436 Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place. West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings; for the which I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:* And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbray, Of capital treason I attach you both.. Mow. Is this proceeding just and honourable? Arch. Will you thus break your faith? [Exeunt. 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 is Colevile 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 JOHN of Lancaster, WESTMORELAND, and others. P. John. The heat is past, follow no further now; Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. 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, on 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, travel-tainted 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 two-pences, 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. 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. Re-enter WESTMORELAND. P. John. Now, have you left pursuit? sure. 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 con dition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Erit. 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 greensickness; 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 brother? which environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, | How chance, thou art not with the prince thy He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; act and use. Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, PRINCE K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give suc- To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, 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. Hen. And how accompanied? P. Humph. P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence Cla. What would my lord and father? Thomas, Learn this, And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends; Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love. Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers. K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him The prince but studies his companions, 'Tis needful, that the most immodest word Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd, But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms, The prince will, in the perfectness of time, By which his grace must mete the lives of others; K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of In the dead carrion. Who's here? Westmore Enter WESTMORELAND. West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver! Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand: K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings Enter HARCOURT. Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ; Will fortune never come with both hands full, Ŏ my royal father! West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up! War. Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits Are with his highness very ordinary. Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well. Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs; The incessant care and labour of his mind observe Infather'd heirs, and loathly birds of nature : over. Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between: And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, Say, it did so, a little time before That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end. 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 musick to my weary spirit. War. Call for the musick in the other room. How doth the king? P. Humph. Exceeding ill. P. Hen. Tell it him. Heard he the good news yet? P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it. With joy, he will recover without physick. 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 us? 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 fa ther! This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep, [Putting it on his head. Which heaven shall guard: And put the world's whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force Cla. Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest. [Erit Doth the king call? War. What would your majesty? How fares your grace? K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords. Scam IV. KING HENRY IV. P. Humph. He came not through the chamber | where we stay'd. I. 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 : — seek him out. Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose My sleep my death? go, 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 What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum: Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? with care, Their bones with industry, For this they have engrossed and pil'd up The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees, Re-enter WARWICK, Now, where is he that will not stay so long room, next Be happy, he will trouble you no more; O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, The moist impediments unto my speech, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks; Re-enter PRINCE HENRY. Lo, where he comes, Harry: Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again. I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours, Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, K. Hen. O my son ! Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence, That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; Enter PRINCE JOHN of Lancaster, WARWICK, K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness, and peace, But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown P. Hen My lord of Warwick! It hath been prophesied to me many years, [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.- Glostershire. A Hall in Shallow's | needs be had: - And, sir, do you mean to stop any House. of William's wages, about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair? Shal. He shall answer it: Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? Shal. Yes, Davy. I will use him well; A friend i'the court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite. Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, sir; for they have marvellous foul linen. Shal. Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy. Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of the hill. Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against that Visor; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a knave, sir: but, yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not, I have served your worship truly, |