Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph, irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him; but the devil outbids him too.

P. Hen. For the women,

Fal. For one of them,-she is in hell already, and burns, poor soul! For the other, I owe her money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not.

Host. No, I warrant you.

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 mutton 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 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,

-for suffering flesh to be eaten, &c.] By several statutes made in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. for the regulation and observance of fish-days, victuallers, were expressly forbidden to utter flesh in Lent, and to these Falstaff alludes..

Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for sir John 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 unarined 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. Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod time; but an honester 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 III.

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
Are at this hour asleep!-Sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

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?
Can'st 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.

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

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 heaven! that one might read the
book 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,

7 That, with the hurly,] Hurly is noise, derived from the French hurler to howl, as hurly-burly from Hurluberlu, Fr.

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'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,
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,)
[TO WARWICK.
When Richard,-with his eye brimfull of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,-
Did speak these words, now prov'd a 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,

But which of you was by, &c.] He refers to King Richard II. Act. IV. sc. ii. But whether the king's or the author's memory fails him, so it was, that Warwick was not present at that conversation. Neither was the King himself present, so that he must have received information of what passed from Northumberland. His memory, indeed, is singularly treacherous, as, at the time of which he is now speaking, he had actually ascended the throne. Besides, Shakspeare has mistaken the name of the present nobleman. The earldom of Warwick was at this time in the family of Beauchamp, and did not come into that of the Nevils till many years after.

9- I had no such intent;] He means, "I should have had no such intent, but that necessity" &c. or Shakspeare has here also forgotten his former play, or has chosen to make Henry forget his situation at the time mentioned. He had then actually accepted the crown.