Hoft. All victuallers do fo: what is a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman.
Dol. What fays your grace?

-Fal. His grace fays that which his flesh rebels against. Hoft. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the door there, Francis.

SCENE XII.

Enter Peto.

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?
Peto. The King your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied pofts
Come from the north; and as I came along,
1 met and overtook a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to
blame,

So idly to profane the precious time;

When tempeft of commotion, like the South
Born with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my fword, and cloak: Falstaff, good night.

[Exeunt Prince and Poins. Fal. Now comes in the fweeteft morfel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpickt. More knocking at the door? how now? what's the matter?

Bard. You muft away to court, Sir, presently: a dozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, Sirrah: farewel hoftefs, farewel Dol. You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after; the undeferver may fleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewel, good wenches; if I be not fent away poft, I will fee you again, ere I go.

Dol

Dol. I cannot fpeak; if my heart be not ready to well, fweet Jack, have a care of thy felf.

burft
Fal. Farewel, farewel.

[Exit. Hoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty nine years, come pefcod-time; but an honefter and truer-hearted man- well, fare thee well.

Bard. Mrs. Tear-fheet.

Hoft. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid Miftrefs Tear-fheet come to my master.
Hoft. O run, Dol, run; run, good Dol. [Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE I

LONDON.

Enter King Henry in his night-gown, with a Page.

K. HENRY.

O, call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;

But ere they come, bid them o'er-read thefe letters,

And well confider of them: make good

speed.

How many thousands of my poorest subjects

Are at this hour aileep!

O gentle Sleep,

[Exit Page.

Nature's foft nurfe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And freep my fenfes in forgetfulness?

Why rather, Sleep, ly'st thou in fmoaky cribs,
Upon uneafie pallets ftretching thee,

And hufht with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber ;

‹ Than in the perfum'd chambers of the

• Under the canopies of costly state,

great,

And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull God, why ly'ft thou with the vile
In loathfom beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch
A watch-cafe, or a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious furge;
And in the vifitation of the winds,

• Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the flip'ry throuds,
• That with the hurley, death it felf awakes?
• Can't thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repofe
To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude?
And in the calmeft and the ftilleft night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a King? then happy low ! lye down,
Uneafie lyes the head that wears a crown,

Enter Warwick and Surrey.

War. Many good-morrows to your Majefty.
K. Henry. Is it good-morrow, lords?

War. "Tis one a clock, and past.

K. Henry. Why then good-morrow to you all, my lords:

Have you read o'er the letters that I fent you?

War. We have, my Liege.

K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our king dom,

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 its former ftrength may be reftor'd,
With good advice and little medicine;
My lord Northumberland will foon be cool'd.

K. Henry. Oh heav'n, that one might read the book

of fate,

And fee the revolution of the times

0 3

Make

Make mountains level, and the continent
Weary of folid firmnefs, melt it self-

Into the fea; and other times, to fee
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. a O, if this were feen,
The happieft youth viewing his progrefs through
What perils paft, what croffes to ensue,

Wou'd fhut the book, and fit him down and die.

'Tis not ten years fince Richard and Northumberland Did feaft together; and in two years

after

Were they at wars. It is but eight years fince
This Percy was the man nearest my foul,
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea for my fake ev'n to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. Which of you was by?

(You, coufin Nevil, as I may remember) [To Warwick.
When Richard with his eye brim-full of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did fpeak these words, now prov'd a prophecy.
Northumberland, thou ladder by the which

་

< My cousin Bolingbroke afcends my throne:
(Though then, heav'n knows, I had no fuch intent,
But that neceffity fo bow'd the ftate,

That I and greatnefs were compell'd to kiss)

The time fhall come, (thus did he follow it,)
• The time will come, that foul fin gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: fo went on,
Fore-telling this fame time's condition,
And the divifion of our amity.

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

Such

a Thefe four verfes are fupply'd from the edition of 1600.

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the neceffary form of this,

King Richard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then falfe to him,
Would of that feed grow to a greater falseness,
Which fhould not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.

K. Henry. Are these things then neceffities?
Then let us meet them like neceffities;

And that fame word even now cries out on us :
They fay the Bifhop and Northumberland
Are fifty thoufand ftrong.

War. It cannot be :

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 pow'rs that you already have fent forth
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain inftance that Glendower is dead.
Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill,
And these unfeafon'd hours perforce must add
Unto your fickness.

K. Henry. I will take your counfel:

And were thefe inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the holy-land.

SCENE III.

The COUNTRY.

[Exeunt

Enter Shallow and Silence, Juftices; with Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf.

OME

Shal. C your hand, Sir; an early ftirrer, by the f

come on, come on; give me

rood. And how doth my good coufin Silence? Sil. Good morrow, good coufin shallow.

0 4 † the rood, i.. the cross.-

t

Shal,