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And so success of mischief shall be born;
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shall have generation.

P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,

To sound the bottom of the after-times.

West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them directly,

How far-forth you do like their articles?

P. John. I like them all, and do allow them well:

And swear here, by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning and authority.-
My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your powers into their several countics,
As we will ours: and here, between the armies,
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home,
Of our restored love, and amity.

Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses.

P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my word:

And thereupon I drink unto your grace. Hast. Go, captain, [To an Office.] and deliver to the army

This news of peace; let them have pay, and part: I know, it will well please them; Hie thee, captain. [Exit Officer. Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westinoreland.

West. I pledge your grace: And, if you knew what pains

I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace, ・・
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.

Arch. I do not doubt you.
West. I am glad of it.-

Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy

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And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
March by us; that we may peruse the men
We should have cop'd withal.

Arch. Go, good lord Hastings, And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. [Exit Hastings.

P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie tonight together.


Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? West. The leaders, having charge from you to stand,

Will not go off until they hear you speak.
P. John, They know their duties.

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I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:And you, lord archbishop, and you, lord Mowbray,

Of capital treason I attach you both.

Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?
West. Is your assembly so?

Arch. Will you thus break your faith?
P. John. I pawn'd thee none:

I promis'd you redress of these same grievances, Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,

I will perform with a most christian care.
But, for you, rebels,-look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.-
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray;
Heaven, and not we, have safely fought to-day.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death;
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath.


SCENE III. Another part of the forest.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF, and COLEVILE, meeting.

Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condition are you; and of what place, I pray?

Cole, I am a knight, sir; and my name isColevile of the dale.

Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight is your degree; and your place, the dale: Colevile shall still be your name; a traitor your degree; and the dungeon your place,a place deep enough; so shall you still be Colevile of the dale.

Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaff?

Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am.

Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy. Cole. I think, you are sir John Falstaff; and, in that thought, yield me.

Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.-Here comes our general.

Enter Prince Joux of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, and Others.

P.John. The heat is past, follow no further now: Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. [Exit Westmoreland. Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When every thing is ended, then you come : These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows' back.

Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor and old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine score and odd posts: and here, traveltainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy: But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome,I came, saw, and overcame.

P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him: and I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my foot: To the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me; and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to her; believe not the word of the noble: Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount. P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount. Ful. Let it shine then.

P. John. Thine's too thick to shine. Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will. P. John. Is thy name Colevile? Cole. It is, my lord.

P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. Fal. And a famous true subject took him. Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are, That led me hither: had they been rul'd by me, You should have won them dearer than you have.


Fal. I know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away, and I thank thee for thee.


P. John. Now, have you left pursuit? West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates, To York, to present execution :-Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him [Exeunt some with Colevile. And now despatch we toward the court, my lords; I hear, the king my father is sore sick : Our news shall go before us to his majesty,Which, cousin, you shall bear,-to comfort him; And we with sober speed will follow you.


Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through Glostershire: and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, 'pray, in your good report.

P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition,

Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit. Fal. I would, you had but the wit; "twere better than your dukedom.-Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh ;-but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of these demure boys come to any proof: for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools and cowards ;-which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours, which environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which deliver'd o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face; which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm: and then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great, and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour comes of sherris: So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack; for that sets it a-work and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil; till sack commences it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent en

deavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherris; that he is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should be,-to forswear thin potations, and addict themselves

to sack.


How now, Bardolph ?

Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone. Fal, Let them go. I'll through Glostershire; and there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire: I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Westminster. Aroom in the palace. Enter King HENRY, CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY, WARWICK, and Others.

K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give suc-
cessful end

To this debate, that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And every thing lies level to our wish:
Only, we want a little personal strength;
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of government.
War. Both which, we doubt not but your

Shall soon enjoy.

K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster, Where is the prince your brother?

P. Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my
lord, at Windsor.

K. Ilen. And how accompanied?
P. Humph. I do not know, my lord.
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Cla-
rence, with him?

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As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin❜d to mirth:
But, being moody, give him line and scope;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this,

And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ;
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion,
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,)
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder.

Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with
him, Thomas?

Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. K. Hen. And how accompanied? can'st thou tell that?

Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers.

K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;

And he, the noble image of my youth,

Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death;
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days,
And rotten times, that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!

War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him

The prince but studies his companions,
Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the

P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in pre-Tis needful, that the most immodest word sence here.

Cla. What would my lord and father?

K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.

How chance, thou art not with the prince thy

He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
Thou hast a better place in his affection,
Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy;
And noble offices thou may'st effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,
Between his greatness and thy other brethren:-
Therefore, ouit him not; blunt not his love:
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace,
By seeming cold, or careless of his will.
For he is gracious, if he be observ'd;
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:

Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden

Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers; and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
By which his grace must mete the lives of others;
Turning past evils to advantages.

K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave
her comb


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Are brought to the correction of your law; There is not now a rebel's 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.

K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,

Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news.


Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of!

The earl of Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,

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 it you, contains at large.
K. Hen. And wherefore should these good
news make me sick?

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,-
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach,-such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice 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.


P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty!
Cla. O my royal father!
West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself,
look up!

War, Be patient, princes; you do know, these


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K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence

Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.

[They convey the King into an inner part of the room, and place him on a bed. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

War. Call for the music in the other room. K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. War. Less noise, less noise.

Enter Prince HENRY.

P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and
none abroad!

How doth the king?

P. Humph. Exceedingly ill.

P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

P. Humph. Healter'd much upon the hearing it. P. Hen. If he be sick

With joy, he will recover without physic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords :-sweet
prince, speak low;

The king your father is dispos'd to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will't please your grace to go along with

P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the
king. [Exeunt all but P. Henry
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night!-sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour, worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move.- -My gracious lord! my
} father

This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigol hath divore'd
So many English kings. Thy due, from me,
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown;
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,-

[Putting it on his head. Which heaven shall guard: And put the world's whole strength

Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me: This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. [Exit.

K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!

Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest.

Cla. Doth the king call?

War. What would your majesty? How fares your grace?

K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?

Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege,

Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

Re-enter Prince HENRY.

Lo, where he comes.-Come hither to me,
Harry :-

Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

[Exeunt Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Lords, &c.

P.Hen. Inever thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that

I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,

K. Hen. The prince of Wales? Where is he? That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine

let me see him:

He is not here.

War. This door is open; he is gone this way. P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where we stay'd.

K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?

War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.

K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence:-go,
seek him out.

Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose
My sleep my death ?—

Find him, my lord of Warwick: chide him hither.
[Exit Warwick.
This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me.-See, sons, what things
you are!

How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object!

For this, the foolish over-careful fathers


Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm

Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and at my death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:
Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of my life.
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself;
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears, that should bedew my hearse,
Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head:

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their Only compound me with forgotten dust;

brains with care,

Their bones with industry:

For this, they have engrossed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange achieved gold;
For this, they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises:
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets;

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with

We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the ending father.-

Re-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


Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the

Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms.
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
For now a time is come to mock at form,
Harry the fifth is crown'd:-Up, vanity
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors,

And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness!
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England shall double gild his treble guilt:
England shall give him office, honour, might:
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my
The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard


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