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With deaf'ning clamour in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter WARWICK and SURREY,

War. Many good morrows to your majesty!
K. Hen. Is it good morrow, lords ?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

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K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.

Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? War. We have, my liege.

K. Hen. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom

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How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.
War. It is but as a body yet distemper'd,
Which to his former strength may be restor'd
With good advice and little medicine:
My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
K. Hen. O God! that one might read the book
of fate,

And sue the revolution of the times

Make mountains level, and the continent
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean

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Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O! if this were seen,
The bappiest youth, viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
"Tis not ten years gone

Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,
Dil feast together, and in two years after
Were they at wars: it is but eight years since 60
This Percy was the man nearest my soul,
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,-
To WARWICK. You, cousin Nevil, as I may re-
member,-

When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder by the which 70
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne';
Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,
But that necessity so bow'd the state

That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss :
"The time shall come,' thus did he follow it,
The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption': so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition
And the division of our amity.

War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd;
The which observ'd, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured.

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King Richard might create a perfect 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, 91
Unless on you.

K. Hen. Are these things then necessities! Then let us meet them like necessities;

And that same word even now cries out on us.
They say the bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong,

War.
It cannot be, my lord:
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your grace
To go to bed: upon my life, my lord,
The powers that you already have sent forth 100
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 fortnight i.1,
And these unseason'd hours perforce must add
Unto your sickness.
I will take your counsel:
And were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

K. Hen.

Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Court before Justice SHALLOW'S House in Gloucestershire.

Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and Servants, behind.

Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

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Sil. Alas! a black ousel, cousin Shallow. Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. Ile is at Oxford still, is he not?

Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost.

Shal. A' must then to the inns o' court shortly. I was once of Clement's Inn; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were called 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin,

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Sha'. By the mass, I was called 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 Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man; you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns o' court again: and I may say to yon, we knew where the bona-robus were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?

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Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate, when a' was a crack not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu! Jesu! Such things become the hatch and brood of time; the mad days that I have spent ; and to see how

And by the necessary form of this

many of mine old acquaintance are dead!

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Fal. Let me see them, I beseech 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, so, 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;

Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of your where is Mouldy?

town living yet?

Sil. Dead, sir.

Shal. Jesu! Jesu! dead! a' drew a good bow; and dead! a' shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! a' would have clapped i' the clout at twelve score; and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's 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?

Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. 60

Enter BARDOLPH, and One with him. Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?

Shal. I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this county, and one of the king's justices of the peace what is your good pleasure with me? Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir John Falstaff: a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

Shal. He greets me well, sir: I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? may I ask how my lady his wife doth? Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.

Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated! it is good; yea, indeed, is it good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of accommodo: very good; a good phrase.

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Moul. Here, an 't please you.

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Shal. Thomas Wart!
Fal. Where's he?
Wart. Here, sir.

Fal. Is thy name Wart?
Wart. Yea, sir.

150

Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart. Shal. Shall I prick him, Sir John? Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins prick him no more.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you can do it: I commend you well. Francis Feeble! Fee. Here, sir.

Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble?
Fee. A woman's tailor, sir.

Shal. Shall I prick him, sir?

160

Fl. You may; but if he had been a man's tailor he'd ha' pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?

Fee. I will do my good wil, sir: you can have

no more.

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Fal. Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor: well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow.

Fee. I would Wart might have gone, sir. Fal. I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou might st mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands: let that suffice, most forcible Feeble. 180

Fee. It shall suffice, sir.

Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?

Shal. Peter Bullcalf o' the green!

Fal. Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.
Bull. Here, sir.

Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again.

Bull. O Lord! good my lord captain,

Fal. What! dost thou roar before thou art pricked?

Bull. O Lord! sir, I am a diseased man.
Fal. What disease hast thou?

191

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Shal. Here is two more called than your number; you must have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.

Pal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.

Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's fields?

Fal. No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that.

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Fal. Old, old, Master Shallow. Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn.

Sil. That's fifty-five year ago.

Shal. Ha! cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen. Ha! Sir John, said I well?

Pal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. 231 Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, Sir John, we have. Our watchword was 'Hem, boys!' Come, let 's to dinner; come, let's to dinner: Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come.

Exeunt FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, and
SILENCE.

Bull. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather, because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part,

have a desire to stay with my friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much. Bard. Go to; stand aside.

Moul. And good Master corporal captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do anything about her when I am gone; and she is old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir.

Bard. Go to; stand aside.

250

Fee. By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind: an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve's prince; and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.

Bard. Well said; thou 'rt a good fellow.
Fee. Faith, I'll bear no base mind.

Re-enter FALSTAFF and the Justices.
Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? 260
Shal. Four, of which you please.
Bard. Sir, a word with you: I have three
pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf.
Fal. Go to; well.

Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you have? Fal. Do you choose for me.

Shal. Marry then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.

Fal. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service: and for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it: I will none of you.

272

Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.

Fal. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man ! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here's Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is: a' shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced fellow, Shadow; give me this man he presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat; how swiftly will this Feeble the woman's tailor run off! O! give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph.

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Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus. Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So very well go to: very good, exceeding good. Oh! give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; thou 'rt a good scab hold, there's a tester for thee.

Shal. He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show, there was a little quiver fellow, and a' would manage you his piece thus: and a' would about and about, and come you in, and come you in: 'rah, tah, tah,' would a' say; 'bounce' would a' say; and away again would a' go, and again would a' come: I shall ne'er see such a fellow.

Fal. These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence: I will not use many words with you. Fare you well, gentle

men both I thank you: I must a dozen mile
to-night. Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.
Shal. Sir John, the Lord bless you! God
prosper your affairs! God send us peace! At
your return visit our house. Let our old
acquaintance be renewed: peradventure I will
with ye to the court.

Fal. 'Fore God, I would you would, Master
Shallow.

Shal. Go to; I have spoke at a word. keep you.

Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.

God

321

Exeunt SHALLOW and SILENCE.

On, Bardolph; lead the men away.

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Now, what news!
Mess. West of this forest, 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.
Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them
out.

Let us sway on and face them in the field.
Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us

here?

Enter WESTMORELAND.

Mowb. I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.
West. Health and fair greeting from our
general,

The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
Arch. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in

peace,

What doth concern your coming.
West.

Fxeunt BARDOLPH, Recruits, etc. As I return I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord! how subject we old men are to this vice of lying. This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull-street; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked he was for all the world like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: a' was so forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invincible: a' was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores called him mandrake: a' came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; and I'll be sworn a' ne'er saw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-Of base and bloody insurrection skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he land and beeves. Well, I'll be acquainted with him if I return; and it shall go hard but I will make him a philosopher's two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. Exit. 359

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Then, my lord, so
Unto your grace do I in chief address
The substance of my speech. If that rebellion
Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags,
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary;
I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd,
In his true, native, and most proper shape,
You, reverend father, and these noble lords
Had not been here, to dress the ugly form

With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop.
Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd,
Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath
touch'd,

Whose learning and good letters peace hath
tutor'd,

Whose white investments figure innocence,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war;
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine 51
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?

Arch. Wherefore do I this? so the question
stands.

Briefly to this end: we are all diseas'd;
And with our surfeiting and wanton hours
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
And we must bleed for it: of which disease
Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland,
I take not on me here as a physician,
Nor do I as an enemy to peace
Troop in the throngs of military men ;
But rather show awhile like fearful war,
To diet rank minds sick of happiness

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West. When ever yet was your appeal denied? Wherein have you been galled by the king! What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you, That you should seal this lawless bloody book Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine, And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth, To brother born an household cruelty, I make my quarrel in particular.

West. There is no need of any such redress; Or if there were, it not belongs to you.

100

Mowb. Why not to him in part, and to us all That feel the bruises of the days before, And suffer the condition of these times To lay a heavy and unequal hand Upon our honours?

West. O my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the times to their necessities, And you shall see 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 present 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 Norfolk's signiories, Your noble and right well remember'd father's? Mowb. What thing, in honour, had my father lost,

110

That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me? The king that lov'd him, as the state stood then, Was force perforce compell'd to banish him : And then that Harry Bolingbroke and he, Being mounted and both roused in their seats, Their neighing coursers daning of the spur, 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 stay'd

My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,

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O when the king did throw his warder down, His own life hung upon the staff he threw ; Then threw he down himself and all their lives That by indictment and by dint of sword Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

West. You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.

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The Earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman:
Who knows on whom fortune would then have
smil'd?

But if your father had been victor there,
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry;
For all the country in a general voice
Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and
love

Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on And bless'd and grac'd indeed, more than the king.

But this is mere digression from my purpose. 140
Here come I from our princely general

To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace
That he will give you audience; and wherein
It shall appear that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them; every thing set off
That might so much as think you enemies.
Mowb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this
offer,

And it proceeds from policy, not love.

W'est. Mowbray, you overween to take it so; This offer comes from mercy, not from fear: 150 For, lo! within a ken our army lies, Upon mine honour, all too confident To give admittance to a thought of fear. Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; Then reason will our hearts should be as good: Say you not then our offer is compell'd.

Mowh. Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.

West. That argues but the shame of your offence:

A rotten case abides no handling.

160

Hast. Hath the Prince John a full commission, 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 general's name.

I muse you make so slight a question. Arch. Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule,

170

For this contains our general grievances :
Each several article herein redress'd;
All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form
And present execution of our wills
To us and to our purposes consign'd;
We come within our awful banks again
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.

West. This will I show the general. Please you, lords,

In sight of both our battles we may meet;
And either end in peace, which God so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords 181
Which must decide it.
Arch.

My lord, we will do so.
Exit WESTMORELAND.

Monob. There is a thing within my bosom tells

me

That no conditions of our peace can stand.

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Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our peace

Upon such large terms and so absolute

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