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KING HENRY the Fourth. of
JOHN, Prince of Lancaster, Sons to the King.
Archbishop of YORK, >Enemies to the King.
Sir RICHARD VERNON,
Sir WALTER BLUNT, of the King's Party.
Companions of Falstaff.
Lady PERCY, Wife to Hotfpur,
Lady MORTIMER, Daughter to Glendower, and Wife to
Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Dranbers, two Carriers,
SCENE, ENGLAN D.
The Court at LONDON.
Enter King Henry, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of West
morland, and others.
O fhaken as we are, fo wan with care,
To be commenc'd in ftronds afar remote l No more the thirsty entrance of this foil Shall dawb her lips with her own children's blood : No more fhall trenching War channel her fields, Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs Of hoftile paces. Thofe oppofed arms Which like the meteors of a troubled heav'n, All of one nature, of one fubftance bred, Did lately meet in the inteftine fhock
And furious clofe of civil butchery,
(Whofe foldier now, under whofe bleffed Cross
Weft, My Liege, this hafte was hot in question,
K. Henry, It feems then, that the tidings of this broi!
Weft. This, matcht with other like, my gracious Lord Farther uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the North, and thus it did import.
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald
K. Henry. Here is a dear and trus induftrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Stain'd with the variation of each foil Betwixt that Holmedon, and this feat of ours: And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. The Earl of Douglas is discomfited, Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights, Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter fee On Holmedon's plains. Of prifoners, Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest fon Unto the beaten Dowglas, and the Earls Of Athol, Murry, Angus, and Menteith, And is not this an honourable spoil? A gallant prize? ha, coufin, is it not? Weft. In faith, a conqueft for a Prince to boast of. K. Henry. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak’f me fin,
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
To his own ufe he keeps, and fends me word
K. Henry. But I have fent for him to answer this;
Coufin, on Wednesday next, our council we
SCENE II. An Apartment of the Prince's. Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstaff. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
P. Henry. Thou art fo fat-witted with drinking old fack, and unbuttoning thee after fupper, and fleeping upon benches in the afternoon, that thou haft forgotten to demand that truly, which thou would'st truly know. What a devil haft thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of fack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the figns of leaping-houfes, and the bleffed Sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I fee no reason why thou should'st be so fuperfluous, to demand the time of the day,
Fal. Indeed you come near me now, Hal. For we that take purfes, go by the moon and feven ftars, and not by Phoebus, be, that wandring knight so fair. And I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art King-as God fave thy Grace, (Majefty I fhould fay, for grace thou wilt have none.)
P. Henry. What! none?
Fal. No, by my troth, not so much as will ferve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
P. Henry. 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 call'd thieves