Serves to say thus,

To us, the speaker in his parliament;
To us, the imagin'd voice of God himself;
The very opener, and intelligencer,
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings: 21) O, who shall believe,
But you misuse the reverence of your place;
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonourable? You have taken up, 22)
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The subjects of his substitute, my father;
And, both against the peace of heaven and him,
Have here up-swarm'd them.
Arch.
Good, my lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your father's peace:
But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
The time misorder'd doth, in common sense, 23)
Croud us, and crush us, to this monstrous form,
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace
The parcels and particulars of our grief;
The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the court,
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born:
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep,24)
With grant of our most just and right desires;
And true obedience of this madness cur'd,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.

Hast.

And though we here fall down, We have supplies to second our attempt; If they miscarry, theirs shall second them: And so, success of mischief 25) shall be born; And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up, Whiles England shall have generation.

P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,

To sound the bottom of the after-times.
West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them directly,
How far-forth you do like their articles?
P.John. I like them all, and do allow 26) them well:
And swear here by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning and authority.

My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your powers unto their several counties,
As we will ours: and here, between the armies,
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home,
Of our restored love, and amity.

Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses. P.John. I give it you, and will maintain my word: And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

Hast. Go, captain, [to an Officer] and deliver to

the army

This news of peace; let them have pay and part: I know it will well please them; hie thee, captain. [Exit Officer. Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland. West. I pledge your grace: And, if you knew

what pains

I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.

West.
I am glad of it:
Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy season;
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.

Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry; 27) But heaviness foreruns the good event.

West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow

morrow.

Some good thing comes to

Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule be [Shouts within.

true.

P. John. The word of peace is render'd; Hark, how they shout!

Mowb. This had been cheerful, after victory. Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser.

P. John.

Go, my lord, And let our army be discharged too.

[Exit WESTMORELAND. And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains 28) March by us; that we may peruse the men We should have cop'd withal. Arch.

Go, good lord Hastings, And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them pass by.

[Exit HASTINGS. P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-night together.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
West. The leaders, having charge from you to stand,
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
P. John. They know their duties.

Re-enter HASTINGS.

Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already:
Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses
East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up,
Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place.
West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings; for the which
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:
And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbray,
Of capital treason I attach you both.
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?
West. Is your assembly so?
Arch. Will you thus break your faith?
P.John.
I pawn'd thee none:

I promis'd you redress of these same grievances,
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a most christian care.
But, for you, rebels, look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here, 29) and foolishly sent hence.
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray;
Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death;
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath.

SCENE III. Another part of the Forest.

[Exeunt. 30)

Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight is your degree; and your place, the dale: Colevile shall still be your name; a traitor your degree; and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough; so shall you still be Colevile of the dale." Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaff? Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If I do

now;

Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. [Exit WEST. Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When every thing is ended, then you come : These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows' back. Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? have I, in my poor and old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered ninescore and odd posts: and here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and imma- || culate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy: But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and overcame.

P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him and I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the lord,|| I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my foot: To the which course if I be enforced, if you || do not all show like gilt two-pences, to me; and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'er-shine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, 2) which show like pins' heads to her; believe not the || word of the noble: Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount.
Fal. Let it shine then.

P. John. Thine's too thick to shine.
Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that may
do me good, and call it what you will.
P. John. Is thy name Colevile?
Cole.
It is, my lord.
P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
Fal. And a famous true subject took him.
Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are,
That led me hither: had they been rul'd by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have.
Fal. I know not how they sold themselves: but
thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away; and
1 thank thee for thee.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

P. John. Now, have you left pursuit?
West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd.
P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates,
To York, to present execution: —

Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. [Exeunt some with COLEVILE. And now despatch me toward the court, my lords;

Our news shall go before us to his majesty, Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comfort him;

And we with sober speed will follow you. Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through Glostershire: and when you come to court, stand my good lord, 33) 'pray, in your good report. P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition, 34)

Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Erit. Fal. I would, you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom. — 35) Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh; 36) but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of these demure boys come to any proof: 37) for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours which environ it: makes it apprehensive, 39) quick, forgetive, 39) full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity, and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face; which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm and then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great, and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour comes of sherris: So that skill in the weapon is nothing, without sack; for that sets it a-work and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil; *°) till sack commences it, 1) and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is valiant: for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherris; that he is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should be, to forswear thin potations, and addict themselves to sack. Enter BARDolph.

How now, Bardolph ?

How chance, thou art not with the prince thy brother?
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
Thou hast a better place in his affection,
Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy;
And noble offices thou may'st effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,
Between his greatness and thy other brethren:
Therefore, omit him not; blunt not his love:
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace,
By seeming cold, or careless of his will.
For he is gracious, if he be observ'd: 44)
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
As humorous as winter, 45) and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 46)
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth:
But, being moody, give him line and scope;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this,
Thomas,

And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in;
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion, 47)
(As, force perforce, the age will
it in,)
pour
Shall never leak though it do work as strong
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder. 48)

Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him,

Thomas?

Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. K. Hen. And how accompanied? can'st thou tell that? Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers. K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death; The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape, In forms imaginary, the unguided days, And rotten times, that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors. For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections 49) fly Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay! War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite: The prince but studies his companions,

Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the language,

'Tis needful, that the most immodest word
Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers: and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,

By which his grace must mete the lives of others;
Turning past evils to advantages.

K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her comb

In the dead carrion.-50) Who's here? Westmoreland?
Enter WESTMORELAND.
West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness
Added to that that I am to deliver!
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand:
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed,
But peace puts forth her olive every where,
The manner how this action hath been borne,
Here at more leisure may your highness read;
With every course, in his particular. 5')

K. Hen. Ŏ Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news.

Enter HARCOURT.

Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph, With a great power of English, and of Scots, Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: The manner and true order of the fight, This packet, please it you, contains at large. K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news make me sick?

-

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach, such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

--

I should rejoice now at this happy news;
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy: -
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. [Swoons.
P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty!
Cla.

O my royal father!
West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up!
War. Be patient, princes; you do know these fits
Are with his highness very ordinary.
Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.
Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs;
The incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure, 52) that should confine it in,
So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.
P. Humph. The people fear me; 53) for they do

observe

Unfather'd heirs, 54) and loathly birds of nature:
The seasons change their manners, as the year 55)
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.
Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, 56) no ebb between:
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say, it did so, a little time before

That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.
K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.

[They convey the KING into an inner part of the room, and place him on a bed.

sweet prince,

With joy, he will recover without physic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords:
speak low;
The king your father is dispos'd to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will't please your grace to go along with us?
P.Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the king.
[Exeunt all but P. HENRY.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports 59) of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin 60) bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my fa-

ther!

This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigol 1) hath divorc'd
So many English kings. Thy due, from me,
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown;
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,

[Putting it on his head. Which heaven shall guard: And put the world's whole strength

Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me: This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
K.Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!

Cla.

[Exit.

Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest. Doth the king call? War. What would your majesty? How fares your grace?

K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
K. Hen. The prince of Wales? Where is he? let
me see him:

He is not here.
War.
This door is open; he is gone this way.
P.Humph. He came not through the chamber where
we stay'd.

Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose

My sleep my death?

go, seek

Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither. [Exit WARWICK.

This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me.- See, sons, what things you are!
How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object!

For this the foolish over-careful fathers

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,

Their bones with industry;

For this they have engrossed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises:
When, like the bee, tolling 2) from every flower
The virtuous sweets;

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive; and like the bees,
Yield his engrossments 3) to the ending father.
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste

Re-enter WARWICK.

Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd 64) me?
War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K.Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown?
Re-enter Prince HENRY.
Come hither to me, Harry :-
Lo, where he comes, -
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

[Exeunt CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY, Lords, &c. P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again. K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:

I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,

That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and, at my death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation: 65)
Thy life did manifest, thou lovd'st me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of my life.
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself;
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse,
Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head:
Only compound me with forgotten dust;
Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms.
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
For now a time is come to mock at form,
Harry the fifth is crown'd: Up, vanity!
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!

-

And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness!

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England shall double gild his treble guilt:
England shall give him office, honour, might:
For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
P.Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,
[Kneeling.

The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is your crown;
And He that wears the crown immortally,
Long guard it yours! If I affect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,
(Which my most true and inward-duteous spirit
Teacheth,) this prostrate and exterior bending!
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die;
And never live to show the incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed!
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,)
I spake unto the crown as having sense,
And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending,
Hath fed upon the body of my father;
Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold.
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in medicine portable: "")
But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head;

To try with it, - as with an enemy,
That had before my face murder'd my father,
The quarrel of a true inheritor.

But if it did infect my blood with joy,

Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; If any rebel or vain spirit of mine

Did, with the least affection of a welcome,

Give entertainment to the might of it,

Let God for ever keep it from my head!

And make me as the poorest vassal is,

That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! K. Hen. O my son!

17

Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence,
That thou might'st win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel

That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son,

By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,

I met this crown; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it sat upon my head:
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation;

For all the soil 67) of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me,
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand;
And I had many living, to upbraid

My gain of it by their assistances;
Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace: 68) all these bold fears, 69)
Thou see'st, with peril I have answered:
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument; and now my death
Changes the mode: 70) for what in me was pur-
chas'd, 71)

Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;

So thou the garland wear'st successively. 72)
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displac'd: which to avoid,
I cut them off: and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land; 73)
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive! 74)
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. Hen. My gracious liege,

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain, and right, must my possession be:
Which I, with more than with a common pain,
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
Enter Prince JOHN of LANCASTER, WARWICK, Lords,
and others.

K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of Lan

K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness, and peace, son John;

But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare, wither'd trunk: upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period.
Where is my lord of Warwick?

P. Hen.
My lord of Warwick!
K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
War. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.
K. Hen. Laud be to God! even there my life
must end.

It hath been prophesied to me many years,
I should not die but in Jerusalem;
Which vainly I suppos'd, the Holy Land:
But, bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.