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I understand thy kiffes, and thou mine; W
And that's a feeling difputation :

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But I will never be a truant, Love,
Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welch as fweet as ditties highly penn'd,`.
Sung by a fair Queen in a fummer's bower, .1
With ravishing divifion to her lute.
Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then wilt fhe run mad.
[The Lady fpeaks again in Welch.
Mort. O, I'am ignorance itself in this..
Glend. She bids you,

"All on the wanton rufhes lay you down,
"And reft your gentle head upon her lap,

"And fhe will fing the, fong that pleafeth you,zo! "And on your eye-lids crown the God of Sleepmal "Charming your blood with pleasing heavinefsi "Making fuch diff'rence betwixt wake and fleep, "As is the diff'rence betwixt day and night, ssrd-b> "The hour before the heav'nly-harnefs'd team/ 57 "Begins his golden progrefs in the caft.

Mort. With all my heart, I'll fit and hear her fing: By that time will our book I think be drawn.

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Glend. Do fo;" And though th' musicians that shall play to you, DA Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence; Yet trait they fhall be here; fit, and attend.

Hot. Come, Kate; thou art perfect in lying down: come, quick, quiek, that I may lay my head in thy lap. Lady. Go, ye giddy goofe. [The mufic plays.

Hot. Now I perceive the devil underftands Welch: and 'tis no marvel, he is fo humourous, by'r lady, he's a good musician.

Lady. Then would you be nothing but mufical, for, you are altogether govern'd by humours: lie ftill, ye thief, and hear the Lady fing in Welch..

Hot. I had rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish. Lady. Would't have thy head broken?

Hot. No.

Lady. Then be ftill.

Hot. Neither, 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady. Now God help thee!
Hot. To the Welch Lady's bed,

Lady.

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Lady. What's that?

Hot. Peace, the fings.

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[Here the Lady fings a Welch song. Come, I'll have your fong too.

Lady. Not mine, in good footh./ ́s fák14 Hot. Not your's, in good footh! you fwear like a comfit-maker's wife; not you, in good footh; and, as true as I live; and, as God shall mend me; and, as fure as day; and giveft fuch farcenet furety for thy oaths, as if thou never walk'd'ft further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave infooth, And fuch protest of pepper-ginger-bread, To velvet-guards, and Sunday citizens.

Come, fing.

Lady. I will not fing.

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Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be Robin-· red-breaft teachers if the indentures be drawn, away within thefe two hours and fo come in when 19 90 i elgron] 1 msblondi

ye will.

[Exit. Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as flow As hot Lord Percy is on fire to gole low cod By this our book is drawn: we will but feal, And then to horfe immediately.

Mort. With all my heart, IN 6 M

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[Exeunt.

Changes to the prefence-chamber in Windfor. Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, Lords, and others.

K.Henry. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales Must have fome private conference: but be near, [and I For we fhall prefently have need of you.

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[Exeunt Lords, I know not whether God will have it fo, For fome difpleafing service* I have done; That, in his fecret doom, out of my blood He breeds revengement and a fcourge for me: But thou doft in thy paffages of life

Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd

* fervice, for action, simply.

For

For the hot vengeance* and the rod of Heav'n,
To punish my mif-tradings. Tell me elfe,

Could fuch inordinate and low defires,

Such poor, fuch bafe, fuch lewd, fuch mean attaints,
Such barren pleafures, rude fociety,

As thou art match'd withal and grafted to,
Accompany the greatnefs of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?
P. Henry. So please your Majefty, I wish I could
Quit all offences with as clear excufe,
As well as, I am doubtlefs, I can purge
Myfelf of many I am charge'd withal.
Yet fuch extenuation let me beg,

As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,

Which oft the ear of greatnefs needs must hear,
By fmiling pick-thanks and bafe news-mongers;
I may for fome things true (wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd, and irregular)
Find pardon on my true fubmiflion.

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Harry,

wab Moola i K. Henry. Heav'n pardon thee; yet let me wonder, At thy affections, which do hold a wing Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in council thou haft rudely loft Which by thy younger brother is fupply'd ; And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court and princes of my blood. The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruin'd, and the foul of every man Prophetically does fore-think thy fall. • Had I fo lavifh of my prefence been, So common hackney'd in the eyes of men, So ftale and cheap to vulgar company Opinion, that did help me to the crown, Had ftill kept loyal to poffeffion;

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• And left me in reputelefs banishment,
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
But being seldom feen, I could not stir,'
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at!

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That men would tell their children, This is he. Others would fay, Where? which is Bolingbroke! And then I ftole all courtefy from heav'n,

i. e. appointed for the inftrument of vengeance.

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And drefs'd myfelf in much humility,.

That I did pluck allegiance from mens' hearts,
Loud fhouts and falutations from their mouths,
Even in the prefence of the crowned King.
Thus I did keep my perfon fresh and new,
My prefence, like a robe pontifical,

Ne'er feen, but wonder'd at; and fo my ftate,
Seldom, but fumptuous, fhewed like a feaft,
And won, by rarenefs, fuch folemnity,
The fkipping King, he ambled up and down
With fhallow jesters, and rash bavin wits,

Soon kindled, and foon burnt; 'fcarded his ftate;
Mingled his royalty with carping fools;

Had his great name profaned with their fcorns;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh with gibing boys, and ftand the pufh
Of every beardlefs, vain comparative:
Grew a companion to the common streets,
• Enfeoff'd himself to popularity :

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That, being daily fwallow'd by mens' eyes,

They furfeited with honey, and began

To lothe the taste of fweetnefs; whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So when he had occafion to be feen,

'He was but, as the cuckow is in June,

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Heard, not regarded; feen, but with fuch eyes,
As, fick and blunted with community,

Afford no extraordinary gaze;

Such as is bent on fun-like Majesty,

: When it shines feldom in admiring eyes:

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down, 'Slept in his face, and render'd fuch afpect

'As cloudy men use to their adversaries,

Being with his presence glutted, gorge'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, ftand't thou;
For thou haft loft thy princely privilege

With vile participation. Not an eye,
But is a-weary of thy common fight,

Save mine, which hath defir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth what I would not have it do,
Make blind itfelf with foolish tenderness.

P. Henry.

P. Henry. Ifhall hereafter, my thrice-gracious Lord. Be more myfelf,

K. Henry. For all the world,

As thou art at this hour was Richard then,
When I from France fet foot at Ravenfpurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
Now, by my fceptre, and my foul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the fhadow of fucceffion!
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harnefs; in the realm
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient Lords and rev'rend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruifing arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas; whofe high deeds,
Whofe hot incurfions, and great name in arms,
Holds from all foldiers chief majority,
And military title capital,

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Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Chrift!
Thrice hath this Hot-fpur, Mars in fwathing-cloaths,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises,

Difcomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,

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And shake the peace and fafety of our throne. d
And what fay you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
Th' Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, and Morti
Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell this news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'ft and dearest enemy?

Thou that art like enough, through vaffal fear,
Bafe inclination, and the ftart of spleen,
To fight againit me under Percy's pay;
To dog his heels, and curt'fy at his frowns,
To fhow how much thou art degenerate.

[mer,

P. Henry. Do not think fo, you fhall not find it for

And Heav'n forgive them, that fo much have fway'd Your Majefty's good thoughts away from me!

I will redeem ali this on Percy's head,

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