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 is gone wild into his Grave, (18)
For in his tomb lye my affections;
And with his fpirit fadly I furvive,
To mock the expectations of the world;
To fruftrate prophecies, and to raze out
Rotten opinion, which hath writ me down
After my feeming, Tho' my tide of blood
Hath proudly flow'd in vanity 'till now;
Now doth it turn and ebb back to the fea,
Where it shall mingle with the ftate of floods,
And flow henceforth in formal Majefty.
Now call we our high Court of Parliament;

(18) My Father is gone wail'd into his Grave,

(For in his Tomb lye my Affections)] This ridiculous Reading (which, I prefume, is Mr. Pope's Conjecture, unfupported by Authorities, or Reafon;) is not only Nonfense in it felf, but is the Caufe that Nonfenfe poffeffes the following Verses. The Poet certainly wrote, as I have restor'd with aH the old Copies. "My Father, fays the Prince, is gone wild "into his Grave, for now all my wild Affections lye intomb'd " with him; and I furvive with his fober Spirit and Difpo"fition, to disappoint thofe Expectations the Publick have "form'd of me." This the Prince had refolv'd to do, upon his Father's Demife; as we have heard from his own Mouth:

If I do feign,

Q, let me in my prefent Wildness dye :

And never live to shew th incredulous World
The noble Change that I have purposed!

That he did make this Change, we hear from the Archbishop în the Beginning of Henry V.

The Breath no fooner left his Father's body,

But that his Wildness, mortified in him,
Seem'd to dye too.

These two Quotations very plainly affert our Poet's Reading, and are flagrant Teftimonies of Mr. Pope's unhappy Fatality in gueffing wrong,

M 3

And

And let us chufe fuch limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our State may go
In equal rank with the beft 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.
[To the Lord Chief Justice.

Our Coronation done, we will accite

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

[Exeunt. SCENE changes to SHALLOW's Seat in Glocefterfhire.

Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Bardolph, the Page, and Davy.

Shal.

N

AY, you fhall fee mine orchard, where in an arbour we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with a difh of carraways, and fa 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, fpread, Davy; well faid, Davy.

Fal. This Davy ferves you for good uses; he is your fervingman, and your husbandman.

Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John. By th' Mafs, I have drank too much Sack at fupper. A good varlet. Now fit down,

now fit down: come, coufin.

Sil. Ah, firrah, quoth-a,

We shall do nothing but eat, and make good chear, [Singing.

And praife heav'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.

Shal. Give Mr. Bardolph fome wine, Davy.

Davy. Sweet Sir, fit; I'll be with you anon; most 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. [Exit. Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph, and, my little foldier there, be merry.

Sil. [Singing.] Be merry, be merry, my wife has all, For women are Shrews, both short and tall; 'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,

And welcome merry Shrovetide.

Be merry, be merry.

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

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

now.

Re-enter Davy.

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

Shal. Davy,

Davy. Your Worship

I'll be with you ftreight?

A cup of wine, Sir?

Sil. [Singing.] A cup of wine,

That's brisk and fine,

And drink unto the leman mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.
Fal. Well faid, mafter Silence.

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

Fal. Health and long life to you, mafter 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'st 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 cavileroes about London.

Davy. I hope to fee Landon, 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.

Shal. 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 fay,an old man can do somewhat. Davy. If it please your Worship, there's one Piftol come from the Court with news.

Fal. From the Court? let him come in.

How now, Piftol?

Enter 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 Earfon.

Pift. Puff?

Puff in thy teeth, moft recreant coward base?

Sir John, I am thy Piflol and thy friend;
And helter skelter 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 foutra for the world and worldlings bafe! 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-hood, Scarlet, and John.

Pift. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And fhall good news be baffled ?

Then Piftol lay thy head in fury's lap.

Shal. Honeft gentleman, I know not your breeding. Pift. Why then, lament therefore.

Shal. Give me pardon, Sir. If, Sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there is 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, fpeak or die. (19) Shal. Under King Harry.

Pift. Harry the Fourth? or Fifth ?

Shal. Harry the Fourth.

Pift. A foutra 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 fpeak are juft. Fal. Away, Bardolph, faddle my horfe. Master 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 Steward. Get on thy boots, we'll ride all night. Oh,

(19)

· Bezonian, speak or die.] So again Suffolk fays in 2 Henry VI.

Great Men oft die by vile Bezonians.

We are not to imagine this any Nation of People; but it is a Term of Reproach, frequent in the Writers contemporary with our Poet, and of Italian Extraction. Bifogne, among other Significations, means, Neceffity; and Bifognofo, a needy Perfon; thence, metaphorically, a base Scoundrel.