might not fall in love with him; in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true fubject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abufe, Hal, none, Ned, none; no, boys, none.

P. Henry. See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardife doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman, to close with us? Is the of the wicked? is thine Hostess here of the wicked? or is the boy of the wicked? or honeft Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nofe, of the wicked?

Poins. Anfwer, thou dead Elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath prickt down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he. doth nothing but roaft mault-worms for the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil out-bids him too.

P. Henry. For the women,

Fal. For one of them, fhe is in hell already, and burns foor fouls for the other, I owe her mony; and whether the be damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoft. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No, I think, thou art not: I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for fuffering fleth to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law, for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Hot. All victuallers do fo: what is a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman,

Dol. What fays your Grace?

Fal. His Grace fays That, which his flesh rebels against. Hoft. Who knocks fo loud at door ? look to the door there, Francis.

Enter Peto.

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?
Peto. The King your father is at Westminster,
And there are twenty weak and wearied Pofts
Come from the North; and, as I came along,
I met and overtook a dozen captains,

Bare

Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,

So idly to profane the precious time;

When tempeft of commotion, like the South
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my fword, and cloak: Falftaff, good night.
[Exeunt Prince and Poins.
Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morfel of the night,
and we must hence, and leave it unpick't. More knock-
ing at the door? how how? what's the matter?

Bard. You muft away to Court, Sir, prefently: a dozen captains ftay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the muficians, Sirrah: farewel, Hoftefs; farewel, Dol. You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after; the undeferver may fleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewel, good wenches; if I be not sent away poft, I will fee you again, ere I go.

Dol. I cannot fpeak; if my heart be not ready to well, fweet Jack, have a care of thy felf.

burft

Fal. Farewel, farewel.

[Exit. Hoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee thefe twenty nine years, come pefcod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man - well, fare thee well.

Bard. Mrs. Tear-sheet,

Hoft. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid Mistress Tear-sheet come to my mafter.

Hoft. O run, Dol, run; run, good Dol.

[Exeunts

SCENE, the Palace in LONDON.

Enter King Henry in his Night-gown, with a Page.

K. HENRY.

O, call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;

G But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read thefe

letters.

And well confider of them: make good speed.

[Exit Page.
How many thousands of my pooreft Subjects
Are at this hour afleep! O gentle Sleep,
Nature's foft Nurfe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my fenfes in forgetfulness?

Why rather, Sleep, ly'ft thou in fmoaky cribs,
Upon uneafie pallets ftretching thee,

And husht 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 sweetest melody?
O thou dull God, why ly'st thou with the vile
In loathfom beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch
A watch-cafe, or a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the ship-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 shrouds,
That, with the hurley, death it felf awakes?
Can't thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose

Το

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.

Enter Warwick and Surrey.

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

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

K. Henry. (12) Why, then, good morrow to you. Well, my lords,

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

War. We have, my Liege.

K. Henry. Then you perceive the body of our Kingdom,

How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
And with what danger, near the heart of it.
War. It is but as a body, yet 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 firmness, melt it self

Into the Sea; and, other times, to fee

The beachy girdle of the Ocean

Too wide for Neptune's hips: how Chances mock,

(12) Why then good morrow to you all, my Lords:

Have you read 'er, &c. I must account for the Change I have ventur'd at here. In the preceding Page the King fends Letters to Surrey and Warwick, with Charge that they should read them and attend him. Accordingly here Surrey and Warwick come, and no body elfe, in Obedience to that Summons. The King would hardly have faid Good morrow to You: All, to two Peers, and no more. My Emendation wants no further Support, than This naked Stating of the Cafe.

And

And Changes fill the cup of alteration.
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth viewing his progress through,
What perils paft, what croffes to enfue,

Wou'd fhut the book, and fit him down and die.
'Tis not ten Years gone,

Since Richard and Northumberland, great Friends,
Did feaft together; and in two years

after

[To War.

Were they at wars. It is but eight years fince,
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 foot;
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 history 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 guefs,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would of that feed grow to a greater falseness,
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on You.

K. Henry.