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? Bare Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns, 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 Give me my fword, and cloak: Falftaff, good night. 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. Why rather, Sleep, ly'ft thou in fmoaky cribs, And husht with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber; And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody? And in the vifitation of the winds, Το To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude? Deny it to a King? then, happy low! lye down ; Enter Warwick and Surrey. War. Many good morrows to your Majesty! 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, 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. Wou'd fhut the book, and fit him down and die. Since Richard and Northumberland, great Friends, after [To War. Were they at wars. It is but eight years fince, That I and Greatnefs were compell'd to kifs :) • 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, Such things become the hatch and brood of time; King Richard might create a perfect guefs, K. Henry. |