Bardolf, and Page,

*Prin.* Truſt me, I am exceeding weary.

*Poyns.* Is it come to that? I had thought wearinſeſſe
duſt not have attach'd one of ſo high blood.

*Prin.* It doth me, though it difcolours the complexi-
on of my greatneſſe to acknowledge it. Doth it not ſhow

vildly in me, to define ſmall Beer?

*Poyn.* Why, a Prince ſhould not be ſo lloofly fludied,
as to remember ſo weak a Compoſition.

*Prin.* Belike then, my Appetite was not Princely
get: for (in troth) I do now remember the poor Crea-
ture, Small Beer. But indeed theſe humble confiderati-
ons make me out of love with my greatneſſe. What a
diſgrace is it to me, to remember thy name ? or to know
thy face to morrow ? or to take notice how many pair of
Silk Stockings thou haſt? (viz. theſe, and thofe that were
the peach-colour'd ones:) or to bear the Inventory of thy
Shirts; as one for Tuperfluity, and one other for uſe; but
that the Tennis-Court Keeper knows better then I, for
it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou keepeſt
not Racket there, as thou haſt not done a great while,
becauſe the reſt of thy Low Countreys have made a shift
to eat up thy Holland.

*Poin.* How ill it follows, after you have labour'd ſo
hard, you ſhould talk ſo idlely? Tell me how many good
young Princes would do ſo, their Fathers lying ſo ſic,
as yours is?

*Poyn.* Shall I tell the one thing, Poyns?

*Poyn.* Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.

*Prin.* It ſhall serve among Wits of no higher breed-
ing then thine.

*Poyn.* Go to: I ſtand the puſh of your one thing, that
you'll tell.

*Prin.* Why, I tell thee, it is not meet that I ſhould be
fad now my Father is ſick: albeit I could tell to thee (as
to one it pleafes me, for fault of a better, to call my friend)
I could be ſad, and ſad indeed too.

*Poyn.* Very hardly upon ſuch a ſubjeſt.

*Prin.* Thou think't me as far in the Devils Book, as
thou, and Falſaffe, for obduracy and perſiftency. Let
the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds in-
wardly, that my Father is ſick: and keeping ſuch wild
company as thou art, hath in reaſon taken from me, all
oſtentation of forrow.

*Poyn.* The reaſon?

*Prin.* What would it thou think of me, if I ſhould weep?

*Poyn.* I would think thee a moſt Princely hypocrite.

*Prin.* It would be every man thought: and thou art
a bleſſed Fellow, to think as every man thinks: never a
mans thought in the world keeps the rode. way better
than thine: every man would think me an Hypocrite in-
deed. And what excites your moſt worſhipfull thought
to think ſo?

*Poyn.* Why, becauſe you have been ſo lewd, and ſo
much ingraſſed to Falſaffe.

*Prin.* And to thee,

*Poyn.* Nay, I am well ſpoken of, I can heat it with
mine own ears: the work that they can ſay of me is, that
I am a ſeconſe Brother, and that I am a proper fellow of
my hands; and thofe two things I conſeſſe I cannot help.
Look, look, here comes Bardolſe.

*Prin.* And the Boy that I gave Falſaffe: he had him
from me Chriſtian, and ſee if the fat villan have not
transform'd him Ape.

Enter Bardolſe.

*Bar.* Save your Grace.

*Prin.* And yours, moſt Noble Bardolſe.

*Poyn.* Come you pernicious Aſſe, you bathſull Pott,
muſt you be bluſhing? wherefore bluſh you now? what
a Maidenly man at Armes are you become? Is it ſuch a
matter to get a Pottle-pots Maidenhead?

*Page.* He call'd me even now (my Lord) through a red
Lattice, and I could diſcern no part of his face from the
window:

384

He was the Mark, and Glafs, Copy, and Book,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous ! him,
O Miracle of Men ! Him did you leave
(Second to none) un-secon'd by you,
To look upon the hideous god of War,
In disadvantage, to abide the field,
Where nothing but the found of Hotpur's Name
Did seem defensible: so you left him.
Never, O never do his Ghost the wrong,
To hold your Honour mot precife and nice:
With others, then with him. Let them alone:
The Marshall and the Arch-Bishop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but half their Numbers,
To day might I (hanging on Hot purss Neck)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's Grave.

North. Behold your heart,
From Daughte2) you do draw my spirits from me,
With new lamenting ancient Over-fights,
But I must god, and meet with danger there.
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worfe provided.

Wife. O flye to Scotland,
Fill the Nobles, and the armed Commons,
Haves of their Puissance made a little taft.

Lady. If they get ground, and vantage of the King,
Then joyn you with them, like a Rib of Steel,
To make Strength stronger. But, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves. So did your Son,
He was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow:
And never shall have length of Life enough,
To rain upon Remembrance with mine Eyes,
That it may grow, and sprowt, as high as Heaven,
For Recordation to my Noble Husband.

Nor. Come, come, go in with me : 'tis with my Mind
As with the Tyde, fwell'd up unto his height,
That makes a full-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the Arch-Bishop,
But many a thousand Reafons hold me back.
I will refolve for Scotland : there am I,
Till Time and Vantage crave my company. Exeunt

## Scena Quarta.

### Enter two Drawers.

1. **Drawer.** What haſt thou brought there? Apple-Johns? Thou know'ſt Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John.

2. **Draw.** Thou faſt't true: the Prince once let a Diſ
of Apple-Johns before him, and told him there were five
more Sir Johns : and, putting off his Hat, faſt, I will now
take my leave of these fix drie, round, old-wither'd
Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but he hath forgot
that.

1. **Draw.** Why then cover, and fet them down: and
fee if thou canſt find out Sneakſ Noyſe of Miftris Tear-
ſheep should fain have ſome Mufick.

2. **Draw.** Sirra, here will be the Prince, and Maſter
Poins, anon: and they will put on two of our Jerkins,
and Aprons, and Sir John muſt not know of it. Bardolph
hath brought word.

1. **Draw.** Then here will be old This, it be an ex-
cellent ſtratagem.

2. **Draw.** I'le fee if I can find out Sneak, Exit.

### Enter Hoftſeſe, and Dol.

Hoft. Sweet-heart, me thinks now you are in an ex-
cellent good temperality: your Pulfidge bears as extra-
ordinarily, as heart would define; and your Colour (I
warrant you) is as red as any Rofe: But you have drunk
too much Canaries, and that's a marvellous searching
Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can ſay what's
this. How do you now?

Dol. Better then I was: Hen.

Hoft. Why that was well faſt: A good heart's worth
Gold, Look, here comes Sir John.

### Enter Falſtaſſe.

Fal. When Arthur first in Court--(empty the Jordan)
and was a worthy King: How now Miftris Dol.

Hoft. Sick of a Caime : yea, good-footh.

Falſt. So is her Seſt: if they be once in a Caime,
they are fick.

Dol. You muddy Raſcall, is that all the comfort you give me?

Fal. You make fat Raſcalls, Miftris Dol.

Dol. I make them? Gluttony and Difeaſes make them,
I make them not.

Fal. If the Cook make the Gluttony, you help to
make the Difeaſes (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch
of you: Grant that, my poor Vertue, grant that.

Dol. I marry, our Chains, and our Jewels,

Falſt. Your Brooches, Pearls, and Owches: For to
serve bravely, is to come halting off: you know to come
off the Breach, with his Pike bent bravely, and to Surge-
ry bravely ; to venture upon the charg'd-Chambers
bravely.

Hoft. Why is this the olde fashion : you two never
meet, but you fall to ſome diſcord : you are both (in
good troth) as Rheumatick as two drie Toſtes, you
cannot one bear with anothers Confirmities. What
the good-yere? One muſt bear, and that muſt be you:
you are the weaker Veffell, as they ſay, the empty
Veffell.

Dol. Can a weak empty Veffell bear ſuch a huge full
Hogs-head ? There's a whole Merchants Venture off
Bureaux ſuffe in him: you have not ſeen a Hulk better
Luſt in the Hold. Come, I'le be friends with thee, Jack:
Thou art going to the Warrs, and whether I shall ever
fee these again, or no, there is no body cares.

### Enter Drawer.

Draw. Sir, Ancient Piftol is below, and would ſpeak
with you.

1. **Dol.** Hang him, swaggering Raſcall, let him not
come hicher : it is the foul-mouth'd Rogue in En-
gland.

Hoft. If he swagger, let him not come here: I muſt
live amongst my Neighbours, I'le no swaggerers: I am
in good name, and fame, with the very beſt: that the
door, there comes no swaggerers here: I have not liv'd
all this while, to have swaggering now: that the door,
I pray you.

Fal. Do't thou hear, Hoftſeſe?

Hoft. Pray you pacify your ſelf (Sir John) there
comes no Swaggerers here.

Fal. Do't

385

Falstaff. Do't thou hear it ? it is mine Ancient.

Hoff. Tilly-fally (Sir John) never tell me your ancient
Swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Mafter
Tisck the Deputy, the other day: and as he said to me,
it was no longer ago then Wednesday laft: Neighbour
Quickly (faies he :) Mafter Damb, our Minifter, was by
then: Neighbour Quickly (faies he) receive those that
are Civil; for (faith he) you are in an ill Name: now
he said so, I can tell whereupon: for (faies he) you are
an honest Woman, and well thought on; therefore take
heed what Guffes you receive: Receive (faies he) no
swaggering Companions. There comes none here. You
would bleffe you to hear what he said. No, I'le no Swag-
gerers.

Falstaff. He's no Swaggerer (Hoffles :) a tame Cheater,
he: you may stroke him as gently, as a Puppy Grey-
hound: he will not swagger with a Barbary Hen: if her
feathers turn back in any flew of refistance. Call him
up (Drawer.)

Hoff. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no Cheater: but I do not love swaggering; I am the worfe when one fayes, swaggerer: Feel Maftrles, how I shake: look you, I warrant you.

Del. So you do, Hofteffe.

Hoff. Dd? yea, in very truth do I, if it were an Af-
pen Lofe: I cannot abide Swaggerers.

Enter Piftoll, and Bardolph, and his Boy.

Pift. 'Save you, Sir John.

Fal. Welcome Ancient Piftoll. Here (Piftoll) I charge you with a Cup of Sack: do you discharge upon mine Hofteffe.

Pift. I will discharge upon her (Sir John) with two
Bullets.

Hoff. She is Piftoll-proof (Sir) you shall hardly
offend her.

Hoff. Come, I'le drink no Proofs, nor no Bullets: I
will drink no more then will do me good, for no man's
pleasure, I.

Pift. Then to you (Miftris Dorothie) I will charge you.

Dol. Charge me; I corn you (curvy Companion) What? you poor, bafe, rafcally, cheating, lack-Linnen-Mate: away you mouldy Rogue, away, I am meat for your Mafter.

Pift. I know you, Miftris Dorothy.

Dol. Away you Cut-purfe Rafcall, you filthy Bungs,
away: By this Wine, I'le thrust my Knife in your moul-
dy Chaps, if you play the fawcy Cottle with me. Away
you Bottle. Ale Rafcall, you Basket-hilt ſtale Jugler, you.
Since when, I pray you, Sir ? what, with two Points on
your shoulder ? much.

Pift. I will murther your Ruffe, for this.

Hoff. No, good Captain Piftol : not here, sweet
Captain.

Dol. Captain ? thou abominable damn'd Cheater,
art thou not afham'd to be call'd Captain ? If Captains
were of my mind, they would trunchion you out, for ta-
king their Names upon you, before you have earn'd them.
You a Captain ? you flave, for what ? for tearing a poor
Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house ? He a Captain ? hang
him Rogue, he lives upon mouldy few'd-Pruines, and
dry'd Cakes. A Captain ? These Villains will make
the word Captain odious: Therefore Captains had need
look to it.

Bard. Pray thee go down, good Ancient.

Fal. Hark the hither Miftris Dol.

Pift. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I
could tear her: I'le be reveng'd on her.

Page. 'Pray thee go down.

Pift. I'le fee her damn'd firft: to Pluto's damn'd Lake,
to the Infernall Deep, where Erebus and Tortures vilde
also. Hold Hook and Line, lay 1: Down: down Doggs,
down Fates: have we not Hiren here?

Hoff. Good Captain Peefel be quiet, it is very late:
I befeech you now, aggravate your Choler.

Pift. These be good humors indeed. Shall Pack-
Horles, and hollow-pamper'd Jades of Afia, which can-
not go but thirty miles a day, compare with Caſar, and
with Canniball, and Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn
them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin-roar: shall
we fall foul for Toyes?

Hoff. By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter
words.

Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a
Brawl anon.

Pift. Die men, like Dogs; give Crowns like Pinns:
Have we not Hiren here?

Hoff. On my word (Captain) there's none such here.
What the good-yere, do you think I would deny her ?
I pray be quiet.

Pift. Then feed, and be fat (my fair Calipolis.) Come,
give me fome Sack, Si fortune ne tormente, ſperato me
contente. Fear we broad-fides? No, let the Fiend give fire:
Give me fome Sack: and Sweet-heart Iye thou there:
Come we to full Points here; and are & cetera's no-
thing?

Fal. Piftol, I would be quiet.

Pift. Sweet Knight, kifle thy Neaffa: what? we have
feen the feven ftarrs.

Dol. Thrift him down ftayers, I cannot endure fuch
a Fuftian Rafcall.

Pift. Thrift him down ftayers? know we not Gallo-
way Naggs?

Fal. Quoit him down (Bardolph) like a ſhove-groat
fhilling: nay, if he do nothing but ſpeak nothing, he shall
be nothing here.

Bard. Come get you down ftayers.

Pift. What shall we have Incition ? shall we embrew?
then Death rock me afleep, abridge my dolefull dayes :
why then let grievous, gaffty, gaping Wounds, untwine
the Sifters three: Come Atropes, I lay.

Hoff. Here's good fluff toward.

Fal. Give me my Rapier, Boy.

Dol. I prethee, Jack, I prethee do not draw.

Falſt. Get you down ftayers.

Hoff. Here's a goodly tumult: I'le forſwear keeping
houſe, before I'le be in theſe tirrits, and frights, So: Mur-
ther I warrant now. Alas, put up your naked Weapons
put up your naked Weapons.

Dol. I prethee, Jack, be quiet, the Raſcall is gone:ah,
you whorſon little valiant Villain, you.

Hoff. Are you not hurt i'th' Groyn ? me thought he
made a ſhrewd Thrift at your Belly.

Fal. Have you turn'd him out of doors ?

Bard. Yes, Sir, the Raſcall's drunk: you have hurt him
(Sir) in the shoulder.

Fal. A Raſcall to brave me.

Dol. Ah, you fweet little Rogue, you : alas, poor Ape,
how thou fweat'ft ? come, let me wipe thy Face: Come
on, you whorſon Chops: Ah Rogue, I love thee: Thou
art

art

art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon; and ten times better then the nine Worthies: ah Villain.

Falst. A rafcally Slave, I will toffle the Rogue in a Blanket.

Dol. Do, if thou dar't for thy heart: if thou doo'ft I'le canvas thee between a pair of sheets.

Enter Mufick.

Pag. The Mufick is come, Sir.

Fal. Let them play; play Sirs. Sit on my Knee, Dol. A Rafcal, bragging Slave: the Rogue fled from me like Quick-filter.

Dol. And thou follow'd it him like a Church: thou whorfon little tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when wilt thou leave fighting on dayes, and foyning on nights, and begin to patch up thine old Body for Heaven?

Enter the Prince and Poins difguis'd.

Fal. Peace (good Dol) do not speak like a Death-head: do not bid me remember mine end.

Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the Prince of?

Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he would have made a good Pantler, he would have chipp'd Bread well.

Dol. They say Poins hath a good Wit.

Fal. He a good Wit? hang him Baboon, his Wit is as thick at Tewksbury Muftard : there is no more conceit in him, then is in a Mallet.

Dol. Why doth the Prince love him so then?

Fal. Because their Leggs are both of a bigneffe : and he playes at Quoits well, and eats Conger and Fennell, and drinks of Candles ends for Flap-dragongs, and rides the wild-Mare with the Boyes, and jumps upon Joyn'd-tooles, and fwears with a good grace, and wears his Boot very smooth, like unto the Signe of the Legge; and breeds no bate with telling of difcreet fteries : and such other Gamboll faculties he hath , that fewh a weak Minde, and an able Body, for the which the Prince admits him ; for the Prince himself is such another : the weight of an hair will turn the Scales between their Haberde-pois.

Prince. Would not this Nave of a Wheel have his Ears cut off?

Poin. Let us beat him before his Whore.

Prin. Look, if the wither'd Elder hath not his Poll claw'd like a Parrot.

Poin. Is it not ſtrange, that Difire should ſo many years out-live performance?

Fal. Kiffle me Dol.

Prince. Saturnand Venus this year in Conjunction ? What fayes the Almanack to that?

Poin. And look whether the fiery Trigon, his Man, be not lifping to his Maſters old Tables, his Note-Book, his Councell-keeper?

Fal. Thou do'ft give me flatt'ring Buffes.

Dol. Nay truly, I Kiffle thee with moſt constant heart.

Fal. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I love thee better, then I love ere a ſcurvy young Boy of them all.

Fal. What Stuſſe wilt thou have a Kirtle of? I ſhall receive Money on Thursday : thou ſhalt have a Cappe to morrow. A merry Song, come : it grows late,

we will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone.

Dol. Thou wilt fer me a weeping, if thou ſay't to: prove that ever I drefle my ſelf handsome, till thy return: Well, hearken the end.

Fal. Some Sack, Francke.

Prin. Poin. Anon, anon, Sir.

Fal. Ha? a Baſſon Son of the Kings? And art not thou Poinſ, his Brother?

Prin. Why thou Globe of ſinfull Continents, what a Life doſt thou lead?

Fal. A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer.

Prin. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out by the Ears.

Hoff. Oh, the Lord preferve thy good Grace : Welcome to London. Now heaven bleſſe that sweet Face of thine: What are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whorfon mad Compound of Maſjeſt: by this light Fleſh, and corrupt Bloud, thou art welcome.

Prin. How? you fat Foel, I ſcorn you.

Poin. My Lord, he will drive you out of your revenue, and turn all to merriment, if you take not the heat.

Prin. You whorſon Candle-myne you, how vilely did you ſpeak of me even now, before this heneſt, veruous civill Gentlewoman?

Hoff. 'Bleſſing on your good heart, and ſo ſhe is by my troth.

Fal. Didſt thou hear me?

Prince. Yes: and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by Gads-hill: you knew I was at your back, and ſpoke it on purpofe, to try my patience.

Fal. No, no, no: not ſo: I did not think, thou waff within hearing.

Prin. I ſhall drive you then to conſeſſe the willſul abufe, and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abufe (Hal) on mine Honor, no abufe,

Prin., Not to diſpraſe me ? and call me Pantler, and Bread-chopper, and I know not what ?

Fal. No abufe (Hal.)

Poin. No abufe?

Fal. No abufe (Ned) in the World: heneſt Ned, none. I diſpraſ'd him before the Wicked, that the Wicked might not fall in love with him: In which doing, I have done the part of a carefull Friend, and true Subject, and thy Father is to give me thanks for it. No abufe (Hal) none (Ned) none; no Boyes none.

Prin. See now whether pure Fear, and entire Cowardife, doth not make thee wrong this veruous Gentlewoman, to cloſe with us? Is ſhe of the Wicked? Is thine Hofteffe here, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of the Wicked? Or heneſt Bardolp (whome Zeal burns in his Nofe) of the Wicked?

Poin. Anſwer, thou dead Elme, anſwer.

Fal. The Fiend hath prickt down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his ſace is Lucifers Privy-Kitchin, where he doth nothing but raſt Mault-Wormes : for the Boy there is a good Angell about him, but the Devill out-bids him too.

Prin. For the Women?

Fal. For one of them, ſhe is in Hell already; and burnes poore fouls : for the other, I owe her Mone; and whether ſhe be damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoff. No I warrant you.

Fal. No.

387

Falst. No. I think thou art not : I think thou art
quit for that. Marry, there is another Indictment up-
on thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house,
contrary to the Law, for the which I think thou wilt
howl.

Prin. All Vieduallers do so : What is a Joynt of Mut-
ton or two in a whole Lent ?

Hosf. All Vieduallers do so : What is a Joynt of Mut-
ton or two in a whole Lent ?

Prin. You, Gentlewoman.

Dol. What fayes your Grace ?

Falst. His Grace fayes that, which his flesh rebells
againſt.

Hosf. Who knocks ſo loud at the door ? Look to the
door there, Francis ?

Enter Peto.

Prin. Peto, how now ? what news ?
Peto. The King, your Father, is at Westminſter,
And there twenty weak and weariet Poſts,
Come from the North, and as I came along,
I met, and over-took a dozen Captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falſeſſe.

Prin. By Heaven (Points) I feele me much to blame,
So idly to prophane the precious time,
When Tempeſt of Commotion, like the South
Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my Sword, and Cloak :
Falſeſſe, good night.

Exit.

Falſt. Now comes in the ſweeteſt Morſell of the
night, and we must hence, and leave it unpickt. More
knocking at the door ? How now ? what's the mat-
ter ?

Bard. You muſt away to the Court, Sir, preſently.
A dozen Captains ſlay at the door for you.

Falſt. Pay the Mufitians, Sirra: farewell Hoffeſſe,
farewell Dol. You fee (my good Wenches) how men of
Merit are fought after: the undefeſver may ſleep, when
the man of Action is cal'd on. Farewell, good Wen-
ches: if I be not ſent away poſt, I will fee you again,
ere I goe.

Dol. I cannot ſpeak : if my heart be not ready to
hufſt. Well (sweet Jack) have a care of thy ſelf.

Falſt. Farewell, farewell.

Exit.

Hoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee theſe
twenty years, come Pefcod-time, but an honeſter,
and true-hearted man. Well, fare thee well.

Bard. Miftris Tear-sheet.

Hoft. What's the matter ?

Bard. Bid Miftris Tear-sheet come to my Maſter.

Hoft. Oh run, Dol, run: run, good Dol.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, with a Page.

Kin. Go, call the Earls of Surrey, and Warwick:
But er they come, bid them o're-read theſe Letters,
And well confider of them: make good ſpeed.

Exit.

How many thouand of my pooreſt Subjeſts
Are at this houre aſleep ? O ſleep, O gentle Sleep,
Natures ſoft Nurſe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And ſleep my Sences in Forgetfullneſſe ?

Why rather (Sleep) lyeſt thou in ſmoaky Cribs,
Upon uneaſe Pallads stretching thee,
And hufſt with buzzing Night, flyes to thy flamber,
Then in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great ?

Under the Canopies of coſtly ſtate,
And lull'd with ſounds of ſweeteſt Melody ?

O thou dull god, why lyeſt thou with the vilde,
In loathfum Beds, and leav't the Kingly Couch,
A watch-caſe, or a common Larum-Bell?

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy Maſt,
Sealup the Ship-boyes Eyes, and rock his Brains,
In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge,
And in the viſitation of the Windes,

Who take the Ruffian Billows by the top,
Curling their monſtrous heads, and hanging them
With deaſſing Clamors in the flip'ry Clouds,
That with the hurley, Death it ſelf awakes ?

Canſt thou (O partiall Sleep) give thy Repoſe

To the wet Sea-boy in an houre ſo rude:
And in the calmelt, and moſt ſtilleſt Night,
With all appliances, and means to boot,
Deny it to a King ? Then happy Low, Iye down,
Uneaſeſe Iyes the Head, that wears a Crown.

Enter Warwick and Surrey.

War. Many good-morrows to your Majefly.

King. It is good-morrow, Lords ?

War. 'Tis one a Clock, and paſt.

King. Why then good-morrow to you all (my Lords):

Have you read o're the Letters that I ſent you ?

War. We have (my Liege.)

King. Then you perceive the body of our Kingdome,
How foul it is: what rank Difeaſes grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it ?

War. It is but as a Body, yet diſtemper'd,
Which to the former ſtrength may be reſtor'd,
With good advice, and little Medicine ;

My Lord, Northumberland will ſoon be cool'd.

Kin. Oh Heaven, that one might read the Book of Fate,
And fee the revolution of the times

Make Mountains levell, and the Continent
(Weary of ſolid firmneſſe) melt it ſelf
Into the Sea: and other Times, to fee
The beachy Girdle of the Ocean
Too wide for Neptunes hips; how Chances mocks
And Changes fill the Cup of Alteration

With divers Liquors. 'Tis not ten years gone.
Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feaſt together; and in two years after,

Were they at Warrs. It is but eight years ſince,
This Percie was the man, neareſt my Soul :
Who like a Brother, toyl'd in my Affairs,

And laid his Love and Life under my foot :
Yea, for my ſake, eyen to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by
(You Couſin Nevil, as I may remember)

When Richard, with his Eye, brim-full of Tears :
(Then cheek'd, and rated by Northumberland )
Did ſpeak theſe words (now prov'd a Prophecie :)

Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which

My

388

My Coufin Bullinbrook ascends my Throne :
(Though then, Heaven knows, I had no such intent,
But that necessity fo bow'd the State,
That I and Greatnesse were compell'd to kifs ;)
The time shall come ( thus did he follow it )
The time will come, that foul S.n gathering head,
Shall break into Corruption: fo went on,
Fore-telling this fame Times Condition,
And the division of our Amity.

War. There is a Hiftory in all mens Lives,
Figuring the nature of the Times deces'd.
The which observec'd, a man may prophecie
With a neer aim, of the main chance of things,
As yet not come to Life, which in their Seeds
And weak beginnings ly entraTUREd:
Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Times:
And by the neceffary forme of this,
King Richard might create a peifect gueſs,
That great Northumberland, then falſe to him,
Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falſeneſs,
Which ſhould not find a ground to root upon,
Unleſs on you.

King. Are these things then Necefſities ?
Then let us meet them like Necefſities ;
And that fame word, even now cryes out on us:
They ſay the Bifhop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand ſtrong.

War. It cannot be (my Lord :)
Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Echo,
The numbers of the feared. Pleafe it your Grace
To go to bed, upon my Life (my Lord)
The Pow'rs that you already have ſent forth,
Shall bring this Prize in very eaſily.
To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain inſtance that Glendower is dead.
Your Majeſty hath been this forſt-night ill,
And these uneafond hours perſorce muſt adde
Unto your Sickness.

King. I will take your counſell:
And were these inward Warrs once out of hand,
We would (dear Lords) unto the Holy-Land.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Shallow and Silence, with Mouldy, and Shallow, Wart, Feeble, Bull-calfe.

Shal. Come-on, come-on, come-on: give me your
Hand Sir, give me you Hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by
the Rood. And how doth my good Coufin Silenc?
Sil. Good-morrow, good Coufin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my Coufin, your Bed-fellow
and your faireſt Daughter, and mine my God-Daughter
Ellen ?

Sil. Alas, a black Ouzell (Coufin Shallow.)

Shal. By yea and nay, Sir, I dare ſay my Coufin Williams
is become a good Scholler? he is at Oxford ſtill, is he
not?

Sil. Indeed, Sir, to my coſt.

Shal. He muſt then to the Inns of Court ſhortly : I
was once of Clements Inne; where (I think) they will
talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were call'd luſty Shallow then (Coufin.)

Shal. I was call'd any thing : and I would have done
any thing indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and
little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare,
and Francis Pick-bone, and Will Sguele a Cot-fal-man,
you had not four ſuch Swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of
Court again: And I may ſay to you, we know where
the Bona-Roba's were, and had the beſt of them all at
commandement. Then was Jack Falſaffe (now Sir John)
a Boy, and a Page to Thomas Mewbray, Duke of
Norfolk.

Sil. This Sir John (Coufin) that comes hither anon a-
bout Souldiers ?

Shal. The fame Sir John, the very fame: I ſaw him
break Schoggan's Head at the Court-Gate, when he was
a Crack, not thus high: and the very fame day did I fight
with one Sampson Stock-fish, a Fruiterer, behind Greys-
Inne. Oh the mad dayes that I have ſpent 1 and to ſee
how many of mine old Acquaintance are dead?

Sil. We ſhall all follow (Coufin.)

Shal. Certain : 'tis certain: very ſure, very ſure:
Death is certain to all, all ſhall dye. How a good Yoke
of Bullocks at Stamford Fair?

Sil. Truly Cofin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of your Town
living yet?

Sil. Dead, Sir.

Shal. Dead ? See, see: he drew a good Bow: and
dead ? he shot a fine ſhoot. John of Gaunt loved him
well, and betted much Money on his head. Dead ? he
would have clapt in the Clowt at Twelve-score, and car-
ryed you afore-hand Shaft at fourteen, and fourteen and
a halſe, that it would have done a mans heart good to ſee.
How a ſcore of Ewes now?

Sil. Thereafter as they be : a ſcore of good Ewes may
be worth ten pounds.

Shal. And is old Double dead?

Enter Bardolph and his Boy.

Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falſaffe's Men (as I think.)

Shal. Good-morrow, honest Gentlemen.

Bard. I beſeech you, which is Jſtice Shallow?

Shal. I am Rebert Shallow (Sir) a poor Eſquire of this
County, one of the Kings Jſtices of the Peace:
What is your good pleasure with me?

Bard. My Captain, (Sir) commends him to you: my
Captain, Sir John Falſaffe: a tall Gentleman, and a moſt
gallant Leader.

Shal. He greets me well: (Sir) I knew him a good
Back-Sword-man. How doth the good Knight ? may I
ask, how my Lady his Wife doth?

Bard. Sir, pardon : a Souldier is better accommoda-
ted, then with a Wife.

Shal. It is well faid, Sir; and it is well faid indeed, no
Better accommodated ? it is good, yea indeed is it: good
phraſes are ſurely, and every where very commendable,
Accommodated, it comes of Accommode: very good, a
good phraſe.

Bard. Pardon, Sir, I have heard the word. Phraſe
call you it? by this day, I know not the Phraſe: but
I will maintain the Word with my Sword, to be a
Souldier-like Word, and a Word of exceeding good
Command. Accommodated: that is, when a man is,
(as they ſay) accommodated: or, when a man is, being

389

whereby he thought to be accommodated, which is an
excellent thing.

Exter Falstaffe.

Shal. It is very just : Look, here comes good. Sir John. Give me your hand, give me your Worships good hand: Trust me, you look well; and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John.

Falstaffe. I am glad to see you well, good Mafter Robert Shallow: Mafter Sure-card as I think ?

Shal. No, Sir John, it is my Coufin Silence: in Commission with me.

Falstaffe. Good Mafter Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil. Your good Worship is welcome.

Falstaffe. Fie, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) have you provided me here half a dozen of sufficient men ?

Shal. Marry have we fir: Will you fit ?

Falstaffe. Let me see them, I believe you.

Shal. Where's the Roll ? Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll ? Let me see, let me see, let me see : so, so, so : yea marry, Sir, Ralph Mouldy : let them appear as I call : let them do so, let them do so : Let me see, Where is Mouldy ?

Moul. Here, if it please you.

Shal. What think you (Sir John) a good limb'd fellow young, strong, and of good friends.

Falstaffe. Is thy name Mouldy ?

Moul. Yea, if it please you.

Falstaffe. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, moft excellent. Things that are Mouldy, lack ufe : very singular good. Well said, Sir John, very well said.

Falstaffe. Prick him.

Moul. I was prickt well enough before, if you could have let me alone: my old Dame will be undone now, for one to do her Husbandry, and her Drudgery; you need not to have prickt me, there are other men fitter to go out then I.

Falstaffe. Go to: peace Mouldy, you shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent.

Moul. Spent ?

Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: Know you where you are ? For the other, Sir John: Let me see: Sir, Moul.

Falstaffe. I marry, let me have him to fit under: he's like to be a cold fouldier.

Shal. Where's Shadow ?

Shad. Here, Sir.

Falstaffe. Shadow, whole Son art thou ?

Shad. My Mothers Son, Sir.

Falstaffe. Thy Mothers Son: like enough, and thy Fathers shadow: so the Son of the Female, is the shadow of the Male: it is of course indeed, but not of the fathers' luftince.

Shal. Do you like him, Sir John ?

Falstaffe. Shadow will serve for Summer: prick him: For we have a number of shadows to fill up the Muster-Book.

Shal. Thomas Wart.

Falstaffe. Where's he ?

Wart. Here, fir.

Falstaffe. Is thy name Wart ?

Wart. Yea, fir.

Falstaffe. Thou art a very ragged Wart.

Shal. Shall I prick him down, Sir John ?

Falstaffe. It were superfluous: for his apparell is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins: prick him no more.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, you can do it, fir: you can do it: I commend you well,

Francis Feeble.

Feeble. Here, fir.

Shal. What Trade art thou Feeble ?

Feeble. A Womans Taylor, fir.

Shal. Shall I prick him, fir ?

Falstaffe. You may :

But if it had been a Mans Taylor, he would have prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemies Battle, as thou haft done in a Womans Petticoat ?

Feeble. I will do my good will, fir, you can have no more.

Falstaffe. Well faid, good Womans Taylor: Well faid Couragious Feeble: thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful Dove, or moft magnanimous Moufe. Prick the womans Taylor well, Mafter Shallow, deep, Mafter Shallow.

Feeble. I would Wart might have gone, fir.

Falstaffe. I would thou wert a Mans Taylor, that thou might't mend him, and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private fouldier, that is the Leader of so many thoufands. Let that suffice, moft Foreible Feeble.

Feeble. It shall suffice.

Falstaffe. I am bound to thee reverend Feeble. Who is the next ?

Shal. Peter Bulcalfe of the Green.

Falstaffe. Yea marry, let us see Bulcalfe.

Bul. Here, fir.

Falstaffe. Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come prick me Bulcalfe till he roar again.

Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captain.

Falstaffe. What ? do't thou roar before th'art prickt.

Bul. Oh fir, I am a difeafed man.

Falstaffe. What difeafe haft thou ?

Bul. A whorfon cold, fir; a cough, fir, which I caught with Ringing in the Kings affaires, upon his Coronation day, fir.

Falstaffe. Come, thou haft go to the Warrs in a Gown: we will have away thy Cold, and I will take fuch order that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is here all ?

Shal. There is two more called then your number: you muſt have but four here, fir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner.

Falstaffe. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot carry dinner. I am glad to fee you in good troth, Master Shallow.

Shal. O, Sir John, doe you remember ſince we lay all night in the Wind-mill in Saint George's Field ?

Falstaffe. No more of that, good Mafter Shallow: No more of that.

Shal. Ha ? it was a merry night. And is Jane Night-work alive ?

Falstaffe. She lives, Mafter Shallow.

Shal. She never could away with me.

Falstaffe. Never, never: she would always lay the could not abide Mafter Shallow.

Shal. I could anger her to the heart: she was then a Bona Roba. Doth she hold her own well ?

Falstaffe. Old, old, Mafter Shallow.

Shal. Nay, she muſt be old, she cannot chufe but be

old.

391

Bifh. 'Tis well done,
My friends and brethren (in these great Affaires)
I must acquaint you, that I have receiv'd
New-dated Letters from Northumberland:
Their cold intent, tenure, and subformance thus,
How doth he with his Perfon, with such Powers
As might hold fortance with his Quality,
The which he could not levy : whereupon
He is retir'd, to ripe his growing Fortunes,
To Scotland; and concludes in hearty Prayers,
That your Attempts may over-live the hazard,
And fearfull meeting of their Oppofe.
Mow. Thus do the hopes we have in him, touch ground,
And daſh themfelves to pieces.

Enter a Meſsenger.

Haff. Now ? what newes ?
Moff. Wefſt of this Forreſt, ſcarcely off a mile,
In goodly form, comes on the Enemy:
And by the ground they hide, I judge their number
Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thouſand.
Mow. The juſt proportion that we gave them out,
Let us ſway on, and face them in the Field.

Enter Weſtmerland.

Bifh. What well appointed Leader fronts us here ?
Mow. I think it is my Lord of Weſtmerland.
Wefl. Health, and fair greeting from our Generall,
The Prince, Lord John, and Duke of Lancelouer.
Bifh. Say on (my Lord of Weſtmerland) in peace :
What doth concern your comming ?
Wefl. Then (my Lord)

Unto your Grace do I in chief addreſſe
The ſubſtance of my Speech. If that Rebell ion
Came like it ſelf, in bafe and abjeſt Routs,
Led on by bloody Youth guarded with Rage,
And countenanc'd by Boyes, and Beggery :
I ſay if dann'd Commotion ſo appear,
In his true, native, and moſt proper ſhape,
You (Reverend Father, and theſe Noble Lords)
Had not been here, to drefſe the ugly form
Of bafe, and bloody inſurrection,
With your fair Honours. You, Lord Arch-Bifhop,
Whofe Sea is by a Civil Peace maintain'd,
Whofe Beard, the Silver Hand of Peace hath touch'd,
Whofe Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutor'd,
Whofe white Inveſtments figure Innocence,
The Dove, and very bleſſed Spirit of Peace.
Wherefore do you ſo ill transſulate your ſelf,
Out of the ſpeech of Peace, that bears ſuch grace,
Into the harſh and boyſtrous Tongue of War ?
Turning your Books to Graves, your Ink to Blood,
Your Pens to Launces, and your Tongue divine
To a low Trumper, and a Point of War ?

Bifh. Wherefore do I this ? fo the queſtion ſtands,
Briefly to this end : We are all diſeas d,
And with our ſurſecting, and wanton hours,
Have brought our ſelves into a burning Caſe,
And we must bleed for it : of which Diteate,
Our late King Richard (being inſed'ted) dy'd,
But (my moſt Noble Lord of Weſtmerland)
I take not on me here as a Phyſitian,
Nor do I, as an Enemy to Peace,
Troop in the Throngs of Military men :

But rather ſhow a while like fearfull Warre,
To dyer rank Mindes, ſicke of happineſſe ;
And purge th'obſtuctious, which begin to ſtop
Our very Veins of Life : hear me more plainly.
I have in equall ballance juſtly weigh'd,
What wrongs our Armes may do, what wrong we ſuffer,
And find our griefs heavier then our offences.
We fee which way the ſtream of Time doth run,
And are enſore'd from our moſt quiet there,
By the rough Torrent of Occafion,
And have the ſummary of all our Griefs
(When time ſhall ſerve) to ſhow in Articles ;
Which long ere this, we offer'd to the King,
And might by no Suit, gain our Audience :
When we are wrong'd and would unfold our Griefs,
We are deny'd acceſſe unto his perſon,
Even by thofe men, that moſt have done us wrong.
The dangers of the dayes but newly gone,
Whofe memory is written on the Earth
With yet appearing blood ; and the examples
Of every Minutes inſtance (prefent now)
Hath put us in theſe ill-beſeeming Armes :
Not to break Peace, or any Branch of it ,
But to eſtabliſh here a Peace indeed,
Concurring both in Name and Quality.

Wefz. When ever yet was your Appeal deni'd ?
Wherein have you been galled by the King ?
What Peer hath been ſubborn'd, to grate on you,
That you should feal this lawleſſe bloody Book
Of forg'd Rebell ion, with a Seal divine ?

Bifh. My brother General, the Common-wealth,
I make my quarrell in particular.

Wefz. There is no need of any ſuch redreſſe ;
Or if there were, it not belongs to you.

Mow. Why not to him in part, and to us all,
That feel the bruiſes of the dayes before,
And ſuffer the Condition of theſe Times
To lay a heavy and unequall Hand upon our Honours?

Wefz. O my good Lord Mowbray,
Conſtrue the Times to their Necessities,
And you ſhall ſay (indeed) it is the Time,
And not the King, that doth you injuries.
Yet for your part, it not appears to me,
Either from the King, or in the prefent Time
That you should have an inch of any ground
To build a Grief on : were you not reſtor'd
To all the Duke of Norſtol's Seignories,
Your Noble, and right well ſemembred Fathers?

Mow. What thing, in Honour, had my Father loft,
That need to be reviv'd, and breath'd in me ?
The King that lov'd him, as the State ſtood then,
Was forſe'd, perſorce compell'd to banifh him :
And then, that Henry Bullingbrook and he
Being mounted, and both rowled in their Seats,
Their neighing Courſes daring of the Spurre,
Their armed ſtaves in charge, their Beavers down,
Their eyes of fire, ſparkling through ſights of Steel,
And the loud Trumpet blowing them together :
Then, then, when there was nothing could have ſlay'd
My Father from the Breaſt of Bullingbrook :
O, when the King did throw his Warder down.
(His own Life hung upon the Staffe he threw)
Then threw he down himſelf, and all their Lives,
That by Indiſtment, and by dint of Sword,
Have ſince miſcarried under Bullingbrook.
(what.

Wefz. You ſpeak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not
The

392

The Earl of Hereford, was reputed then
In England the moſt valiant Gentleman.
Who knows, on whom Fortune would then have ſmiſ'd?
But if your Father had been Vicer there,
He ne're had born it out of Coventry.

For all the Countrey, in a generall voyce,
Cry'd hate upon him : and all their prayers, and love,
Were ſet on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bleſſ'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King.
But this is meer digrefſion from my purpofe.
Here come I from our Princely Generall,

To know your Grieſs ; to tell you from his Grace,
That he will give you Audience : and wherein
It ſhall enjoy them, every thing ſet off,
You ſhall appear, that your demands are juſt,
That might might ſo much as think you Enemies.

Mow. But he hath forſ'd us to compell this Offer,
And it proceeds from Policy, not Love.

West. Mowbray, you over-ween to take it so:
This Offer comes from Mercy, not from Fear.

For lo, within a Ken our Army lies,
Upon mine Honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our Battell is more full of Names then yours,
Our Men more perſect in the ſue of Armes,
Our Armour all as ſtrong, our Caufe the beſt;
Then Reaſon will, our hearts ſhould be as good.

Say you not then, our Offer is compell'd.
Mow. Well, by my will, we ſhall admit no Parley.

West. That argues but the ſhame of your offeſe :
A rotten Caſe abides no handing.

Hast. Hath the Prince John a full Commiffion,
In very ample virtue of his Father,
To hear, and abſolutely to determine
Of what Conditions we ſhall ſtand upon ?
West. That is intended in the Generalls Name :

I muſe you make ſo flight a Quſtion.
Bifh. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Sche-

For this contains our generall Grievances : (dule,
Each ſeverall Article herein redreſſ'd,
All members of our Caufe, both here, and hence,

That are inſinewed to this Action,
Acquitted by a true ſubſtantiall form,
And preſent execution of our wills,

To us, and to our purpofes ſinſ'd,
We come within our awſull Banks again,
And knit our Powers to the Arm of Peace.

West. This will I ſhew the Generall. Pleafe you Lords
In fight of both our Battels, we may meet

At either end in peace : which Heaven ſo ſtame,
Or to the place of difference call the Swords,
Which muſt needs decide it.

Bifh. My Lord, we will do so.

Mow. There is a thing within my Boſome tells me,
That no condition of our Peace can ſtand.

Hast. Fear you not, that, if we can make our Peace
Upon ſuch large termes, and ſo abſolute,
As our Conditions ſhall conſiſt upon,
Our Peace ſhall ſtand as firm as Rocky Mountains,

Mow. I, but our valuation ſhall be ſuch,
That every flight, and falſe-derived Caufe,
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton Reaſon,
Shall to the King, tafe of this Action :
That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs in Love,

We ſhall be winnowed with ſo rough a wind,
That even our Corn ſhall ſeem as light as Chaffe,

And good from bad find no partition.

Bifh. No, no (my Lord) note this : the King is weary
Of dainty, and ſuch picking Grievances :

For he hath found, to end one doubt by Death,
Revives two greater in the Heirs of Life.

And therefore will he wipe his Tables clean,
And keep no Tell-tale to his Memory,
That may repeat, and Hiftory his loffe,

To new remembrance. For ſell well he knows,
He cannot ſo preciſely weed this Land,

As his miſdoubts preſent occaſion :
His ſees are ſo enrooted with his friends,
That plucking to unfix an Enemy,
He doth unſaſten ſo, and ſhake a friend,
So that this Land, like an offenſive wife,
That hath enrag'd him on, to offer ſtrokes,
As he is ſtriking, holds his infant up,
And hangs reſolv'd Correſſion in the Arm,
That was upreaf't to execution.

Hast. Befides, the King hath waſted all his Rods,
On late Offenders, that he now doth lack

The very Inſtruments of Chaſtifement :
So that his power, like to a Fangleſſe Lyon
May offer, but not hold.

Bifh. 'Tis very true :

And therefore be aſſur'd (my good Lord Marſhall)
If we do now make our attonement well,
Our Peace will (like a broken Limb united)
Grow ſtronger, for the breaking.

Mow. Be it so :
Here is return'd my Lord of Westmerland.

Enter Westmerland.

We. The Prince is here at hand: plcaſeth your Lordship
To meet his Grace, juſt diſtance 'tween our Armies?

Mow. Your Grace of Tork, in heavens name then
forward.

Bifh. Before, and greet your Grace (my Lord) we come.

Enter Prince John.

John. You are well encurbred here (my cousin Mon-
Good day to you, gentle Lord Arch-Biſhop,
And ſo to you Lord Haſtings, and to all.

My Lord of Tork, it better ſhew'd with you,
When that your Flock (aſſembled by the Bell)

Encircled you, to hear with reverenc

Your Expoſition on the holy Text,

Then now to fee you here an Iron man,
Cheering a rout of Rebers with your Drumme,
Turning the Word, to Sword ; and Life, to Death.

That man that fits within a Monarchs heart,
And ripens in the Sun-shine of his favour,

Would he abufe the Countenance of the King,
Alack, what miſchieſs might he ſet abroad,

In ſhadow of ſuch greatneſſe ? With you, Lord Bifhop,
It is even ſo. Who hath not heard it ſpoken,
How deep you were within the Books of Heaven?

To us, the Speaker in his Parliament ;

To us, the imagine voyce of Heaven it ſelf :

The very Opener, and Intelligencer,

Between the Grace, the Senſities of Heaven,

And our dull workings. O, who ſhall believe,

But you miſſe the reverenc of your Place,
Employ the Countenance and Grace of Heaven,
As a falſe Favourite doth his Princes Name,
Inde edſonourable ? You have taken up,

Under

395

King. Humphrey (my Son of Gloucester) where is the Prince, your Brother?

Glo. I think he's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windsor.
King. And how accompanied?

Glo. I do not know (my Lord.)

King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?

Glo. No (my good Lord) he is in preference here.

Clar. What would my Lord, and Father?

King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence,
How chance thou art not with the Prince, thy Brother?
He loves thee, and thou do'st neglect him (Thomas.)

Thou ha'st a better place in his Affection,
Then all thy Brothers: Cherrifh it (my Boy)

And Noble Offices thou may't effect
Of Mediation (after I am dead)

Between his Greatneſs, and thy other Brethren.

Therefore omit him not: blunt not his Love,
Nor looke the good advantage of his Grace,
By feening cold, or careles of his will,

For he is gracious if he be obſerv'd:
He hath a Tear for Pitty, and a Hand

Open (as Day) for melting Charity:

Ye notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's Flint,
As humorous as Winter, and as sudden,
As Flaws congealed in the Spring of day.

His temper therefore meſt he well obſerv'd:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his cloud inclin'd to mirth:

But being moody, give him Line, and scope,
Till that his paffions (like a Whale on ground)

Conſound themſelves with working. Learn this Thomas,
And thou halt prove a ſhelter to thy friends,
A Hoop of Gold to bind thy Brothers in:

That the united Veffell of their Bloud
(Mingled with Venome: of Suggestion,
A ſtoſe, perſorce, the Age will pour it in)

Shall never leak, though it do work as ſtrong
As Aconitum, or rafh Gun-powder.

Clar. I ſhall obſerve him with all care, and love.

King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Thomas)?

Clar. He is not there to day: he dines in London.

King. And how accompanied? Canſt thou tell that?

Clar. With Pains, and other his continuall followers.

King. Moſt ſubject is the fatſet Soyl to Weeds:

And he (the Noble Image of my Youth)

Is over-spread with them: therefore my grief
Stretches it ſelf beyond the hour of death,
The bloud weeps from my heart, when I do shape
(In ſumes imaginary) th' ungnided Dayes,

And rotten Times, that you ſhall look upon,
When I am sleeping with my Anceſtors.

For when his head: ſtrong Riot hath no Curb,
When Rage and hot-bloud are his Counſellors,
When Means and Laviſh Manners meet together,

Oh, with what Wings ſhall his Aſſections flye
Towards fronting Perill, and oppos'd decay?

War. My gracious Lord, you look beyond him quite:

The Prince but ſtudies his Companions,
Like a ſtrange Tongue: wherein, to gain the Language
Tis needfull, that the moſt immodest word

Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd,
Your Highneſs knows, comes to no farther uſe,

But to be known, and hated. So, like groſs terms,
The Prince will, in the perſectneſs of time,

Caſt off his followers: and their memory
Shall as a Pattern, or a Meaſure ſtive,
By which his Grace muſt mete the lives of others,
Turning palt evillts to advantages.

Kin. 'Tis ſeldome, when the Bee doth leave her Comb
In the dead Carrion.

### Enter Westmerland.

Who's here? Westmerland?

West. Health to my Soveraign, and new happineſs
Added to that, that I am to deliver.

Prince John, your Son, doth kiffe your Graces hand:
Mowbray, the Bishop, Seroop, Haſtings, and all,

Are brought to the Correction of your Law.

There is not now a Rebels Sword unſheath'd,

But Peace puts forth her Olive every where:

The manner how this Action hath been borne,

Here (at more leisure) may your Highneſs read,

With every courſe, in his particular.

King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird,
Which ever in the baunch of Winter fings
The lifting up of day.

### Enter Harcourt.

Look, here's more news.

Har. From enemies, Heaven keep your Majefcy:

And when they stand againſt you, may they fall,
As thofe that I am come to tell you of.

The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe,

With a great Power of English, and of Scots,

Are by the ſheriff of Yorkſhire overthrown:

The manner, and true order of the fight,

This Packet (please) you contains at large,

King. And wherefore should these good news

Make me ſick?

Will fortune never come with both hands full,

But write her fair words till in fouleſt Letters?

She either gives a Stomack, and no food,

(Such are the poor, in health) or eſſe a Feaſt,

And takes away the Stomack (Such are the Rich,

That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

I should rejoyce now, at this happy news,

And now my Sight fails, and my brain is giddy.

O me, come near me, now I am much ill.

Glo. Comfort your Majefcy.

Cla. Oh, my Royall Father.

Westmer. My ſoverign Lord, chear up your ſelf, look up.

War. Be patient (Princes) you do know, these ſits

Are with his Highneſs very ordinary.

Stand from him, give him aire:

He'll ſtraight be well.

Clar. No, no, he cannot long hold out: these pangs,
Th' inſteſſant care, and labour of his mind,
Hath wrought the Mure, that should confine in it,
So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.

Glo. The people fear me: for they do obſerve

Unfather'd Heirs, and loathly Births of Nature:

The leaſons change their manners, as the year

Had found ſome months aſleep, and leap'd them over.

Clar. The River hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe between:

And the old ſolk (Times doting Chronicles)

Say it did ſo, a little time before.

That our Grand-fire Edward ſick'd, and dy'd.

WAR

War. Speak lower (Princes) for the King reovers.

Glo. This Apolptexy will (certain) be his end.

King. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other Chamber : softly 'pray.

Let there be no noyfe made (my gentle friends)

Inleſſe fome dull and favourable hand

Will whiſper Muſſick to my weaſy Spirit.

War. Call for the Muſſick in the other Room.

King. Set me the Crown upon my Pillow here.

Clar. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.

War. Lets noyſe, leſs noyſe.

Enter Prince Henry.

Prin. Hen. Who faw the Duke of Clarence ?

Cla. I am here (Brother) full of heavinels.

Prin. Hen. How now ? Rain within doors, and none
abroad ? How doth the King ?

Glo. Exceeding ill.

Prin. Hen. Heard he the good news yet ?

Tell it him.

Glo. He alter'd much, upon the hearing it.

Prin. Hen. If he be ſick with Joy,

He'l recover without Phyſick.

War. Not ſo much noyſe (my Lords)

Sweet Prince ſpeak low.

The King, your father, is diſpoſ'd to ſleep.

Clar. Let us with-draw into the other Room.

War. Wil't pleafe your Grace to go along with us?

Prin. Hen. No: I will fit, and watch here, by the King.
Why doth the Crown lye there, upon his Pillow,
Being ſo troubleſome a Bed-fellow ?

O polliſh'd Perturbation ! Golden Care !

That keepe't the Potts of flumber open wide,

To many a watchfull Night : ſleep with it now,
Yet not ſo found, and half ſo deeply (weet,

As he whoſe Brow (with homely Biggen bound)

Snores out the Watch of Night. O Majeſty !

When thou doſt pinch thy Bearer, thou doſt ſit

Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day,

That ſeaſſt with safety : by his Gates of breath,

There lyes a downley feather, which flirs not:

Did he ſupſire, that light and weightleſs down

Perſorce muſt move. My gracious Lord, my Father,

This ſleep is found indeed : this is a ſleep,

That from this Golden Rigoll hath divor'd

So many English Kings. Thy due from me,

Is Tears, and heavy Sorrows of the Bloud,

Which Nature, Love, and filial tenderneſs,

Shall (O dear father) pay thee plenteely.

My due, from thee, is this impertal! Crown,

Which (as immediate from thy place, and bloud)

Derives it ſelf to me. Lo, here it ſits,

Which heaven shall guard :

And put the worlds whole ſtrength into one gyant arme,

It ſhall not force this Linckl Honor from me.

This, from thee, will I to mine leave,

As 'tis left to me.

Exit.

Enter Warwick, Glouſeſter, Clarence.

King. Warwick, Glouſeſter, Clarence.

Clar. Doth the King call ?

War. What would your Majeſty ? how fares your
Grace ?

King. Why did you leave me here alone (my Lords)?

Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)
Who undertook to fit and watch by you.

King. The Prince of Wales ? where is he ? let me fee
him.

War. This door is open, he is gone this way.

Glo. He came not through the Chamber where we
flaid.

King. Where is the Crown ? who took it from my
Pillow ?

War. When we with-drew (my Liege) we left it here.

King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence:

Go feek him out.

Is he ſo haſtly, that he doth ſupſoſe

My ſleep, my death ? Find him (my Lord of Warwick)

Chide him hither : this part of his conjoyns

With my diſeafe, and helps to end me.

See Sonns, what things you are :

How quickly Nature falls into revolt,

When Gold becomes her object ?

For this, the fooliſh over-careſſul fathers

Have broke their ſleeps with thoughts,

Their brains with care, their bones with industry.

For this, they have ingroſſed and pyl'd up

The canker'd heaps of ſtrange-atchieved Gold :

For this, they have been thoughtfull, to inveſt

Their Sonns with Arts, and Martiall Exerciſes :

When, like the Bee, culling from every flower

The vertuous Sweets, our Thighes packt with Wax,

Our Mouths with Honey, we bring it to the Hive;

And like the Bees, are murthered for our pains,

This bitter taſſe yields his engroſſments,

To the ending father.

Enter Warwick.

Now where is he, that will not ſtay ſo long,
Till his friend ſickneſs hath determin'd me?

War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Room.

Wathing with kindly Tears his gentle Cheeks,

With ſuch a deepdemeanour, in great ſorrows,

That Tyranny, which never quaſſer but bloud,

Would (by beholding him) have waſh'd his Knife

With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.

King. But wherefore did he take away the Crown?

Enter Prince Henry.

Lo, where he comes. Come bither to me (Harry),

Depart the Chamber, leave us here alone.

Exit.

Prin. Hen. I never thought to hear you ſpeak again.

King. Thy with was father (Harry) to that thought:
I ſtay too long by thee, I weary thee.

Do't thou ſo hunger for my empty Chair,

That thou wilt needs inveſt thee with mine Honors,

Before thy hour be ripe ? O fooliſh youth !

Thou ſeek't the Greatneſs, that will over-whelm thee:

Say but a little: for my Cloud of Dignity

Is held from falling, with ſo weak a winde,

That it will quickly drop : my Day is dimme.

Thou haſt ſtoin that, which after ſome few hours

Were thine, without offence: and at my death

Thou haſt ſeal'd up my expeſtation.

Thy life did manifeſt, thou lov'd't me not,

And thou wilt have me dye affu'd of it.

Thou hid't a thouſand Daggers in thy thoughts,

Which thou haſt whetted on thy ſtony heart,

To ſtab at half an hour of my fraile life.

What ? canſt thou not forbear me half an hour ?

Then

Where is my Lord of Warwick?
Prin. My Lord of Warwick,
King. Doth any name particular, belong
Unto the Lodging, where I first did fawn'd?
War. 'Tis call'd Jerusale[m], my Noble Lord.
King. Laud be to heaven:
Even there my life must end,
It hath been prophesi'd to me many years,
I should not dye, but in Jerusale[m]:
Which (vainly) I suppos'd the Holy-Land.
But bear me to that Chamber, there I lye:
In that Jerusale[m], shall Harry dye.

Exeunt

Altus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaffe, Bardolfe.
Page, and Davy.

Shal. By Cock and Pye, you shall not away to night.
What, Davy, I fay.

Fal. You muſt excufe me, Maſter Robert Shallow.

Shal. I will not excufe you : you ſhall not be excuſed,
Excuſes ſhall not be admitted : there is no excuſe ſhall
ſerve: you ſhall not be excuſ'd.

Why Davy.

Dav. Here fir.

Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy, let me fee (Davy) let me fee :
William Cook, bid him come hither. Sir John, you ſhall
not be excuſ'd.

Davy. Marry, fir, thus : thofe Precepts cannot be
ferv'd: and again, fir, ſhall we fow the head-land with
Wheat ?

Shal. With red Wheat, Davy. But for William Cook:
are there no young Pigeons ?

Dav. Yea, Sir.

Here is now the Smith's note, for Shooing,
And Plough-Irons.

Shal. Let it be caſt, and paid : Sir John, you ſhall
not be excuſ'd.

Dav. Sir, a new link to the Bucket muſt needs be
had: And, Sir, do you mean to ſtop any of Williams
Wages, about the Sack he loft the other day, at Hinckley
Faire?

Shal. He shall anſwer it:
Some Pigeons, Davy, a couple of ſhort legg'd Henns: a
joint of Mutton, and any pretty little tine Kickſhawes,
tell William Cook.

Davy. Doth the man of War, ſtay all night, fir ?

Shal. Yes, Davy.

I will uſe him well. A friend i'th Court, is better then a
penny in purſe. Uſe his men well, Davy, for they are ar-
rant Knaves, and will back-bite.

Davy. No worſe then they are bitten, fir: For they
have marvellous foul linnen.

Shal. Well conceited, Davy: about thy buſineſſe,
Davy.

Davy. I beſeech you, fir,

To countenance William Visor of Woncot, againſt Cle-
ment Perkes of the hill.

Shal. There are many Complaints, Davy, againſt that
Visor, that Visor is an arrant Knave, on my know-
ledge.

Davy. I grant your Worſhip, that he is a knave, Sir:
But yet heaven forbid, fir, but a Knave ſhould have ſome
Countenance, at his Friends requeſt. An honest man, fir,
is able to ſpeak for himſelf, when a Knave is not, I have
ferv'd your Worſhip truly, fir, theſe eight years : and
if I cannot once or twice in a Quarter bear out a knave,
againſt an honest man, I have but a very little credit with
your Worſhip. The Knave is mine honest friend, Sir,
therefore I beſeech your Worſhip, let him be Counte-
nanc'd.

Shal. Go too,

I fay he ſhall have no wrong: Look about, Davy,
Where are you, Sir John? Come, off with your Boots,
Give me your hand, Maſter Bardolſe.

Bard. I am glad to fee your Worſhip.

Shal. I thank thee, with all my heart, kind Maſter
Bardolſe, and welcome, my tall Fellow:
Come, Sir John.

Falſt. I'll follow you, good Maſter Robert Shallow,
Bardolſe, look to our Horſes. If I were faw'd into
Quantities, I ſhould make four dozen of ſuch bearded
Hermites ſtaves, as Maſter Shallow. It is a wonderful
thing to fee the ſemblable Coherence of his mens ſpirits,
and his: They, by obſerving of him, do bear them-
ſelve like foolish Juſtices: He, by converſing with them,
is turn'd into a Juſtice-like Servingman. Their ſpirits
are ſo married in Conjunction, with the participation of
Society, that they flock together in confent, like for
many Wilde-Geefe. If I had a ſuit to Maſter Shallow,
I would humour his men, with the imputation of being
near their Maſter. If to his Men, I would curry with
Maſter Shallow, that no man could better command his
Servants. It is certain, that either wife bearing, or
ignorant Carriage is caught, as men take diſeafet, one of
another : therefore, let men take heede of their Compa-
ny. I will devife matter enough out of this Shallow, to
keep Prince Harry in continuall Laughter, the wearing
out of fix ſaſhions (which is four Tearms) or two A-
ctions, and he ſhall laugh with Intervallums. O it is
much that a Lye (with a flight oath) and a jeſt (with a
fad brow) will do with a Fellow, that never had the
Ache in his shoulders. O you ſhall fee him laugh, till his
Face be like a wet Cloak, ill laid up.

Shal. Sir John.

Fal. I come, Maſter Shallow, I come, Maſter Shallow,
Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Earle of Warwick, and the Lord
Chief Jüſtice.

War. How now, my Lord Chief Jüſtice, which
away?

Chei. Jüſt. How doth the King?

War. Exceeding well: his Cares
Are now, all ended,

Chei. Jüſt. I hope, not dead.

War. He's walk'd the way of Nature,
And to our purpofes, he lives no more.

Chei. Jüſt. I would his Majety had call'd me with him,
The ſervice, that I truly did his life,
Hath left me open to all injuries.

W.

399

War. Indeed I think the young King loves you not,
Chci. Just. I know he does not, and do aime my self
T's welcome the condition of the Time,
Which cannot look more hiddently upon me,
Then I have drawn it in my fancie.

Enter John of Lane after, Gloucester, and Clarence.

War. Here comes the heavy ille of dead Harry :
O, that the living Harry had the temper

Of him, the work of these three Gentlemen :

How in any Nobles then, should hold their places,
That must strike faile, to spirits of wild font ?

Chei. Juff. Alas, I fear, all will be over-turn'd.

Joh. Good morrow, Colin Warwick ; good morrow,

Glon. Clar. Good morrow, Colin.

Joh. We meet, like men, that had forgot to speak.

War. We do remember : But our Argument

Is all too heavy, to admit much talk.

Joh. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made us heavy.

Chei. Juff. Peace be with us, least we be heavier.

Glon. O, good my Lord, you have lost a friend indeed:
And I dare swear, you borrow not that face

Of feeming forward, it is sure your own.

Joh. Though no man be affur'd what grace to find,
You stand in coldest expectation.

I am the forger, would I were otherwise.

Cla. Well, you must now speak Sir John Falliffe fair,
Which whom's against your stream of Quality.

Chei. Juff. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor,
Led by this Imperial Conduct of my Soul,
And never shall you fee, that I will begge
A ragged and forefall'd Remission.

If Troch, and upright Innocency fail me,
Ple to the King (my Master) that is dead,
And tell him, who hath fent me after him,

War. Here comes the Prince.

Enter Prince Harry.

Ch. Juff. Good morrow and heaven have you Majety.

Prin. This new, and gorgeous Garment, Majety,
Sits not so easily on me, as you think.

Brothers, your is your Sadneſs with some Fear :
This is the English, not the Turkish Court :
Not Amurah, an Amurah ſucceeds,

But Harry, Harry : Yet be ſad (good Brothers)

For (to ſpeak truth) it very well becomes you :

Sorrow, to Royally in you appears,

That I will deeply put the fashion on,

And wear it in my heart. Why then be ſad,

But entertain no more of it (good brothers)

Then a joint burthen, laid upon us all.

For me, by Heaven (I bid you be affur'd)

Ile be your Father, and your Brother too :

Let me but bear your Love, I'll bear your Cares ;

But weep that Harry's dead, and so will I.

But Harry lives, that shall convert those Tears
By number, into hours of happinſe.

Joh. &c. We hope no other from your Majety.

Prin. You all look ſtrangely on me: and you moſt.

You are (I think) affur'd, I love you not.

Chei. Juff. I am affur'd (if I be meaſur'd rightly)

Your Majety hath no juſt caufe to hate me,

Prin. No? How might a Prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid upon me?

What? Race? Repute? and roughly fend to Prifon
Th' immediate Heir of England? Was this caufe?

May this be wafu'd in Lethe, and forgotten ?

Chei. Juff. I then did uſe the Perfon of your Father;
The image of his power lay then in me,
And in the administration of his Law,
Whiles I was buſe for the Commonwealth,
Your Highneſs pleated to forget my place,
The Majety, and power of Law, and Juitce,
The Image of the King, whom I preſented,
And ftruck me in my very Seat of Judgment:
Whereon (as an Offender to your Father)

I gave bold way to my Authority,

And did commit you. If the deed were ill.

Be you contented, wearing now the Garland,

To have a Son, fet your Decrees at naught?

To pluck down Juitice from your awful Bench?

To trip the courfe of Law, and blunt the Sword

That guards the peace, and ſafety of your Perfon ?

Nay more, to ſpurn at your meſt Royall Image,

And mock your workings, in a Second body?

Question your Royall Thoughts, make the cafe yours :

Be now the Father, and propofe a Son :

Hear your own dignity to much prophan'd,

See your moſt dreadſtall Lawes, to loosely flighted ;

Behold your ſelf, ſo by a ſon difdained :

And then imagine me, taking your part,

And in your power, ſoft filencing your Son :

After this cold confiderance, ſentence me ;

And, as you are a King, ſpeak in your State,

What I have done, that misbecame my place,

My perſon, or my Lieges Soveraignty.

Prin. You are right Juitice, and you weigh this well:

Therefore ſtill bear the Ballance, and the Sword :

And I do with your Honors may encreafe,

Till you do live, to fee a Son of Mine

Offend you, and obey you, as I did.

So ſhall I live to ſpeak my Fathers words :

Happy am I, that have a man ſo bold,

That dares do Juitice, on my proper ſon ;

And no leſſe happy, having ſuch a Son,

That would deliver up his greatneſs ſo,

Into the hands of Juitice, You did commit me :

For which I do commit into your hand,

Th'unſtained Sword that you have uſ'd to bear :

With this Remembrance ; That you uſe the fame

With the like bold, juſt, and impartial ſpirit

As you have done 'gainſt me. There is my hand,

You ſhall be as a Father to my Youth :

My voice ſhall found, as you do prompt mine ear,

And I will ſloop, and humble my intents,

To your well præſis'd, wife Directions,

And Princes all, believe me, I beſeech you :

My father is gone wilde into his Grave,

(For in his Tomb, ly my Affections.)

And with his Spirit, fadly I ſurvive,

To mock the expeſation of the World :

To ſuſtrate Propheſies, and to race out

Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down

After my feeming. The Tide of Bloud in me,

Hath proudly flow'd in Vanity, till now.

Now doth it turn, and ebbe back to the Sea,

Wherein it ſhall mingle with the ſtate of flotids,

And flow henceforth in formall Majety.

Now call we our High Court of Parliament,

And let us choofe ſuch Limbs of Noble Counſell,

That

400

That the great Body of our State may go
In equal rank with the best govern'd Nation,
That War, or Peace, or both at once may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us,
In which you (father) shall have formoft hand,
Our Coronation done, we will accite
(As I before remembred) all our State,
And heaven (configning to my good intents)
No P.ince, nor Peer, shall have jutt caufe to say,
Heaven shorten Harries happy life, one day.
Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe,
Page, Davy and Piftoll.

Shal. Nay; you shall see mine Orchard, where in an
Arbor we will eat a laft yeas Pippin of my own graf-
fing, with a dish of Carrawayes, and so forth: Come
cofin Silence, and then to bed.

Fal. You have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich.

Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers all,
Sir John: Marry, good aire. Spread Davy, spread Davy:
Well said Davy.

Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses: he is your
Servingman, and your Husbandman.

Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Var-
let, Sir John: I have drunk too much Sack at Supper,
A good Varlet. Now fit down, now fit down: Come
Coufin.

Sil. Ah firra (quoth-a) we shall do nothing but eat,
and make good cheer, and praishe heaven for the merry
year: when flesh is cheap, and Females dear, and lusty
Lads more here and there: so merrily, and ever among
so merrily.

Fal. There's a merry heart, good Mafter Silene. I'll
drink your health for that anon.

Shal. Good Mafter Bardolfe: some wine, Davy.

Dav. Sweet fir, fit: I'll be with you anon: moft sweet
fir, fit. Mafter Page, fit: good Mafter Page, fit: Proface.
What you want in meat, we'll have in drink: but you
bear the heart's all.

Shal. Be merry, Mafter Bardolfe, and my little Soul-
dier there, be merry.

Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife has all.

For women are shrews, both short and tall:
Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wag all :

And welcome merry Shroveride. Be merry, be merry.

Fal. I did not think Mafter Silene had been a man of
this Mettle.

Sil. Who I? I have been merry twice and once, ere
now.

Dav. There is a dish of Lether-coats for you.

Shal. Davy.

Dav. Your Worship: I'll be with you straight. A
cup of Wine, fir?

Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's brisk and fine, and drink
unto the Leman mine: and a merry heart lives long-a.

Fal. Well said, Mafter Silene.

Sil. If we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet of
the night.

Fal. Health, and long life to you, Mafter Silene.

Sil. Fill the Cup, and let it come. I'll pledge you were't
a mile to the bottom.

Shal. Honeft Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want it any
thing, and will not call, befhrew thy heart. Welcome my
little tyne thief, and welcome indeed too: I'le drink to
Mafter Bardolfe, and to all Cavileroes about London.

Dav. I hope to see London, once ere I dye.

Bar. If I might see you there, Davy.

Shal. You'll crack, a quart together? Ha, will you not,
Mafter Bardolfe?

Bar. Yes Sir, in a potte pot.

Shal. I thank thee: the knave will fick by thee, I
can affure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred.

Bard. And I'le fick by him, fir.

Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry.
Look, who: at door there, ho: who knocks?

Fal. Why now you have done me right.

Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't
not so.

Fal. 'Tis so.

Sil. Is't? Why then fay an old man can do somewhat.

Dav. If it pleafe your WorSHIP, there's one Piftoll
come from the Court with news.

Fal. From the Court? Let him come in.

## Enter Piftoll.

How now Piftoll?

Pift. Sir John, save you fir.

Fal. What wind blew you hither, Piftoll?

Pift. Not the ill wind which blows none to good, sweet
Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in the
Realm.

Silen. Indeed, I think he be, but Goodman Puffe of
Barfon.

Pift. Puffed puffe in thy teeth, moft recreant Coward
bafe. Sir John, I am thy Piftoll, and thy friend: helter
skeelter have I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and
lucky joyes, and golden Times, and happy News of
price.

Fal. I prethee now deliver them, like a man of this
World.

Pift. A footra for the World, and Worldlings bafe,
I speak of Africa, and Golden Joyes.

Fal. O bafe Affyrian Knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cowitha know the truth thereof.

Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and John.

Pift. Shall dunghill Currs confront the Hellicon?
And shall good news be baffe'd?

Then Piftoll lay thy head in Furies lap.

Shal. Honeft Gentleman,
I know not your breeding.

Pift. Why then lament therefore.

Shal. Give me pardon, Sir.

If fir, you come with news from the Court, I take it,
there is but two wayes, either to utter them, or to con-
ceal them. I am Sir, under the King, in some Authority.

Pift. Under which King?

Bezonian, speak, or dye.

Shal. Under King Harry.

Pift. Harry the Fourth? or Fift?

Shal. Harry the Fourth.

Pift. A footra for thine Office.
Sir John, thy tender Lamb-kin, now is King,
Harry the Fift's the man, I speak the truth.

When Piftoll lyes, do this, and fig-me, like

The bragging Spaniard.

Fal.

401

Fal. What, is the old King dead ?

Pist. As nail in door.

The things I speak are just.

Fal. Away Bardolph, Saddle my Horfe,

Master Robert Shallow, choofe what Office thou wilt
In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistoll, I will double charge thee
Wich Dignities.

Bard. O joyfull day :

I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune.

Pist. What ? I do bring good newes.

Fal. Carry Master Silence to bed : Master Shallow,
my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes
Steward. Get on thy Boots, we'll ride all night. Oh
sweet Pistoll: Away Bardolfe : Come Pistoll, utter more
to me : and withall devife something to do thy felf good.
Boot, Boot, Master Shallow, I know the young King is
fick for me, Let us take any mans Horſes : The Lawes
of England are at my commandment. Happy are they,
which have been my Friends : and woe unto my Lord
Chief Juitſe.

Pist. Let Vultures vild feize on his Lungs also :

Where is the Life that late I led, fay they ?

Why here it is, welcome thofe pleafant dayes.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Hoftſeſe Quickly, Doll Tear-sheet,
and Beadles.

Hoftſe. No, thou arrant knave : I would I might die,
that I might have thee hang'd : Thou haſt drawn my
thouder out of jynt.

Off. The Conftables have deliver'd her over to me:
and the haſt have Whipping cheer enough, I warrant
her. There hath been a man or two (lately) kill'd about
her.

Dol. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lye : Come on, I'le
tell thee what, thou damn'd Tripe-vifag'd Raſeall, if the
Child I now go with, do miſcarry, thou had't better
thou had't ftrook thy Mother, thou Paper-fac'd Vil-
lain.

Hoſſ. O that Sir John were come, he would make
this a bloody day to fome body. But I would the Fruit
of her Womb might miſcarry.

Officer. If it do, you haſt have a dozen of Cuffions
again, you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you
both go with me : for the man is dead, that you and Pi-
ſtoll eat among you.

Dol. Ile tell thee what, thou thin man in a Cenfor ; I
will have you as foundly wing'd for this, you blew-
Bott'd Rogue : you filthy famifh'd Correctioner, if you
be not wing'd, I'le forſwear half Kirtles.

Off. Come, come, you ſhe-Knight-arrant, come.

Hoſſ. O, that right should thus o'recome might, Well,
of ſufferance comes caſe.

Dol. Come you Rogue, come :

Bring me to a Juitſe.

Hoſſ. Yes, come, you ſtary'd Blood-hound,

Dol. Goodman Death, goodman Bones.

Hoſſ. Thou Anatomy, thou.

Dol. Come, you thin Thing:
Come, you Raſeall.

Offi. Very well.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter two Grooms.

1. Groom. More Ruffes, more Ruthes.

2. Groom. The Trumpets have founded twice.

1. Groo. It will be two of the Clock ere they come
from the Coronation.
Exeunt Grooms.

Enter Falſaffe, Shallow, Piſtoll, Bardolfe, and Page.

Falſaffe. Stand here by me, M. Robert Shallow, I
will make the King do you Grace. I will leer upon him,
as he comes by : and do but mark the countenance that he
will give me.

Piſtoll. Bleſſ thy Lungs, good Knight.

Falſſe. Come here Piſtoll, stand behind me, O, if I had
had time to have made new Liveries, I would have be-
flowed the thouſand pound I borrowed of you. But it is
no matter, this poor ſhew doth better : this doth inferre
the zeal I had to fee him.

Shal. It doth ſo.

Falſſ. It ſhewes my earneſtneſſe in affection.

Pist. It doth ſo.

Fal. My devotion.

Pist. It doth, it doth, it doth.

Fal. As it were to ride day and night,
And not to deliberate, not to remember,
Not to have patience to shift me.

Shal. It is moſt certain.

Fal. But to ſtand ſtained with Travell, and ſwearing
with defire to fee him, thinking of nothing else, putting
all affaires in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be
done, but to fee him.

Pist. 'Tis ſemper idem : for abſque hoc nihil eſt.
'Tis all in every part.

Shal. 'Tis ſo indeed.

Pist. My Knight, I will enflame thy Noble Liver, and
make thee rage. Thy Dol, & Hellen of thy noble thoughts
is in bafe Durance, and contagious prifon: Halld thi-
ther by moſt Mechanicall and durty hands. Rowze up
Revenge from Ebon den, with ſell Aleſto's Snake, for
Dol is in. Piſtoll ſpeaks nought but troth.

Fal. I will deliver her.

Pist. There roar'd the Sea : and Trumpet Clangour
foundes.

The Trumpets found, Enter King Henry the
Pist, Brothers, Lord Chief
Justice.

Falſſ. Save thy Grace, King Hall, my Royall Hall.

Pist. The heavens thee guard, and keep, moſt royall
Imp of Fame.

Fal. 'Save thee my ſweet Boy.

King. My Lord Chief Juitſe, ſpeak to that vain
man.

Ch. Juitſe. Have you your wits ?

Know you what 'tis you ſpeak?

Falſſ. My King, my Jove ; I ſpeak to thee, my heart.

King. I know thee not, old man : Fall to thy Prayers :
How ill white hairs become a Fool, and Jeſter ?

L1

I have

I have long dream'd of such a kind of man,
So surfeft I weill'd, so old, and so prophane:
But being awake, I do despife my dream.
Make leels thy body, (hence) and more thy Grace,
Leave gormanding; Know the Grave doth gape
For thee, thrice wider then for other men.
Reply not to me, with a Fool-born Jeft,
Prefume not, that I am the thing I was,
For heaven doth know (so shall the world perceive)
That I have turn'd away my former Self,
So will I thofe that kept me Company.
When thou doft hear I am, as I have bin,
Approach me, and thou fhalt be as thou was't
The Tutor and the Feeder of my Riots :
Till then, I banifh thee, on pain of death,
As I have done the reft of my Mifleaders,
Not to come near our Perfon, by ten mile.
For competence of life, I will allow you,
That lack of means enforce you not to evil:
And as we have you do redeem your Selves,
We will according to your ſtrength, and qualities,
Give you advancement. Be it your charge (my Lord)
To fee perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on.

Exit King.

Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thoufand pound.

Shal. I marry, Sir John, which I befeech you to let me have home with me.

Fal. That can hardly be M. Shallow, do not you grieve at this : I shall be tent for in private to him: Look you, he must seem thus to the world: fear not your advance-ment: I will be the man yet, that shall make you great,

Shal. I cannot well perceive how, unleffes you should give me your Doublet, and fluffe me out with ftraw. I be leech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thoufand.

Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard was but a colour.

Shal. A colour I fear, that you will dye in, Sir John.

Fal. Fear no colours, go with me to dinner:

Come Lieutenant Pifhol, come Bardolfe,
I shall be ſent for foon at night.

Ch. Juff. Go carry Sir John Falstaffe to the Fleet,
Take all his company along with him.

Fal. My Lord, my Lord.

Ch. Juff. I cannot now ſpeak, I will hear you foon.
Take them away.

Pisſ. Si fortuna me tormento, ſpera me contento.

Exit Manet Lancaster, and Chief Juffie.

John. I like this fair proceeding of the Kings,
He hath intent his wonted Followers

Shall be very well provided for :

But are banifht, till their converfations
Appear more wife, and modeſt in the world.

Ch. Juff. And ſo they are.

John. The King hath call'd his Parliament,
My Lord.

Ch. Juff. He hath,

John. I will lay odds, that ere this year expire,
We bear our Civil Swords, and Native fire

As far as France. I heard a Bird to ſing,

Whose Muſick (to my thinking) pleas'd the King.

Come, will you hence ?

Exeunt.

FINIS.

EPILOGUE

Irft, my Fear; then, my Curteſie; laſt, my Speech. My Fear, is your
Displeaſure, my Curteſie, my Duty; and my Speech, to beg
your Pardons. If you look for a good Speech now, you undoe
me: for what I have to ſay, is of mine own making and what(in-
deed) I ſhould ſay, will (I doubt) prove mine own marring.
But to the Purpofe, and ſo to the Venture. Be it known to you
(as it is very well) I was lately here in the end of a displeaſing Play, to pray
your Patience for it, and to promife you a better: I did mean(indeed) to pay you
with this, which if (like an ill Venture) it come unluckily home, I break; and
you, my gentle Creditors ſofe: Here I promiſt you I would be, and here I
commit my Body to your Mercies: Bate me ſome, and I will pay you ſome,
and (as moſt Debtors do) promife you infinitely.

If my Tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to
ufe my Legs ? And yet that were but light payment, to Dance out of your
debt: But a good Conſcience will make any poſſible ſatisfaction, and ſo will I.
All the Gentlewomen here have forgotten me; if the Gentlewomen will not,
then the Gentlemen do not agree with the Gentlewomen, which was never
ſeen before in ſuch an ſſembly.

One word more, I beſeech you: if you be not too much cloid with Fat meat,
our humble Authour will continue the ſtory (with Sir John in it) and make you
merry with fair Katherin[e] of France: where (for any thing I know) Falſtaffe
die of a Sweat, unleſſe already he be kill'd with your hard Opinions: For Old-
castle died a Martyr, and this is not the man. My Tongue is weary, when my
Legs are too, I will bid you good night; and ſo kneel down before you: (But
indeed) to pray for the Queen.

L12

THE

40+

THE
ACTORS
NAMES.

RUMOUR the Prefenter,
King Henry the Fourth,
Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henry the Fifth,
Prince John of Lancaster.
Humphrey of Glacefter.
Thomas of Clarence.
Sons to Henry the Fourth, and Brethren to Henry the Fifth.

Northumberland.

The Arch-Bishop of York.

Mowbray.

Haftings.

Lord Bardolfse.

Travers,

Morton.

Colevice.

Warwick.

Westmerland.

Surrey.

Gower.

Harecourt.

Lord Chief Justice.

Shallow § Both Countrey.

Silence. & Justices.

Davy, Servant to Shallow.

Phang, and Snare, 2 Serjeants,

Mouldy.

Shadow.

Wart.

Feeble.

Bullcalfe.

Opposites against King Henry the Fourth.

Poyns.

Falstaffe.

Bardolph.

Pitfall.

Peto.

Page.

Irregular Humorists.

Drawers.

Beadles.

Grooms

Northumberlands Wife.

Percies Widow.

Hoffeffe Quickly

Doll Tear-sheet.

Epilogue.

The

The Life of King Henry the Fifth.

406

Turn him to any Caufe of Pollicy,
The Gordian Knot of it he will unloofe,
Familiar as his Garter : that when he speaks,
The Aire, a Charter'd Libertine is fitill,
And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares,
To feal his sweet and honied Sentences :
So that the Art and Praetick part of Life,
Must be the Miftreſſe to his Theorique.
Which is a wonder how his Grace ſhould glean it,
Since his addiction was to Courſes vain,
His companies unletter'd, rude, and ſhallow,
His Houres fill'd up with Riors, Banquets, Sports ;
And never noted in him any ſtudy,
Any retirement, any ſequeſtration,
From open Haunts and Popularity.

B. Ely. The Strawberry grows underneath the Nettle,
And wholeſome Berries thrive and ripen beſt,
Neighbour'd by fruit of baſer quality :
And ſo the Prince obſcur'd his Contemplation
Under the vail of wildneſſe, which (no doubt)
Grew like the Summer Graſſe, faſteth by Night,
Unſeen, yet creſſive in his faculty.

B. Cant. It muſt be ſo; for Miracles are ceas'd :
And therefore we muſt needs admit the means,
How things are perfected.

B. Ely. But my good Lord :
How now for mitigation of this Bill,
Urg'd by the Commons ? doth his Majety
Incline to it, or no ?

B. Cant. He seems indifferent :
Or rather ſwaying more upon our part,
Then cheriſhing th'exhibitors againſt us
For I have made an offer to his Majety,
Upon our Spirituall Convocation,
And in regard of Caufes now in hand,
Which I have open'd to his grace at large,
As touching France, to give a greater Summe,
Then ever at one time the Clergy yet
Did to his Predeceſſors part well.
B. Ely. How did this offer ſee receiv'd, my Lord ?
B. Cant. With good acceptance of his Majety :
Save that there was not time enough to hear,
As I receiv'd his Grace would ſain have done,
The ſeveralls and unhidden paffages
Of his true Titleſ to ſome certain Dukedomes,
And generally, to the Crown and ſeat of France,
Deriv'd from Edward, his great Grandfather.

B. Ely. What was th'mpediment that broke this off ?
B. Cant. The French Ambaſſador upon that inflant
Crav'd audience; and the hour I think is come,
To give him hearing : Is it four a Clock?

B. Ely. It is.
B. Cant. Then go we in, to know his Embaſſe :
Which I could with a ready gueſſe declare,
Before the Frenchman ſpeaks a word of it.

B. Ely. I'le wait upon you, and I long to hear it.
Exeunt.

Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick, Westmerland, and Exeter.

King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury ?
Exeter. Not here in prefence,
King. Send for him, good Uncle.
Westin. Shall we call in th'Ambaſſadour, my Liege ?
King. Not yet, my Couſin : we would be reſolv'd,
Before we hear him, of ſome things of weight,
That taske our thoughts, concerning us and France.

Enter two Bishops.
B. Cant. God and his Angels guard your fac'd
And make you long become it.
King. Sure we thank you,
My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,
And juſtly and religiously unfold,
Why the Law Salike, that they have in France,
Or ſhould, or ſhould not bar us in our claim :
And God forbid, my dear and faithfull Lord,
That you ſhould fashion, wreft, or bow your reading,
Or nicely charge your understanding Soul,
With opening Titleſs miſcreate, whose right
Sutes not in native colours with the truth :
For God doth know, how many now in health,
Shall drop their blood, in approbation
Of what your reverencethall incite us to.
Therefore take heed how you impawn our Perſon,
How you awake our ſleeping Sword of War :
We charge you in the name of God take heed :
For never two ſuch Kingdomes did contend,
Without much fall of blood, whose guiltleſſe drops
Are every one, a woe, a fore complaint,
'Gainſt him, whose wrong gives edge unto the Swords,
That makes ſuch waſt in brief mortality.
Under this Conjuration, ſpeak my Lord :
For we will hear, note, and believe in heart,
That what you ſpeak is in your Conſcience waſt,
As pure as ſin with Baptiſm.

B. Can. Then hear me gracious Soveraign,& you Peas,
That owe your ſelves, your lives, and ſervices,
To this Imperiall Throne. There is no bar
To make againſt your Highneſſe claim to France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond,
Interram Salicam Mulieres ne ſuccedant,
No Woman ſhall ſucced in Salike Land :
Which Salike Land, the French unjuſtly gloze
To be the Realm of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this Law and female Bar.
Yet their own Authours faithfully affirm,
That the Land Salike is in Germany,
Between the Floods of Sala and of Elve :
VWhere Charles the Great having ſubdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind and fettled certain French :
VWho holding in diſdain the German women,
For ſome diſhoneſt manners of their life,
Eſtabliſh then this Law ; to wit, No Female
Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land :
VVhich Salike (as I faid) 'twixt Elve and Sala,
Is at this day in Germany call'd Meifen.
Then doth it well appear, the Salike Law
VWas not deviſed for the Realm of France :
Nor did the French poſſeſs the Salike Land,
Untill four hundred one and twenty years
After defuſuſion of King Pharamond,
Idlely ſuppos'd the founder of this Law,
VWho died within the year of our Redemption,
Four hundred twenty ſix: and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did ſeat the French
Beyond the River Sala, in the year.
Eight hundred ſive. Befides, their VVriters ſay,
King Pepin, which depoſed Childerike,
Aid as Heir generall, being deſcended
Of Blſtield, which was Daughter to King Clothair,
Make Claim and Title to the Crown of France,
Hugh Capet alſo, who uſuſt the Crown

407

Of Charles the Duke of Lorain, sole Heir male
Of the true Line and Stock of Charles the great:
To find his Title with some fews of truth,
Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naughty,
Convey'd himself as th'Heir to th' Lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemain, who was the Son
To Lewes the Emperor, and Lewes the Son
Of Charles the Great: also King Lewes the Tenth,
Who was sole Heir to the Ulfurper Capet,
Could not keep quiet in his conscience,
Wearing the Crown of France, till satisfied,
That fair Queen Isabel, his Grandmother,
Was Lineall of the Lady Ermengare;
Daughter to Charles the forefaid Duke of Lorain:
By the which Marriage, the Line of Charles the Great
Was re-united to the Crown of France.
So, that as clear as is the Summers Sun,
King Pepins Title, and Hugh Capets Claim,
King Lewes his satisfaction, all appear
To hold in Right and Title of the Female:
So do the Kings of France upon this day.
Howbeit, they would hold up this Salique Law,
To bar your Highneffe claiming from the Female;
And rather chuse to hide them in a Net,
Then amply to imbar their crooked Titles,
Ulfrupt from you and your Progenitors.

King May I with right and conscience make this claim:
Bifh. Cant. The fin upon my head, dread Soveraign:

For in the Book of Numbers, it is writ,

When the man dies, let the Inheritance

Devoid unto the Daughter. Gracious Lord,

Stand for your own, unwind your bloudy Flag:

Look back into your mighty Anceftors:

Go my dread Lord, to your great Grandfires Tombe,

From whom you claim ; invoke his Warlike Spirit,

And your great Uncle, Edward the Black Prince,

Who on the French ground play'd a Tragedy,

Making defeat on the full Power of France :

Whiles his moſt mighty Father on a Hill

Stood smiling, to behold his Lyons Whelp

Forrage in cloud of French Nobility.

O Noble English, that could entertain

With half their Forces, the full pride of France,

And let another half stand laughing by,

And out of work, and cold for action.

Bifh. Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
And with your puifant Arme renew their Feats;
You are their Heir, you fit upon their Throre :
The Bloud and Courage that renowned them,
Runs in your Veins: and my thrice-puifant Liege
Is in the very May-Morn of his Youth,
Ripe for Exploits and mighty Enterprifes.

Exe. Your brother Kings and Monarchs of the Earth
Do all expect, that you should rouze your ſelf,

As did the former Lions of your Bloud. ( might

Weſt. They know your Grace hath caufe, & means, and

So hath your Highneſſe, never King of England

Had Nobles richer, and more loyall Subjects,

Whoſe hearts have left their bodies here in England,

And lie pavilion'd in the field of France.

Bifh. Cant. O let their bodies follow my dear Liege
With Bloud, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right:
In aid whereof, we of the Spirituality

Will raife your Highneſſs such a mighty Sum,

As never did the Clergy at one time

Bring in to any of your Anceftors.

King. We muſt not onely arme t'invade the French,
But lay down our proportions, to defend
Against the Scot, who will make road upon us,
With all advantages,

Bifh. Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soveraign,
Shall be a Wall ſufficient to defend

Our in-land from the pilfering Borderers.

King. We do not mean the courſing ſnatchers only,
But fear the main intendment of the Scot,
Who hath been ſtill a giddy neighbour to us :
For you ſhall read, that my great Grandfather
Never went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot, on his unfurniſht Kingdome,
Came pouring like a Tide into a breach,
With ample and brim fulneſſe of his force,
Galling the gleaned Land with hot affayes,
Girding with grievous ſiege, Chaftes and Towns:
That England being empty of defence,
Hath ſhook and trembled at th'ill neighbourhood.

B. Can. She hath bin then more fear'd then harm'd, my
For hear her but examp'd by her ſelf,
(Liege When all her Chevalry hath been in France,
And ſhe a mourning Widdow of her Nobles,
She hath her ſelf not onely well defended,
But taken and impounded as a Stray,
The King of Scots: whom ſhe did ſend to France,
To fill King Edwards fame with prifoner Kings,
And make their Chronicle as rich with praeſe,
As is the Owſe and bottome of the Sea
With ſunken Wrack, and ſum-leſſe Treafuries.

Bifh. Ely. But there's a faying very old and true,
If that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin.

For once the Eagle (England) being in prey,

To her unguarded Neſt, the Weazel (Scot)

Comes ſneaking, and ſo ſucks her Princely Eggs,

Playing the Mouſe in abſence of the Cat,

To came and havock more then he can eat.

Exet. It follows then, the Cat muſt ſtay at home,
Yet that is but a cruſh'd neceſſity ;
Since we have locks to safeguard neceſſaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.
While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad,
Th'adviſed head defends it ſelf at home :
For government, though high, and low, and lower,
Put into parts, doth keep in one contem,
Congreeing in a full and naturall cloſe,
Like Mufick.

Cant. Therefore doth heaven divide

The ſtate of man in divers ſunctions,

Setting endeavour in continuall motion :

To which is fixed as an aime or butt,

Obedience: for ſo work the Hony Bees,

Creatures that by a rule in Nature teach

The Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome.

They have a King, and Officers of forts,

Where ſome like Magiſtrates correct at home :

Others, like Merchants venture Trade abroad :

Others, like Souldiers armed in their ſtings,

Make boot upon the Summers Velvet budds :

Which pillage, they with merry martch bring home

To the Tent-Royall of their Emperor:

Who buſed in his Maſeffies ſurveys,

The ſinging Mafon building roofs of Gold,

The civill Citizens kneading up the hony ;

The poor Mechannick Porters, crowding in

Their heavy burthens at his narrow gate:

The

408

The fad-ey'd Juitce with his furly hum,
Delivering o're to Executors pale
The lazy yawning Drone: I this infer,
That many things having full reference
To one consent,may work contrariouly,
As many Arrows loofed feverall wayes
Come to one mark : as many wayes meet in one town,
As many fresh streams meet in one salt fea ;
As many Lines clofe in the Dials center :
So may a thousand actions once a foot,
And in one purpofe, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my Liege,
Divide your happy England into four,
Whereof, take you one quarter into France,
And you withall shall make all Gallia flake,
If we with thrice ſuch powers left at home,
Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,
Let us be worried, and our Nation lofe
The name of hardineſs and policie.

**King.** Call in the Meſtengers ſent from the Dolphin.
Now are we all reſolv'd, and by Gods help
And yours, the noble ſinews of our power ;
France being ours, we'll bend it to our Awe,
Or break it all to pieces. Or there we'll ſit,
(Ruling in large and ample Emperie,
Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes)
Or lay theſe bones in an unworthy Urne,
Tombleſſe, with no remembrance over them :
Either our Hiftory ſhall with full mouth
Speak freely of our Aſts, or eſſe our grave
Like Turkifh mute, ſhall have a tongueleſſe mouth,
Not worſcript with a waxen Epitaph.

*Enter Ambassadors of France.*

Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our fair Cofin Dolphin : for we hear,
Your greeting is from him, not from the King.

**Amb.** May't pleafe your Majeſt to give us leave
Freely to render what we have in charge:
Or ſhall we ſparingly ſhew you far off
The Dolphins meaning, and our Embaſſe.

**King.** We are no Tyrant, but a Chriſtian King,
Unto whose grace our paffion is as ſubjeſt
As is our wretches fettred in our prifons:
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainneſſe,
Tell us the Dolphins minde,

**Amb.** Thus then in few:
Your Highneſſe lately ſending into France,
Did claim ſome certain Dukedomes, in the right
Of your great Predeceſſor, King Edward the third.
In anſwer of which claim, the Prince our Maſter
Sayes that you favour too much of your youth,
And bids you be advis'd: There's nought in France,
That can be with a nimble Galliard won :
You cannot revell into Dukdomes there.
He therefore ſends you meeter for your ſpirit
This Tun of Treafure; and in lieu of this,
Deſires you let the Dukedomes that you claime
Hear no more of you. This the Dolphin ſpeaks,

**King.** What Treſure Unkle?

**Exe.** Tennis balls, my Liege.

**King.** We are glad the Dolphin is ſo pleafant with us,
His Prefent, and your pains we thank you for :
When we have match'd our Rackets to theſe balls,
We will in France (by Gods grace) play a ſet,
Shall ſtrike his fathers Crown into the hazard.
Tell him, he hath made a match with ſuch a Wrangler,

That all the Courts of France will be diſturb'd
With Chaces. And we underſand him well,
How he comes o're us with our wilder dayes,
Not meaſuring what uſe we made of them,
We never valu'd this poor ſeat of England,
And therefore living hence, did give our ſelf
To barbarous licenſe: and 'tis common,
That men are merricſt, when they are from home.
But tell the Dolphin, I will keep my State,
Be like a King, and ſhew my ſayle of Greatneſſe,
When I do rowſe me in my Throre of France,
For that I have laid by my Majeſt,
And plodded like a man for working dayes :
But I will rife there with ſo full a glory,
That I will dazle all the eyes of France,
Yea ſtrike the Dolphin blind to look on us.
And tell the pafleant Prince, this Mock of his
Hath turn'd his balls to Gun-flones, and his ſoul
Shall ſtand ſore charged, for the waſtefull vengeance
That ſhall flye with them: for many a thousand widows
Shall this his Mock, dem out of their dear husbands;
Mock mothers from their ſonns, mock Caſſles down:
And ſome are it ungotten and unborn,
That ſhall have cauſe to curſe the Dolphins ſcorn,
But this lyes all within the will of God,
To whom I do appeal, and in whose name
Tell you the Dolphin, I am coming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightfull hand in a well-hallow'd cauſe.
So get you hence in peace: and tell the Dolphin,
His Jeſt will favour but of ſhallow wit,
When thouſands weep more then did laugh at it,
Convey them with faſe conduct. Fare ye well,

*Exeunt Ambassadors.*

**Exe.** This was a merry Meffage.

**King.** We hope to make the Sender bluſh at it:
Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy hour,
That may give furtherance to our Expedition;
For we have now no thought in us but France,
Save that of God, that run before our buſineſſe.
Therefore let our proportions for theſe Warres
Be ſoon collected, and all things thought upon,
That may with reaſonable ſwiftneſſe adde
More feathers to our Wings: for God before,
We'll chide this Dolphin at his father's door.
Therefore let every man now task his thought,
That this fair Action may on foot be brought.

*Exeunt*

*Flourish. Enter Chorus.*

Now all the Youth of England are on fire,
And ſilken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes :
Now thrive the Armourers, and Honour's thought
Reigns ſolely in the breaſt of every man.
They ſell the Paſture now, to buy the Horſe,
Following the Mirror of all Chriſtian Kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries,
For now ſits expectation in the Aire,
And hides a Swoſd, from Hilts unto the Point,
With Crowns imperially, Crowns and Coroners,
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.
The French advis'd by good intelligence
Of this moſt dreadfull preparation,
Shake in their fear, and with pale Polliſy
Seek to divert the English purpofes.
O England: Modell to thy inward Greatneſſ,
Like little Body with a mighty Heart:

What?

409

What might it thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kind and naturall :
But fee, thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A neft of hollow bofomes, which he fills

With treacherous Crowns, and three corrupted men :
One Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the fecond
Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third:

Sir Thomas Gray Knight of Northumberland,
Have for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)

Confirm'd Confpiracy with fearfull France,
And by their hands, this grace of Kings muft die,
If Hell and Treaſon hold their promifes,

Ere he take ſhip for France ; and in Southampton,
Linger your patience on, and we'll digest
Th'abufe of diſtance ; force a play :

The ſum is paid, the Traitors are agreed,

The King is ſet for London, and the Scene

is now tranſported (Gentles) to Southampton,
There is the play-houſe now, there muſt you fit,
And thence to France (he ſhall we conveiy you ſaſe)

And bring you back : Charming the narrow feas

To give you gentle Paffe: for if we may,
We'll not offend one ſtomack with our Play.

But till the King come forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton we do ſhift our Scene.

Exit.

Enter Corporall Nim, and Lieutenant Bardolſe.

Bar. Well met Corporall Nim.

Nim. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolſe.

Bar. What, are Ancient Piftoll and you friends yet?

Nim. For my part, I care not: I ſay little: but when
time ſhall ſerve, there ſhall be ſmiles, but that ſhall be
as it may. I dare not ſight, but I will wink and hold out
mine iron; it is but a ſimple one, but what though? It will
toſte Cheefe, and it will endure cold, as another mans
ſword will: and there's an end.

Bar. I will beſtow a breakfast to make you friends,
and we'll be all three ſworn brothers to France: Let
be ſo, good Corporall Nim.

Nim. Faith, I will live ſo long as I may, that's the cer-
tain of it: and when I cannot live any longer, I will do
as I may: That is my reſt: That is the rendezvous of it.

Bar. It is certain, Corporall, that he is married to
Nell Quickly, and certainly ſhe did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to her.

Nim. I cannot tell, Things muſt be as they may: men
may ſleep, and they may have their throats about them
at that time, and ſome ſay, knives have edges: It muſt be
as it may, though patience be a tyred name, yet ſhe will
plod, there muſt be Conſulations, well, I cannot tell.

Enter Piftoll, and Quickly.

Bar. Here comes Ancient Piftoll and his wife: good
Corporall be patient here. How now, mine Hofte Piftoll?
Pift. Bafe Tyke, call it thou me Hofte, now by this
hand I ſwear I ſcorne the terme: nor ſhall my Nell keep
Lodgers.

Hoft. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge
and board a dozen or fourteen Gentlewomen, that live
honeyſtly by the prick of their Needles, but it will be
thought we keep a Bawdy-houſe ſtraight. O welliday
Lady, if he be not hewn now, we ſhall fee willſull adulte-
ry and murther committed.

Bar. Good Lieutenant, Good Corporall, offer nothing
here.

Nim. Pith

Pift. Pith for thee, Iland dog: thou prickeard cur
of Iland.

Hoft. Good Corporall Nim, ſhew thy valor, and put
up thy ſword.

Nim. Will you ſhog off? I would have you ſolus.

Pift. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile; The ſolus
in thy moſt marvellous ſace, the ſolus in thy teeth, and
in thy throat, and in thy hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw
pevdy; and which is worſe, within thy naſty mouth. I
do retort the ſolus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pif
ſol's cock is up, and flashing fire will follow.

Nim. I am not Barbafon, you cannot conjure me. I
have an humor to knock you indifferently well: If you
grow foul with me Piftoll, I will ſcut your ſoult with my
Rapier, as I may, in fair termes. If you would walk
off, I would prick your guts a little in good termes, as
I may, and that's the humor of it.

Pift. O Braggard vile, and damned ſurious wights,
The Grave doth gape, and dozing death is near,
Therefore exhale.

Bar. Hear me, hear me what I ſay: He that strikes
the firſt ſtroak, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a fol-
dier.

Pift. An oath of mickle might, and fury ſhall abate
Give me thy firſt, thy fore-foot to me give: Thy ſpirits
are moſt tall.

Nim. I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair
termes, that is the humor of it.

Piftoll. Couple a gorge that is the word. I defie thee a-
gain. O hound of Creet, think it thou my ſpouſe to get?
No, to the Spittle go, and from the Powdring tub of in-
famy, fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Crefrids kindle, Doll
Tear-sheer, ſhe by name, and her eſpouſe. I have, and I
will hold the Quondam Quickly for the onely ſhe: and
Paucu, there's enough to go to.

Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine Hoaſt Piftoll, you muſt come to my Ma-
ſter, and your Hofteſſe: He is very ſick, and would to bed.
Good Bardolſe, put thy face between the ſheers, and do
the Office of a Warming-man: Faith, he's very ill.

Bard. Away you Rogue.

Hoft. By my troth he'l yield the Crow a pudding one
of theſe dayes: the King has killd his heart. Good Hui-
band come prefently.

Bar. Come ſhall I make you two friends. We mu-
t to France together: why the devil ſhould we keep knives
to cut one anothers throats?

Pift. Let flouds o'reſwell and friends for food howle
on.

Nim. You'll pay me the eight ſhillings I won of you
at Betting?

Pift. Bafe is the ſlave that payes.

Nim. That now I will have: that's the humour of it.

Pift. As manhood ſhall compound: pufh home. Draw.

Bard. By this ſword, he that makes the firſt thrult,
Ile kill him: by this ſword, I will.

P. Sword is an Oath, and Oaths muſt have their course.

Bar. Corporal Nim, &c thou wilt be friends, be friends,
and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too:
prethee put up.

Pift. A Noble ſhalt thou have, and prefent pay, and
Liquor likewife will I give to thee, and friendiſhip
ſhall coubline, and brotherhood. I'll live by Nim, and
Nim ſhall live by me, is not this juſt? For I ſhall Su-
ler be unto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Give me
thy hand.

Nim.

410

Nim. I shall have my Noble?

Pist. In cash, moft juftly paid.

Nim. Wel, then that's the humor of't.

Enter Hoteffe.

Hosf. As ever you came of women, come in quickly
to Sir John : A poor heart, he is so fhak'd of a burning
quotidian Tertian, that it is moft lamentable to behold.
Sweet men, come to him.

Nim. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight,
that's the even of it.

Pist. Nim, thou haſt spoke the right, his heart is fra-
sted and corroborate.

Nim. The King is a good King, but it muſt be as it
may: he paffes ſome humors, and carrers.

Pist. Let us condole the Knight, for (Lambkins) we
will live.

Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmerland.

Bed. Fore God, his Grace is bold to cruſt thefe traitors.

Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by.

West. How ſmooth and even they do bear themselves,
As if all allegiance in their boſomes fate
Crowned with faith, and conſtant loyalty.

Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception, which they dream not of.

Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath lull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours,
That he should for a forraign purſe, ſo fell
His Soveraigns life to death and treachery.

Sound Trumpets.

Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, and Gray.

King. Now fits the windc fair, and we will aboard.
My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham,
And you my gentle Knight, give me your thoughts:
Think you not that the powers we bear with us
Will cut their paſſage through the force of France?
Doing the execution, and the act.

For which we have in head affembled them.

Scro. No doubt, my Liege, if each man do his beſt.

King. I doubt not that, ſince we are well perſwaded,
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair conſent with ours:
Nor leave not one behind, that doth not with
Success and Conqueſt to attend on us.

Cam. Never was a Monarch better fear'd and lov'd,
Then is your Majefty ; there's not I think a ſubject
That fits in heart-grief and uneaſineſs
Under the sweet ſhade of your government.

Kni. True: thofe that were your Fathers enemies,
Have fleep'd their gauls in honey, and do obſerve you
With hearts create of dury, and of zeal,

King. We therefore have great cauſe of thankfulness,
And ſhall forget the office of our hand
Sooner then quittance of defert and merit,
According to the weight and worthineſs.

Scro. So ſervice shall with ſteeled ſinews toyl,
And labour ſhall refresh it ſelf with hope
To do your Grace inceſſant ſervices.

King. We Judge no leſſe. Unkle of Exeter,
In large the man committed yefterday,
That rail'd againſt our perſon : We confider
It was exceſſe of Wine that fet him on,
And on his more advice, We pardon him.

Scro. That's merſcy, but too much ſecurity :
Let him be puniſh'd Soveraign, leaſt example
Breed (by his ſufferance) more of ſuch a kind.

King. O let us yet be mercifull.

Cam. So may your Highneſs, and yet puniſh too,
Gray. Sir, you ſhew great merſcy if you give him life,
After the taſe of much correction.

King. Alas, your too much love and care of me,
Are heavy Orieſons 'gainſt this poor wretched:
If little faults proceeding on diſtemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how ſhall we fetch our eye
When capitall crimes, chew'd, fwallov'd, and diſſeſted,
Appears before us? We'll yet in large that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Gray, in their dear care
And tender preſervation of our perſon

Would have him puniſh'd. And now to our French cauſes,
Who are the late Commiſſioneſs?

Cam. I one my Lord,

Your Highneſs bad me ask for it to day.

Scro. So did you me, my Liege.

Gra. And I, my Royall Soveraign.

King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours.
There yours Lords Scroop of Masham, and Sir Knight:
Gray of Northumberland, this iame is yours:
Read them, and know I know your worthineſs,
My Lord of Westmerland and Unkle Exeter,
We will aboard to night. Why how now Gentlemen?
What fee you in thofe papers, that you lobe
So much complexion? Look ye how they change :
Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there,
That have ſo cowarded and chaſt your bloud
Out of appearance.

Cam. I do conſeſſe my fault,
And do ſubmit me to your Highneſs merſcy.
Gray. Scro. To which we all appeal,
King. The merſcy that was quick in us but late,
By your own counſell is ſuppreſt and kill'd :
You muſt not dare ( for ſhame ) to talk of merſcy,
For your own reaſons turn into your boſomes,
As dogs upon their Maſters, worrying you :
See you my Princes, and my Noble Peers,
These English monſtſeſs: My Lord of Cambridge here,
You know how apt our love was, to accord
To furniſh him with all appertinences
Belonging to his honour ; and this man,
Hath for a few light Crowns, lightly confpir'd
And ſworn unto the præſtifes of France
To kill us here in Hampton. To the which,
This Knight no leſſe for bounty bound toons
Then Cambridge is, hath likewife ſworn. But O,
What ſhall I lay to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel,
Ingratefull, faſage, and inhumane Creareſt?
Thou that didſt bear the key of all my counſells,
That knewſt the very bottome of my ſoul,
That (almoſt) might ſt have coyn'd me into Gold,
Would'ſt thou have præſi'd on me, for thy uſe?
May it be poffible, that forraign hyer
Could ou' of thee extraſt one ſpark of evill
That might annoy my ſinger ? 'Tis ſo ſtrange,
That though the truth of it ſtand off as groſſe
As black and white, my eye will ſcarily fee it.
Treaſon and murther, ever kept together,
As two yoak devilſs ſworn to eitherns purpofe,
Working ſo groſſely in a naturall cauſe,
That admiration did not hoop at them.
But thou ('gainſt all proportion ) didſt bring in
Wonder to wait on treaſon, and no murther :
And whatsoever cunning ſiend it was
That wrought upon thee ſo prepoſterouſly,
Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence :

And

411

And other devils that fuggeft by treafons,
Do bothc and bungle up damnation,
With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetcht
From glit'ring femblances of piety'.
But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand up,
Gave thee no inſtance why thou shouldſt do treafon,
Unleſſe to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
If that fame Dæmon that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his Lyon-gate walk the whole world,
He might return to vafe Tartar back,
And tell the Legions, I can never win
A foul ſo eafe as that English man.
Oh, how haſt thou with jelousie inſected
The sweetneſſe of affiance? Shew men dutifull?
Why ſo didſt thou. Seem they grave and learned?
Why ſo didſt thou. Come they of Noble Family?
Why ſo didſt thou. Seem they religious?
Why ſo didſt thou. Or are they ſpare in diet,
Free from groſſe paſſion, or of mirth, or anger,
Conſtant in ſpirit, not ſwerving with the clouds,
Garniſh'd and deck'd in mod ſtyle ſon ſiement,
Not working with the eyes, without the car,
And but in purged judgements twiſting neither?
Such and ſo finely boulte'd did ſhou ſeem :
And thus thy fall haſt left a kind of blot,
To make thee full fraught man, and beſt indued
With ſome ſuſtition, I will weep for thee.
For this revolt of thine, me thinks is like
Another fall of man. Their faults are open,
Are ſthem to the anſwer of the Law,
And God acquit them of their praetites.

Exe. I arreſt thee of High Treaſon, by the name of Richard Earle of Cambridge.

I arreſt thee of High Treaſon, by the name of Thomas
Lord Scroop of Marſham.

I arreſt thee of High Treaſon, by the name of Thomas
Grey, Knight of Northumberland.

Sero. Our purpores God juſtly hath diſcover'd,
And I repent my fault more then my death,
Which I befecch your Highneſſe to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.

Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not ſeduce,
Although I did admit it as a motive,
The ſooner to effect what I intended :
But God be thanked for prevention,
Which I in ſufferance heartily will rejoyce
Befecching God to pardon me.

Gray. Never did faithfull ſubject more rejoyce
At the diſcovery of moſt dangerous Treaſon,
Then I do at this hour joy o're my ſelf,
Prevented from a damned enterprize :
My fault, but not my body, pardon Soveraign.

King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your ſenterie.
You have confpir'd againſt Our Royall perſon.
Jeyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd; and from his Coffers
Receiv'd the Golden Earneſt of Our death:
Wherein you would have ſould your King to ſlaughter,
His Princes, and his Peers of ſervitude,
His ſubjects to oppreſſion, and contempt,
And his whole Kingdome into defolation :
Touching our perſon, ſeeke we no revenge,
But we our Kingdomes ſafety muſt ſo tender,
Whose ruine you three ſought, that to her Lawes
We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
(Poor miferable wretches) to your death:
The taſte whereof, God of his mercy give

You patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences. Bear them hence.
Now Lords for France: the enterprize whereof
Shall be to you as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a ſair and lucky War,
Since God ſo graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous Treaſon, lurking in our way
To hinder our beginning. We doubt not now,
But every Rub is ſmoothed on our way:
Then forth, dear Counſtreymen: Let us deliver
Our Puſſance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Cheerly to Sea, the ſignes of War advance,
No King of England, if not King of France.

Exeunt.

Enter Pifſoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hofteſſ.

Hofteſſ. Prithee honey, sweet Husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

Pifſoll. No: for my manly heart doth yern. Bardolph,
be blythe: Nim, rowze thy vaunting Veins: Boy, bristle
thy Courage up: for Falſaffe he is dead, and we muſt
yern therefore.

Bard. Would I were with him, whereſomere he is,
either in Heaven, or in Hell.

Hofteſſ. Nay, ſure, he's not in Hell: he's in Arthur's
Boſome, if ever man went to Arthur's Boſome: a made
finer end, and went away and it had been any Chrif ſtome
Child: a parted juſt between Twelve and One, ev'n at
the turning o'ch'Tyde: for after I ſaw him ſumble with
the Sheers, and play with Flowers, and ſmile upon his ſin-
gers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Noſe was
as ſharpe as a Pen, and a Table of green fields. How now
Sir John (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheer: ſo a
cryed out, God, God, God, three or four times: now I,
to comfort him, bid him a ſhouſt not think of God; I
hop'd there was no need to trouble himſelf with any ſuch
thoughts yet: ſo a bad me lay more Cloathes on his feet:
I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they
were as cold as a ſtone: then I ſelt to his knees, and ſo
upward and upward, all was as cold as any ſtone.

Nim. They ſay he cryed out of Sack.

Hofteſſ. I, that a did.

Bard. And of Women.

Hofteſſ. Nay, that a did not.

Boy. Yes that a did, and ſaid they were Devil's in-
carnate.

Woman. A could never abide Carnation, 'twas a Co-
lour he never lik'd.

Boy. A ſaid once, the Deule would have him about
Women.

Hofteſſ. A did in fome ſort (indeed) handle Women:
but then he was rumatick, and talk'd of the Whore of
Babylon.

Boy. Do you not remember a ſaw a Flea ſtick upon
Bardolph's Noſe, and ſaid it was a black Soul burning in
Hell.

Bard. Well, the ſuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:
that's all the Riches I got in his ſervice.

Nim. Shall we ſhogg? the King will be gone from
Southampton.

Pifſt. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy Lips:
Look to my Chattels, and my Moveables: Let Sences
rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: truſt none: for Oaths
are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-
ſaſt is the onely Dog: My Duck, therefore, Caveto be
thy Counſellor. Goe, clear thy Chryſtalls. Yoke-
fellowes in Armes, let us to France, like Horſe-
Leeches

Leaches my Boyes, to fuck, to fuck, the very bloud to fuck,
Boy. And that's but unwholome food they fay.
Pist. Touch her foot mouth, and march.
Bard. Farewell Hoffels.
Nim. I cannot kifs, that is the humour of it: but adieu.
Pist. Let Hufwifne appear: keep cleof, I thee command.
Hoffes. Farewell: adieu.
Exeunt.

Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and Britain.

Kin. Thus comes the English with full power upon us,
And more then carefully it us concerns,
To anfwer Royally in our defences,
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britain,
Of Brabant and of O.leance ſhall make forth,
And you Prince Dolphin, with all ſwift dispatch
To lyne and new repair our towns of War
With men of courage, and with means defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As Waters to the fucking of a Gulfe.
It fits us then to be as provident,
As fear may teach us, out of late examples
Left by the fatall and neglected English,
Upon our fields.

Dolphin. My moſt redoubted Father,
It is moſt meet we arme us 'gainſt the Foe:
For Peace it ſelf should not ſo dull a Kingdome,
(Though War nor no known Quarrel were in queſtion)
But that Defences, Muſters, Preparations;
Should be maintain'd, asſembled and collected,
As were a War in expeſation.
Therefore I fay, 'tis mete we all go forth,
To view the ſick and feeble parts of France:
And let us do it with no ſhew of fear,
No, with no more, then if we heard that England
Were buſed with a Whitſon Morris-dance:
For, my good Liedge, he is ſo idly King'd,
Her Scepter ſo phantaſtically borne,
By a vain giddy ſhallow humorous Youth,
That fear attends her not.

Conſ. O Peace, Prince Dolphin,
You are too much miſtaken in this King:
Question your Grace the late Embaſſadors,
With what great State he heard their Embaſſie,
How well ſupply'd with Noble Councellors,
How moded in exception; and with all,
How terrible in conſtant reſolution:
And you ſhall find, his Vanities fore ſpent,
Were but the outſide of the Roman Brutus,
Covering Difcretion with a Coat of Folly;
As Gardeners do with Ordure hide theſe Roots
That ſhall firſt ſpring, and be moſt delicate.

Dolph. Well, 'tis not ſo, my Lord High Conſtable.
But though we think it ſo, it is no matter:
In cauſes of defence, 'tis beſt to weigh
The enemy more mighty then he ſeems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd:
Which of a weak and nigardly projection,
Doth like a Mifer ſpoil his Coat, with ſcanting
A little Cloth

King. Think we King Harry ſtrong:
And Princes, look you ſtrongly arme to meet him.
The Kindred of him hath been fleſht upon us:
And he is bred out of that bloudy ſtrain,

That haunted us in our familiar Parches:
Witneſſe our too much memorable ſhame,
When Creffy Battell fatally was ſtruck,
And all our Princes captiv'd, by the hand
Of what black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:
Whiles that his Mountain Sire, on Mountain ſtanding
Up in the Aire, crown'd with the Golden Sun,
Saw his Heroicall Seed, and ſin'd to fee him
Mangle the Work of Nature, and deface
The Patterns, that by God and by French Fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a Stem
Of that Viftorious Stock: and let us fear
The Native mightineſſe and fate of him.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Meff. Embaſſadors from Harry King of England,
Do crave admittance to your Majefty.

King. We'll give them preſent audience,
Go, and bring them.

You fee this Chafe is hotly followed, friends.

Dolph. Turn head, and ſtop purſuit: for coward Dogs
Moff if end their mouths, when what they ſeem to threaten
Runs far before them. Good my Soveraign
Take up the English ſhort, and let them know
Of what a Monarchy you are the Head:
Self-love, my Liege, is not ſo vile a fin,
As ſelf neglecting.

Enter Exeter.

King. From our Brother of England?
Exe. From him, and thus he greets your Majefty:
He wills you in the Name of God Almighty,
That you deſwell your ſelfe, and lay apart
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heaven,
By Law of Nature, and of nations, longs
To him and to his Heirs, namely the Crown;
And all wide-fretched Honors, that pertain
By Cúſtome, and the Ordinance of Times,
Unto the Crown of France: that you may know
'Tis no finifter, nor no awk-ward Claim,
Pickt from the Worm-holes of long-vanifht dayes,
Nor from the duſt of old Oblivion rakt,
He ſends you this moſt memorable Line,
In every Branch truly demonſtrative;
Willing you over-look this Pedigree:
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his moſt fam'd, of famous Anceſtors,
Edward the third; he bids you then reſign
Your Crown and Kingdome indirectly held
From him the Native and true Challenger.

King. Or eſſe what follows?
Exe. Bloudy conſtraint: for if you hide the Crown
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
Therefore in fierce Tempeſt is he coming,
In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a Jove:
That if requiring fail, he will compell.
And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the Crown, and to take mercy
On the poor Souls for whom this hungry War
Opens his vaſty Jawes: and on your head
Turning the Widows Tears, the Orphans Cryes,
The dead-mens Bloud, the privy Maidens Groans,
For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Lovers;
That ſhall be ſwallowed in this Controverſie.
This is his Claim, his threatning, and my Meſſage:
Unleſſe the Dolphin be in preſence here;
To whom expreſſely I bring greeting too.

King. For

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

413

**King.** For us, we will confider of this further:
To morrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our Brother of England,

**Dolph.** For the Dolphin,

If stand here for him: what to him from England?

**Exe.** Scorn and defiance, flight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mit-become
The mighty Sender, doth he prize you at.

Thus fayes my King: and if your Father's Highneſs
Doe not, in giant of demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter Mock you ſent his Majety;
He'le call you to ſo hot an Anſwer of it.

That Caves and Womby Vaultages of France

Shall chide your Trefpas, and return your Mock

In second Accent of his Ordinance.

**Dolph.** Say: if my Father ſender fair returning

It is againſt my will: for I defire

Nothing but Oddes with England,
To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanity,
I did prefent him with the Paris-Balls.

**Ex.** He'le make your Paris Lover ſhake for it,
Were it the Mighty Court of Mighty Europe:
And be affur'd, you'le find a diff'rence,
As we his Subjects have in wonder found,
Between the promife of his greeener dayes,
And theſe he maſters now: now he weighs Time
Even to the utmoſt Grain: that you ſhall read
In your own Loffes, if he ſtay in France.

**King.** To morrow ſhall you know your mind at full,

Blowſtrich.

**Exe.** Dispatch us with all ſpeed, leaſt that our King
Come here himſelf to question our delay;
For he is ſtoſed in this Land already.

**King.** You ſhall be ſoon dispatcht, with fair conditions.

A Night is but small breathe, and little paſſe,

To anſwer matters of this conſequence.

Exeunt.

## Aſtus Secundus.

### Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagin'd wing our ſwift Scene flyes,
In motion of no leſſe celerity then that of Thought.
Suppofe, that you have ſeen

The well-appointed King at Dover Peer,
Embark his Royalty: and his brave Fleet,
With ſtilken Streamers, the young Phebus ſaining;
Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,
Upon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing;
Hear the ſhriſh Whifſle, which doth order give

To ſounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sails,
Born with th'invifible and creeping Wind,
Draw the huge Bottomes through the futrowed Sea,
Breſſing the lofty Surge. O, do but think
You ſtand upon the Rivage, and behold

A Citie on th'inconſtant Billowes dancing:
For ſo appears this Fleet Majeftial,

Holding due courſe to Harſſlew. Follow, follow.
Grapple your minds to ſternage of this Navy,
And leave your England as dead Mid-night, ſill,
Guarded with Grandfires, Babies, and old Women,
Either paſſ, or not arriv'd to pith and puſſance:
For who is he, whoſe Chin is but enriſh

With one appearing Hair, that will not follow
Theſe cull'd and choice-drawn Cavaliers to France?
Work, work your Thoughts, and therein fee a Siege:
Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harſſlew,
Suppofe th'Embaſſador from the French comes back:
Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him

Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie,
Some petty and unprofitable Dukedomes,
The offer Ikes not: and the nimble Gunner
With Lynſtock now the devilſh Cannon touches.

Alarum, and Chambers go off.

And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And ech out our performance with your mind.

Exit.

Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Glouceſter.
Alarum. Scaling-Laddere at Harſſlew.

**King.** Once more unto the Breach,
Dear friends, once more;

Or cloſe the Wall up with our English ſlade:

In Peace, there's nothing ſo becomes a man,

As modeſt ſtilneſſe and humility:

But when the blaſt of War blowes in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the Tyger:

Stiffen the finewes, commune up the bloud,

Disguife fair Nature with hard-favour'd Rage:

Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:

Let it pry through the portage of the Head,

Like the Braſs Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelm it,

As fearfully, as doth a galled Rock

O're-hang and jutty his confounded Bafe,

Swiſt'd with the wilde and waſtfull Ocean.

Now fet the Teeth, and ſtretch the Noſthril wide,

Hold hard the Breach, and bend up every Spirit

To his full height. On, you Nobleſt English,

Whofe bloud is ſet from Fathers of War-proof:

Fathers, that like to many Alexanders,
Have in theſe parts from Morn till Even ſought,
And ſlouth'd their Swords for lack of argument.

Difhonour not your Mothers: now atteſt,

That thofe whom you call'd Fathers, did beger you,

Be Coppy now to me of groſſer bloud,

And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen.

Whofe Limbs were made in England; ſhew us here

The mettel of your Paſture: let us ſwear,

That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not:

For there is none of you ſo mean and bafe,

That hath not Noble Ljuſtre in your eyes.

I fee you ſtand like Grey-hounds in the flips,

Straying upon the Start. The Game's a-foot:

Follow your Spirit; and upon this Charge,

Cry, God for Harry, England, and S. George.

Alarum, and Chambers go off.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pisſol, and Boy.

**Bard.** On, on, on, on, on, to the Breach, to the Breach.
Nim. 'Pray thee Corporal ſtay, the Knocks are too
hot: and for mine own part, I have not a Cafe of Lives:
the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plain-Song
of it.

**Pisſ.** The plain-Song is moſt juſt: for humors do a-
bound: Knocks goe and come: God's Vauxſals drop and
dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloudy Field, doth winne
immortal fame.

**Boy.** Would I were in an Ale-houſe in London, I would give all my Fame for a Pot of Ale, and safety.

M m

Pisſ. And

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

414

Pist. And I: if wishes would prevail with me, my
purpose should not fail with me; but thither would I
hye.

Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on
bough.

Enter Fluelen.

Flu. Up to the breach, you Dogs; avant you Cullions.

Pist. Be merciful great Duke to men of Mould, a-bate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage, great Duke, Good Bawcock, bate thy Rage: use lenity, I ween Chuck.

Nim. These be good humors: your Honour wins bad humors.

Exit.

Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these three Swathers. I am Boy to them all three, but all they three though they would serve me, could not be Man to me; for indeed three such Antiques do not amount to a man: for Bardolph, he is white-liver'd, and red-fac'd; by she means whereof, a face it out, but fights not: for Pistol, he hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the means whereof, a breaks Words, and keeps whole Weapons: for Nim, he hath heard, that men of few Words are the best men, and therefore he corns to fay his Prayers, left a should be thought a Coward: but his few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for a never broke any man's head but his own, and that was againft a Poft, when he was drunk. They will feal any thing, and call it Purchafe. Bardolph tole a Lute, cafe, bore it twelve Leagues, and fold it for three half-pence. Nim and Bardolph are twain Brothers in filching: and in Call'ce they tole a fire-shovel. I knew by that piece of Service, the men would carry Coals. They would have me as familiar with men's Pockets, as their Gloves or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much againft my Manhood, if I should take from another's Pocket, to put into mine; for it is plain pocketting up of Wrongs. I must leave them, and feek some better Service: their Villany goes againft my weak ftomack, and therefore I must caft it up.

Exit.

Enter Gower.

Gower. Captain Fluelen, you must come prefentely to the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucefter would speak with you.

Flu. To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to the Mynes: for look you, the Mynes are not according to the disciplines of War; the cavities of it is not sufficient: for look you, that'atherfary, you may discouffe unto the Duke, look you, is dig: himfelf four yard under the Countermines: by Cheſhu, I think a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.

Gower. The Duke of Gloucefter, to whom the Order of the Siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irith man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith.

Welch. It is Captain Makmorrice, is it not?

Gower. I think it be.

Welch. By Cheſhu he is an Aſſe, as in the World, I will verifec as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions in the true disciplines of the Warres, look you, of the Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.

Enter Makmorrice, and Captain Jamy.

Gower. Here a comes, and the Scots Captain, Captain Jamy, with him.

Welch. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous Gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and know-

ledge in that aunchiant Warres, upon my particular knowledg of his directions: by Cheſhu he will maintain his Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in the disciplines of the Prifline Warres of the Romans.

Scot. I fay gudday, Captain Fluelen.

Welch. Godden to your WORTHip, good Captain James.

Gower. How now Captain Makmorrice, have you quit the Mynes? have the Pioners given ore?

Irish. By Chrifh Law this ill done: the Work this ill give over, the Trompſt found the Retreat. By my Hand I wear, and my father's Soul, the VVork this ill done: it this ill give over: I would have blowed up the Town, to Chrifh gave me law, in an hour. O this ill done, this ill done: by my Hand this ill done.

Welch. Captain Makmorrice, I beſech you now, will you voutſaſe me, look you, a few difpitalions with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the VVar, the Roman VVarres, in the way of Argument, look you, and friendly communication: partly to fatiſe my Opinion, and partly for the fatiſaction, look you, of my Mind: as touching the direction of the Military discipline, that is the Point.

Scot. It fall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath, and I fall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion: that fall I mary.

Irish. It is no time to diſcourſe, ſo Chrifh gave me: the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the King, and the Dukes: it is no time to diſcourſe, the Town is beſeech'd: and the Trumpet calls us to the breach, and we talk, and be Chrifh do nothing, tis ſhame for us all: to God fa'me this ſhame to ſtand full, it is ſhame by my hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Works to be done, and there this nothing done, ſo Chrifh fa'me law.

Scot. By the Mes, ere theie eyes of mine take them: ſelves to flomber, ayle de gud ſervic, or Ile ligge this ground for it; ay, or go to death: and Ile pay't as valourouſly as I may, that fall I freufely do, the breſ and the long: mary, I wad full fain heard some queſtion between you tway.

Welch. Captain Makmorrice, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your Nation.

Irish. Of my Nation? What this my Nation? This a Villain, and a Baſterd, and a Knave, and a Raſcal. What this my Nation? Who talks of my Nation?

Welch. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise then is meant, Captain Makmorrice, peradventure I shall think you do not uſe me with that affability, as in diſcretion you ought to uſe me, look you, being as good a man as your self both in the disciplines of War, and in the derivation of my Birth, and in other particularities.

Irish. I do not know you ſo good a man as my ſelf, to Chrifh gave me, I will cut off your Head.

Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mſtake each other.

Scot. A, that's a foul fault.

A Parley.

Gower. The Town founds a Parley.

Welch. Captain Makmorrice, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be ſo bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of War, and there is an end.

Exit.

Enter the King and all his Train before the Gates.

King. How yet refolves the Governour of the Town? This is the lateft Parle we will admit.

There

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

417

up with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generals Cut, and a horrid Suite of the Camp, will do among foming Bottles, and Ale-waft wits, is wonderful to be thought on: but you must learn to know such flanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.

Flu. I. tell you what, Captain Gower: I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make them to the World he is: if I find a hole in his Coat, I will tell him my mind: hear you, the King is coming, and I must speak with him from the Bridge.

### Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poor Souldiers.

Flu. God ples you your Majesty.

King. How now Fluelen, canst thou from the Bridge?

Flu. I, so please your Majesty: The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintain'd the Bridge; the French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and moft prave parlages: marry, th'athverfary was have poffeſion of the Bridge, but he is enſoiled to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is Maſter of the Bridge: I can tell your Majesty, the Duke is a prave man.

King. What men have you loſt, Fluelen?

Flu. The perſon of th'athverfary hath been very great, reaſonable great: marry for my part, I think the Duke hath loſt never a man, but one that is like to be executed for Robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man: his face is all bubukles and whelks, and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes at his noſe, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plew, and sometimes red, but his noſe is executed, and his fire's out.

King. We would have all such offenders fo cut off: and wegeve expreſs charge, that in our Marches through the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from the Villages; nothing taken, but paid for: none of the French upbraided or abufed in diſdainfull Language: for when Levity and Cruelty play for a Kingdome, the gentler Gamefter is the foonest winner.

### Tucker. Enter Mountjoy.

Mountjoy. You know me by my habit.

King. Well then, I know thee: what ſhall I know of thee?

Mount. My Maſter's mind.

King. Unfold it.

Mountjoy. Thus fayes my King: Say thou to Harry of England, Though we ſeem'd dead, we did but ſleep: Advantage is a better Souldier then Raffneſts. Tell him, we could have rebuk'd him at Harſlew, but that we thought not good to bruife an injury, till it were full ripe. Now we ſpeak upon our Q, and our voice is imperial: England ſhall repent his folly; ſee his weakneſs, and admire our ſufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his Ranſome, which muſt proportion the loſſes we have born, the Subjects we have loſt, the diſgrace we have digested; which in weight to re-anſwer, his pettie-neſs would bow under. For our loſſes, his Exchequer is too poor; for th'effuſion of our bloud, the Mafter of his Kingdome too faint a number; and for our diſgrace, his own perſon kneeling at our feet, but a weak and worthlesſs ſatifaſſation. To this adde defiance: and tell him for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounct: So far my King and Maſter; so much my Office.

King. What is thy name? I know thy quality.

Moun. Mountjoy.

King. Thou doſt thy Office fairly. Turn thee back, And tell thy King, I do not feek him now.

But could be willing to march on to Callice,

Without impcauchment: for to ſay the ſooth,

Though 'eis no wifdome to confefs so much

Unto an Adreſs of Craft and Vantage,

My people are with fickneſs much enſeebled,

My numbers leſſen'd: and thofe few I have,

Almoſt no better then so many French;

Who when they were in health, I tell the Herald,

I thought, upon one pair of English Legs

Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me God,

That I do brag thus; this your air of France

Hath blown that vice in me. I muſt repent:

Go therefore tell thy Maſter, here I am;

My Ranſome, is this frail and worthleſts Trunk;

My Army, but a weak and fickly Guard:

Yet God before, tell him we will come on,

Though France himself, and fuch another Neighbour

Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountjoy.

Go bid thy Maſter well advife himself,

If we may pafs, we will: if we be hindred,

We ſhall your tawny ground with your red bloud

Diſcolour: and ſo Montjoy fare you well.

The ſumm of all our Anſwer is but this:

We would not feek a Battel as we are,

Nor as we are, we ſay we will not ſhun it:

So tell your Maſter.

Mount. I ſhall deliver ſo: Thanks to your Highneſs.

Glou. I hope they will not come upon us now.

King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs: March to the Bridge, it now draws toward night;

Beyond the River we'll encamp our ſelves,

And on to morrow bid them march away.

Exéunt.

### Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambur's Orleance, Dolphin, with others.

Conſt. Tut, I have the beſt Armoury of the World: would it were day.

Orl. You have an excellent Armoury: but let my Horſe have his due.

Conſt. It is the beſt Horſe of Europe.

Orl. Will it never be Morning?

Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Conſtable, you talk of Horſe and Armoury?

Orl. You are as well provided of both, as any Prince in the World.

Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change my Horſe with any that treads but on four pafternes: ch'ha: he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrails were haires: le Cheval volant, the Pegafus, ehes les narines de feu. When I beſtride him, I foar, I am a Hawk: he trots the air: the Earth fings, when he touches it: the bafeſt horn of his hoof, is more Muſical then the Pipe of Hermes.

Orl. He's of the colour of the Nureng.

Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beaſt for Perfus: he is pure Air and Fire; and the dull Elements of Earth and VVater never appear in him, but only in patient Raffneſts while his Rider mounts him: he is indeed a Horſe, and all other Jades you may call Beaſts.

Mm 3

Conſt. In-

418

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

*Conft.* Indeed my Lord, it is a moft absolute and excellent Horfe.

*Dolph.* It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like the bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces Homage.

*Orl.* No more Coufin.

*Dolph.* Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the sitting of the Lark to the lodging of the Lamb, vary deferved praife on my Palfray: it is a Theme as fluent as the Sea: Turn the Sands-into eloquent tongues, and my Horfe is argument for them all: 'tis a subject for a Soveraign to reafon on, and for a Soveraigns Soveraign to ride on: And for the World, familiar to us, and unknown, to lay a-part their particular Functions, and wonder at him. I once witt a Sonnet in his praife, and began thus, *Wonder of Nature*.

*Orleance.* I have heard a Sonnet begin to ones Miftreſſe.

*Dolph.* Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my Courfer, for my Horfe is my Miftreſſe.

*Orl.* Your Miftreſſe beares well.

*Dolph.* Me well, which is the preſcript praife and perſection of a good and particular Miftreſſe.

*Conſt.* Nay, for me thought yefterday your Miftreſſe fhrewdly fhook your back.

*Dolph.* So perhaps did yours.

*Conſt.* Mine was not bridled.

*Dolph.* O then belike ſhe was old and gentle, and you rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Horſe off, and in you ſtrait Stroffers.

*Conſt.* You have good judgement in Horſemanſhip.

*Dolph.* Be warn'd by me then: they that ride ſo, and ride not warily, fall into foul Boggs: I had rather have my Horſe to my Miftreſſe.

*Conſt.* I had as lieve have my Miftreſſe a Jade.

*Dolph.* I tell thee Conſtable, my Miftreſſe weares his own hair.

*Conſt.* I could make as truea boast as that, if I had a Sow to my Miftreſſe.

*Dol. Le chien eſt retourné a ſon propre vemiffement, eſt la levye levée au bourbier: thou mak'st uſe of any thing.*

*Conſt.* Yet do I not uſe my Horſe for my Miftreſſe, or any ſuch Proverb, ſo little kin to the purpose.

*Ramb.* My Lord Conſtable, the Armour that I faw in your Tent to night, are that Starres or Sunnes upon it.

*Conſt.* Starres my Lord.

*Dolph.* Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope.

*Conſt.* And yet my Sky fhall not want.

*Dolph.* That may be, for you bear a many ſuperfluouſly, and 'twere more honour ſome were away.

*Conſt.* Ev'n as your Horſe beares your praifes, who would trot as well, were ſome of your bragges dif mounted.

*Dolph.* Would I were able to load him with his defert. Will it never be day? I will trot to morrow a mile, and my way ſhall be paved with English Faces.

*Conſt.* I will not ſay ſo, for fear I ſhould be fac't out of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the cares of the English.

*Ramb.* Who will goe Hazard with me for twenty Prifoners?

*Conſt.* You muſt firſt goe your ſelf to hazard, ere you have them.

*Dolph.* 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my ſelf.

*Exit.*

*Orl.* The Dolphin longs for morning.

*Ramb.* He longs to eat the English.

*Conſt.* I think he will eat all he kills.

*Orl.* By the white Hand of my Lady, he's a gallant Prince.

*Conſt.* Swear by her Foot, that ſhe may tread out the Oath.

*Orleance.* He is ſimply the moſt active Gentleman of France.

*Conſt.* Doing is activity, and he will ſtill be doing.

*Orl.* He never did harm, that I heard of.

*Conſt.* Nor will do none to morrow: he will keep that good name ſtill.

*Orl.* I know him to be valiant.

*Conſt.* I was told that, by one that knowes him better then you.

*Orl.* What's he?

*Conſt.* Marry he told me ſo himself, and he ſaid he ca'd not who knew it.

*Orleance.* He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him.

*Conſt.* By my faith, Sir, but it is: never any body faw it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appears, it will bate.

*Orl.* I'll never ſaid well.

*Conſt.* I will cap that Proverb with, There is flattery in friendship.

*Orl.* And I will take up that wich, Give the Devil his due,

*Conſt.* Well plac't: there ſtands your friend for the Devil: have at the very eye of that Proverb with, A Pox of the Devil.

*Orl.* You are the better at Proverbs, by how much a Fools Bolt is soon ſhot.

*Conſt.* You have ſhot over.

*Orl.* 'Tis not the firſt time you were oyer ſhot.

Enter a Meſſenger.

*Meffen.* My Lord high Conſtable, the English lye within fifteen hundred paces of your Tents.

*Conſt.* Who hath meaſur'd the ground?

*Mef.* The Lord Grandpree.

*Conſt.* A valiant and moſt expert Gentleman. Would it were day. Alas poor Harry of England: he longs not for the Dawning, as we doe.

*Orl.* What a wretched and peeſh fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers ſo far out of his knowledge.

*Conſt.* If the English had any apprehenſion, they would run away.

*Orl.* That they lack: for if their Heads had any intellectual Armour, they could never wear any ſuch heavy Head-pieces.

*Ramb.* That Iland of England breeds very valiant Creatures; their Maſtiffs are of unmatchable cou rage.

*Orleance.* Fooliſh Curres, that run winking into the mouth of a Ruffian Bear, and have their heads crutſt like rotten Apples: you may as well ſay, that's a valiant Flea, that dare to eat his breakeſt on the Lip of a Lyon.

*Conſt.* Juſt, juſt: and the men do ſympathize with the Maſtiffs, in robuſtious and rough coming on, leaving their Wits with their Wives: and then give them great Meales of Beef, and Iron and Steel: they will eat like Wolves, and fight like Devils.

*Or. I,*

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

419

Orl. I, but thefe English are shrewdly out of Beef.

Conſt. Then shall we find to morrow, they have only
flonacks to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arne: come, shall we about it?

Orl. It is now two a Clock: but let me fee, by ten
We shall have each a hundred English men. Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertain conjecture of a time,
When creeping Murmur and the poring Dark
Fills the wide Vessel of the Universe,
From Camp to Camp, through the foul Womb of Night
The Humme of either Army fitly founds,
That the fixt Centinels almost receive
The secret Whifpers of each others Watch,
Fire answers fire, and through their p[ro]ly flames
Each Battel fees the others umber'd face,
Seed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs
Piercing the Nights dull Ear: and from the Tenes
The Armourers accomplishing the Knights,
W[ith] bufie Hammers clofing Rivets up,
Give dreadfull note of preparation,

The Countrey Cockes do crow, the Clockes do towle:
And the third hour of drowſe Morning nam'd,
Proud of their Numbers, and secure in Soul,
The confident and over-luſty French,
Doe the low-rated English play at Dice ;
And chide the creepie-ta[dy]-gated Night,
Who like a foul and ugly Witch doth limp
So seductiuly away. The poor condemned English,
Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate.

The Mornings danger, and their geſture ſad,
Investing lank-lean Cheeks, and War-worn Coats,
Prefented them unto the gazing Moon
So many horrid Głoſts. O now, who will behold
The Royal Captain of this ruin'd Band
Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent;
Let him cry, Praife and Glory on his head :
For forth he goes, and viſits all his Hoſt,
Bids them good morrow with a modeſt Smile,
And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen.
Upon his Royal Face there is no note,
How dread an Army hath enroounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of Colour
Unto the weary and all-watched Night:
But freshly looks, and over-bears Attaint,
With chearefull ſembiance, and ſweet Majeſty:
That every Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Looks,
A Larg[e]ſe univerſal, like the Sun,
His liberal Eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all
Behold, as may unworthineſſe define,
A little touch of Harry in the Night,
And to our Scene muſt to the Battel flie:
Where, O for pitie, we ſhall much diſgrace,
With four or five moſt vile and ragged foſtes
(Right ill diſpos'd, in brawl ridiculous)

The Name of Agincourt. Yet ſit and fee,
Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries be.

Exit.

Enter the King, Bedford, and Glouceſt.

King. Gloſter, 'tis true that we are in great danger !
The greater therefore ſhould our Courage be.
Good morrow Brother Bedford: God Almighty,
There is ſome foul of goodneſs in things evil,
Would men obſervingly diſtill it out.
Far out bad Neighbour makes us early flitrers,
Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry.
Befaire, they are our outward Conſciences,
And Preachers to us all; admoniſhing,
That we thought diſeſe us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed,
And make a Moral of the Devil himself.
Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpinghams:
A good soft Pillow for that good white Head,
Were better then a chuſlilh turſ of France.

Erping. Not ſo my Liege, this Lodging likes me better,
Since I may ſay, now Iye I like a King.

King. 'Tis good for men to love their preſent pain,
Upon example, ſo the Spirit is eafed :

And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt
The O gans, though deſuſt and dead before,
Break up their drowſe Grave, and newly move
With caſted flough, and fresh celenty.

Lend me thy Cloak Sir Thomas: Brothers both,
Commend me to the Princes in our Camp:
Do my good morrow to them, and anon
Defire them all to my Pavilion.

Gloſter. We shall, my Liege.

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace ?

King. No my good Knight :

Go with my Brothers to my Lords of England :
I and my Boſome muſt debate a while,
And then I would no other company.

Erping. The Lord in Heaven bleſſe thee; Noble Harry.
Exeunt.

King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearfully.
Enter Piskol.

Pisk. Che vous la ?

King. A friend.

Pisk. Dicuſſe unto me, art thou Officer, or art thou
bafe, common, and popular ?

King. I am a Gentleman of a Company.

Pisk. Trayl'st thou the puiffant Pike?

King. Even so: what are you ?

Pisk. As good a Gentleman as the Emperour.

King. Then you are a better then the King.

Pisk. The King's a Bawcock, and, a Heart of Gold,
a Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Pisk
moſt valiant: I kits his dirty ſhooe, and from heart-
ſtring I love the lovely Bully. What is thy Name?

King. Harry le Roy.

P. Le Roy? a Cornith Nameart thou of Cornith Crew?

King. No, I am a Welchman.

Pisk. Know'st thou Fluelen?

King. Yes.

Pisk. Tell him Ile knock his Leek about his Pate upon
S. Davies day.

King. Do not you wear your Daguer in your Cap
that day, left he knock that about yours.

Pisk. Art

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dyes ill, the ill upon his own head, the King is not to anwer for it.

Bates. I do not desire he should answcr for me, and yet I determine to fight luffily for him.

King. I my self heard the King say he would not be ranom'd.

Will. I, he said so, to make us fight chearfully: but when our throats are cut, he may be ranfom'd, and we are the wifer.

King. If I live to see it, I will never truſt his word after.

Will. You pay him then: that's a perilous ſhot out of an Elder Gun, that a poor and private displeasure can do against a Monarch: you may as well go about to turn the Sun to ice, with fanning in his face with a Peacocks feather: You'll never truſt his word after, come, 'tis a fool to ſaying.

King. Your reproof is something too round, I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.

Will. Let it be a Quarrel between us, if you live.

King. I embrace you.

Will. How shall I know thee again ?

King. Give me any Gage of thine, and I will wear it in my Bonnet: Then if ever thou dar't acknowledge it, I will make it my Quarrel.

Will. Here's my Glove: Give me another of thine.

King. There.

Will. This will I also wear in my Cap: if ever thou come to me, and ſay, after to morrow, This is my Glove, by this Hand I will give thee a box on the ear.

King. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

Will. Thou dar't as well be hang'd.

King. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company.

Will. Keep thy word: fare thee well.

Bates. Be friends you English fools, be friends, we have French Quarrels now, if you could tell how to reckon.

Exeunt Souldiers.

King. Indeed the French may lay twenty French Crowns to one, they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders: but it is no English Treason to cut French Crowns, and to morrow the King himself will be a Clipper.

Upon the King, let us, our Lives, our Soules,
Our Debts, our careful Wives,
Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King:

He must bear all.

O hard Condition, Twin-born with Greatneſſe,
Subject to the breach of every fool, whose ſence
No more can feel; but his own wringing.

What infinite heart-eafe muſt Kings neglect,
That private men enjoy ?

And what have Kings, that Privates have not too,

Save Ceremonie, vafe general Ceremonie ?
And what art thou, thou Idol Ceremony ?

What kind of god art thou ? that ſuffer it more
Of mortal griefs, then do thy worſhippers.

What are thy Rents ? what are thy Commings in ?
O Ceremony, ſhew me but thy worth.

What ? is thy Soul of Adoration ?

Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Form,
Creating awe and fear in other men ?

Wherein thou art leſſe happy, being fear'd,
Then they in fearing

What drink ſt thou oft, in stead of Honage ſweet,
But poifon'd flatterie ? O, be ſick, great Greatneſſe,
And bid thy Ceremonies give thee cure.

Thinks thou the ſie. I.e. Fever will go out
With titles blown from Adulation ?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending ?

Canſt thou, when thou command'ſt the begger's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud Dream,
Thou play'ſt ſo ſubtily with a King's Repoſe,
I am a King that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the Balm, the Scepter, and the Ball,
The Swordy, the Mace, the Crown Imperial,
The enter-tiſſued Robe of Gold and Pearl,
The farred Title running 'fore the King,

The Throre he fits on: nor the Tide of Pomp;
That beats upon the high ſhoar of this World:

No, not all theſe, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonies,
Not all theſe, laid in bed Majeſtical,

Can ſleep ſo foundly, as the wretched Slaye:
Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to reſt, cram'd with diſtrefſsfull bread,

Never fees horrid Night, the Child of Hell:
But like a Lacquey, from the Rife to Set,

Sweats in the eye of Phebus ; and all Night
Sleeps in Elizium: next day after dawn,

Doth rife and help Hiperion to his Horſe,
And follows the ever-running year

With profitable labour to his Grave :

And but for Ceremony, ſuch a Wretch,
Winding up Dayes with toil, and Nights with ſleep,

Had the fore-hand and vanage of a King.
The Slave, a Member of the Countries peace,
Enjoyes it: but in groſſe brain little wors,

What watch the King keeps, to maintain the peace ;

Whose hours, the Pefant beſt advantages,

Enter Erpinghams.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles jealous of your abſence,
Seek through your Camp to find you.

King. Good old Knight, collect them all together,
At my Tent: Ile be before thee.

Erp. I shall do't, my Lord.

Exit.

King. O God of Battels, feel my Souldiers hearts,
Poſſeſſe them not with fear: Take from them now
The fenſe of reck'ning of the oppofed numbers:

Pluck their hearts from them: Not to day, O Lord,

O not to day, think not upon the fault.

My Father made, in compaſſing the Crown.

I Richard's body have interred new,
And on it have beſtowed more contrite teares,
Then from it influed forced drops of blood.

Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,

Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up

Toward Heaven, to pardon bloud :

And I have buſle two Chauntries,

Where the ſad and ſolemn Priefts ſing ſill

For Richard's Soul. More will I do:

Though all that I can do, is nothing worth :

Since that my Penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

Enter Gloncefter.

Glouc. My Liege.

King. My Brother Gloncefter's voice ?

I know thy errand, I will go with thee :

The day, my friend, and all things ſtay for me.

Enter.

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

422

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs,
and Beaumont.

Orleance. The Sun doth gild our Armour, up my Lords.

Dolph. Monte Cheval: My Horse, Valet Lacquay:
Ha.

Orl. Oh brave spirit.

Dolph. Via les ewes & terre.

Orl. Rien puis le air & feu.

Dolph. Cien, Coufin Orleance. Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable?

Conft. Heark how our Steeds, for prefent Service
neigh.

Dolph. Mount them, and make incifion in their Hides,
That their hot blood may (pin in English eyes,
And doubt them with (uperfluous courage : ha.

Ram. What, will you have them weep our Horſes blood?
How ſhall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter Mefſenger.

Meffenger. The English are embattel'd, you French Peers.

Conſt. To Horſe you gallant Princes, ſtraight to Horſe,
Do but behold yond poor and starved Band,
And your fair ſhew shall ſuck away their Soules,
Leaving them but the ſhales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their ſickly Veins,
To give each naked Curtleax a ſtain,
That our French Gallants ſhall to day draw out,
And heath for lack of ſport. Let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our Valour will o're-turn them.

Tis positive gainſt all exception, Lords,
That our ſuperfluous Lacquies, and our Pefants,
Who in unnecessary action ſwarm
About our Squares of Battel, were enow
To purge this field of ſuch a hilding Foe ;
Though we upon this Mountains Bafis by,
Took ſtand for idle ſpeculation :
But that our Honours muſt nor. What's to ſay ?
A very little little let us do,

And all is done: then let the Trumpets found
The Tocket Sonuance, and the Note to mount :
For our approach ſhall to much dare the field,
That England ſhall couch down in fear, and yield.

Enter Grundpree.

Grund. Why do you ſtay so long, my Lords of France?

Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones,

Ill-favour'dly become the Morning field :

Their ragged Curtains poorly are let loose,

And our air shakes them paſſing ſcornfully.

Big Mars seems banqu'ront in their begger'd Hoſt,
And faintly through a rufy Bever peeps.

The Horſemen fit like fixed Candleſticks,

With Torch-flaves in their hand: and their poor Jades
Lob down their heads, drooping the hide and hips :

The gumme down roping from their pale-dead eyes,

And in their pale dull mouths the Jymold Bite

Lyes foul with chaw'd graſs, ſtill and motionleſſe,

And their executors, the knavith Crowes,

Flye o're them all, impatient for their hour.

Deſcription cannot ſuit it ſelf in words,

To demonstrate the Life of ſuch a Battel,
In life ſo liveleſſe, as it ſhews it ſelf.

Conſt. They have ſaid their prayers,

And they ſtay for death.

Dol. Shall we go ſend them Dinners, and freſſa Sutes,

And give their ſaſſing Horſes Provender,
And after fight with them ?

Conſt. I ſtay but for my Guard: on
To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take,
And uſe it for my hafeſt. Come, come away,
The Sun is high, and we out-wear the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Glouceſter, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham
with all his Hoſt: Salisbury, and
Westmerland.

Glouceſt. Where is the King?

Bedf. The King himself is rode to view their Bat-
tel.

Wesk. Of fighting men they have full threecore thou-
and.

Exe. There's five to one, befides they all are freſh,
Salisb. Gods Arm (ſtrike with us,) is a ſeafull oddes,
God buy you Princes all; Ile to my Charge :
If we no more meet, 'till we meet in Heaven ;
Then joyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Glouceſter, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind Knafman, Warriors all, adieu.

Bed. Farewell good Salisbury, and good-luck go with
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
[there]
For thou art ſam'd of the firm truth of valour,

Exe. Farewell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day.

Bed. He is as full of Valour as of Kindneſs,
Princely in both.

Enter the King.

Wesk. O that we now had here
But one ten thouſand of those men in England,
That do no work to day.

King. What's he that wifhes ſo?

My Couſin Westmerland. No my fair Couſin :
If we are markt to die, we are enow

To do our Countrey loſs: and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater ſhare of honour,

Gods will, I pray thee wifh not one man more.

By Jove, I am not covetous for Gold,

Nor care I who doth ſeed upon my coſt :
It yerns me not, if men my Garments wear ;

Such outward things d well not in my deſires.

But if it be a fin to covet Honour,

I am the moſt offending Soul alive.

No' faith, my Couze, wifh not a man from England:
Gods peace, I would not ſloſe to great an Honour,
As one man more me-thinks would ſhare from me,
For the beſt hope I have. O, do not wifh one more:
Rather proclaim it (Westmerland) through my Hoſt,
That he which hath no ſtomack to this fight,

Let him depart, his Paſport ſhall be made,
And Crowns for Convoſ put into his Purſe:

We would not die in that man's company,
That ſeaſe his fellowſhip, to die with us.

This day is call'd the Feaſt of Crispian :

He that out-lives this day, and comes safe home,
Will ſtand a tip-toe when this day is named,

And rouze him at the Name of Crispian :

He that shall fee this day, and live old age,

Will yearly on the Vigil ſeaſt his Neighbours,

And ſay to morrow is Saint Crispian :

Then will he ſtrip his ſleeve, and ſhow his ſeaſes:

Old men forget : yet all shall not be ſket :

But he'll remember, with advantages,
What ſeaſt he did that day. Then ſhall our Names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,

HARRY

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

Boy. He prays you to fave his life, he is a Gentleman of a good houſe, and for his Ranſom he will give you two hundred Crowns.

Pift. Tell him my fury ſhall abate, and I the Crowns will take.

Fren. Petit Monſieur que dit-ill?

Boy. Encore qu'il eſt contre ſon ſurement, de pardonner aucun prifonner: neantmoins pour les eſcus que vous luy promittez, il eſt content de vous donner la liberté de franchise.

Fre. Sur mes genoux ie vous donne milles remerciement, & ie me eſtime heureux qui ie ne tombe entre les mains d'an Chevalier, ie penſe le plus brave valiant, & tres deſiré Signeur d'Angleterre.

Pift. I xpound unto me Boy.

Boy. He gives you upon is knees a thousand thanks, and 'tis Reems himſelf happy, that he hath faſne into the hands of one (as he thinks) the moſt brave, valorous, and the ice-worthy ſigneur of England.

Pift. As I luck bloud, I will ſome mercy ſhew. Follow me.

Boy. Surveu vous le grand Capitain!

I did never know so woſull a voice iſſue from so empty a heart: but the ſong is true, The empty veſſel makes the greatest found. Bardolph and Nim had ten times more valour, then this toaring Devil i'th'old Play, that every one may pair his nails with a wooden dagger, and they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if he durſt feal any thing adventurouſly. I muſt fly with the Lacksies, with the luggage of our Camp, the French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys.

Exit.

Enter Conſtable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin, and Ramburs.

Con. O Diable.

Orl. O Signeur le jour & perdia, toute & perdie.

Dol. Mort Dieu ma vie, all is confounded, a!,

Repitach, and everlaſting flame

Sits mocking in our Plumes.

A short Alarum.

O meſchante fortune, do not run away.

Con. Why all our Ranks are broke.

Dol. O perdurable ſhame, let's ſtab our ſelves:

Be theſe the wretches that we plaid at dice for ?

Orl. Is this the King we ſent to, for his ransome ?

Bur. Shame, and eternal ſhame, nothing but ſhame,
Let us flye in once more back again,

And he that will not follow Burbon now,

Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand

Like a bafe Pander hold the Chamber door.

Whilſt by a bafe ſlave, no gender then my dog,

His faireſt daughter is contaminated.

Con. Diforder that hath ſpoil'd us, friend us now,
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

Orl. We are now yet living in the Field,
To tmother up the Engliſh in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.

Bur. The Devil take Order now, Ile to the throng;
Let life be ſhort, elic ſhame will be too long.

Exit.

Alarum. Enter the King and his train,
with Prisoners.

King. Weil have we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen,
But all's not done, yet keep the French the field.

Exe. The D. of York commends him to your Majesty.

King. Lives the good Uncle: thrice within this hour
I faw him down: thrice up again, and fighting,
From Helmet to the spur all bloud he was.

Exe. In which array (brave Soldiers) doth he lay,
Larding the plain: and by his bloudy ſide,
(Yoak-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds)
The Noble Earl of Suffolk alio lyes.

Suffolk firſt died, and York all hagled over
Comes to him, where in gore he lay inſteeped,
And takes him by the Beard, kiffeſ the gathes
That bloudily did yawn upon his face.

He cryes aloud; Tarry my Couſin Suffolc,

My foul ſhall chine keep company to heaven:

Tarry (sweet foul) for mine, then flye a-breast:
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our Chivalry.

Upon theſe words I came and cheere'd him up,
He ſmil'd me in the face, caught me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe, ſayes; Dear my Lord,
Commend my ſervice to my Soveraign;

Sodid he turn, and over Suffolк's ſnake

He threw his wounded arme, and kiſſ his lipres,
And ſo eipous'd to death, with bloud he ſeal'd
A Teſtament of Noble-ending-Love:

The pretty and sweet manner of it for'd
Thofe waters from me, which I would have ſtop'd,
But I had not ſo much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

King. I blame you not,

For hearing this, I muſt perſorce compound

With mixſull eyes, or they will iſſue too.

Alarum.

But heare, what new alarum is this fame?

The French have re-enſor'd their ſcatter'd men :

Then every ſouldier kill his Prifoners,

Give the word through.

Atus Quartus.

Enter Flusellen, and Gower.

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expreſſely againſt the Law of Arms, 'cis as anant a peecce of knavery mark you now, as can be offert in your Conſience now, is it not?

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive, and the Cowardly Rascals that ran from the Battail ha'd done this ſlaughter: befides they have burned and carried away all that was in the King's Tent, wherefore the King moſt worthily hath cauſ'd every ſouldier to cut his prifoners' throat, O 'tis a gallant King.

Flu. I, he was porn at Monmouth Captain Gower:
what call you the Town's name where Alexander the
pig was born?

Gow. Alexander the Great.

Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or
the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magna-
nimous are all one reckonings, I gave the phraſe a little
variations.

Gower. I think Alexander the Great was born in
Macedon, his Father was called Philip of Macedon, as I
take it.

Flu. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is
porn.

425

porn: I tell you Captain, it you look in the Maps of the Orld, I warrant you fall find in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations look you is both alike. There is a River in Macedon, and there is also moreover a River at Monmouth, it is called Wye at Monmouth: but it is out of my prains, what is the name of the other River: but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you mark Alexanders life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well, for there is figures in all things. Alexander God knows, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his chollers, and his moods, and his difpleatures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did in his Ales and his angers, ( look you ) kill his best friend Clyntus.

Gow. Our King is not like him in that he never kill'd any of his friends.

Flu. It is not well done (mark you now) to take the tals out of my mouth, cre it is made and finisned. I speak but in the figures, and comparisons of it: as Alexander kill his friend Clyntus, being in his Ales and his Cups; for Harry Monmouth being in his right wits, and his good judgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great belly doublet: he was full of jefts, and gypes, and knaveries, and mocks, I have forgot his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaffe.

Flu. That is he: I'le tell you, there is good men porn at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his Majefty.

Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.

King. I was not angry since I came to France, until this instant. Take a Trumpet Herald, Ride thou unto the horfemen on yond hill: If they will fight with us, bid them come down, Or voyd the field: they do off end our fight. If they'll do neither, we will come to them, And make them sker away, as twift as stones Enforced from the old Affyrian flings; Besides, we'll cut the throats of thefe we have, And not a man of them that we shall take, Shall tafe our mercy. Go and tell them fo.

Enter Montjoy.

Exe. Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege. Glow. His eyes are humbler then they us'd to be, King. How now, what means their Herald? Know't thou not, That I have fin'd thesee bones of mine for ranfome? Com't thou again for ranfome?

Her. No great King.

I come to thee for charitable Licence, That we may wander o're this bloody field, To book our dead, and then to bury them, To fort our Nobles from our common men. For many of our Princes (woe the while) Lie drownd'd and foak'd in mercenary blod: So do our vulgar drench their peafant limbs In blood of Princes, and with wounded feeds Fret fet-lock deep in gore, and with wilde rage Yerk out their armed heels at their dead matters, Killing them twice. O give us leave great King, To view the field in fatuity, and difpofe Of their dead bodies,

King. I tell you truly, Herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horfemen peer, And gallop o're the field.

Her. The day is yours.

King. Praifed be God and not our ſtrength for it: What is this Cattle called that stands hard by.

Her. They call it Agincourt.

King. Then call we this field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

Flu. Your Grandfather of famous memory (can't pleafe your Majefty) and your great Unkle Edward the Black Prince of Wales, as I have read in the Chronicles, fought moſt prave pattle here in France.

King. They did Fluelen.

Flu. Your Majefty (ayes very true): If your Majefties is remembred of it, the Welchmen did good ſervice in a Garden where Leeks did grow, wearing Leeks in their Monmouth caps, which your Majefty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the ſervice: And I do believe your Majefty takes no ſcorn to wear the Leek upon S. Tavies day.

King. I wear it for a memorable honour: For I am. Welch you know good Countriman.

Flu. All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Majefties Welſh ploud out of your pody, I can tell you that: God pleſe it, and preterve it, as long as it pleafes his Grace, and his Majefty too.

King. Thanks good my Countryman.

Flu. By Jefhu, I am your Majefties Countryman, I care not who know it: I will confefſe it to all the Orld, I need not to be aſhamed of your Majefty, Praſed be God fo long as your Majefty is an honest man.

King. God keep me fo.

Enter Williams.

Our Heralds go with him, Bring me juſt notice of the numbers dead On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.

Exe. Souldier, you muſt come to the King.

King. Souldier, why wear't thou that Glove in thy Cap?

Will. And't pleafe your Majefty, 'tis the gage of one that I ſhould fight withall, if he be alive.

King. An English man?

Will. And't pleafe your Majefty, a Rafaſſ that swagger'd with me laſt night: who if alive, and ever dare to challenge this Glove, I have ſworn to take him a box 'a th' ear: or if I can fee my Glove in his cap, which he ſwore as he was a Souldier he would wear (if alive) I will ſtrike it our foundly.

King. What think you Captain Fluelen, is it fit this ſouldier keep his oath?

Flu. He is a Craven and a Villain eſſe, and't pleafe your Majefty in my conſcience.

King. It may be, his enemy is a Gentleman of great fort, quite from the anſwer of his degree.

Flu. Though he be as good a Jentleman as the devil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is neceſſary (look your Grace) that he keep his vow and his oath: If he be perju'd (fee you now), his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack faſee, as ever his black ſhoe trod upon God's ground, and his earth, in my conſcience law.

King. Then keep thy vow firraſh, when thou meet the fellow.

Will. So, I will my Liege, as I live.

King. Who ſer't thou under?

Nn

Will.

The first Part of King Henry the Sixth.

426

Will. Under Captain Gower, my Liege.

Flu. Gower is a good Captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in the Warrs.

King. Call him bither to me Souldier.

Will. I will my Liege.

Exit.

King. Here Fluellen, wear thou this favour for me, and fltick it in thy Cap: when 'Alanfon and my self were down together, I pluckt this Glove from his Helme: if any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alanfon, and an enemy to our Person, if thou encounter any fuch, apprehend him, and thou do'ft me love.

Flu. Your Grace do's me as great Honours as can be defar'd in the hearts of his Subjects: I would fain fee the man, that ha's but two legsg, that fhall find himfelf agen'd at this Glove; that is all: but I would fain fee it once, and pleafe God of his grace that I might fee.

King. Know'ft thou Gower ?

Flu. He is my dear friend, and pleafe you.

King. Pray thee go feek him, and bring him to my Tent.

Flu. I will fetch him.

Exit.

King. My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Glofter, Follow Fluellen clofely at the heels,

The Glove which I have given him for a favour,
May haply purchase him a box a'th'ear.

It is the Souldiers: I by bargain should Wear it my felf. Follow good Coufin Warwick.

If that the Souldier ftrike him, as I judge

By this blunt bearing, he will keep his word;
Some fudden mifchief may arife of it:

For I do know Fluellen valiant,
And toucht with Choler, hot as Gunpowder,
And quickly will return an injury.

Follow, and fee there be no harme between them.

Go you with me, Unkle of Exeter.

Exeunt.

Enter Gower and Williams.

Will. I warrant it is to Knight you, Captain.

Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Gods will, and his pleasure, Captain, I befeech you now, come apace to the King: there is more good toward you peradventure, then is in your knowledge to dream of.

Will. Sir, know you this Glove ?

Flu. Know the Glove ? I know the Glove is a Glove.

Will. I know this, and thus I challenge it.

Strikes him.

Flu. 'Sibud, an arrant Traitor as anyes in the Univer-
fall World, or in France, or in England.

Gow. How now fir ? you Villain.

Will. Do you think I'le be forfworn ?

Flu. Stand away Captain Gower, I will give Treason
his payment into plows, I warrant you.

Will. I am no Traitor.

Flu. That's a Lie in thy Throat. I charge you in his
Majefties Name apprehend him, he's a friend of the Duke
Alanfons.

Enter Warwick and Gloncefter.

War. How now, how now, what's the matter ?

Flu. My Lord of Warwick, here is, praifed be God for it, a moft contagious Treafon come to light, look you, as you fhall defire in a Summers day. Here is his Majefty.

Enter King, and Exeter.

King. How now, what's the matter ?

Flu. My Liege, here is a Villain and a Traiteur,

that look your Grace, ha's ftruck the Glove which
your Majefty is take out of the Helme of Alanfon.

Will. My Liege, this was my Glove, here is the fellow of it: and he that I gave it to in change, promis'd to wear in his Cap: I promis'd to ftrike him, if he did: I met this man with my Glove in his Cap, and I have been as good as my word.

Flu. Your Majefty hear now, faving your Majeſtieſ Man-hood, what an arrant rafcally, beggerly, lowde Knave it is: I hope your Majeſty is pear me teſtimony and witneſſe, and will avouchment, that this is the Glove of Alanfon, that your Majeſty is give me, in your Conſtience now.

King. Give me thy Glove Souldier;

Look, here is the fellow of it:

'Twas I indeed thou promifed'ſt to ftrike.

And thou haſt given me moſt bitter terms.

Flu. And pleafe your Majeſty, let his Neck anſwer for it, if there is any Marshall Law in the world.

King. How canſt thou make me ſatisfaction?

Flu. All offences, my Lord, come from the heart: ne-
ver came any from mine, that might offend your Majeſty.

King. It was our ſelf thou didſt abuse.

Flu. Your Majeſty came not like your ſelf: you appear'd to me but as a common man: witneſſe the Night, your Garments, your Lowlineſſe: and what your highneſſe ſuffer'd under that shape, I beſeech you take it for your own fault, and not mine; for had you been aslauked you for, I made no offence; therefore I beſeech your highneſſe paſdon me.

King. Here Unkle Exeter, fill this Glove with Crowns,
And give it to this fellow. Keep it fellow,

And wear it for an honor in thy Cap,

Till I do challenge it. Give him the Crowns:

And Captain, you muſt needs be friends with him.

Flu. By this Day and this Light, the fellow ha's met-
tell enough in his belly: hold, there is twelve-pence for you, and I pray you ſerve God, and keep you out of prawls and prabbles, and quarrells and diffentions, and I warrant you it is the better for you.

Will. I will none of your Money.

Flu. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will ſerve you to mend your ſhooes: come: wherefore should you be ſo pathfull: your ſhooes is not to good: 'tis a good filling I warrant you, or I will change it.

Enter Herauld.

King. Now Herauld, are the dead numbed?

Her. Here is the number of the flaught'red French.

King. What Prifoners of good fort are taken
Unkle?

Exe. Charles Duke of Orleance, Nephew to the King.
John Duke of Burbon, and Lord Bouchiquaid:
Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and Squires,
Full fifteen hundred, befides common men.

King. This Note doth tell me of ten thouſand Frei-
That in the field lie flain: of Princes in this number,
And Nobles bearing Banners, there lye dead
One hundred twenty fix; added to theſe,
Of Knights, Efquires, and gallant Gentlemen,
Eight thouſand and four hundred: of the which,
Five hundred were but yefterday dubb'd Knights,
So that in theſe ten thouſand they have loft,
There are but fixteen hundred Mercenaries:

The reſt are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, Squires,
And

427

And Gentlemen of blood and quality,

The Names of those their Nobles that lie dead :

Charles Delabreth, High Conftable of France,

Jaques of Chatiilion, Admirall of France,

The Maſter of the Croſs-bows, Lord Rambures,

Great Maſter of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin,

John Duke of Alanſon, Anthonio Duke of Brabant,

The Brother to the Duke of Burgundy,

And Edward Duke of Barr : of lufly Earles,
Grandpree and Rouſſie, Fauconbridge and Foyes,
Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Leftraie.

Here was a Royall fellowship of death.

Where is the number of our English dead ?

Edward the Duke of Tork, the Earl of Suſſoſk,

Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam Efquire ;

None eſle of name : and of all other men,

But five and twenty.

King. O God, thy Arm was here :

And not to us, but to thy Arm alone,

Aſcribe we all : when, and where, at ſtratagem,

But in plain ſhock, and even play of Battell,

Was ever known ſo great and little loſs ?

On one part and on th'other, take it God,

For it is none but thine.

Exet. 'Tis wonderfull,

King. Come, go we in proceſſion to the Village :

And be it death proclaimed through our Hoſt,

To boaſt of this, or take that praeſ from God,

Which is his only.

Flu. Is it not lawfull and plesa your Majeſtly, to tell how many is kill'd.

King. Yes Captain ; but with this acknowledgement,
That God fought for us.

Flu. Yes, my conſciencie, he did us great good.

King. Do we all holy Rights ;

Let there be ſung Non nobis, and Te Deum,

The dead with charity encloſ'd in Clay :

And then to Callicie, and to England then,

Where ne're from France arriv'd more happy men.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Chorus.

Vouchſaſe to thofe that have not read the Story,

That I may prompt them : and of ſuch as have,

I humbly pray them to admit th'excufe

Of time, of numbers, and due courſe of things,

Which cannot in their huge and proper life,

Be here prefented. Now we bear the King

Toward Callicie : grant him there; And there being ſeen,

Heave him away upon your winged thoughts,

Athwart the Sca ; Behold the English beach,

Pales in the flood, with Men, with Wives, and Boyes,

Whose ſhouts and claps out-voyce the deep-mouth'd Sea,

Which like a mighty Whiffler 'fore the King,

Seems to prepare his way : So let him land,

And Solemnly fee him fet on to London.

So swiſt a pace hath Thought, that even now

You may imagine him upon Black-Heath :

Where, that his Lords defire him, to have born

His bruſed Helmet, and his bended Sword

Before him, through the City : he forbids it,

Being free from vaineſtſc, and ſelf-glorious pride ;

Giving full Trophace, ſignall, and Oſtent,

Quiſe from himſelf, to God. But now beſold,

In the quick Foſe and working-houſe of Thought,

How London doth powre out her Citizens,

The Mayor and all his Brethren in beſt ſort,

Like to the Senatours of th'antique Rome,

With the Plebeians ſwarming at their heels,

Go forth and fetch their Conqu'ring Caſar in :

As by a lower, but by loving likelihood,

Were now the Generall of our gracious Empreſſe,

As in good time he may, from Ireland comming,

Bringing Rebellions broached on his Sword ;

How many would the peacefull City quit.

To welcome him ? much more, and much more cauſe,

Did they this Harry. Now in London place him.

As yet the lamentation of the French

Invites the King of Englands ſtay at home :

The Emperour's comming in behalf of France,

To order peace between them : and omit

All the occurrences, what ever chanc't,

Till Harryes back return again to France :

There muſt we bring him : and my ſelf have play'd

The Interim, by remembring you 'tis paſt.

Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance,

After your thoughts, ſtraight back again to France.

Exit.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gow. Nay, that's right : but why wear you your Leek
to day ? Saint Davies day is paſt.

Flu. There is occafions and cauſes why and where-
fore in all things : I will tell you aſſe my friend, Captain
Gower ; the rafcally, ſcauſd, beggarly, lowſie, pragging
Knave Piffoll, which you and your ſelf, and all the world
know to be no petter then a fellow, look you now, of no
merits: he is come to me, and prings me pread and ſalt
yeſterday, look you, and bid me eat my Leek : it was in
a place where I could not breed no contention with him ;
but I will be ſo bold as to wear it in my Cap till I fee
him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of
my deſires,

Enter Piffoll.

Gow. Why here he comes, ſwelling like a Turky-cock.

Flu. 'Tis no matter for his ſwellings, nor his Turky-
cocks. God plefle aunchient Piffoll : you ſcurvy lowſie
Knave, God bleſſe you.

Pift. Ha, art thou bedlam ? doſt thou thirſt, bafe Tro-
jan, to have me fold up Parcas fatall Web ? Hence; I am
qualmifh at the ſmell of Leek.

Flu. I pefeech you heartily, ſcurvy lowſie Knave, at
my deſires, and my requeſts, and my petitions to eat,
look you, this Leek, becauſe, look you, you doe not
love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your
diſeſtions doo's not agree with it, I would deſire you to
eat it.

Pift. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats.

Flu. There is one Goat for you.

Strikes him.

Will you be ſo good, ſcauſd Knave, as eat it ?

Pift. Bafe Trojan, thou ſhalt die.

Flu. You ſay very true, ſcauſd Knave, when Gods
will is: I will deſire you to live in the mean time, and
eat your Vietauſls : come, there is ſawce for it. You
call'd me yeſterday Mountain-Squire, but I will make

Nn 2

you

you to day a Squire of low degree. I pray you fall to, if
you can mock a Leek, you can eat a Leek.

Gow. Enough Captain, you have aftonifht him.

Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my Leek,
or I will peat his pate four dayes : bite I pray you, it is
good for your green wound, and your bloody Cox-
comb.

Pist. Muft I bite?

Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt, and out of que-
fection too, and ambiguities.

Pist. By this Leek, I will moft horribly revenge : I
eat and eat I wear.

Flu. Eat I pray you, will you have some more fawce
to yonr Leek: there is not enough Leek to wear by.

Pist. Quiet thy Cudgell, thou doft fee I eat.

Flu. Much good do you feauld knave, heartily. Nay,
pray you throw none away, the skin is good for your
broken Coxcomb; when you take occafions to fee Leeks
hereafter, I pray you mock at 'em, that is all.

Pist. Good.

Flu. I, Leeks is good: hold you, there is a groat to
heal your pate.

Pist. Me a groat ?

Flu. Yes verily, and in truth you fhall take it, or I
have another Leek in my pocket, which you fhall eat.

Pist. I take thy groat in earneft of revenge.

Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cud-
gels, you fhall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of
me but Cudgels: Gud bu'y you, and keep you, and heal
your pate.

Exit.

Pist. All hell fhall fir for this.

Gow. Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knave,
will you mock at an ancient Tradition, began upon an
honourable refpect, and worn as a memorable Tropheo
of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds
any of your words. I have feen you gleeking and galling
at this Gentleman twice or thice. You thought, becaufe
he could not speak English in the native garb, he could
not therefore handle an English Cudgell: you find it o-
therwife, and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach
you a good English condition, fare ye well.

Exit.

Pist. Doth fortune play the hufwife with me now?
Newes have I that my Doll is dead i'th Spittle of a mala-
dy of France, and there my rendezvous is quite cut off:
Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs honour is
Cudgell'd. Well, Bawd I'le turn, and fomething lean to
Cut-purfe of quick hand: To England will I feale, and
there I'le feale;

And patches will I get unto thefe cudgell'd fearars,

And I wear it got them in the Gallia warres.

Exit.

Enter at one door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, War-
wick, and other Lords; at another, Queen Isabel,
the King, the Duke of Burgoigne, and
other French.

King. Peace to this meeting, wherefore are we met?

Unto our Brother France, and to our Sifter,
Health and fair time of day: Joy and good wishes
To our moft fair and Princely Coufin Katherine;
And as a branch and member of this Royalty,
By whom this great afflemby is contriv'd,
We do falute you Duke of Bargoigne,

And Princes French and Peers, health to you all.

Fra. Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Moft worthy Brother England, fair met.

So are you Princes (English) every one.

Quee. So happy be the Illue, Brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes,
Your eyes which hitherto have born in them
Against the French that met them in their bent,
The fatal Balls of murthering Bafliisks:
The venom of fuch Looks we fairly hope
Have loft their quality, and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.

Eng. To cry Amen to that, thus we appear.

Que. You English Princes all, I do falute you,

Burg. My duty to you both, on equal love,

Great Kings of France & England: that I have laboured
With all my wits, my pains, and ftrong endeavours,
To bring your moft imperiall Majefties
Unto this Bar, and Royall interview :

Your Mightineſſe on both parts beſt can witneſſe.
Since then my Office hath ſo far prevail'd,

That Face to Face, and Royall Eye to Eye,

You have conſgrted : let it not diſgrace me,

If I demand before this Royall view,

What Rub, or what impediment there is,

Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace,

Dear Nurfe of Arts, Pleinties, and joyfull Births,

Should not in this beſt Garden of the World,

Our fertile France, put up her lovely Village ?

Alas, the bath from France too long been chas'd,

And all her Husbandry doth lie on-heaps,
Corrupting in it's own fertility.

Her Vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,

Unpruned dies: her Hedges even, pleach'd,

Like Prifoners wildly over-grown with hair,

Put forth diſorder'd Twigs: her fallow Lees,

The Darnell, Hemlock, and rank Femetary.

Doth root upon; while that the Culter rufes,

That ſhould deracinate ſuch Savagery :

The even Mead, that erſt brought (weetely) forth

The freckled Cowſp, Burnet, and green Clover,

Wanting the Scythe, withall uncorrected, rank ;

Conceives by idlenſeſſe, and nothing teems,

But hatefull Docks, rough Thibbles, Keckies, Burres,

Loſing both beauty and utility ;

And all our Vineyards, Fallows, Meads, and Hedges,

Defeſtive in their natures, grow to wildneſſe.

Even ſo our Houſes, and our ſelves, and Children,

Have loft, or do not learn, for want of time,

The Sciences that ſhould become our Country ;

But grow like Savages, as Souldiers will,

That nothing do, but meditate on Blood,

To ſwearing, and ſtern Looks, diſtius'd Attire,

And every thing that ſeems unnaturall.

Which to reduce into our former favour,

You are affembled: and my ſpeech entreats,

That I may know the Let, why gentle Peace

Should not expell theſe inconveniences,

And bleſſe us with her former qualities.

Eng. If, Duke of Burgony, you would the Peace,
Whole want gives growth to th' imperfections
Which you have cited; you muſt buy that Peace
With full accord to all our juſt demands,
Whole Tenures and particular effects
You have enfchedul'd briefly in your hands.

Burg. The King hath heard them: to the which, as yet
There is no Anſwer made.

Eng. Well then: the Peace which you before ſo ung'd,
Lies in his Anſwer.

Fran.

430

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

that shall go to Confiantinople, and take the Turk by
The Beard, Shall we not? what say'st thou, my fair Flow-
er-de-Luce.

Kath. I do not know dat.

King. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promife:
do but now promife Kate, you will endeavour for your
French part of such a boy; and for my English moyty,
take the word of a King, and a Batchelor. How anſwer
you, La plus belle Katherine du monde mon trefcher &
devin deſſe.

Kath. Your Majeftee aue faue Frenche enough to de-
ceive de moſt ſage Damoifel dat is in en France.

King. Now ſie upon my ſalſe French: by mine honor
in true Englifh, I love thee Kate; by which honor, I dare
not ſwear thou loveſt me, yet my bloud begins to flat-
ter me, that thou do'ſt; yet notwithstanding the poor
and untempering effect of my Vitage. Now beſhrew my
Fathers Ambition, he was thinking of Civill Warres
when he got me, therefore was I created with a stub-
born out-side with an aspect of Iron, that when I come
to wooe Ladies, I fright them: but in faith Kate, the el-
der I wax, the better I ſhall appear. My comfort is, that
Old Age, that ill layer up of Beauty, can do no more
ſpoyle upon my Face. Thou haſt me, if thou haſt me,
at the worſt; and thou ſhalt wear me, if thou wear me,
better and better: and therefore tell me, moſt fair Ka-
therine, will you have me? Put off thofe Maiden Bluſhs,
avouch the thoughts of your Heart with the Looks of an
Empreſſe, take me by the Hand and ſay, Harry of
England, Iani thine: which word thou ſhalt no ſooner
bleſſe mine Ear withall, but I will tell thee aloud En-
gland is thine: Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Hen-
ry Plantaginet is thine; who, though I ſpeak it before his
Face, if he be not Fellow with the beſt King, thou ſhalt
find the beſt King of Good-fellows. Come your an-
ſwer in broken Muſick; for thy Voyce is Muſick, and
thy Englifh broken: Therefore Queen of all, Katherine,
break thy mind to me in broken Englifh, wilt thou have
me?

Kath. Dat is as it ſhall pleafe de roymon pere.

King. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please
him, Kate.

Kath. Den it shall also content me.

King. Upon that I kiffe your Hand, and I call youmy
Queen.

Kath. Laisſe mon Seigneur, laiſſe, laiſſe, may ſoy: Je ne veus point que vous abbaiffe vostre grandeur, en baiſant le main d'une nostre Seigneur indignie ſerviteur, excuse moy. Je vous ſupply mon tref-puiffant Seigneur.

King. Then I will kiffle your Lips, Kate.

Kath. Les Dames & Damoifels pour eſtre baiffe de-
vant leur nopcſe il net pas le coſtume de Fraunce.

King. Madam, my Interpreter, what ſays he?

Lady. Dat is not be de ſashion pour le Ladies of
France; I cannot tell wat is buiſſe en Englifh.

King. To Kiffle.

Lady. Your Majefty entendre bettred que moy.

King. Is it not a ſashion for the Maids in France to
kiffle before they are marryed, would the ſay?

Lady. Ouy verayment.

King. O Kate, nice Cuſtomes curſie to great Kings,
Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confin'd within the
weak Lift of a Countries ſashion: we are the makers
of Manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our
Places, ſtops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do
yours, for upholding the nice ſashion of your Coun-

try, in denying me a Kiffle: therefore patiently, and
yielding. You have Witch-craft in your Lips, Kate:
there is more eloquence in a Suger touch of them; then in
the Tongues of the French Councell: and they (should
fooner perfwade Harry of England, then a generall Pe-
tition of Monarchs. Here comes your father.

Enter the French Power, and the English Lords.

Burg. God fave your Majefty, my Royall Couſin, teach
you our Princes ſenglifh?

King. I would have her learn, my fair Couſin, how
perfectly I love her, and that is good Englifh.

Burg. Is he apt?

King. Our Tongue is rough, Coze, and my Condi-
tion is not ſmooth: ſo that having neither the Voyce nor
the Heart of Flattery about me, I cannot ſo conjure up
the ſpirit of love in her, that he will appear in his true
likenefs.

Burg. Pardon the frankneſs of my mirth, if I anſwer
you for that. If you would conjure in her, you muſt
make a Circle: if conjure up love in her in his true
likeneffe, he muſt appear naked, and blind. Can you
blame her then, being a Maid, yet ros'd over with the
Virgin Crimſon of Modety, if he deny the appearance
of a naked blind Boy in her naked feeing ſelfe? It were
(my Lord) a hard Condition for a Maid to configure
to.

King. Yet they do wink and yield as Love is blind
and enforces.

Burg. They are then excus'd, my Lord, when they fee
not what they do.

King. Then good my Lord, teach your Couſin to
confent to winking.

Burg. I will wink on her to confent, my Lord, if you
will teach her to know my meaning: for Maids well
Summer'd, and warme kept, are like Flyes at Bartholo-
mew-tyde, blind, though they have their eyes, and then
they will endure handling, which before would not abide
looking on.

King. This Moral ties me over to Time, and a hot
Sunmer; and ſo I ſhall catch the Flie, your Couſin, in
the latter end, and he muſt be blind too.

Burg. As Love is my Lord, before it loves.

King. It is ſo: and you may, fome of you, thank
Love for my blindenefs, who cannot fee many a fair
French City for one fair French Maid that ſtands in my
way.

French King. Yes my Lord, you fee them perſpe-
ctively: the Cities turn'd into a Maid; for they are
all girdled with Maiden Walls, that Warre hath en-
tred.

King. Shall Kate be my Wife?

Fran. So pleafe you.

England. I am content, ſo the Maiden Cities ye
talk of, may wait on her: ſo the Maid that ſtood in
the Way for my With, shall ſhow me the way to my
Will.

France. We have, confented to all tearmes of reaſon

Eng. Is't ſo, My Lords of England?

Well. The King hath granted every Article:
His Daughter firſt; and then in ſequele, all,
According to their firm propoſed natures.

Exe. Onely

Exet.
Onely he hath not yet subfcribed th:s:
Where your Majefly demands, That the King of France
having occasion to write for matter of Grant, ſhall
name your Highneſſe in this forme, and with this additi-
on, in French: Nofre trescher filz Henry Roy'd An-
gleterre Heretere de Fraunce: and thus in Latine: Pre-
clariffimus Filius noſtar Henricus Rex Anglia & Heres
 Francia.

Fran. Nor this I have not Brother ſo deny'd,
But your requeſt ſhall make me let it paffe.

Engl. I pray you then, in love and dear allyance,
Let that one Article rank with the reſt,
And thereupon give me your Daughter.

Fran. Take her fair ſon, and from her bloud raſe up
Huffe to me, that the contending Kingdomes
Of France and England, wholeſe very hoars look pale,

With envy of each others happineſſe,
May eafe their hatred ; and this dear Conjunction
Plant Neighbourhood and Chriſtian-like accord
In their ſweet Boſomes : that never War advance
His bleeding Sword 'twixt England and fair France.

Lords. Amen.

King. Now welcome Kate : and bear me witneſſe all,
That here I kiffle her as my Soveraigne Queen.

Flourish.

Queen. God, the beſt maker of all Marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your Realms in one,
As Man and Wife being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt your Kingdomes ſuch a Spouſal,

That never may ill Office, or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the Bed of bleſſed Marriage,
Thrift in between the Paſſion of theſe Kingdomes,
To make divorce of their incorporate League :
That English may as French, French English men,
Receive each other. God ſpeak this Amen.

All. Amen.

King. Prepare for our Marriage: on which day,
My Lord of Burgundy we'll take your Oath
And all the Peers, for ſurety of our Leagues,
Then ſhall I ſwear to Kate, and you to me,
And may our Oaths well kept and prop'rous be.

Sonet.

Exeunt.

Enter Chorus.

Thus far with rough, and all-unable Pen,
Our bending Author hath purfu'd the Story,
In little room confining Mighty men,

Mangling by flarts the full courfe of their glory.
Small time : but in that ſmall, moſt greatly lived
This Star of England, Fortune made his Sword ;

By which, the Worlds beſt Garden he atchieved :
And of it left his Son Imperiall Lord,

Henry the Sixth, in Infant Bands crown'd King
Of France and England, did this King ſucceed :

Whofe State ſo many had the managing,
That they loſſ France, and make his England bleed :

Which oft our Stage hath ſhown ; and for their ſake,
In your fair minds let this acceptance take.

F I N I S.

The first part of King Henry the Sixth.

428

Enter to them another Meſſenger:

Mef. Lords view the ſet Letters, full of bad mifchance.
France is revolced from the English quite,
Except ſome petty Towns of no import.

The Dolphin Charles is crowned King in Rhemes.

The Baffard of Orleance with him is joyn'd:
Reynald, Duke of Anjon, doth his part,

The Duke of Alanton flieh on his fide.

Exe. The Dolphin Crown'd King ? all flye to him ?
O whether ſhall we flye from this reproach ?

Gloſt. We will not flye, but to our enemies throats.

Bedford, if thou be ſlack, I'le fight it out.

Bed. Gloſer, why doubt it thou of my forwardneſſe ?

An Army have I muſter'd in my thoughts,

Wherewith already France is over-run.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Mef. My gracious Lords, to adde to your laments,
Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's Hearſe,
I muſt inform you of a diſmall fight,

Bewtix the ſROUT Lord Talbot, and the French.

Win. What ? wherein Talbot overcame, is't to ?

3. Mef. O no: wherein Lord Talbot was d'rethrown :
The circumſtance I'le tell you more at large.

The tenth of Auguſt laſt, this dreadfull Lord,

Retiring from the Siege of Orleance,

Having full ſcareſt thouſand in his trouſp,
By three and twenty thouſand of the French

Was round encompaſſed, and ſet upon :

No leſure had he to enrank his men.

He wanted Pikes to ſet before his Archers :

Inſtead whereof, tharp Stakes pluckt out of Hedges

They pitched in the ground conſuſedly,

To keep the Horſemen off, from breaking in.

More then three hours the fight continued :

Where valiant Talbot, above humane thought,

Enaſtied wonders with his Sword and Lance.

Hundreds he ſent to Hell, and none durſt land him :

Here, there, and every where enrag'd, he ſlew.

The French exclaim'd, the Devil was in Armes,
All the whole Army ſlood agaſ'd on him.

His Souldiers ſpying his undaunted Spirit,

A Talbot, a Talbot, cri'd out almain.

And ruſt into the bowels of the Battel.

Here had the Conqueſt fully been ſeel'd up,

If Sir John Falſtaſſe had not play'd the Coward,

He being in the Vauward, plac't behind,

With purpofe to relieve and follow them,

Cowaſtly ſled, not having ſtruck one ſtroak.

Hence grew the generall wrack and maffacre ;

Encloſed were they with their enemies.

A bafe Walloon, to win the Dolphin's grace,

Thrift Talbot with a Spear into the Back,

Whom all France, with their ſſſembled ſtrength,
Durſt not preſume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot ſlain then ? I will ſlay my ſelf,

For living idletly here in pomp and eafe,

Whil't ſuch a worthy Leader, wanting aids,

Unto his daſtard foe-men is betray'd,

3. Mef. O no, he lives, but is took Prifoner,
And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerſord :

Moft of the reſt ſlaughter'd, or took likewise.

Bed. His Ranſome there is none but I ſhall pay.
I'le hale the Dolphin headlong from his THRONE,

His Crown ſhall be the Ranſome of my friend :

Four of their Lords I'le change for one of ours.

Farewell my Maſters, to my Task will I,
Bonefires in France forthwith I am to make,
To keep our great Saint Georges Feaſt withall.
Ten thouſand Souldiers with me I will take,
Whofe bloody deeds ſhall make all Europe quake.

3. Mef. So you had need, for Orleance is beſie'd,
The English Army is grown weak and faint :
The Earl of Salishury craveth ſuppy,
And hardly keeps his men from muniny,
Since they ſo few, watch ſuch a multitude.

Exe. Remember Lords your Oaths to Henry ſworn :
Either to quell the Dolphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoak,
Bed. I do remember it, and here take leave,

To go about my preparation.

Exit Bedford.

Gloſt. I'le to the Tower with all the haſt I can,

To view th'Artillery and Munition,

And then I will proclaim young Henry King.

Exe. To Eltam will I, where the young King is,
Being ordain'd his ſpeciall Governour,
And for his ſafety there I'le beſt devife.

Exit. Winch. Each hath his place and Function to attend :

I am left out; for me nothing remains :
But long I will not be Jack out of Office,
The King from Eltam I intend to ſend,
And fit at chiefeft ſtern of publick Weal.

Enter Charles Alanson, and Reigneir, marching
with Drum and Souldiers.

Charl. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens,
So in the Earth to this day is not known.
Late did he ſhine upon the English ſide :

Now we are Viſtors, upon us he ſmiles.

What Towns of any moment, but we have ?

At pleasure here we lye, near Orleance :

Otherwhiles, the famiſt English, like pale Ghoſts,

P faintly beſiege us one hour in a monет.

Al. They want their Porredge, and their fat Bull-

Either they muſt be dieted like Mules.

Reig. Let's raife the Siege: why live we idletly here ?

And have their Provender ti'd to their mouths,

Or pitteous they will look, like drowned Mice.

Talbot is taken, whom we want to fear :

Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salishury,

And he may well in fretting ſpend his gall,

Nor men, nor money hath he to make War.

Char. Sound, found Alarum, we will rufh on them,

Now for the honour of the forlorn French :

Him I forgive my death, that killeth me ;

When he fees me go back on foot, or flye.

Here Alarum, they are beaten back by the
English, with great laſſe.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir.

Charl. VVho ever ſaw the like ? what men have I ?
Dogs, Cowards, Daſtards: I would ne're have ſled,
But that they left me 'midſt my enemie.

Reig. Salishury is a deſperate Homicide,

He fighteth as one weary of his life :

To other Lords, like Lyons wanting food,

Do rufh upon us as their hungry prey.

Alarun.

The Life of King Henry the Sixth

434

Alanf. Froyfard, a Countreyman of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands breed,
During the time Edward the third did raign :
More truly now may this be verefied ;
For none but Samfons and Goliaffes
It fendeth forth to skimilh : one to ten ?
Lean raw-bon'd Rafcalls, who would e're fuppoſe,
They had fuch courage and audacity ;

Charl. Let's leave this Town,
For they are hair-brain'd Slaves,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:
Ofold I know them ; rather with their Teeth
The Walls they'll tear down, then forfake the Siege.

Reig. I think by fome odde Gimmalls or device
Their Armes are fet, like Clocks, fitl to flike on :
Elle ne're could they hold out fo as they do :
By my confent, we'll even let them alone.

Alan. Beit fo.

Enter the Bastard of Orleance.

Bast. Where's the Prince Dolphin ? I have newes for
him.

Dolph. Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to us.

Bast. Me thinks your looks are fad, your cheer appall'd.
Hath the late over throw wrought this offence ?

Be not difmay'd for fuccour is at hand :
A holy Maid hither with me I bring,
Which by a Vifion ſent to her from heaven,
Ordained is to raife this tedious Siege,
And drive the English forth the bounds of France:
The ſpirit of deep Propheſe ſhe hath,
Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome:
What's, paſt, and what's to come, ſhe can defery.
Speak, ſhall I call her in ? believe my words,
For they are certain, and unfallible.

Dolph. Go call her in : but firſt, to try her skill,
Reignier ſtand thou as Dolphin in my place ;
Question her proudly, let thy Looks be ſtern,
By this means ſhall we found what skill ſhe hath,

Enter Jone Puzel.

Reig. Fair Maid, is't thou wilt do theſe wondrous
feats ?

Puz. Reignier, is't thou that thinkeſt to beguile me ?
Where is the Dolphin ? Come, come from behind,
I know thee well, though never ſeen before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me ;
In private will I talk with thee apart :
Stand back you Lords, and give us leave a while.

Reig. She takes upon her bravely at firſt daſh.

Puz. Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepheards Daughter,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of Art :
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
To ſhine on my contemptible eſtate.
Loe, whilft I waited on my tender Lambs,
And to Suns parching heat diſplay'd my checks,
Gods Mother deigned to appear to me,
And in a Vifion full of Majefty,
Will'd me to leave my bafe Vocation,
And free my Country from Calamity :
Herald the promis'd, and affuſ'd ſucceſſe.
In compleat Glory ſhe reveal'd her ſelf :
And whereas I was black and ſwart before :
With thate clear Rayes, which ſhe infus'd on me,
That beauty am I bleſt with, which you ſee.

Ask me what question thou canſt potſible,
And I will anſwer unpremeditated :
My Courage try by Combat, if thou dar'lt,
And thou ſhalt find that I exceed my Sex,
Refolve on this, thou ſhalt be fortunate :
If thou receive me for thy Warlike Mate.

Dolph. Thou haſt aftonifht me with thy high terms:
Onely this proof I'le of thy Valour make,
In ſingle Combat thou ſhalt buckle with me ;
And if thou vanquifheſt, thy words are true,
Otherwife I renounce all confidence.

Puz. I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd Sword,
Deckt with fine Flower-de-Luces on each ſide,
The which at Tourain, in S. Katherines Church-yard,
Out of a great deal of old Iron, I chofe forth.

Dolph. Then come a God's name, I fear no woman.

Puzel. And while I live, I'le ne're ſlie no man.

Here they fight, and Jone de Puzel overcomes.

Dolph. Stay, stay thy hands, thou art an Amazon,
And fighteſt with the Sword of Debora.

Puzel. Chirſts Mother helps me, eſſe I were too
weak.

Dolph. Who e're helps thee, 'tis thou that muſt help
Impatiently I burn with thy defire,
My heart and hands thou haſt at once ſubſu'd,
Excellent Puzel, if thy name be ſo,

Excellent Puzel, if thy name be ſo,
Let me thy ſervant, and not Soveraign be,
'Tis the French Dolphin ſueth to thee thus.

Puzel. I muſt not yield to any rights of Love,
For my Proſeſſion's ſacred from above :
When I have chafed all thy Foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompence.

Dolph. Mean time look gracious on thy profit;
Thraul.

Reig. My Lord me thinks is very long in talk.

Alan. Doubtles he ſhriyes this Woman to her ſmok :
Elle ne're could he ſo long protraſt his ſpeech.

Reign. Shall we diſturb him, ſince he keeps no
mean ?

Ala. He may mean more then we poor men do know :
These women are ſhrewd tempters with their tongues.

Reig. My Lord, where are you ? what devife you on,
Shall we give o're Orleance, or no ?
Puzel. Why no, I ſay: diſturb full Recreants,
Fight till the laſt gaſp : for I le be your guard.

Dolph. What ſhe fayes, I'le confirm : we'll fight it
out.

Puzel. Aſſign'd I am to be the English Scourge.
This night the Siege affuredly I'le raife :
Expect Saint Martins Summer, Halcyon dayes,
Since I have entred thus into theſe Wars,
Glory is like a Circle in the Water,
Which never ceaſeth to enlarge it ſelf,
Till by broad ſpreading, it diſperſe to nought.
With Henry's death, the English Circle ends,
Diſperſed are the glories it included :
Now am I like that proud infulting Ship,
Which Caſar and his fortune bare at once.

Dolph. Was Mahomet inſpired with a Dove ?
Thou with an Eagle art inſpired then.
Hellen, the Mother of great Conſtantine,
Nor yet S. Philips Daughters were like thee.
Bright Star of Venus, fa'n down on the Earth,
How may I reverently worſhip thee enough ?

Alan. Leave off delays, and let us raife the
Siege.

Reignier.

435

Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our honors,
Drive them from Orleance, and be immortalized,

Dolph. Prefently we'll try : come, let's away about it,
No Prophet will I truſt, if the prove false.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloster, with his ſerving-men.

Gloſt. I am to ſurvey the Tower this day;
Since Henries death, I fear there is a Conveyance :
Where be the theſe Warders, that they wait not here ?
Open the Gates, 'tis Gloſter that calls,

1. Warder. Who's there, that knocks ſo imperially ſt ?
Gloſt. 1. man. It is the Noble Duke of Gloſter.

2. Warder. Who ere he be, you may not be let in.

1. Man. Villains, anſwer you to the Lord Protecſor ?

1. Warder. The Lord protecſt him, ſo we anſwer him,
We do not otherwife then we are will'd.

Gloſt. Who willed you ? or whoſe will ſtands but mine?
There's none Protector of the Realme, but I :

Break up the Gates, I'le be your warrantize ;

Shall I be flouted thus by duchill Grooms ?

Gloſters men ruff at the Tower Gates, and Woodvile
the Lieutenant ſpeaks within.

Wood. What noſey is this ? what Traytors have we
here ?

Gloſt. Lieutenant, is it you whose voyce I hear ?
Open the Gates, here's Gloſter that would enter.

Wood. Have patience Noble Duke, I may not open,
The Cardinall of Winchelſter forbids :
From him I have expreſſe commandement,
That thou nor none of thine ſhall be let in.

Gloſt. Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizſe him *fore me:
Arragant Winchelſter, that haughry Prelate,
Whom Henry our late Soveraign ne're could brook ?
Thou art no friend to God, or to the King :
Open the Gates, or I'le flut then ſhortly.

Servingmen. Open the Gates to the Lord Protecſor,
Or we'll burſt them open, if that you come not quickly.

Enter to the Protecſor at the Tower Gates: Winchelſter
and his men in Tawney Coats.

Winchelſt. How now ambitious Umpire what means
this?

Gloſt. Piel'd Prieft, do'ſt thou command me to be
hut out ?

Winch. I do, thou moſt ufurping Prodiſor,
And not Protecſor of the King or Realm.

Gloſt. Stand back thou manifeſt Conſpilator,
Thou that contrived *ſt to murthier our dead Lord,
Thou that giv'd ſt Whores Indulgencesto ſin,
I'le canvas thee in thy Broad Cardinalls Hat,
If thou proceed in this thy infolence.

Winch. Nay, ſtand back, I will not budge a foot:
This be *Damascus*, be thou curſed *Cain*,
To flay thy Brother *Abel*, if thou wilt.

Gloſt. I will not flay thee, but I'le drive thee back :
Thy Scarlet Robes, as a Childs bearing Cloth,
I'le uſe, to carry thee out of this place.

Winch. Doe what thou dar'd, I beard thee to thy
face.

Gloſt. What ? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face ?
Draw men, for all this privileged place,
Blew Coats to Tawney Coats. Prieft beware thy Beard,
I mean to tugge it, and to cuff you foundly.
Under my feet I'le ſtamp thy Cardinalls Hat :

In ſpight of Pope, or dignities of Church,
Here by the Cheek ſtyle drag thee up and down.

Winch. Gloſter, thou wilt anſwer this before the Pope.

Gloſt. Winchelſter Goofe, I cry, a Rope, a Rope.

Now beat them hence, why do you let them ſtay ?
Thee I'le chafe hence, thou Wolf in Sheeps array.
Out Tawney-Coats, out Scarlet Hypocrite.

Here Gloſters men beat out the Cardinalls men, and
enter in the burly-burly the Mayor of
London and his Officers.

Mayor. Fie Lords, that you being ſupream Magiſtrates,
Thus contumelionſt thoulſt break the Peace.

Glo. Peace Mayor, for thou know'd little of my wrongs
Here's Beasſord, that regards not God nor King,
Hath here intractayn'd the Tower to his uſe.

Winch. Here's Gloſter too, a Foe to Citizens,
One that full motions War, and never Peace,
O're-changing your free purſes with large Fines;
That feeks to overthrow Religion,
Becaufe he is Protecſor of the Realm;

And would have Armour here out of the Tower,
To Crown himſelf King, and ſuppreſſe the Prince.

Gloſt. I will not anſwer thee with words, but blows.

Here they skirmish again.

Mayor. Nought reſts for me, in this tumultuous ſtrife,
But to make open Proclamation.
Come Officer, as loud as'ere thou canſt, cry :

All manner of men, affembl'd here in Armes this day,
against Gods Peace and the Kings, we charge and com-
mand you, in his Highneſs Name, to repair to your ſeveral
dwelling places, and not to wear, handle, or uſe any Sword,
Weapon, or Dagger hence-forward, upon pain of death.

Gloſt. Cardinall, I'le be no breaker of the Law :
But we ſhall meet, and break our minds at large.

Winch. Gloſter, we'll meet to thy dear coſt be ſure :
Thy heart-bloud I will have for this dayes work.

Mayor. I'le call for Clubs, if you will not away :
This Cardinall is more haughty then the Devil.

Gloſter. Major farewell : thou do'ſt but what thou
may'ſt

Winch. Abominable Gloſter, guard thy head,
For I intend to have it e're be long.

Exeunt.

Mayor. See the Coaſt clear'd, and then we will depart.
Good God, theſe Nobles should ſuch ſtomacks bear,
I my ſelf fight not once in forty year.

Exeunt.

Enter the Maſter Gunner of Orleance,
and his Boy.

M. Gun. Sirra, thou know'd how Orleance is befied
And how the English have the Suburbs won.

Boy. Father I know, and oft have ſhot at them,
How e're unfortunate, I miſ'd my aime.

M. Gun. But now thou ſhalt not. Be thou rul'd by me.
Chief Maſter Gunner am I of this Town,
Something I muſt do to procure me grace :
The Princes eſpialls have inſormed me:
How the English, in the Suburbs cloſe entrench,
Went through a ſeevet Grate of Iron Barres,

In yonder Tower, to over-peer the City,
And thence diſcover, how with moſt adverſage
They may vex us with ſhot or with Aſſault.

To intercept this inconvenience,

A piece of Ordnance 'gainſt it I have plac'd,

And

And fully even these three dayes have I watch'd,
If I could see them. Now Boy do thou watch,
For I can stay no longer.
If thou spy'ft any, run and bring me word,
And thouhalt find me at the Governors.

Boy. Father, I warrant you take you no care,
I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

Enter Salisbury, and Talbot on the Turrets,
with others.

Exit.

Salis. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd?
How wert thou handled, being Pritoner?
Or by what means got's thou to be releas'd?
Discourse I prethee on this Turrets top.

Tal. The Earle of Bedford had a Prifoner,
Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santraile,
For him was I exchang'd, and ranfom'd.
But with a bofer man of Armes by far,
Once in contempt they would have barter'd me:
Which I diifaining, fee'd, and craved death,
Rather then I would be fo pil'd eſteem'd;
In fine, redeem'd I was as I defu'd.
But O, the trecherous Fallaffe wounds my heart,
Whom with my bare fifts I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.

Salis. Yet tell't thou not, how thou wert entertain'd.
Tal. With scoffs and ſcorns, and contumelious taunts,
In open Market-place produc'd they me,
To be a publick ſpectacle to all:

Here, faid they, is the Terror of the French,
The Scare-Crow that affrights our Children ſo.
Then broke I from the Office s that led me,
And with my nails digg'd ſtones out of the Ground,
To hurtle at the beholders of my ſhame.
My gaily countenance made others flye,
None duſt come near, for fear of ſudden death,
In Iron Walls they deem'd me not ſecure:
So great fear of my Name 'mong'them were ſpread,
That they fuppos'd I could rend Barres of ſeel,
And ſpurn in pieces poſts of Adamant.

Wherefore a guard of choſen Shot I had :
That walkt about me every Minute while :
And if I did but ſtir out of my Bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Enter the Boy with a Linstock.

Salis. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd,
But we will be reveng'd ſuffciently.

Now it is Supper time in Orleance :
Here, through this Graces, I can count every one,
And view the French men how they fortifi:
Let us look in, the fight will much delight thee :
Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glandsdale,
Let me have your expreſſe opinions,

Where is beſt place to make our Batt'ry next?

Garg. I think at the North Gate, for there stand Lords.
Glandſ. And I here, at the Bulwark of the Bridge.

Talb. For ought I fee, this City muſt be famiſh,
Or with light Skirmiſhes enſeemed.

Here they ſhot, and Salisbury falls down.

Salis. O Lord have mercy on us wretched finners.
Garg. O Lord have mercy on me, woſull man.
Talb. What chance is this that suddenly hath croſt us?
Speak Salisbury; at least, if thou canſt, ſpeak:

How far'ft thou, Mirror of all Marriall men?
One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheeks ſide ſtruck off?
Accurſed Tower, Accurſed fatall Hand,
That hath contriv'd this woſull Tragedy.
In thirteen Battells, Salisbury o're came:
Henry the Fifth he firſt train'd to the Wars.
Whilft any Trump did found, or Drum ſtruck up,
His Sword did ne're leave ſtriking in the field,
Yet liv'ft thou Salisbury ? though thy ſpeech doth fail,
One Eye thou haſt to look to Heaven for grace.
The Sun with one Eye vieweth all the World,
Heaven be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands,
Bear hence this Body, I will help to bury it.
Sir Thomas Gargrave, haſt thou any life?
Speak unto Talbot, nay, look up to him.
Salisbury chear thy Spirit with this comfort,
Thou ſhalt not die whiles----------

He beckens with his hand, and ſmiles on me:
As who ſhould ſay, When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.
Plantaginer I will, and, Nero like, will

Play on the Lute, beholding the Towns burn :
Wretched ſhall France be only in my Name,

----Here an Alarum, and it Thunders and Lightens,
What fir is this? what tumults in the Heavens?
Whence cometh this Alarum, and the noyſe?

Enter a Messenger.

Meff. My Lord, my Lord, the French have gathered
The Dolphin, with one Joan de Puzel joyn'd, (head,
A holy Prophetteſe, new ſen ſup,
Is come with a great Power, to raſe the Siege.

Here Salisbury lifteth himself, up and groans.

Talb. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan,
It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd.
French men, Ile be a Salisbury to you,
Puzel or Puffel, Dolphin or Dog-ſilh,
Your hearts Ile stamp out with my Horſes heels,
And make a Quagmire of your mingled brains,
Convey me Salisbury into his Tent,
And then we'll try what theſe daſtard Frenchmen dare.

Alarum.

Exit.

Here an Alarum again: and Talbot purſueth the Dol-
phin, and driveth him: Then enter Joan de Puzel,
driving Englishmen before her. Then enter
Talbot.

Talb.

Talb. Where is my ſtrength, my valour, and my ſtock?
Our English Troops retyre, I cannot ſtay them.
A Woman clad in Armour chafeth them.
Enter Puzel.

Puzel.

Here, here ſhe comes. Ile have a bout with thee:
Devill, or Devil's Dam, Ile conjure thee:
Bloud will I draw on thee, thou art a Witch,
And ſtraightway give thy Soul to him thou ſewſt.

Puz. Come, come, 'tis only I that muſt disgrace thee.

Here they fight.

Talb. Heavens, can you uſuer Hell ſo to prevail?
My breſt Ile buſt with ſtraining of my courage,
And from my shoulders crack my Armes aſunder,
But I will chaſtife this high-minded Strumpet.

They fight again.

Puz. Talbot fairewell, thy hour is not yet come,
I muſt go Viſtuall Orleance forthwith;

A short Alarum: Then enter the Town

with Souldiers.

O're

The first Part of Henry the Sixth.

O re-take me if thou canst, I fear thy strength.

Go, go, cheer up they hungry starved men,

Help Salisbury to make his Testament,

This Day is ours, as many more shall be.

Exit.

Talb. My thoughts are whirled like a Potter's Wheel.
I know not where I am, nor what I do :

A Witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal,

Drives back our Troops, and conquers as the lifts :

So Bees with fmoak, and Doves with noifeome stench,
Are from their Hives and Houses driven away.

They call'd us, for our fiercenes, English Dogges,

Now like the Whelpes, we crying run away.

A short Alarum.

Heark Countreymen, either renew the fight,

Or tear the Lyons out of England's Coat ;

Renounce your Soil, give Sheep in Lyons stede :

Sheep run not half so treacherous from the Wolf,

Or Horfe or Oxen from the Leopard,

As you flie from your oft-subdued Slaves.

Alarum. Here another Skirmish.

It will not be, retire into your Trenches :

You all confeited unto Salisbury's death,

For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.

Puzel is entered into Orleance,

In fight of us, or ought that we could doe.

O would I were to die with Salisbury,

The flame hereof, will make me hide my head.

Exit Talbot.

Alarum, Retreat, Flourish.

Enter on the Wall Puzel, Dolphin, Reigneir,
Alanson, and Souldiers.

Puzel. Advance our waving Colours on the Walls,
Reſu'd is Orleance from the English wolves :

Thus Joan de Puzel hath performed her word.

Dolph. Divineft Creature, bright Astrea's Daughter,
How ſhall I honour thee for this uccelſe ?

Thy promises are like Adonis Garden,

That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next.

France, triumph in thy glorious Prophetefſe,

Recover'd is the Town of Orleance,

More blessed hap did ne're befall our State.

Reigneir. Why ring not out the Bells aloud,
Throughout the Town ?

Dolphin command the Citizens make Bonefires,

And feast and banquet in the open streets,

To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

Alanf. All France will be repleat with mirth and joy,
When they ſhall hear how we have play'd the men.

Dolph. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won :

For which, I will divide my Crown with her,

And all the Priefes and Fryers in my Realm,

Shall in proceſſion ſing her endleſs praise.

A flatelier Pyramis to her I le rear,

Then Rhodope's or Memphis ever was.

In memory of her when ſhe is dead,

Her Aſhes, in an Urn more precious

Then the rich-jewel'd Coffer of Darius,

Transported, ſhall be at high Festivals

Before the Kings and Queens of France.

No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,

But Joan de Puzel shall be France's Saint.

Come in, and let us Banquet Royally,

After this Golden Day of Victory.

Flourish.

Exeunt.

Altus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Serjeant of a Band, with two Centinels.

Ser. Sits, take your places and be vigilant :

If any noise or Souldier you perceive

Near to the walls, by some apparent sign

Let us have knowledge at the Court of Guard.

Cent. Serjeant you ſhall. Thus are poor Servitors
(When others ſleep upon their quiet beds)

Conſtrain'd to watch in darkneſs, rain, and cold.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling
Ladders: Their Drummes beating
a Dead March.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
By whole approach, the Regions of Artoys,
Wallon, and Picardie, are friends to us :

This happy night, the Frenchmen are ſecure,

Having all day carous'd and banquetted,

Embrace we then this opportunity;

As fitting beſt to quittance their deceit,

Contriv'd by Art, and balefull Sorcery.

Bed. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,
Defpairing of his own armses fortitude,

To joyn with Witches, and the help of Hell.

Bur. Traitors have never other company.

But what's that Puzel, whom they term so pure ?

Tal. A Maid, they lay.

Bed. A Maid ? And be so martial ?

Bur. Pray God he prove not maſculine e're long :

If underneath the Standard of the French

She carry Armour, as ſhe hath begun.

Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with Spirits,
God is our Fortreſſe, in whose conquering name

Let us reſolve to ſcale their flinty bulwarks.

Bed. Ascend brave Talbot, we will follow thee.

Tal. Not altogether: Better far I gueſſe,

That we do make our entrance ſeveral ways :

That if it chance the one of us do fail,

The other yet may rile againſt their force.

Bed. Agreed; I le to yond corner.

Bur. And I to this.

Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave.

Now Salisabury for thee and for the right

Of English Henry, ſhall this night appear

How much in duty, I am bound to both.

Cent. Arme, arme, the enemy doth make affaull.

Cry, S. George. A Talbot.

The French leap o're the walls in their ſhirts, Enter
several wayrs, Baslard, Alanson, Reigneir,
half ready, and half unready.

Alan. How now my Lords ? what all unreadie ſo fo ?

Baslard. Unready ? I and glad we ſeap'd ſo well,

Reig. 'Twas time (I trow) to wake and leave our beds,
Hearing Alarums at our Chamber doores.

Alan. Of all exploits ſince first I follow'd Armes,
Ne're heard I of a warlike enterprize

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["438", "The first Part of Henry the Sixth.", "More venturous, or desperate then this.", "Baſt. I think this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell.", "Reig. If not of Hell, the Heavens sure favour him.", "Alanſ. Here commeth Charles, I marvel how he fped,", "Enter Charles and Joan.", "Baſt. Tut, holy Joan was his defensive Guard.", "Charl. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitfull Dame ?", "Did't thou at first, to flatter us withall,", "Make us partakers of a little gain,", "That now our loſs might be ten times ſo much ?", "Joan. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?", "At all times will you have my power alike ?", "Sleeping or waking, muſt I full prevail,", "Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ?", "Improvident Souldiers, had your watch been good,\nThis sudden miſchief never could have faln.", "Charl. Duke of Alantoun, this was your default,", "That being Captain of the Watch to Night,", "Did look no better to that weighty Charge,", "Alanſ. Had all our Quarters been as ſafely kept,", "As that where of I had the government,", "We had not been thus shamefully ſurpriz'd.", "Baſt. Mine was ſure,", "Reign. And ſo was mine, my Lord.", "Charl. And for my ſelf, moſt part of all this Night", "Within he Quarter, and mine own Precinct,", "I was employ'd in patſing to and fro,", "About relieving of the Centinels.", "Then how, or which way, (should they firſt break in ?", "Joan. Quethion (my Lords) no further of the cafe,", "How, or which way ? 'tis ſure they found ſome place,", "But weakly guarded, where the breach was made :", "And now there refts no other shifts but this,", "To gather our Souldiers, i'carre'd and diuerſ't,", "And lay new Plat-formes to endamage them.", "Exeunt.", "Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot : they flye, leaving their Cloathes behind.", "Sould. I'le be ſo bold to take what they have left :", "The Cry of Talbot ſerves me for a Sword,", "For I have loaden me with many Spoiles,", "Uſing no other Weapon but his Name.", "Exit.", "Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.", "Bedf. The day begins to break, and Night is fled,", "Whose pitchy Mantle over-vail'd the Earth.", "Here found Retreat, and ceafe our hot purſuit.", "Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury,", "And here advance it in the Market-place,", "The middle Centre of this curſed Town.", "Now have I pay'd my Vow into his Soul,", "For every drop of Bioud was drawn from him,", "There hath at least five Frenchmen dyed to night.", "And that hereafter Ages may behold", "What ruine happened in revenge of him,", "Within their chiefeft Temple Ile crect", "A Tomb, wherein his Corps ſhall be interr'd :", "Upon the which, that every one may read,", "Shall be engrav'd the ſack of O'Leance,", "The treache'ous manner of his mournfull death,", "And what a terour he had been to France.", "But Lords, in all our bloudy Maſſacre,", "I mufe we met not with the Dolphin's Grace,", "His new-come Champion, virtuous Joan of Acre,\nNor any of his falſe Confederates,", "Bedf. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,\nRouz'd on the fudden from their drouſe Beds,", "They did amongſt the troops of armed men,", "Leap o're the Walls for refuge in the field.", "Burg. My ſelf, as far as I could well diſcern,", "For moaok, and desky vapours of the night,", "Am ſure I ſcar'd the Dolphin and his Trull,", "When Arme in Arme they both came twiflly running,", "Like to pair of loving Turtle-Doves,", "I hat could not live alunder day or night.", "After that things are ſet in order here,", "We'll follow them with all the power we have,", "Enter a Meſſenger.", "Mef. All hail, my Lords : which of this Princely train\nCall ye the Warlike Talbot, for his Acts", "So much applauded through the Realm of France ?", "Talb. Here is the Talbot, who would ſpeak with him?", "Mef. The virtuous Lady, Counteſs of Auergne,\nWith modeſtly admiring thy Renown,", "By me intreats (great Lord) thou would'ſt vouchſafe", "To vifit her poor Caſtle where ſhe lies,", "That ſhe may boaſt the hath beheld the man,", "Whofe glory ſills the World with loud report.", "Burg. Is it even ſo? Nay, then I fee our Warres", "Will turn unto a peacefull Comick ſport,", "When Ladies crave to be encountered with.", "You may not (my Lord) deſpife her gentle ſuit.", "Talb. Ne're trust me then : for when a World of men", "Could not prevail with all their Oratorie,", "Yet hath a Woman's kindneſs over-rul'd :", "And therefore tell her, I return great thanks,", "And in ſubmiſſion will attend on her.", "Will not your Honours bear me company ?", "Bedf. No, truly, 'tis more then manners will :", "And I have heard it ſaid, Unbidden Gueſts", "Are often welcomneſt when they are gone.", "Talb. Well then, alone (since there's no remedy)", "I mean to prove this Ladies courteſie,", "Come hither Captain, you perceive my mind.", "Whifpers.", "Capt. I do my Lord, and mean accordingly.", "Exeunt.", "Enter Counteſs.", "Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge,", "And when you have done ſo, bring the Keyes to me.", "Port. Madam, I will.", "Exit.", "Count. The Plot is laid, if all things fall out right,\nI ſhall as famous be by this exploite,", "As ſcythan Tomyris by Cyrus death,", "Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight,", "And his aſt achievements of no leſs account :", "Fain would mine eyes be witneſſs with mine eares,", "To give their cenſure of theſe rare reports.", "Enter Meſſenger and Talbot.", "Mef. Madam, according to your Ladisſhip deſu'd,", "By meſſage crav'd, ſo is Lord Talbot come.", "Count. And he is welcome : what ? is this the man ?", "Mef. Madam, it is.", "Count. Is this the Scourge of France ?", "Is this the Talbot, ſo much ſeaſt abroad ?", {"bbox": [711, 1339, 1036, 1

439

I thought I should have seen some Hercules,
A second Hector, for his grim aspect,
And large proportion of his strong knit Limbs;
Alas, this is a Child, a filly Dwarf:
It cannot be, this weak and withered shrimp
Should strike such terror to his Enemies.

Talb. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you:
But since your Ladiship is not at leisure,
I'll for some other time to visit you.

Count. What means he now?
Go ask him, whither he goes?

Mef. Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craves,
To know the caufe of your abrupt departure.

Talb. Marry, for that's in a wrong belief,
I go to certifie her Talbot's here.

Enter Porter with Keyes.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou Prisoner.
Talb. Prisoner ? to whom ?

Count. To me, cloud-thirsty Lord:
And for that caufe I train'd thee to my House,
Long time thy shadow hath been thralld to me,
For in my Gallery thy picture hangs:
But now the subfistance shall endure the like,
And I will chain thefe Legges and Armes of thine,
That haft by tyranny thefe many yeares
Wafted our Countrey, flain our Citizens,
And lent our Sonnes and Husbands captivate.

Talb. Ha, ha, ha,
Count. Laugheft thou Wretch?

Thy mirth shall turn to moan.

Talb. I laugh to fee your Ladiship so fond,
To think, that you have ought but Talbot's shadow,
Wherein to practice thy feverity.

Count. Why ? art thou not the man ?
Talb. I am indeed.

Count. Then have I subftance too.

Talb. No, no, I am but shadow of my self:
You are deceiv'd, my subftance is not here;
For what you fee, is but the ſmallest part,
And leaſt proportion of Humanity:
I tell you Madam, were the whole Frame here,
It is of ſuch a pious loſty pitch,
Your Roof were not ſufficient to contain't.

Count. This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce,
He will be here, and yet he is not here:
How can theſe contrarieties agree ?

Talb. That will I ſhew you prefentely.

Winds his Horn, Drummes strike up, a Peal
of Ordenance: Enter Souldiers.

How way you Madam ? are you now perſwaded,
That Talbot is but ſhadow of himſelf?

Theſe are his ſubſtance, ſinews, armes, and ſtrength,
With which he yoaketh your ſebellious Necks,
Razeth your Cities, and ſubverts your Towns,
And in a moment makes them defolate.

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abufe,
I find thou art no leſs then Fame hath bruited,
And more then may be gathered by thy ſhape,
Let my preſumption not provoke thy wrath,
For I am forry, that with Reverence
I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Talb. Be not diffmay'd, fair Lady, nor miſconfer
The mind of Talbot, as you did miſtake
The outward composition of his body,
What you have done, hath not offended me:
Nor other ſatisfaction do I crave,

But only with our patience, that we may
Tafe of your Wine, and fee what Cates you have,
For Souldiers ſtomacks always ſerve them well.

Count. With all my heart, and think me honoured,
To feaſt so great a Warriour in my houſe.

Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset,
Peel, and others.

Tork. Great Lords and Gentlemen,
What means this filence ?

Dare no man anſwer in a Cafe of Truth ?

Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too loud,
The Garden here is more convenient.

Tork. Then lay at once, if I maintain'd the Truth:
Or else was wrangling Somerset in th'error ?

Suff. Faith I have been a Truant in the Law,
And never yet could frame my will to it,
And therefore frame the Law unto my will.

Som. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then between us,

War. Between two Hawks, which flies the higher pitch,
Between two Dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,
Between two Blades, which beares the better temper,
Between two Horſes, which doth bear him beſt,
Between two Girls, which hath the merriett eyes,
I have perhaps ſome ſhallow ſpirit of judgement:
But in theſe nice ſharp Quillers of the Law,
Good faith, I am no wifer then a Daw.

Tork. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
Truth appears ſo naked on my ſide,
That any pur-blind eye may find it out.

Som. And on my ſide it is ſo well apparel'd,
So clear, ſo thining, and ſo evident,
That it will glimmer through a blind-man's eyes.

Tork. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and ſoloth to ſpeak,
In dumb ſignificantes proclaim your thoughts :

Let him that is a true-born Gentleman,
And ſtands upon the honour of his birth,
If he ſuppofe that I have pleaded truth,
From off this Bryer pluck a white Rofe with me,

Som. Let him that thus no Coward, nor no flatterer,
But dare maintain the party of the Truth,
Pluck a red Rofe from off this Thorn with me.

War. I love no Colours: and without all colour
Of late inflinuating flattery,

I pluck this white Rofe with Plantagenet.

Suff. I pluck this red Rofe with young Somerset,
And lay withall, I think he held the right.

Vernon. Stay Lords and Gentlemen, and pluck no more
Till you conclude, that he upon whose ſide
The feweſt Rofes are cropt from the tree,

Shall yield the other in the right opinion,

Som. Good Maſter Vernon, it is well objected :
If I have feweſt, I ſubſcribe in filence.

Tork. And I.
Vernon. Then for the truth, and plainneſts of the Cafe,
I pluck this pale and Maiden Bloſſome here,

Giving my Verdiſon the white Rofe ſide.

Som. Prick not your ſinger as you pluck it off,
Leaſt bleeding, you do paint the white Rofe red,
And fall on my ſide ſo againſt your will.

Vernon. If I, my Lord, for my opinion bleet,
Opinion ſhall be Surgeon to my hurt,
And keep me on the ſide ſtill where I am.

Som. Well well, come on, who elſe?

002

Lawyer. Un-

Lawyer. Unlefs my Study and my Books be falfe,
The argument you held, was wrong in you ;
In lign whereof, I pluck a white Rofe too,
York. Now Somerfet, where is your argument ?
Som. Here in my Scabbard, meditating, that,
Shall dy your white Rofe in a bloody red,
York. Mean time your cheeks do counterfeit our Rofes,
For pale they look with fear, as witneffing
The truth on our fide.
Som. No Plantagenet.
'Tis not for fear, but anger, that my cheeks
Bluh for pure fhame, to counterfeit our Rofes,
And yet thy tongue will not confefle thy error.
York. Hach not thy Rofe a Canker, Somerfet ?
Som. Hath not thy Rofe a Thorn, Plantagenet ?
York. I, sharp and piercing to maintain his truth,
Whiles thy contuming Canker eats his falhood.
Som. Well, I'le find friends to wear my Deeding Rofes,
That shall maintain what I have faid is true,
Where falte Plantagenet dare not be feen.
York. Now by this Maiden Bloſome in my hand,
I feorn thee and thy fashion, peevith Boy.

Suff. Turn not thy ſeome this way Plantagenet.
York. Proud Poole, I will, and feorn both him and
thee.
Suff. Ile turn my part thereof into thy throat.
Som. Away, away, good William de la Pool,
We beg the Yeoman, by converſing with him.
Warm. Now by God's will thou wrong'ſ him, Somerſet:
His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence,
Third Son to the third Edward King of England :
Spring Creftleſs Yeomen from ſo deep a Root ?
York. He beares him on the place's Privilege,
Or durſt not for his craven heart ſay thus.

Som. By him that made me, I'le maintain my words
On any plot of Ground in Chriſtendome,
Was not thy Father, Richard, Earl of Cambridge,
For Treason executed in our late King's dayes?
And by his Treafon, ſtand ſt not thou attainted,
Corrupted and exempt from ancient Gentry ?
His trefpaffe yet lives guilty in thy bloud,
And 'till thou be reſtor'd, thou art a Yeoman.
York. My Father was attached, not attained,
Condeſn'd to dye for Treafon, but no Traytor;
And that I'le prove on better men then Somerſet,
Were growing time once ripened to my will,
For your partaker Pool, and you your ſelf,
I'le note you in my Book of Memory,
To ſcourge you for this apprehenſion :
Lock to it well, and ſay you are well warn'd.

Som. Ah, thou ſhalt find us ready for thee ſill :
And know us by theſe Colours for thy Foes,
For theſe, my friends in ſpight of thee ſhall wear.
York. And by my Soul, this pale and angry Rofe,
As Cognizance of my bloud-drinking hate,
With I for ever, and my ſaction weare,
Until it wither with me to my Grave,
O flourith to the height of my Degree.

Suff. Go forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition:
And for farewell, until I meet thee next. Exit.

Som. Have with thee Pool: Farewell ambitious Richard. Exit.

York. How I am brav'd, and muſt perſorce endure it?

Warm. This blot that they object against your Houſe,
Shall be wip't out in the next Parliament,

Call'd for the Truce of Winchfter and Glonceſter :
And if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Mean time, in ſignal of my love to thee,
Again proud Somerſet, and William Pool,
Will I upon thy party wear this Rofe,
And here I prophefie : this Brawl to day,
Grown to this ſaction in the Temple Garden,
Shall fend between the Red-Rofe and the White,
A thouſand Soules to Death and deadly Night,
York. Good Maſter Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a Flower.
Ver. In your behalf ſtill will I wear the fame,
Lawyer. And to will I.
York. Thanks gentle Sir.
Come, let us four to Dinner : I dare ſay,
This Quarrel will drink Bloud another day.

Exult.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chair,
and Jaylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weak decaying Age,
Let dying Mortimer here reſt himself.
Even like a man new haled from the Wrack,
So ſare my Limbs with long Imprifonment :
And theſe gray Locks, the Purſuivants of Death,
Nefor-like aged, in an Age of Care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
Theſe Eyes, like Lamps, whose waſting Oil is ſpent,
Wax dimm, as drawing to their Exigent.
Weak Shoulders, over-born with burthening Grief,
And pithleſs Armes, like to a wither'd Vine,
That droops his ſap-leſs Branches to the ground.
Yet are theſe Feet, whose ſtrength-leſs ſlay is numm,
(Unable to ſupport this Lump of Clay)
Swift-winged with defire to get a Grave,
As witting I no other comfort have.
But tell me Keeper, will my Nephew come ?

Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come:
We ſent unto the Temple, his Chamber,
And anſwer was return'd, that he will come :
Mort. Enough : my ſoul then ſhall be ſatified,
Poor Gentleman, his wrong doth equal mine,
Since Henry Monmouth ſiſt began to Reign,
Before whose Glory I was great in Armes,
This loathome ſequeftration have I had ;
And even ſince then, hath Richard been obſeur'd,
Depriv'd of Honour and Inheritance.
But now, the Arbitrator of Deſpaires,
Juſt Death, kind Umpire of men's miſeries,
With ſweet Enlargement doth diſtmiſe me hence :
I would his trouſles likewife were expir'd,
That ſo he might recover what was loft.

Enter Richard.

Keeper. My Lord, your loving Nephew now is come.
Mort. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?
Rich. I, Noble Uncle, thus ignobly us'd,
Your Nephew, late deſpified Richard, comes.

Mort. Direc't mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck,
And in his Boſome ſpend my latter gafp.
Oh tell me when my Lippes do touch his Cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting Kifs,
And now declare ſweet Stem from York: great Stock,
Why did ſt thou ſay of late thou wert deſpised?

Rich. First.

And makes him roar these Accusations forth.

But he shall know I am as good -----

Gloster. As good?

Thou Baftard of my Grandfather.

Winch. I, Lordly Sir : for what are you, I pray,

But one imperious in another's THRONE ?

Gloster. Am not I Protector, fawcie Prief ?

Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church ?

Gloster. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keeps,

And wileth it, to patronage his Theft.

Winch. Unreverent Gloster.

Gloster. I thou art Reverend,

Touching thy Spiritual Function, not thy Life.

Winch. Rome shall remedie this,

Warm. Roam thither then.

My Lord, it were your duty to forbear.

Sons. I, fee the Bishop be not over-borne:

Me thinks my Lord should be Religious,

And know the Office this belongs to, such:

Warm. Me thinks his Lordship should be humbler,

It ficeeth not a Prelate so to plead.

Sons. Yes, when his holy State is toucht so near,

Warm. State holy, or unhallow'd, what of that ?

Is not his Grace Protector to the King ?

Rich. Plantagenet I fee muſt hold his tongue,

Left it be faid, Speak Si rha when you ſhould :

Muſt your bold Verdiet enter talk with Lords ?

Elſe would I have a fling at Winchſter.

King. Uncles of Gloſter, and of Winchſter,

The ſpecial Watch-men of our English Weal,

I would prevail, if Prayers might prevail,

To join your hearts in love and amitie,

Oh, what a Scandal is it to our Crown,

That two ſuch Noble Peers as ye ſhould jarre ?

Believe me, Lords, my tender yeares can tell,

Civil diffention is a viperous Worm,

That gnaws the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noise within, Down with the

Tawny-Coats.

King. What Tumult's this ?

Warm. An Uproar, I dare warrant,

Begun through malice of the Bifhop's men.

A noise again, Stoues, Stoues.

Enter Mayor.

Mayor. Oh my good Lords, and virtuous Henry,

Pitie the City of London, pitie us :

The Bifhop, and the Duke of Gloſter's men,

Forbidden late to carry any Weapon,

Have fill'd their Pockets full of peble stones ;

And banding themiveſes in contrary parts,

Do pelt to faſt at one anothers Pate,

That many have their giddy braines knockt out :

Our Windows are broke down in every Street,

And we, for fear, compell'd to flut our Shops.

Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates.

King. We charge you, on allegiance to our ſelves,

To hold your flaughtring hands, and keep the Peace :

Pray' Uncle Gloſter mitigate this ſtrife.

1. Serving. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, we'll fall to it with our Teeth.

2. Serving. Do what ye dare, we are as refolute.

skirmish again.

Gloſter. You of my household leave this peeviſh broil,
And fet this unacculſtom'd fight afide.

3. Serv. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man
Juſt, and upright : and for your Royal Birth,
Inferior to none, but to his Majefty :
And e're that we will ſuffer ſuch a Prince,
So kind a Father of the Common-wealth,
To be diſgraced by an Ink-horn Mare,
We and our Wives and Children all will fight,
And have our bodies flaughtred by thy foes.

1. Serv. I, and the very paring of our Nails
Shall pitch a Field when we are dead.

Begin again.

Gloſter. Stay, ſlay, I ſay,

And if you love me, as you ſay you doe,

Let me perſwade you to forbear a while.

King. Oh, how this ducord doth affict my ſoul,

Can you, my Lord of Winchſter, behold

My ſighes and teares, and will not once relent ?

Who ſhould be pittifull, if you be not ?

Or who ſhould study to prefer a Peace,

If holy Church-men take delight in broils ?

Warm. Yield, my Lord Protector, yield Winchſter,
Except you mean with obſtinate repuſe

To ſlay your Soveraign, and deſtroy the Realm.

You fee what miſchief, and what Murther too,

Hath been enacted through your enmity :
Then be at peace, except ye thirſt for blood.

Winch. He ſhall fubmit, or I will never yield,

Gloſter, Compaſſion on the King commands me ſtoop,

Or I would fee his heart out, e're the Prieft

Shold ever get that privilege of me.

Warm. Behold, my Lord of Winchſter, the Duke

Hath banifht moodie diſcontented fury,

As by his ſmoothed Brows it doth appear :

Why look you ſtil ſo ſtern and Tragical ?

Gloſter. Here Winchſter, I offer thee my Hand,

King. Fie Uncle Beauford, I have heard you preach,

That Malice was a great and grievous fin :

And will not you maintain the thing you teach?

But prove a chief offender in the fame.

Warm. Sweet King: the Bifhop hath a kindly gird:

For ſhame, my Lo d of Winchſter, relent ;

What, shall a Child inſtruct you what to doe?

Winch. Well, Duke of Gloſter, I will yield to thee
Love for thy Love, and Hand for Hand I give.

Gloſter. I, but I fear me with a hollow Heart,

So here my friends and loving Countrymen,

The token ferveth for a Flag of Truce,

Betwixt our ſelves, and all our followers :

So help me God, as I diſſemble not.

Winch. So help me God, as I intend it not.

King. Oh, loving Uncle, kind Duke of Gloſter,

How joyfull am I made by this Contraſt,

Away my Maſters, trouble us no more,

But joyn in friendſhip, as your Lords have done.

1. Serv. Content, Ile to the Surgeon's.

2. Serv. And ſo will I.

3. Serv. And I will fee what Phyſick the Tavern aſ-
foards. Exeunt.

Warm. Accept this Scrowl, moſt gracious Soveraign,

Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet,

We do exhibit to your Majefty.

Glo. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince,

And if your Grace mark every circumſtance,

You have great reaſon to do Richard right,

Especially for thofe occafions

At Eltham place I told your Majefty.

King And