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An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, My brain I'll prove the female to my soul;
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
With scruples, and do set the word itself Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? Against the word : Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, As thus, - Come, little ones ; and then again, That set'st the word itself against the word ! It is as hard to come, as for a camel Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land;
To thread the postern of a needle's eye. The chopping French we do not understand. Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; May tear a passage through the flinty ribs That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse.
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves, Duch.
I do not sue to stand, That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee ! That many have, and others must sit there : Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, Bearing their own misfortune on the back But makes one pardon strong.
Of such as have before endur'd the like. Boling.
With all my heart Thus play I, in one person, many people, I pardon him.
And none contented : Sometimes am I king; Duch. A god on earth thou art.
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law, --and And so I am : Then crushing penury the abbot,
Persuades me I was better when a king; With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, Good uncle, help to order several powers
And straight am nothing : But, whate'er I am, To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are :
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, They shall not live within this world, I swear, With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd But I will have them, if I once know where. With being nothing. - Musick do I hear ? [Musick. Uncle, farewell, - and cousin too, adieu :
Ha, ha! keep time: - How sour sweet musick is, Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. When time is broke, and no proportion kept ! Duch. Come, my old son ; - I pray God make So is it in the musick of men's lives. thee new.
[Exeunt. And here have I the daintiness of ear,
To check time broke in a disorder'd string ;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock : he spake?
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch, Was it not so?
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Serv.
Those were his very words. Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Erton. Have I no friend? quoth he: he spakc Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is, it twice.
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, And urg'd it twice together ; did he not ?
Which is the bell : So sighs, and tears, and groans, Serv. He did.
Show minutes, times, and hours :- - but Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd on Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, me;
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock. As who should say, I would, thou wert the man This musick mads me, let it sound no more ; That would divorce this terror from my heart ; For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits, Meaning, the king at Pomfret.
Come, let's go ;
In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
[Exeunt. For 'tis a sign of love ; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Groom. Hail, royal prince !
Thanks, noble peer; compare
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. This prison, where I live, unto the world :
What art thou ? and how comest thou hither, And, for because the world is populous,
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog And here is not a creature but myself,
That brings me food, to make misfortune live? I cannot do it; - Yet I'll hammer it out.
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, kino,
When thou wort king; wno, travelling towards'
SCENE VI. Windsor. A Room in the Castle York, With much ado, at length have gotten leave
Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and York, with
Lords and Attendants.
Buling. Kind uncle York, the latest news ve hear In London streets that coronation day,
that the rebels have consum'd with fire When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary !
Our town of Cicester in Glostershire; That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid ;
But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear not. That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd ! K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle Welcome, my lord : What is the news?
Enter NorthuMBERLAND. friend, How went he under him ?
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. The next news is, - I have to London sent
piness. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent : back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
The manner of their taking may appear This hand hath made him proud with clapping
At large discoursed in this paper here. him.
[Presenting a paper. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down,
Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. neck
Enter FrTzWATER. Of that proud man, that did usurp his back ?
Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely; Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, Was born to bear? I was not made a horse ;
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Spur-gall’d, and tir’d by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Percy, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE. Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West.
[ To the Groom.
minster, K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, away.
Hath yielded up his body to the grave; Groom. What my tongue dares not,
But here is Carlisle living, to abide heart shall say.
[Erit. Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. Keep. My lord, wilt please you to fall to ?
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom : K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Choose out some secret place, some reverend-room, Keep. My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; who
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife : Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. thee!
Enter Exton, with Attendants bearing a cofin. Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
[Beats the Keeper.
Erton. Great king, within this coffin I present Keep. Help, help, help!
Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. K. Rich. How now ? what means death in this Boling. Exton, I thank thee not ; for thou hast rude assault?
wrought Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
(Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Upon my head, and all this famous land. Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I (He kills another, then Exton strikes him down.
this deed. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,
Boling. They love not poison that do poison need, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, hand
I hate the murderer, love him murdered. Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, land.
But neither my good word, nor princely favour : Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high ; With Cain go wander through the shade of night, Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. And never show thy head by day nor light.
[Dies. Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, Erton. As full of valour, as of royal blood : Tnat blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow : Both have I spilt; 0, would the deed were good ! Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, For now the devil, that told me — I did well, And put on sullen black, incontinent; Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell.
I'll make a voyage to the Holy land, This dead king to the living king I'll bear? To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. March sadly after ; grace my mournings here,
(Exeunt. I In weeping after this untimely bier. (Exeunt
FIRST PART OF
KING HENRY IV
King HENRY THE FOURTH.
Sir John FALSTAFF. Henry, Prince of Wales,
Porns. Prince John of Lancaster,
sons to the King.
GADSHILL Earl OF WESTMORELAND,
Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer. HENRY PERCY, surnamed Hotspur, his son. Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and wife Edmund MORTIMER, Earl of March.
to Mortimer. Scroor, Archbishop of York.
Mrs. QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. Sir Michael, a friend of the Archbishop. Archibald, Earl of Douglas.
Lorus, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, DrawOWEN GLENDOWER.
crs, Two Carriers, Travellers, and Atlendants. Sir RICHARD VERNON.
SCENE, - ENGLAND
SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace.
Blunt, and others.
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy;
West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
that the noble Mortimer,
K. Hen. It seems then, that the tidings of this | SCENE II. The same.
Another Room in the broil
Enter Henry, Prince of Wales, and Falstaff. lord;
Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? For more uneven and unwelcome news
P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking Came from the north, and thus it did import. of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, hast forgotten to demand that truly which thuu That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
would'st truly know. What a devil hast thou to At Holmedon met,
do with the time of the day? unless hours were Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the As by discharge of their artillery,
tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping And shape of likelihood, the news was told ; houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot For he that brought them, in the very heat
wench in flame colour'd taffata; I see no reason, And pride of their contention did take horse, why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the Uncertain of the issue any way.
time of the day. K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for friend,
we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, stars and not by Phæbus, - he, that wandering Stain'd with the variation of each soil
knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when Betwixt that Hoi nedon and this seat of ours; thou art king, -as, God save thy grace, (majesty, And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news, I should say ; for grace thou wilt have none,) The earl of Douglas is discomfited ;
P. Hen. What! none ? Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, Fal. No, by my troth ; not so much as will serve Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see to be prologue to an egg and butter. On Holmedon's plains : Of prisoners, Hotspur
P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. took
Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
king, let not us, that are squires of the night's To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol, body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, And is not this an honourable spoil ?
minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men A gallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not?
of good government; being governed as the sea is, West. In faith,
by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under It is a conquest for a prince te joast of.
whose countenance we steal. K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too : mak'st me sin
for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, In envy that my lord Northumberland
doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as Should be the father of so blest a son :
the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now : A A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant ; night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday mornWho is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride : ing; got with swearing — lay by; and spent with Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
crying -- bring in: now, in as low an ebb as the See riot and dishonour stain the brow
foot of the ladder : and, by and by, in as high a Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, flow as the ridge of the gallows. That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd Fal. By the lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? And call'd mine — Percy, his — Plantagenet ! P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet But let him from my thoughts : What think robe of durance ? you, coz',
Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in of this young Percy's pride ? the prisoners, thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have Which he in this adventure hath surpriz’d,
I to do with a buff jerkin? To his own use he keeps; and sends me word, P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
hostess of the tavern ? West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Wor- Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning, cester,
many a time and oft. Malevolent to you in all aspects;
P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid The crest of youth against your dignity.
all there. K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin
would stretch ; and, where it would not, I have And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect used my credit. Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we apparent that thou art heir apparent, But, I pr'yWill hold at Windsor, so inform the lords : thee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in But come yourself with speed to us again ; England when thou art king ? and resolution thus For m re is to be said, and to be done,
fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father Than o't of anger can be uttered.
antick the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, West. I will, my liege.
P. Ilen. No ; thou shalt.
traders riding to London with fat purses: I have Fal. Shall I ? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves; brave judge.
Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester; I have bespoke P. Hen. Thou judgest false already ; I mean, supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we may do it thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so as secure as sleep: If you will go, I will stuff your become a rare hangman.
purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home, Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps and be hanged. with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, Fal. Hear me, Yedward; if I tarry at home and I can tell you.
go not, I'll hang you for going. P. Hen. For obtaining of suits ?
Poins. You will, chops? Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits : whereof the Fai. Hal, wilt thou make one ? hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear.
faith. P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute.
Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bag- fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood pipe.
royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the me- P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll le a lancholy of Moor-ditch ?
mad-cap. Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similies; and Fal. Why, that's well said. art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, – P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. sweet young prince, . But, Hal, I pr’ythee, trouble Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou thou art king. and I knew where a commodity of good names P. Hen. I care not. were to be bought : An old lord of the council Poins. Sir John, I pr’ythee, leave the prince and rated me the other day in the street about you, sir ; me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this but I marked him not : and yet he talked very adventure, that he shall go. wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuiwisely, and in the street too.
sion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou P. Hen. Thou did'st well ; for wisdom cries out speakest may move, and what he hears may be bein the streets, and no man regards it.
lieved, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration : and art, prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done want countenance. Farewell : You shall find me much harm upon me, Hal, — God forgive thee for in Eastcheap. it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better All-hallown summer!
[Erit Falstaff. than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride and I will give it over ; by the Lord, an I do not, with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I I am a villain ; I'll be damned, for never a king's cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, son in Christendom.
and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, already way-laid; yourself, and I, will not be there : Jack ?
and when they have the booty, if you and I do not Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I rob them, cut this head from my shoulders. do not, call me villain, and baffle me.
P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in setP. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; ting forth ? from praying, to purse-taking.
Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after Enter Porns, at a distance.
them, and appoint thein a place of meeting, wherein
it is at our pleasure to fail : and then will they Fal. Why; Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no adventure upon the exploit themselves : which they sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins ! shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. them. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like, that they will know hell were hot enough for him ? This is the most us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other omnipotent villain that ever cried, Stand to a truc appointment, to be ourselves.
Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see,
I'll P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.
tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.
after we leave them ; and, sirrah, I have cases of monsieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-and-buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about garments. thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-friday last, P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg ?
P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and breaker of proverbs, he will give the devil his due. for the third, if he fight longer than he sees rea
Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy son, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will word with the devil.
be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat P. Hen. Else he had been damn'd for cozening rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper : how the devil.
thirty, at least, he f. ught with ; what wards, what Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morn- blows, what extremities he endured ; and, in the ing, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill : There are reproof of this, lies the jest pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and ?" Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all