The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables; his notebook, his counsel-keeper.

Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses.

P. Hen. For the women, Fal. For ore of them, she is in hell already, and burns, poor soul! For the other, -I owe her money; and whether she be damn'd for that, I know not.

Dol. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most constant Host. No, I warrant you. heart.

Fal. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all.

Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song, come: it grows late, we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am gone.

Dol. By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping, an thou sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. - Well, hearken the end!

Fal. Some sack, Francis!

P. Hen. Poins. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing. Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the kings? - And art not thou Poins his brother?

P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead?

Fal. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art a drawer.

P. Ilen. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.

Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by my
troth, welcome to London!-Now the Lord bless that
sweet face of thine! O, Jesu, are you come from Wales?
Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, -
by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art wel-
[Leaning his hand upon Doll.
Dol. How! you fat fool, I scorn you.
Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your re-
venge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not

come.

the heat.

P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman?

Host. 'Blessing o' your good heart! and so she is, by my troth.

Fal. Didst thou hear me?

P. Hen. 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 purpose, to try my patience. Ful. No, no, no; not so; I did not think, thou wast within hearing.

P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abuse, IIal, on mine honour, no abuse!

Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Host. All victuallers do so: what's a joint of mut-
ton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Hen. You, gentlewoman, –
Dol. What says your grace?

Fal.His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. Host. Who knocks so loud at the door? look to the door there, Francis!

Enter PETO.

P. Hen. Peto, how now? what news?

Peto. The king your father is at Westminster:
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts,
Come from the north: and, as I came along,
I met, and overtook, a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for sir Iohn Falstaff.

P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,
So idly to profane 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:-Falstaff, good night!
[Exeunt Prince Henry, Poins, Peto,
and Bardolph.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night,
and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking
heard.] More knocking at the door?
Re-enter BARDOLPH.

How now? what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to court, sir, presently; a dozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah! [To the Page.] Farewell, hostess! - Farewell, Doll! - You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches! If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go.

Dol. I cannot speak; - if my heart be not ready to burst. - Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewell, farewell!

[Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph.

P.Hen. Not! to dispraise me; and call me-pant-Host. Well, fare thee well! I have known thee these

ler, and bread-chipper, an I know not what?

Fal. No abuse, Hal!

Poins. No abuse!

Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him: -in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. -No abuse, Hal; - none, Ned, none; no, boys,

none.

P. Hen. See, now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is the boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, wlfose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer!

twenty-nine years come peascod-time; but an ho-
nester and truer--hearted man, -well, fare thee well!
Bard. [Within.] Mistress Tear-sheet,-
Host. What's the matter?

Bard. [Within.] Bid mistress Tear-sheet come to

my master.

Host. O run, Doll, run; run, good Doll! [Exeunt.

ACT 111.

SCENE I. - A room in the palace.

Enter King HENRY in his nightgown, with a Page.
K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,
And well consider of them: make good speed.-
[Exit Page.

How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irre-Are at this hour asleep! - Sleep, gentle sleep,
coverably; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, Nature's soft uurse, how have I frighted thee,
where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
boy, - there is a good angel about him; but the devil And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

outbids him too.

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than 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 liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains

In cradle of the rude imperious surge;
And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours 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 good morrow, lords?

War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd:
The which observ'd, a man may prophecy,
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.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And, by the necessary form of this,

K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, mylords. Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?

War. Wehave, my liege.

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,

K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom Ilow foulitis; what rank diseases grow, And with what danger near the heart of it.

War. It is butas a body, yet, distemper'd; Which to his former strength may berestor'd, With good advice, and little medicine:

My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd,

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,

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 ill;
And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must add
Unto your sickness.

K. Hen. I will take your counsel:

And, were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [Exeunt.
SCENE IL - Court before Justice SHALLOW's house

in Gloucestershire.

Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHA-
DOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULL-CALF, and Servants, behind.
Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand,

K. Hen. O heaven! that one might read the book sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by the rood. of fate;

And see the revolution of the times

Make mountains level, and the continent

(Weary of solid firmness,) melt itself Into the sea! and, other times, to see

The beachy girdle of the ocean

Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,

And changes fill the cup of alteration

With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,

The happiest youth, - viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue,

Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.

'Tis not ten years gone,

Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together, and, in two years after,
Were they at wars; it is but eight years, since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul;
Who like a brother toil'din my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;

And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,) [To Warwick.
When Richard, - with his eye brimful of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, -
Did speak these words, now prov'da prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne; -
Though then, heaven 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,

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow!

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

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my consin William is become a good scholar: heis at Oxford, still, is

he not?

Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost.

Shal. He mustthen to the inns of 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. Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotswold man, - you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again: and, I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were; and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now sir John, aboy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk.

Sil. This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon

about soldiers?

Shal. The same sir John, the very same. I saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate, when he was a crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray'sinn. O, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of mine old acquaintances are dead!

Sil. Weshall all follow, cousin.

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shal die.-Howa good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair

Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.

Fal. Prick him.

[To Shallow.

Shal. Death is certain. - Is old Double of your town Moul. I was pricked well enough before, an you could

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 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. Andis old Double dead!

Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him.
Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaff's men, as
I think.

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, it is: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated!-it comes from accommodo: very good; a good phrase.

Bard. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase, call you it? By this good day, I know not thephrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword, to be a soldier-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, -whereby, he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Enter FALSTAFF.

have let me alone: my old dame will be undone now, for one to do her husbandry, and her drudgery: you need not have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than I.

Fal. Go to; peace, Mouldy, you shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent.

Moul. Spent!

Shal. It is very just: -look, here comes good sir
John. - Give me your good hand, give me your wor-man's petticoat?
ship's good hand. By my troth, you look well, and
bear your years very well: welcome, good sir John!

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master Robert
Shallow: Master Sure-card, as I think.

Shal. No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

Fee. I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more. 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.

Fal. Fye! this is hot weather.-Gentlemen, have you put him to a private soldier, that is the leader of so

provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?

Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil. Your good worship is welcome.

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

Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?

Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you.

many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble. Fee. It shall suffice, sir.

Bull-calf till he roar again.

Shal. Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll?-Let me see! let me see. 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! Where is Mouldy?

Moul. Here, an't please you.

Shal. What think you, sir John? a good limbed fel- Bull. O lord! good my lord captain,

will have away thy cold; and I will take such order, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the spi

that thy friends shall ring for thee. - Is here all?

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.

Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good troth, master Shallow.

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

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

of that.

Fal. Shelives, master Shallow.

Shal. She never could away with me.

Fal. Never, never: she would always say, she could not abide master Shallow.

Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well? Fal. Old, old, master Shallow.

Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain, she's old; and had Robin Night-work, by old Night-work, 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?
Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, master
Shallow.

rit, master Shallow. - Here's Wart; - you see what
a ragged appearance it is: he shall charge you, and
discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer's ham-
mer; come off, and on, swifter than he that gibbets
on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced fel-
low, Shadow, - give me this man; he presentsno 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.
Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.
Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So:- very
well:-go to; - very good: - exceeding good. - 0,
give me always alittle, lean, old, chapped, bald shot.-
Well said, i'faith, Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold,
there's a tester for thee.

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! -
O, the days that we have seen! - Come, come!

[Exeunt Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence.
Bull. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my
friend; and here is four Harry ten shillings in French
crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang-
ed, 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
any thing about her, when I am gone; and she is old,
and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, sir.

Bard. Goto; stand aside.

mind: :

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 never see such a fellow.

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
an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: no
man's too good to serve his 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.

Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shallow. God keep you, master Silence; I will not use many words with you: -fare you well, gentlemen both: I thank you: I must a dozen mile to-night.--Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.

Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper your
affairs, and send us peace! As you return, visit my
house; let our old acquaintance be renewed: perad-
venture, I will wish you to the court.
Fal. I would you would, master Shallow.
Shal. Go to; I have spoke, at a word. Fare you well!
[Exeunt Shallow and Silence.

Fal. Fareyou well, gentle gentlemen! On, Bardolph; lead the men away! [Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits, etc.] As I return, I will fetch off thesejustices: Idosee 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 alie, 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 he was naked, he was, forall the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: he was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible: he was the very Genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores called him - mandrake: he came ever in the rear-ward of the fashion; and sung those tunes to the overscutched huswives that he heard

Re-enter FALSTAFF, and Justices.

Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have?

Shal. Four, of which you please.

Bard. Sir, a word with you: -I have three pound the carmen whistle, and sware--they were his fancies,

to free Mouldy and Bull-calf.

Fal. Goto; well.

Shal. Come, sir John, which four will you have?

Fal. Do you choose for me.

Shal. Marry then, -Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and

Shadow.

or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire; and talks as familiarly of John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother to him: and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard; and then he burst his head, for crouding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name: for you might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he land and beeves. Well; I will be acquainted with him, if I return: andit shall go hard, but I will make him a a bait for the old pike, I see no reason, in the law of naFal. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to choose ture, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, an end. [Exit.

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

Shal. Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong;
they are your likeliest men, and I would have you philosopher's two stones to me: if the young dace be

served with the best.

T E

Nor do I, as an enemy to peace,
Troop in the throngs of military men:
But, rather, show a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness;

And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd

What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,
And find our griefs heavier than our offences..
We see which way the stream of time doth run,
And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere
By the rough torrent of occasion:
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 denied access unto his person,

Even by those men, that most have done us wrong.

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 overlive the hazard,

And fearful meeting of their opposite.

The dangers of the days but newly gone,
(Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet appearing blood,) and the examples
Of every minute's instance, (present now,)
Have put us in theseill-beseeming arms :

ground,

Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch Not to break peace, or any branch of it;

And dash themselves to pieces.

Enter a Messenger.

Hast. Now, what news?

Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,

In goodly form comes on the enemy:

And, bythe 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.

Enter WESTMORELAND.

Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us here?
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. Then, my lord,

Unto your grace do I in chief address

The substance of my speech. If that rebellion
Came like istelf, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,
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
Of base and bloody insurrection

With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop, -
Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd;

But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.

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.
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 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 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, That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me?

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,

The king, that lov'd him, as the state stood then,
Was, force perforce, compell'd to banish him :
And then, when Harry Bolingbroke, and he, -
Being mounted, and both roused in their seats,
Their neighing coursers, daring of the spur,

Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war?

Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, Your pens to lances; and your tongue divine

To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?

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 staid My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,

Arch. Wherefore do I this?-so the question stands. O, when the king did throw his warder down,

Briefly to this end: - We are all diseas'd;

His own life hung upon the staff he threw;

And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours,

Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, And we must bleed for it; of which disease

Then threw he down himself; and all their lives, That, by indictment, and by dint of sword, Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.

West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know not

But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland,

what;

I take not on me here as a physician;

The earl of Hereford was reputed then

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