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My Lord Northumberland will foon be school'd.

K. Henry. Oh heav'n, that one might read the book And fee the revolution of the times

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

[of fate,

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

With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,

The happiest youth viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to enfue,

Wou'd fhut the book, and sit 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 neareft my foul;
Who, like a brother, toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea, for my fake, ev'n to the eyes of Richard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by?
(You, coufin Nevil, as I may remember) [To War.
When Richard, with his eye
brim-full of tears,
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;
(Tho' then, Heav'n knows, I had no fuch intent;
But that neceffity fo bow'd the state,

That I and greatnefs were compell'd to kifs);
The time shall come, (thus did he follow it),
The time will come, that foul fin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: fo went on,
Foretelling this fame time's condition,

And the divifion of our amity.

War. There is a history in all mens' lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd;
The which obferv'd, a man may prophefy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which in their feeds
And weak beginnings lie intreafured.

Such

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;
And by the neceffary form of this,

King Richard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then falfe to him,
Would of that feed grow to a greater falseness,
Which fhould not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.

K. Henry. Are these things then neceffities?
Then let us meet them like neceffities;

And that fame word even now cries out on us.
They fay the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.

War. It cannot be :

Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your Grace
To go to bed. Upon my life, my Lord,
The pow'rs that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain inftance that Glendower is dead.
Your Majefty hath been this fortnight ill,
And these unfeafon'd hours perforce muft add
Unto your ficknefs.

K. Henry. I will take your counfel:

And were thefe inward wars once out of hand,
We would, dear Lords, unto the holy land. [Exeunt.

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Changes to Justice Shallow's feat in Gloucestershire. Enter Shallow and Silence, juftices; with Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bull-calf.

Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, Sir; an early flirrer, by the rood *. And how doth my good coufin Silence?

Sil. Good morrow, good coufin Shallow.

Shal. And how doth my coufin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, coufin Shallow.

i. e. the cross.

2

Shal.

1

Shal. By yea and nay, Sir, I dare fay my coufin William is become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not?

Sil. Indeed, Sir, to my coft.

Shale He must then to the inns of court shortly: I was one of Clement's inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil. You were call'd lufty Shallow then, coufin.

Shal. I was call'd any thing, and I would have done any thing, indeed, too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotfwold man, you had not four fuch fwinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again; and I may fay to you, we knew where the Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, (now Sir John) a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

Sil. This Sir John, coufin, that comes hither anon` about foldiers?

Shal. The fame Sir John, the very fame: I saw him break Schoggan's head at the court-gate, when he was a crack, not thus high; and the very fame day I did fight with one Samfon Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's-Im. O the mad days that I have spent! and to fee how many of mine old acquaintance are dead? Sil. We fhall all follow, coufin.

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain, very fure, very fure: death (as the Pfalmift faith) is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? Sil. Truly, coufin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of living yet?

Sil. Dead, Sir.

your town

Shal. Dead! fee, fee, he drew a good bow: and dead! he shot a fine fhoot. John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! he would have clapp'd in the clowt* at twelve score, and carried you a fore-hand fhaft at fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to fee. How a fcore of ewes now?

i. e. hit the white mark.

VOL. IV.

C c

Sil.

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may

be worth ten pounds.

Shal. And is old Double dead?

SCENE IV. Enter Bardolph and Page.

Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think.

Shal Good morrow, honeft gentlemen.

Bard. I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow? Shal I am Robert Shallow, Sir, a poor Efquire of this county, one of the King's Juftices of the peace. What is your good pleafure with me?

Bard. My Captain, Sir, commends him to you; my Captain Sir John Falstaff; a tall gentleman, by heav'n! and a moft gallant leader.

Shal. He greets me well: Sir, I knew him a good back-fword man. How doth the good Knight? may I ask how my Lady his wife doth ?

Bard. Sir, pardon, a foldier is better accommodated than with a wife.

Shal. It is well faid, Sir; and it is well faid, indeed, too: better accommodated - it is good, yea, indeed, is it; good phrafes, furely, are, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated-it comes of accommodo; very good, a good phra e.

Bard." Pardon me, Sir, I have heard the word, "Phrase call you it by this day, I know not the phrafe: but I will maintain the word with my fword, to be a foldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command. Accommodated, that is, when a man is, as they fay, accommodated; or, when a "man is, being whereby he may be thought to be "accommodated, which is an excellent thing.

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SCENE V. Enter Falstaff.

Shal. It is very juft. Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good hand; give me your Worhip's good hand: truft me, you look well, and bear your years very well, Welcome, good Sir John.

Fal. I am glad to fee you well, good Master Robert Shallow. Mafter Sure-card, as I think,

Shal.

Shal. No, Sir John, it is my coufin Silence, in commiffion with me.

Fal. Good Mafter Silence, it well befits you fhould be of the peace.

Sil. Your good Worship is welcome.

Fal. Fie, this is hot weather, Gentlemen; have you provided me here half a dozen of sufficient men? Shal. Marry, have we, Sir; will you fit? Fal. Let me fee them, I beseech you.

Shal. Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll? let me fee, let me fee, let me fee: fo, fo, fo, so: yea, marry, Sir. Ralph Mouldy:- let them appear as I call: let them do fo, let them do fo. Let me fee, where is Mouldy?

Moul. Here, if it please you.

Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good limb'd fellow; young, ftrong, and of good friends. Fal. Is thy name Mouldy?

Moul. Yea, if it please you.

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, moft excellent i'faith. Things that are mouldy, lack use: very fingular good. Well faid, Sir John, very well faid.

Fal. Prick him.

Moul I was prick'd well enough before, if you could have let me alone: my old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry, and her drudgery; you need not to have prick'd me, there are other men fitter to go out than I.

Fal. Go to: peace, Mouldy, you fhall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent.

Moul. Spent?

Shal. Peace, fellow, peace: ftand afide: know you where you are? For the other, Sir John.-Let me lee: Simon Shadow.

Fal. Ay, marry, let me have him to fit under : he's like to be a cold foldier.

Shal. Where's Shadow?

Shad. Here, Sir.

Fal. Shadow, whofe fon art thou?

Shad. My mother's fon, Sir.

Fal. Thy mother's fon! like enough; and thy fa

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