Upon uneafie pallets ftretching thee,

And hufht with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber ⚫ Than in the perfum'd chambers of the Great, • Under the Canopies of coftly State,

• And lull'd with founds of fweetest melody?
O thou dull God, why ly'ft thou with the vile
• In loathfom beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch
A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell?

• Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,

• Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains, In cradle of the rude imperious Surge;

And in the vifitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

• Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them • With deaf'ning clamours in the flip'ry fhrouds, That, with the hurley, death it felf awakes? Can't thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repofe To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude? And, in the calmeft and the ftillest night, With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a King? then, happy low! lye down; Uneafie lyes the head, that wears a Crown.

1 A watch cafe, &c.] This alludes to the watchmen fet in garrifon-towns upon fome eminence attending upon an alarum-bell, which he was to ring out in cafe of fire, or any approaching danger. He had a cafe or box to fhelter him from the weather, but at his utmost peril he was not to fleep whilft he was upon duty. Thefe alarum bells are mentioned in feveral other places of ShakeSpear. Oxford Editor.

2 in the flip'ry throuds, ] The fhip-boy (fays the speaker) can fleep in the fhrouds, tho' made wet and flip'ry by the fea's dafhing over them, and roaring with deaf'ning clamours. Would not any reasonable man now be contented with fenfe? But nothing will ferve the Oxford Editor but raifing the billows to the clouds, nay, to the fip'ry clouds, for fo he reads it.

3 - then, happy Low! LYE DOWN;] Evidently corrupted from happy LOWLY CLOWN. Thefe two lines making the juft conclufion from what preceeded. If fleep will fly a king and confort it felf with beggars, then happy the lowly clown, and uneafy the crown'd head.

SCENE

S CE

NE II.

Enter Warwick and Surrey.

War. Many good morrows to your Majefty!
K. Henry. Is it good morrow, lords?

War. 'Tis one o' clock, and past.

K. Henry. Why, then, good morrow to you. (a) Well, my lords,

Have you read o'er the letters I fent you?

War. We have, my Liege.

[dom,

K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our KingHow foul it is; what rank difeafes grow,

And with what danger, near the heart of it.
War. It is but as a body flight diftemper'd,
Which to its former ftrength may be reftor❜d,
With good advice and little medicine;

My lord Northumberland will foon be cool'd.
K. Henry. Oh heav'n, that one might read the book
of fate,

And fee the revolution of the times

Make Mountains level, and the Continent,

Weary of folid firmnefs, melt it felf

Into the Sea; and, other times, to fee

The beachy girdle of the Ocean

Too wide for Neptune's hips: how Chances mock,
And Changes fill the cup of alteration

With divers liquors! O, if this were feen,
The happiest youth viewing his progress through,
What perils paft, what croffes to enfue,

It is but as a body YET diffemper'd,] What would he havemore? We should read,

It is but as a body SLIGHT diftemper'd.

5 My lord Northumberland will foon be cooL'D.] I believe Shakespear wrote SCHOOL'D; tutor'd, and brought to fub

miffion.

--

6 O, if this were feen, &c] Thefe four lines are fupplied from the Edition of 1600.

[(a) Well, Mr. Theobald. Vulg. All.】.

Wou'd

Wou'd fhut the book, and fit 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 fince,

foot;

[To War.

This Percy was the man nearest my foul;
Who, like a brother, toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my
Yea, for my fake, ev'n to the eyes of Richard
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by?
(You, coufin Nevil, as I may remember)
When Richard, with his eye brim-full of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
Did fpeak these words, now prov'd a prophecy.
• Northumberland, thou ladder by the which
My coufin Bolingbroke afcends my Throne
(Though then, Heav'n knows, I had no fuch intent ;
But that Neceffity fo bow'd the State,
That I and Greatnefs were compell'd to kifs :)
The time fhall come, (thus did he follow it,)
The time will come, that foul fin, gathering head,
• Shall break into corruption: fo went on,
Foretelling this fame time's condition,
And the divifion of our amity.

War. There is a hiftory in all men's lives,
Figuring the Nature of the times deceas'd;
The which obferv'd, a man may prophefie,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which in their feeds
And weak beginnings lie intreafured.

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the neceffary form of this,

King Richard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that feed grow to a greater falseness,
Which fhould not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on You.

K. Henry.

K. Henry. Are these things then neceffities?
Then let us meet them like neceffities;

And that fame word even now cries out on us :
They say, the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.

War. It cannot be :

Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your Grace
To go to bed. Upon my life, my lord,
The Pow'rs, that you already have fent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain inftance that Glendower is dead.
Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill,
And thefe unfeafon'd hours perforce must add
Unto your fickness.

K. Henry. I will take your counsel :
And were these inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

[Exeunt.

Changes to Justice Shallow's Seat in
Gloucefterfhire.

Enter Shallow and Silence, Justices; with Mouldy,
Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf.

Sbal. Co

OME on, come on, come on; give me your hand, Sir; an early ftirrer, 7 by the rood.

And how doth my good coufin Silence?

Sil. Good morrow, good coufin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your faireft daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

7 By the rood.] . . the cross,

Mr. Pope.

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, coufin Shallow.

Shal. By yea, and nay, Sir, I dare fay, my coufin William is become a good fcholar: he is at Oxford ftill, is he not?

Sil. Indeed, Sir, to my coft.

Shal. He must then to the Inns of Court shortly: I was once of Clement's-Inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were call'd lufty Shallow then, coufin.

Shal. I was call'd any thing, and I would have done any thing, indeed, too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cot'swold man, you had not four fuch fwinge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again: and I may fay to you, we knew where the Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, (now Sir John) a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

Sil. This Sir John, coufin, that comes hither anon about Soldiers?

Shal. The fame Sir John, the very fame: I faw him break Schoggan's head at the Court-gate, when he was a crack, not thus high; and the very fame day I did fight with one Sampfon Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Grays-Inn. O the mad days that I have spent ! and to fee how many of mine old acquaintance are dead? Sil. We fhall all follow, coufin.

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain, very fure, very fure÷ Death (as the Pfalmift faith) is certain to all, all fhall die. How a good yoke of Bullocks at Stamford Fair? Sil. Truly, coufin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?

Sil. Dead, Sir.

Shal. Dead! fee, fee, he drew a good bow: and · dead? he fhot a fine fhoot. John of Gaunt loved him

well,