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A deed of slander with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did
I this deed.

Boling. They love not poison that do poison need,

Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy la-

But neither my good word, nor princely favour: With Cain go wander through the shade of night,

And never show thy head by day nor light.-
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me


Come, mourn with me for what I do lamer.t,
And put on sullen black incontinent;*
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:-
March sadly after; grace my mournings

In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt. * Immediately.

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SCENE I.-London.-A Room in the Palace. Enter King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and others.

K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with

Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in stronds* afar remote.
No more the thirsty Erinnyst of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's

No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,-
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, [friends,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight,)
Forthwith a power; of English shall we levy;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers'

To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
* Strands, banks of the sea. + The fury of discord.
• Force, army.

Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelve-month old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you-we will go;
Therefore we meet not now:-Then let me

Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.t

West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,

And many límits of the charge set down
But yesternight: when, all athwart, there

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Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome
The earl of Douglas is discomfited; [news.
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty

Balk'dt in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son [took
To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,

It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.

devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials of signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I see no reason, why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,--he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,)

P. Hen. What, none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.

Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be-Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men of good government: being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress

K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and the moon, under whose countenance we

mak'st me sin

In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son:
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow [prov'd,
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine-Percy, his-Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts:-What think

you coz',

Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz'd,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is
Malevolent to you in all aspects;
Which makes him prunes himself, and bristle
The crest of youth against your dignity. [up


P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing-lay by ; and spent with crying bring in now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the fadder: and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet


P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

Ful. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have 1 to do with a buff jerkin?

P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckon

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answering, many a time and oft.


And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.


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P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty crub of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

P. Hen. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it

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jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in | morrow night in Eastcheap; we may do it as the court, I can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib* cat, or a lugged


P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Ful. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.t

P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,-sweet young prince,-But, Hal, 1 pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, Sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he taked wisely, and in the street too.

P. Hen. Thou did'st well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain; I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffles me. P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking.

Enter POINS, at a distance.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!-Now shall we know if Gadshill hath set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true man.

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg?

P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs, he will give the devil his due.

Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil.

P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses: I have visors** for you all, you have horses for yourselves; Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester; I have bespoke supper tocat,-a Scotch term at this day + Croak of a frog. Treat me with ignominy. Honest. ** Masks.

Gib cat, should be lib for a gelded cat.

↑ Citation of holy texts. Made an appointment.

secure as sleep: If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tar ry at home, and be hanged.

Fal. Hear me, Yedward; if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going. Poins. You will, chops?

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith.

Ful. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings.*

P. Hen. Well, then once in my days I'll be a mad-cap.

Fal. Why, that's well said.

P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.

P. Hen. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake,) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses the time want countenance. Farewell: You shall find me in Eastcheap.

P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer!+ [Exit FALSTAFF. Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bar dolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already way-laid; yourself, and I, will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.

P. Hen. But how shall we part from them in setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.

P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us.

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell.

* The value of a coin called real or royal. +Fine weather at All-hallown-tide, (i. c. All Saints, Nov. 1st,) is called a All-hallown summer. ↑ Occasion. Confutation.

Poins, Farewell, my lord.

P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while
[Exit PoINS.

The unyok'd humour of your idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun;
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for


And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;*
And, like bright metal on a sullent ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time, when men think least I will.
SCENE III.-The same.-Another Room in the




K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and
Unapt to stir at these indignities, [temperate,
And you have found me; for accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: but, be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;t
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young

And therefore lost that title of respect,
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little

The scourge of greatness to be used on it;
And that same greatness too which our own
Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord,


K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger


And disobedience in thine eye: O, Sir, Your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontiers of a servant brow. [need You have good leave to leave us; when we Your use and counsel, we shall send for You were about to speak. [Exit WORCESTER. North. Yea, my good lord. [To NORTH. Those prisoners in your highness' name de[manded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were, as he says, not with such strength deAs is deliver'd to your majesty: Either envy, therefore, or misprision Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home; * Expectations. Forehead. + Dull. ↑ Disposition. | Ready assent.


And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
He was perfumed like a milliner;
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took't away again ;-
Who, therewith angry, when it next came
Took it in snuff:-and still he smil'd, and
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them-untaught knaves, unmanner-
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.
He question'd me; among the rest demanded
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,t
Out of my grief and my impatience,
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;
He should, or he should not;-for he made me

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,
the mark!)

Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise;
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
And that it was great pity, so it was,
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
He would himself have been a soldier.
Which many a good talls fellow had destroy'd
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
And, I beseech you, let not this report
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good
Whatever Harry Percy then hath said,
my lord,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
May reasonably die, and never rise
What then he said, so he unsay it now.
K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prison-
But with proviso, and exception,-
That we, at our own charge, shall ransom

His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
Against the great magician, damn'd Glen-
Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost


He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
Hot. Revolted Mortimer!
But by the chance of war;-To prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue for all those
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition, hand to hand,
In changing hardiment** with great Glendow-
He did confound the best part of an hour


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