And mock your workings in a fecond body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the cafe yours;
Be now the father, and propofe a son:
Hear your own dignity fo much prophan'd;
See your moft dreadful laws fo loofely flighted;
Behold your felf fo by a fon difdain'd:
And then imagine me taking your part,
And in your pow'r foft filencing your fon.
After this cold confid'rance, fentence me;
And as you are a King, fpeak in your state,
What I have done that misbecame my place,
My perfon, or my Liege's fovereignty.

P. Henry. You are right, Justice, and you weigh this well; Therefore ftill bear the balance and the sword:

And I do wish your honours may increase,

'Till you do live to fee a fon of mine
Offend you, and obey you, as I did:
So fhall I live to speak my father's words.
Happy am I, that have a man fo bold.
That dares do juftice on my proper fon,
And no less happy having fuch a fon,
That would deliver up his greatness fo
Into the band of Justice. You committed me ;
For which I do commit into your hand

Th' unftained fword that you have us'd to bear,
With this remembrance that you use the fame
With the like bold, juft, and impartial spirit
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand,
You fhall be as a father to my youth:

My voice fhall found as you do prompt mine ear;
And I will stoop and humble

my intents

To your well-practis'd wife directions.

And, Princes all, believe me, I beseech you;
My father's gone into his grave, and in
His tomb lye all my wild affections;
For with his fpirit fadly I furvive,
To mock the expectations of the world,
To fruftrate prophecies, and to rafe out
Rotten opinion, which hath writ me down
After my feeming. Tho' my tide of blood

Hath

Hath proudly flow'd in vanity 'till now;
Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea,
Where it fhall mingle with the floods of state,
And flow henceforth in formal Majefty.
Now call we our high Court of Parliament,
And let us chufe fuch limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our ftate may go
In equal rank with the best govern'd nation;
That war or peace, or both at once may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us,
In which you, father, fhall have foremost hand.

Our coronation done, we will accite

[To Lord Chief Justice.

(As I before remember'd) all our state,
And (heav'n configning to my good intents)
No Prince nor Peer shall have just cause to say,
Heav'n fhorten Harry's happy life one day!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Shallow's Seat in Glo'ceftershire. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Bardolph, the Page, and Davy.

Shal. Nay, you fhall fee mine orchard, where in an arbour we will eat a laft year's pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and fo forth: come, coufin Silence; and then to bed.

Fal. You have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich.

Shal. Barren, barren, barren: beggars all, beggars all, Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy, spread, Davy, well faid, Davy.

Fal. This Davy ferves you for good ufes; he is ferving-man and your husbandman.

your

Sbal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John. By th' Mafs, I have drank too much fack at fupper. A good varlet. Now fit down, now fit down: come, coufin.

Sil. Ah, firrah, quoth-a,

We fhall do nothing but eat, and make good chear, [Singing.
And praife beav'n for the merry year;

When flesh is cheap and females dear,

And lufty lads roam here and there;

So merrily, and ever among, fo merrily, &c.

Fal. There's a merry heart, good mafter Silence. 'I'll give you a health for that anon.

Shal. Give Mr. Bardolph fome wine, Davy.

Davy. Sweet Sir, fit; I'll be with you anon; moft fweet Sir, fit. Mafter Page, fit: good Mafter Page, fit: proface! What you want in meat we'll have in drink; but you must bear; the heart's all.

Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph, and my little foldier there, be merry.

Sil. [Singing.] Be merry, be merry, my wife bas all, For women are forews, both foort and tall ;

'Tis merry in ball, when beards wag all,

And welcome merry Shrovetide.

Be merry, be merry.

Fal. I did not think mafter Silence had been a man of this mettle.

Sil. Who I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.

Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you.

Shal. Davy!

Davy. Your worship

cup of wine, Sir?

-I'll be with you ftraight. A

Sil. [Singing. A cup of wine,

That's brifk and fine,

And drink unto the leman mine;

And a merry beart lives long-a.

Fal. Well faid, mafter Silence.

Sil. If we fhall be merry, now comes in the fweet of the night.

Fal. Health and long life to you, master Silence.

Sil. Fill the cup and let it come, I'll pledge you,

were't a mile to the bottom.

Shal. Honeft Bardolph, welcome; if thou want'ft any thing and wilt not call, befhrew thy heart! Welcome, my little tiny thief, and welcome indeed too: I'll drink to mafter Bardolph, and to all the cavalieroes about London. Davy. I hope to fee London, ere I die.

Bard. If I might fee you there, Davy,

Shal. You'll crack a quart together? ha, will you not, mafter Bardolph ?

Bard. Yes, Sir, in a pottle pot.

Sbal.

Sbal. By God's liggens, I thank thee; the knave will ftick by thee, I can affure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred.

Bard. And I'll ftick by him, Sir. [One knocks at the door. Shal. Why, there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry. Look, who's at door there, ho: who knocks? Fal. Why, now you have done me right.

Sil. [Singing.] Do me right, and dub me Knight, * Samingo. Is't not fo?

Fal. 'Tis fo.

Sil. Is't fo? why then say an old man can do fomewhat. Davy. If it please your worship there's one Piftol come from the Court with news.

Fal. From the Court? let him come in.

SCENE V. Enter Piftol.

How now, Piftol?

Pift. Sir John, fave you,

Sir.

Fal. What wind blew you hither, Piftol?

Pift. Not the ill wind which blows no man good, fweet Knight: thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm. Sil. Indeed I think he be, but goodman Puff of Barfon. Pift. Puff?

Puff in thy teeth, moft recreant coward base!

Sir John, I am thy Piftol and thy friend;

And helter fkelter have I rode to thee;

And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,

And golden times, and happy news of price.

Fal. I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man of this world. Pift. A footra for the world and worldlings base!

I fpeak of Africa and golden joys.

Fal. O bafe Affyrian Knight, what is thy news?
Let King + Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil. And Robin-bood, Scarlet, and little John.
Pift. Shall dunghil curs confront the Helicons?

And fhall good news be baffled?

Then Piftol lay thy head in fury's lap.

Sbal. Honeft gentleman, I know not your breeding.

He means to fay San Domingo.

+ This bath reference to an old ballad of King Cophetua and the beggar-maid.

Pift

Pift. Why then lament therefore.

Shal. Give me pardon, Sir. If you come with news from the Court, I take it there are but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, Sir, under the King, in fome authority.

Pift. Under which King? Bezonian, speak or die.
Shal. Under King Harry.

Pift. Harry the Fourth? or Fifth ?

Shal. Harry the Fourth.

Pift. A footra for thine office!

Sir John, thy tender Lamb-kin now is King,
Harry the Fifth's the man. I fpeak the truth.
When Piftol lies, do this, and fig me like
The bragging Spaniard.

Fal. What, is the old King dead?

Pift. As nail in door: the things I speak are juft. Fal. Away, Bardolph, faddle my horfe. Mafter Robert Shallow, chufe what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Piftol, I will double charge thee with dignities.

Bard. O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.

Pift. What? I do bring good news?

Fal. Carry mafter Silence to bed: mafter Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortune's fteward, Get on thy boots, we'll ride all night. Oh, fweet Piftol! away, Bardolph: come, Piftol, utter more to me; and withal devise fomething to do thy felf good. Boot, boot, mafter Shallow. I know the young King is fick for me. Let us take any man's horfes: the laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends; and wo to my Lord Chief Justice!

Pift. Let vultures vile feize on his lungs alfo! *Where is the life that late I led, fay they? Why, here it is, welcome this pleasant day.

SCENE VI. A Street in London.

[Exeunt.

Enter Hoftefs Quickly, Doll Tear-fheet, and Bedels. Hoft. No, thou arrant knave, I would I might die, that I might have thee hang'd; thou haft drawn my fhoulder out of joint.

These are words of an old fong.

Bod.