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The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast
wrought

A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous land. [deed.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this
Boling They love not poison, that do poison need,
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour:

With Cain go wander through the shade of night, And never shew thy head by day nor light.— Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, !hat blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow: 5 Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put on sullen black incontinent;

I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:March sadly after; grace my mournings here, 10 In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt omnes

FIRST

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Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants, &c.

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'The transactions contained in this historical drama are comprised within the period of about ten months: for the action commences with the news brought of Hotspur having defeated the Scots under Archibald earl Douglas at Holmedon, (or Halidown-hill), which battle was fought on Holyrood-day (the 14th of September) 1402; and it closes with the defeat and death of Hotspur at Shrewsbury; which engagement happened on Saturday the 21st of July (the eve of St. Mary Magdalen) in the year 1403. Dr. Johnson remarks, that "Shakspeare has apparently designed a regular connection of these dramatic histories from Richard the Second to Henry the Fifth. King Henry, at the end of Richard the Second, declares his purpose to visit the Holy Land, which he resumes in this speech. The complaint made by king Henry in the last act of Richard the Second, of the wildness of his son, prepares the reader for the frolicks which are here to be recounted, and the characters which are now to be exhi bited." Mr. Steevens says, it should be Prince John of Lancaster, and adds, that the persons of the drama were originally collected by Mr. Rowe, who has given the title of Duke of Lancaster to Prince John, a mistake which Shakspeare has been no where guilty of in the first part of this play, though in the second he has fallen into the same error. K. Henry IV. was himself the last person that ever bore the title of Duke of Lancaster. But all his sons ('till they had peerages, as Clarence, Bedford, Gloucester) were distinguished by the name of the royal house, as John of Lancaster, Humphry of Lancaster, &c. and in that proper style, the present John (who became afterwards so illustrious by the title of Duke of Bedford) is always mentioned in the play before us,

And

442

FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.

And furious close of civil butchery:

Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,|
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight)
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy1;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' wombs
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd,
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelve-month old,
And bootless'tis to tell you-we will go,
Therefore we meet not now:-Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience2.

The earl of Douglas is discomfited;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd' in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur to
5 Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
To beaten Douglas; and the earls

10

Of Athol, Murray, Angus, and Monteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?

A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?

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West. 'Faith, 'tis a conquest for a prince to boat
K. Henry. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, aná
mak'st me sin

In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son :

15 A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow

20 Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov❜d,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-cloths our children where they lay,
And call'd mine-Percy, his-Plantagenet !
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
25 But let him from my thoughts: What think you,
coz',

Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz'd,
To his own use he keeps'; and sends me word,
30I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.

West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight: when, all athwart there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against
the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welchman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered:
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, retold or spoken of. [broil
K.Henry. It seems then that the tiding of this 35
Brake off our business for the Holy Land. [lord;
West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious
For more uneven and unwelcome news

Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald',
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,
And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought it, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

[friend,

West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Wor-
[cester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects;
Which makes him prune' himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.

K. Henry. But I have sent for him to answer this;
And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords :
40 But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.

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K. Inry Here is a dear and true-industrious 50
Sir Walter Plunt, new-lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.

SCENE

II.

[Exeunt.

An apartment belonging to the Prince. Enter Henry, Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstof Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

'Ho

P.Henry. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast orgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day unless hours were cups of sack Mr. Steevens proposes to read lead for levy. i. e. expedition. Limits for estimates. Jinshed in his History of Scotland says, "This Harry Percy was surnamed, for his often pricking, Balk'd in their own blood, may Henry Hotspur, as one that seldom times rested, if there were anie service to be done abroad.” "A balk signifies a bank or hill. Archibald Douglas, earl Douglas. Mr. Tollet observes, that by the law therefore mean, lay in heaps or hillocks, in their own blood. Whom (Mr. Steevens adds) o arms, every man who had taken any captive, whose redemption did not exceed ten thousand crowns, had him clearly for himself, either to acquit or ransom, at his pleasure. Percy could not refuse to the king, as being a prince of the blood royal, (son to the duke of Albany, brother to king Robert III.) and whom Henry might justly claim by his acknowledged military preFogative. Dr. Johnson says, to prune and to plume, spoken of a bird, is the same,

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And

and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flamecolour'd taffata; I see no reason, why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

5

Fal. Indeed you come near me now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wand'ring| knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace, 10 (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none.)

P. Henry. What! none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as wil serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Henry. Well, how then? come roundly, roundly,

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Fal. Marry, then, sweat wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be call'd thieves of the day's beauty'; let us 20 be-Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men of good government; being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we-steal.

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P. Henry. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being goAs for proof, verned as the sea is, by the moon. now: A purse of gold most resolutely snatch'd on 30 Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing-lay by; and spent with crying-bring in: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder; and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

P. Henry. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance1?

Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in

thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have
I to do with a buff jerkin?

35

P. Henry. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning, many a time and oft.

P. Henry, Did I ever call thee to pay thy part? Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

P. Henry. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have us'd my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so us'd it, that, were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antick the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

P. Henry. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

P. Henry. Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.

P. Henry. For obtaining of suits'?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits'; whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib' cat, or a lugg'd bear.

P. Henry. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute.
Ful. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
P. Henry. What say'st thou to a hare', or the
melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similies; and art, indeed, the most comparative', rascalliest,— sweet young prince,-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble 40 me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names

Mr. Steevens is of opinion, that our poet, by the expression thieves of the day's beauty, meant only "Let not us who are body squires to the night, i. e. adorn the night, be called a disgrace to the day." He afterwards adds, that a squire of the body signified originally, the attendant on a knight: the person who bore his head-piece, spear, and shield; and that it became afterwards the cant term for a pimp. i. e. Warburton, in commenting swearing at the passengers they robbed, lay by your arms; or rather, lay by was a phrase that then signified stand still, addressed to those who were preparing to rush forward. "This alludes to the name Shakspeare first gave to this buffoon character, upon this passage, says, which was sir John Oldcastle; and when he changed the name he forgot to strike out this expression that alluded to it. The reason of the change was this: One sir John Oldcastle having suffered in the time of Henry the Fifth for the opinions of Wickliff, it gave offence, and therefore the poet altered it to Falstaff." Mr. Steevens, however, has, we think, very fully and satisfactorily proved that sir John Oldcastle was not a character ever introduced by Shakspeare, nor did he ever occupy the place of Falstaff. The play in which Oldcastle's name occurs, was not, according to Mr. Steevens, the work of our poet, but a despicable piece, prior to that of Shakspeare, full of ribaldry and impiety from the beginning to the end; and was probably the play sneeringly alluded to in the epilogue to the Second "whether it will Part of Henry IV.-for Oldcastle died a martyr. The sheriff's officers of those times were clad in 'Shakspeare here buff. The meaning therefore of this answer of the Prince to Falstaff's question is, not be a sweet thing to go to prison by running in debt to this sweet wench." quibbles upon the word suit. The prince uses it to mean a petition; Falstaff, to imply a suit of cloaths. 'Dr. Johnson says, that The cloaths of the offender being a perquisite of the executioner. i. e. an old he-cat, Gilbert, or Gib, being the name formerly appropriated to a cat of the male species.

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a hare may be considered as melancholy, because she is upon her form always solitary: and according to the physick of the times, the flesh of it was supposed to generate melancholy. Alluding, perhaps, i. e. the most quick at comparisons. to the melancholy appearance of its stagnant water.

were

were to be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street, about you, sir; but I mark'd him not: and yet he talk'd very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the streets too.

P. Henry. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

5

Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration'; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive thee for 10 it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain; I'll be damn'd for never 15 a king's son in Christendom.

P. Henry. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an do not, call me villain, and baffle' me.

I

P. Henry. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking.

good fellowship in thee, nor thou camʼst not of the blood royal, if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.

P. Henry. Well then, once in my days I'll be a mad-cap.

Fal. Why, that's well said.

P. Henry. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.

P. Henry. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasous for this adventure, that he shall go.

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of per suasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speak'st may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses 20 of the time want countenance. Farewel: You shall find me in East-cheap.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!Now shall we know, if Gadshill have set a match. 25 O, if men were to be sav'd by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him?

Enter Poins.

This is the most omnipotent villain,that ever cry'd,
Stand, to a true man.

P. Henry. Good morrow, Ned.

P. Henry. Farewei, thou latter spring! farewel, All-hallown' summer! [Exit Falstaf Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already way-laid; yourself and I will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and 30I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.

P. Henry. But how shall we part with them in

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-setting forth? Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday 35 last, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg?

P. Henry, Sir John stands to his work, the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs, He will give the devil his due. Poin. Then art thou damn'd, for keeping thy 40 word with the devil.

P. Henry. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil.

I

45

Poins. But my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gads-hill: There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to Loudon with fat purses: have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves: Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester; l'have bespoke supper to-morrow night in East-cheap:50 we may do it as secure as sleep: If you will will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home, and be hang'd.

go,

Fal. Hear ye, Yedward; if tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going. Poins. You will, chops?

Ful. Hal, wilt thou make one?

P. Henry. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by

my faith.

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner atchieved, but we'll set upon them.

P. Henry. Ay, but, 'tis likely that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

P. Henry. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us.

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turn'd back; and For the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, i'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue 55 will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows; what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

P. Henry. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor 60lall things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night

'The meaning, according to Dr. Johnson, is, thou hast a wicked trick of repeating and applying holy text; alluding to the prince having said in the preceding speech, wisdom cries out, &c. See note 2, p. 415. í. e. All-saints' day, which is the first of November. Shakspeare's allusion is designed to ridicule an old man with youthful passions. i. e. for the occasion. i, e. confutation.

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