Fal. No abufe, Ned, in the world; honeft Ned, none. I difprais'd him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him :-in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true fubject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abufe, Hal;— none, Ned, none;-no, boys, none.

P. Henry. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is fhe of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is the boy of the wicked? or honeft Bardolph, whofe zeal burns in his nofe, of the wicked?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable; and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but roaft malt-worms. For the boy,There is a good angel about him; but the devil out-bids

him too.

P. Henry. For the women,

Fal. For one of them,-fhe is in hell already, and burns, poor foul! For the other,-I owe her money; and whether the be damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoft. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art quit. for that: Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for fuffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Hoft. All victuallers do fo: What's a joint of mutton or two, in a whole Lent?

P. Henry. You, gentlewoman,
Dol. What fays your grace?

Fal. His grace fays that which his flesh rebels against. Hoft. Who knocks fo loud at door? look to the door there, Francis.

malt-worms.]-drunkards.

Enter

Enter Peto:

P. Henry. Peto, how now? what news?
Peto. The king your father is at Westminster;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts,
Come from the north: and, as I came along,
I met, and overtook, a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for fir John Falstaff.

P. Henry. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame, So idly to profane the precious time;

When tempeft of commotion, like the fouth
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,

And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.

Give me my fword, and cloak :-Falstaff, good night.

[Exeunt Prince and Poins.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morfel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd. More knocking ing at the door?-How now? what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to court, fir, presently; a dozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, firrah [To the Page.]-Farewell, hostess;-farewell, Doll.-You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after: the undeferver may sleep, when the man of action is call'd on. Farewell, good wenches :-If I be not fent away post, I will fee you again ere I go.

Dol. I cannot speak;-If my heart be not ready to burst: -Well, fweet Jack, have a care of thyself.

Fal. Farewell, farewell.

[Exeunt Fal. and Bard.

Hoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come pefcod-time; but an honester, truer-hearted man,-Well, fare thee well.

Bard.

Bard. [within] Mistress Tear-fheet,

Hoft. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid miftrefs Tear-fheet come to my mafter.

Hoft. O run, Doll, run; run, good Doll.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

The Palace.

Enter King Henry in his night-gown, with a Page.

K. Henry. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,

And well confider of them: Make good speed..

How many thousand of

[Exit Page.

thousand of my poorest fubjects
Are at this hour afleep!-O fleep, O gentle fleep,
Nature's foft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,

And steep my fenfes in forgetfulness ?

Why rather, fleep, ly'ft thou in fmoky cribs,

Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

And hufh'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber;

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,

Under the conopies of costly state,

And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why ly'st thou with the vile,

In loathfome beds; and leav'ft the kingly couch,

d

A watch-cafe, or a common larum bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast

da watch-cafe, or a common larum bell?]-as vigilant as a watchman, or centinel.

VOL. III.

S s

Seal

Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious furge;

And in the vifitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the flippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Can't thou, O partial fleep! give thy repose
To the wet fea-boy, in an hour fo rude;

g

And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter Warwick, and Surrey.

War. Many good morrows to your majesty!

K. Henry. Is it good morrow, lords?

War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.

K. Henry. Why, then, good morrow to you. Well, my lords,

Have you read o'er the letters that I fent you?

War. We have, my liege.

K. Henry. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom How foul it is; what rank difeafes grow,

And with what danger, near the heart of it.
War. It is but as a body, yet, "distemper'd;
Which to its former ftrength may be restor'd,
With good advice, and little medicine:-
My lord Northumberland will foon be cool'd.

K. Henry. O heaven! that one might read the book of fate;

And see the revolution of the times

• fbrowds.

That, with the burly,]-In fuch fort, that with the tumult.
and the ftilleft.

distemper'd ;]-recently infected, or not perfectly recovered.

Make

Make mountains level, and the continent
(Weary of folid firmnefs) melt itself
Into the fea! and, other times, to fee
The beachy girdle of the ocean

Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration

With divers liquors! O, if this were feen,

The happieft youth,-viewing his progrefs through,
What perils paft, what croffes to enfue,-
Would shut the book, and fit him down and die.
'Tis not ten years gone,

Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together, and, in two years after,
Were they at wars: It is but eight years, fince
This Percy was the man nearest my foul;
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;

Yea, for my fake, even to the eyes of Richard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,

(You, 'coufin Nevil, as I may remember) [To Warwick. When Richard,—with his brim-full of tears,

eye

Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,-
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which

My coufin Bolingbroke afcends my throne ;

k

Though then, heaven knows, I had no fuch intent;
But that neceffity fo bow'd the state,

That I and greatnefs were compell'd to kifs :

i coufin Nevil,]-Shakspeare is miftaken both in the name of the prefent Earl, and his being by, at the converfation referred to. The name of this Earl was Beauchamp, whofe daughter, with whom the title defcended, was married long after to Richard Nevil Earl of Salisbury.

I had no fuch intent ;]-Henry had put in his claim, and been faluted king by his party, before this interview.