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The fortune of the day quite turn'd from
With all my heart.
Lan. I thank your Grace for this high cour
tesy, Which I shall give away immediately. King. Then this remains, that we divide our
power. You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland Towards York shall bend you with your dearest
THE SECOND PART OF HENRY THE FOURTH
(DRAMATIS PERSONÆ) RUMOUR, the Presenter.
[SIR JOHN] FALSTAFF, KING HENRY IV.
His PAGE, HENRY, PRINCE (or WALES), afterwards crowned King
irregular Humourists. Henry V.
BARDOLPH, PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER,
sons to Henry PISTOL (PRINCE] HUMPHREY OF GLOUCES- IV and breth- Pвто, , TER,
ren to Henry SHALLOW, THOMAS (DUKE) or CLARENCE,
both country Justices.
} (EARL OF] NORTHUMBERLAND,
Davy, servant to Shallow.
FANG and SNARE, two Sergeants.
country soldiers. TRAVERS, retainers of North
FEEBLE, MORTOR, 1 umberland,
BULLCALF, (SIR JOHN) COLVILLE, EARL OF WARWICK,
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. EARL OF WESTMORELAND,
LADY PERCY. EARL OF SURREY, of the King's Party.
QUICKLY, hostess (of a tavern in Eastcheap).
[SCENE : England.)
I speak of peace, while covert enmity
I run before King Harry's victory,
towns Between that royal field of Shrewsbury And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, Lies crafty-sick. The posts come tiring on, And not a man of them brings other news Than they have learn'd of me. From Ru
mour's tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.
How is this deriv'd ? Saw you the field ? Came you from Shrews
bury? L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that
came from thence,
way ; And he is furnish'd with no certainties More than he haply may retail from me. North. Now, Travers, what good tidings
comes with you ? Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me
back With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd, Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard 38 A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied
horse. He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me that rebellion had bad luck, And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. With that, he gave his able horse the head, And bending forward struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head, and starting so He seem'd in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question. North.
Ha! Again. Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold ? Of Hotspur Coldspur ? That rebellion Had met ill luck ?
L. Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what : If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point I'll give my barony. Never talk of it. North. Why should that gentleman that rode
by Travers Give then such instances of loss ? L. Bard.
Who, he ? He was some hilding fellow that had stolen The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more
SCENE (1. The same.]
Where is the Earl?
Tell thou the Earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the
orchard. Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, 5 And he himself will answer.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, L. Bard.
Here comes the Earl.
[Exit Porter.) North. What news, Lord Bardolph ? Every
minute now Should be the father of some stratagem. The times are wild ; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose 10 And bears down all before him. L. Bard.
North. Good, an God will !
As good as heart can wish.
Blunts Kill'd by the hand of Douglas ; young Prince
Enter MORTON. North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title
leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. So looks the strand whereon the imperious
flood Hath left a witness'd usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrews
bury ? Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord, Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask 16 To fright our party.
North, How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy
las ; ”
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
and thus; Your brother thus ; so fought the noble DougStopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds ; But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with “ Brother, son, and all are dead." Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother
yet; But, for my lord your son, North.
Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not
know Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes That what he fear'd is chanc'd. Yet speak,
Morton ; Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. Mor. You are too great to be by me gain
said; Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's
dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye. Thou shak'st thy head and hold'st it fear or
sin To speak a truth. If he be slain, (say so;] The tongue offends not that reports his death; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Rememb’red tolling a departing friend. L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son
is dead. Mor. I am sorry I should force you to be
lieve That which I would to God I had not seen; But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out
breath'd, To Harry Monmouth ; whose swift wrath beat
down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung
up. In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temper'd courage in his troops ; For from his metal was his party steel'd ; Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself, Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, 120
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Worcester Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot. The bloody Douglas,' whose well-labouring Had three times slain the appearance of the
King, Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backs, and in his
flight, Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is that the King bath won, and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
North. For this I shall have time enough to In poison there is physic; and these news, Having been well, that would have made me
sick, Being sick, have in some measure made me
well. And as the wretch, whose fever-weak’ned
joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs. Weak’ned with grief, being now enrag'd with
grief, Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou
nice crutch! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand ; and hence, thou sickly
quoif ! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron; and approach The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare
bring To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland! Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature's
hand Keep the wild flood confin'd! Let order die ! And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a ling'ring act; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead!
[Tra.] This strained passion doth you wrong, L. Bard. Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom
from your honour. Mor. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health ; the which, if you give
o'er To stormy passion, must perforce decay. [You cast the event of war, my noble lord, And summ'd the account of chance, before you
said, Let us make head." It was your presurmise, That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop.
You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, 170
fallen, Or what hath this bold enterprise brought
forth, More than that being which was like to be ?] L. Bard. We all that are engaged to this
loss Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas That if we wrought out life 't was ten to one ; And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd ; And since we are o'erset, venture again, Come, we will all put forth, body and goods. Mor. 'Tis more than time ; and, my most
noble lord, I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, [The gentle Archbishop of York is up With well-appointed powers. He is a man Who with a double surety binds his followers. My lord your son had only but the corpse, But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; For that same word, rebellion, did divide The action of their bodies from their souls ; 195 And they did fight with queasiness, constrain’d, As men drink potions, that their weapons only Seem'd on our side ; but, for their spirits and
souls, This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop 200 Turns insurrection to religion. Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts, He's follow'd both with body and with mind ; And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret
sword and buckler. Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water ; but, for the party that ow'd it, he might have moe diseases than he knew for,
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that intends to laughter, more than I invent or is invented on me. I am not only witty in myself, but [16 the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelm'd all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judge- (15 ment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never mann'd with an agate till now; but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back (20 again to your master, for a jewel, the juvenal, the Prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledg'd. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his [ 25 face is a face royal. God may finish it when he will, 't is not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it still at a face royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he 'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his (30 father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dommelton about the satin for my short cloak and my slops ?
Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph. He would not take his band and yours. He lik'd not the security.
Fal. Let him be damn'd like the glutton! Pray God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally yea-for-sooth knave ! to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and 'if a man is through with them in honest taking up, then [45 they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would put rats bane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security. I look'd 'a should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin,
as I am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, [50 he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and yet the lightness of his wife shines through it; and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph ?
Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.
Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were mann'd, hors'd, and wiv'd. Enter the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE and SERVANT.
Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolph.
Fal. Wait close ; I will not see him.
Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery?
Serv. He, my lord ; but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.
Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back again. Serv. Sir John Falstaff ! Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf.
Page. You must speak louder; my master is deaf.
Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of anything good. Go, pluck him by the elbow ; I must speak with him.
Serv. Sir John!
Fal. What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not wars? Is there not employment ? Doth not the King lack subjects? Do not the rebels need soldiers ? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it. Serv. You mistake me, sir.
Fal. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? Setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat, if I had said
Serv. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than an honest man.
Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that which grows to me! If thou get'st any leave of me, hang me; if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better be hang'd. You hunt counter; hence! avaunt!
Serv. Sir, my lord would speak with you.
Fal. My good lord ! God give your lordship good time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad. I heard say your lordship was sick; I hope your lordship goes abroad by 108 advice. Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time in you ; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care of your health.
Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury.
Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear his Majesty is return'd with some discomfort from Wales.
Ch. Just. I talk not of his Majesty. You would not come when I sent for you.
Fal. And I hear, moreover, his Highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy.
Ch. Just. Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with you.
Fal. This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of lethargy, an't please your lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling.
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.
Fal. It hath it original from much grief, from study, and perturbation of the brain. have read the cause of his effects in Galen. It is a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just. I think you are fallen into the disease ; for you hear not what I say to you.
(Fal.] Very well, my lord, very well. Rather, an 't please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal,
Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears; and I care not if I do become your physician.
Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. Your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself.
Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me.
Fal. As I was then advis'd by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did
Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, yon live in great infamy.
Fal. He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less.
Ch. Just. Your means is very slender, and your waste is great.
Fal. I would it were otherwise ; I would my means were greater, and my waist slenderer.
Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince.
Fal. The young prince hath misled me. I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.
Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a newheal'd wound. Your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gadshill. You may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting that action, in
Fal. My lord ?
Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so. Wake not a sleeping wolf.
Fal. To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox.
Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.
Fal. A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow. If I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth.
Ch. Just. There is not a white hair in your face but should have his effect of gravity. Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill angel.
Fal. Not so, my lord. Your ill angel is light; but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing; and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go. I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these costermongers' (190 times that true Valour is turned bear-herd; Pregnancy is made a tapster, and his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. (195 You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young; you do measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls; and