Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England shall give him office, honour, might;
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
O, my poor kingdom,

O, thou wilt be a wilderness again!

Thou foolish youth!

Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity s held from falling with so weak a wind,

That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.

Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours, Were thine without offence; and, at my death,

Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :

Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not,

And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.

had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Cre you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is your crown;
and He that wears the crown immortally,

Long guard it yours!

Heaven witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
How cold it struck my heart! if I do feign,
), let me in my present wildness die;

and never live to show the incredulous world.
The noble change that I have purposed!
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,)
spake unto this crown, as having sense,
and thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending,
lath fed upon the body of my father,

'nd eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege,

ccusing it, I put it on my head;

`o try with it, as with an enemy,

That had before my face murder'd my father,-
The quarrel of a true inheritor:

But, if it did infect my blood with joy,

Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride,-
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine

Did, with the least affection of a welcome,
Give entertainment to the might of it,-
Let heaven for ever keep it from my head!
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!

K. Hen. O my son,
Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence,
That thou might'st win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.-
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel

That ever I shall breathe.

[The Prince sits by the King.

Heaven knows, my son,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,
I met this crown; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it sat upon my head:
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation;
For all the soil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me,
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand;

And I had many living, to upbraid

My gain of it by their assistances;
Which daily grew to quarrel, and to blood-shed:
All these bold fears,

Thou see'st, with peril I have answered:

Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;

Therefore, my Harry,

Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.-
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly deny'd me.

How I came by the crown, O heaven, forgive!
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. Hen. My gracious liege,
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain, and right, must my possession be:
Which I, with more than with a common pain,
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness, and peace, son
John;

But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare, wither'd trunk: upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period.-
Where is my lord of Westmoreland?

P. Hen. My lord of Westmoreland, -
K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
West. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.
K. Hen. Laud be to heaven!-even there my life

It hath been prophesy'd to me many years,
I should not die but in Jerusalem;
Which vainly I suppos'd, the Holy Land :-
But, bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Orchard at Shallow's Seat in Glostershire. Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and Page. Shal. By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away tonight. What, Davy, I say!

Fal. You must excuse me, master Robert Shallow. Shal. I will not excuse you; you shall not be excus'd; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve! you shall not be excus'd. --Why, Davy!

Davy. Here, sir.

Enter DAVY.

Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy,-let me see, Davy; let me see:-yea, marry, William cook; bid him come hither.-Sir John, you shall not be excus'd.

Davy. Marry, sir, thus; those precepts cannot be serv'd: and, again, sir, -Shall we sow the head-land with wheat?

Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook; Are there no young pigeons ?

Davy. Yes, sir. - Here is now the smith's note, for shoeing, and plough-irons.

Shal. Let it be cast, and paid :-sir John, you shall not be excus'd.-Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legg'd 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.

Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot 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, heaven 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 serv'd your worship truly, sir, these eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, 1 beseech your worship, let him be countenanc'd.

Shal. Go to; I say, he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy.

[Exit DAVY. Where are you, sir John? Come, off with your boots. -Give me your hand, master Bardolph.

Bard. I am glad to see your worship.

Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind master Bardolph :-and welcome, my tall fellow. [To the Page.] Come, sir John.

Fal. 1'll follow you, good master Robert Shallow. Bardolph, look to our horses.

[Exeunt SHALLOW, BARDOLPH, and Page. If I were saw'd into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded hermit's-staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his: They, by observing him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turn'd into a justicelike serving-man: their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society, that they flock together in consent, like so many wild-geese. It is certain, that either wise hearing, or ignorant car riage, is caught, as men take diseases, one of another : therefore, let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow, to keep prince Harry in continual laughter. O, it is much that a lie, with a slight oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up. Shal. [within.] Sir John!