With fome fufpicion. I will weep for thee. Arreft them to the answer of the law, And God acquit them of their practices! Exe. I arreft thee of high treafon, by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge. I arreft thee of high treafon, by the name of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham. I arreft thee of high treafon, by the name of Thomas Grey, Knight of Northumberland. Scroop. Our purposes God juftly hath difcover'd, And I repent my fault, more than my death, Which I beseech your Highnefs to forgive, Although my body pay the price of it. Cam. For me, the gold of France did not feduce, Although I did admit it as a motive The fooner to effect what I intended; But God be thanked for prevention, Which I in fuff'rance heartily rejoice for, Befeeching God and you to pardon me. Grey. Never did faithful fubject more rejoice. At the discovery of moft dangerous treason, Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself, Prevented from a damned enterprize. "My fault, but not my body, pardon, Sovereign. K. Henry. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your fentence. You have confpir'd against our royal perfon, Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers Receiv'd the golden earneft of our death, One of the confpirators againft Queen Elizabeth, I think Parry, concludes his letter to her with these words, A culpa, but not a pœna; abfolve me, most dear Lady. This letter was much read at that time, and the au thour doubtless copied it. This whole fcene was much enlarged and improved after the first edition; the particular infertions it would be tedious to mention, and tedious without much use. Wherein Wherein you would have fold your King to flaughter, We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, Putting it ftraight in expedition. Chearly to fea. The figns of war advance; No King of England, if not King of France. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to Quickly's houfe in Eaftcheap. Enter Pistol, Nim, Bardolph, Boy and Quickly, Quick. PRY R'ythee, honey-fweet husband, let me Pift. No, for my manly heart doth yern. Bardolph, be blith. Nim, rouze thy vaunting vein. Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead, Bard, F Bard. Would I were with him wherefome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell. Quick. Nay, fure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bofom, if ever man went to Arthur's bofom. He made a' finer end, and went away, an it had been any chrifom child. A' parted even juft between twelve and one, even at the turning o' th' tide. For after I faw him fumble with the fheets, and play with flowers, and fmile upon his finger's end, I knew there was but one way; for his nofe was as fharp as a pen, and a’ babled of green fields. How now, Sir John? quoth I; what, man? be of good cheer. So a' cried out, God, God, God, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him, a' fhould not think of God; 9 7 Finer end, for final. 8 Turning o' th' Tide.] It has been a very old opinion, which Mead, de imperiolis, quotes, as if he believed it, that nobody dies but in the time of ebb; half the deaths in London confute the notion, but we find that it was common among the women of the poet's time. 9 for his nofe was as fharp as a pen, and a table of green fields.] Thefe words, and a table of greenfields, are not to be found in the old editions of too and 1608. This nonfenfe got into all the following editions by a pleafant miftake of the flage editors, who printed from the common piece-meal-written parts in the play-houfe. A table was here directed to be brought in (it being a fcene in a tavern where they drink at parting) and this direction crept into the text from the margin. Greenfield was the name of the property-man in that time who furnith'd implements, c. for the actors, A table of Greenfield's. POPE. So catenable an account of this blunder Mr, Theobald would not acquiefce in. He thought a table of Greenfield's part of the text, only corrupted, and that it fhould be read, he babled of greenfields, becaufe men do fo in the ravings of a calenture. But he did not confider how ill this agrees with the nature of the Knight's illness, who was now in no balling humour: and fo far from wanting cooling in greenfields, that his feet were cold, and he juft expiring. WARBURTON. Upon this paffage Mr. Thiobald has a note that fills a page, which I omit in pity to my readers, fince he only endeavours to prove, what I think every reader perceives to be true, that at this time no table could be wanted. Mr. Pope, in an appendix to his own edition in twelves, feems to admit Theobald's emendation, which we would have allowed to be uncommonly happy, had we not been prejudiced against it by a conjecture with which, as it excited merriment, we are loath to part. I hop'd, I hop'd, there was no need to trouble himself with any fuch thoughts yet. So a'bade me lay more cloathes on his feet. I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as a stone; then I felt to his knees, and fo upward, and upward, and all was as ' cold as any stone. I Nim. They fay, he cried out of Sack. Quick. Nay, that a' did not. Boy. Yes, that he did; and faid, they were devils incarnate. Quick. A'could never abide carnation, 'twas a colour he never lik'd. Boy. He said once, the deule would have him about women. * Cold as any stone.] Such is the end of Falfaff, from whom Shakespeare had promifed us in his epilogue to Henry IV. that we should receive more entertainment. It happened to ShakeSpeare as to other writers, to have his imagination crowded with a tumultuary confufion of images, which, while they were yet unforted and unexamined, feemed fufficient to furnish a long träin of incidents, and a new variety of merriment, but which, when he was to produce them to view, fhrunk fuddenly from him, or could not be accommodated to his general defign. That he once defigned to have brought Falstaff on the fcene again, we know from himself; but whether he could contrive no train of adventures fuitable to his character, or could match him with no companions likely to quicken his humour, or could open no new vein of pleafantry, and was afraid to continue the fame ftrain left it fhould not find the fame reception, he has here for ever difcarded him, and made hafte to dispatch him, perhaps for the fame reason for which Addifon killed Sir Roger, that no other hand might attempt to exhibit him. Let meaner authours learn from this example, that it is dangerous to fell the bear which is yet not hunted, to promife to the publick what they have not written. This disappointment probably inclined Queen Elizabeth to command the poet to produce him once again, and to fhew him in love or courtship. This was indeed a new fource of humour, and produced a new play from the former characters. I forgot to note in the proper place, and therefore note here, that Falfaff's courtship, or The Merry Wives of Windfor, should be read between Henry IV. and Henry V. Quick. Quick. He did in fome fort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatick, and talk'd of the whore of Babylon. Boy. Do you not remember, he faw a Flea stick upon Bardolph's nofe, and faid, it was a black foul burning in hell? Bard. Well, the fuel is gone, that maintain'd that fire. That's all the riches I got in his service. Nim. Shall we fhog? the King will be gone from Southampton. Pift. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattles, and my moveables. * Let fenfes rule.-The word is, * pitch and pay; Trust none, for oaths are straws; men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-faft is the only dog, my Duck; Go, clear thy crystals.-Yoke-fellows in arms, Boy. And that is but unwholfome food, they say. Bard. Farewel, hoftefs. Nim. I cannot kifs, that is the humour of it; but adieu. Pift. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee |