Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the taverns,
And asking every one for fir John Falstaff.

P. Hen. 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 P. HENRY, POINS, PETO, and BARD. Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [Knocking heard.] More knocking at the door?

Re-enter BARDOLPH.

How now? what's the matter?

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

Fal. Pay the musicians, firrah. [To the Page.]-Farewell, hoftefs;-farewell, Doll.-You fee, my good wenches, how men of merit are fought after: the undeferver may fleep, 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 burft:-Well, fweet Jack, have a care of thyfelf.

Fal. Farewell, farewell.

[Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH. Hoft. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an honester, and truer-hearted man,-Well, fare thee well.

Bard. [Within.] Miltrefs Tear-fheet,

Hoft. What's the matter?

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

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

ε

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter King HENRY in his nightgown, with a Page.

K. Hen. 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.

[Exit Page.

How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep !—Sleep, gentle fleep,
Nature's foft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my fenfes in forgetfulness?

Why rather, fleep, lieft thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneafy pallets stretching thee,

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

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of costly sta e,

And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why lieft thou with the vile,

In loathfome beds; and leav'ft the kingly couch,
A watch-cafe, or a common 'larum bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the fhipboy'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 monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the flippery clouds,

That,

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Can't thou, partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet feaboy in an hour fo rude;
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 SURRY.

War. Many good morrows to your majesty!
K. Hen. Is it good morrow, lords?

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

K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. Have you read o'er the letters that I fent you?

War. We have, my liege.

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

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

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

And fee the revolution of the times

Make mountains level, and the continent

(Weary of folid firmness,) 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 seen,

The happiest 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, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,)

[TO WARWICK.
When Richard,-with his eye brim-full of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,-
Did fpeak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
My coufin Bolingbroke afcends my throne ;-
Though then, heaven knows, I had no fuch intent;
But that necessity so bow'd the state,

That I and greatnefs were compell'd to kifs :-
The time fhall come, thus did he follow it,
The time will come, that foul fin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption :-so went on,
Foretelling this fame time's condition,
And the divifion of our amity.

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

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

King Richard might create a perfect guess,

That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would, of that feed, grow to a greater falseness;
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.

K. Hen.

Are these things then neceffities?

Then let us meet them like neceffities :

And that fame word even now cries out on us;
They say, the bishop and Northumberland

Are fifty thousand strong.

War.

It cannot be, my lord;

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 powers 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 majesty hath been this fortnight ill;
And these unfeason'd hours, perforce, must add
Unto your fickness.

K. Hen.

I will take your counsel : And, were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Court before Justice Shallow's House in Glocestershire.

Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, and Servants, behind.

Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand,